squidbag

Whip My _______ Back & Forth

Like a lot of people, I am unhappy with the latest product from the Smith Entertainment Group, Willow Smith, and her "song," Whip My Hair.  (Having procured the Wikilink for her, I see that we just got another new song from her last Friday.  Woo.)  Willow (dressed here in her Mobutu Sese Seko halloween costume) has excreted an anthem that's inescapable if you are in public places where children are expected to make noise, but I remember Tiffany, Debbie Gibson, Britney Spears, NKOTB, and many others used to be the same way.  Age has taught me to breathe, focus, wait, and turn up better music.

For the most part, the "song" is indistinguishable from any other pop crap except for its wailing repetitive chorus. (Think how many current songs you can say that about.)  My son hates it; it's like Kryptonite to him.  My daughter seems to take it either way - she will sing along if she hears it.  You figure to her, though, Willow is a seasoned performer twice her age.

This morning in the car on the way to school, we attempted to come up with some anodyne for this musical wound in our collective minds, and so we started in on the classic "variations on a theme" joke.  I will give you what we had, and then you add some.  (You should know this by now - I'm not explaining it next time.)

• Medusa: "I Whip My Snakes Back & Forth"
• Modok: "I Whip Myself Back & Forth"
• Sol Rosenberg: "I Whip My Shoes (and Glasses) Back & Forth (So I Have Them)"
• Godzilla: "I Whip My Tail Back & Forth (and Destroy Tokyo)"
• Santa Claus: "I Whip My Reindeer Back & Forth"
• Captain America & Thor: "I Whip My Wings Back and Forth"
• Professor X: "I Whip My...Head Back & Forth"
• angels: "I Whip My Halo Back & Forth"
• demons: "I Whip My Horns Back & Forth"
• Batman: "I Whip My Cowl Back & Forth"
• Packers Fans: "I Whip My Cheese Back & Forth"
• MItt Romney: "I Whip My Positions Back & Forth"
• Rachael Ray: "I Whip This Cream Back & Forth"
• Spock: "I Whip My Ears Back & Forth (Logically)"
• Ben Bernanke: "I Whip Interest Rates Back & Forth"
• Spider-Man: "I Thwip My Webs Back & Forth"
• Wonder Woman: "I Whip My Lasso Back & Forth"
• Robbie the Robot: "I Whip My Arms Back & Forth"
• Indiana Jones: I Whip My Whip Back & Forth"
• a zombie: "I Whip My BRAIINNSS Back & Forth"
• a Jedi Master: "I Whip My Saber Back & Force"
• the Headless Horseman: "I Whip this Pumpkin Back & Forth"
• Hank Williams, Jr.: "I Whip Hitler Back & Forth"
• Brett Favre: "I Flap My Gums (and other body parts) Back & Forth"
• a shark: "I Whip My Fins Back & Forth (and then Eat You)"
• OddJob: "I Whip My Hat Back & Forth"
• the Squidbag: "I Whip This Joke Back & Forth"

Ten Years Old

Remember that big hoopla a couple of weeks ago about the 10th anniversary of 9/11?  That thing where everyone in the nation - and possibly most of the world - took a moment and thought about where they were and what they were doing 10 years ago?  I did that, too.  But I'm doing it again today, 17 days later, because it was 17 days after 9/11 that my wife gave birth to our first child, Max.  And today he's ten.

Staggering.  Literally.  Sometimes I just stagger about, enjoying how the furniture feels when I bump into it.  Then I reassemble it with wood glue and allen wrenches and tungsten.

Max is in the fifth grade, which he does not like as much as the fourth grade (his teacher last year was a hard act to follow), and we have recently seen a bit of a grade slip due to various factors, but we're working on it.  He's musically inclined, singing in the school Chorus, taking steel drum classes and piano lessons.  He's just moved into his new room, and as much as he hated the move and the very idea of it, he seems to have settled in the new room quite nicely.  He has a workbench now with tools and electronics and things to work on, piles of books and tape recorder, wire, rope, rocks, and 'scopes of various varieties.  He still reads constantly; Big Nate, Rick Riordan, mythology, 39 Clues, Wimpy Kid, fables and stuff about sorcery and alchemy and monsters.  His favorite superheroes right now are Hulk, Thor, Green Lantern, Iron Man and Batman.

He makes up intricate imagination games for any he plays with, and is fiercely competitive at any game he's not making up as you're playing it.  He makes a lot of notes and small comic books on Post-its.  He sings in the shower, and makes superhero noises.  Good acoustics.  He's sensitive and moody and easily over-stimulated by people noises.  He gets sucked into television still, no matter what's on.  He's lately been most interested in Phineas and Ferb still, but also Spider-Man and his Amazing Friends from the early 80s, and also Voltron, Jimmy Neutron and the Fairly Oddparents.  He's fun to hang out with still, but for different reasons.  He loves his sister unless she's whiny, and feels very protective of her.  He likes sleeping with the dog in his room.

We're supposed to be bowling and doing laser tag and stuff tonight, with cake and pizza and stuff well into the weekend, so you all have ample chances to wish Max a happy birthday.  And stuff.

Moving (Again)

Max, my son, is pissed off at us for moving.

Originally, he felt that we baited and switched him on the actual houses, as the 1st one we looked at was a little pricey for the square feet and got snaked out from under us anyway, so we turned and quickly made an offer on the one we're supposedly closing on today.  When he saw the new house during inspection a couple of weeks ago, this evaporated a little bit, but got replaced slowly with a moody "I hate moving."  This, at least, is common ground.  I damn well hate moving too.  But this is our least disruptive move since 1996 - we're leaving neither zip code or school district.  After a pointing this out and  a few more conversations, I have found common ground at last with the boy - he's going to draw up a contract stating that his mom and I will not move again for three (3) years minimum, and preferably five (5).  We will sign it, and in return, he has promised to have a slightly better - and if failing that, quieter - attitude about this move.

My apartment, which I have striven for a year and half to keep in a very clean and tidy state during my time not working, and in which I have spent a lot of daytime hours teaching my daughter, doing art projects, learning to cook and playing, is now exploded and boxed and disorganized.  Tonight I amused myself for five minutes doing my Gwenyth Paltrow impression where I put my head in a box.  Great fun.  Almost all of our books are packed and I fully intend to move all my comics to the new place by my fucking self just so I don't have to hear bitching again this time.  I think Matt, Jimbo & Lyla might be the only people to move them and not bitch and complain, and Jimbo gave them a special ride.  I miss moving with a bunch of my friends around.  The Amish fireline moves were some of my favorite times together, and it saddens me that they're no longer practical.

Max started his second full week of the 5th grade yesterday, and Abby gets phased into K'garten this week with two 1/2 days and two full days, starting today.  We close today, C starts grad classes this weekend and her chorus has its kickoff for the season - also this weekend.  I start school at MTSU at the end of this month, and my nervous breakdown is scheduled for shortly after that.  I keep waiting for the thing that will jump up and ruin everything, or the detail I miss that causes chaos.  We're going to be moving slowly over the next couple of weeks, because we can.  Mostly just me and a truck.  Further bulletins as events warrant.

August Upon Us

Right now, my house is quiet.

My lovely wife is asleep on the couch, having crashed 26 minutes into her Tivo'd soap.  Abby's been out since about nine-thirty or so, the dog is flat on the living room floor, and Max is in his top bunk reading the Far Side.

I got up today at 5:30 and showered, after which I took a moment to sit quietly and ruminate on the importance of sitting quietly.  At 6:30 I awakened others and threw breakfast and clean clothes at them, packing lunches for Max and C.  I took the dog out, and she obediently evacuated, perhaps sensing my impatience.  At 7, I successfully started the car that burned blisters on my right hand yesterday when my ancient jumper cables (kid left a door ajar) broke and flamed out.  By 7:32, Max was involved in his first day of fifth grade.  If you remember when Max was born, take a minute here.

After that, I was obliged to spend some time touring the school so that the shock of the Kindergarten phase-in wouldn't upset Abby, who has been waiting since last year to go to Kindergarten and was recently informed by the city school system that there's an assessment test followed by an open house, followed in turn by some half days and that the first really full day of Kindergarten isn't until the 18th, which is two days after we close on our new house.  Yay.  So we toured the library and gym and cafeteria and Kindergarten rooms and played word games and such until 9 or so.

We grabbed fast food breakfast then, and got some toenail trimmers for the dog.  Put some gas in the car.  Abby helped.

Picked Max up from the half-first-day of school at eleven, which of course requires a 10:40 arrival in the car line, which is from Hell.  Skipped the damned thing entirely and just went and stood in the lobby.  Got Max, quizzed him about his day, got the details you can get from a 10-year-old, and took them both to see their mom at her school, where she's inservicing with no kids as yet.  After a fitful and distracted conversation, took the kids to Tennessee's only Culver's, and taught them the soup spoon joke.  We had a great time, and annoyed the other diners.  Had this weird synethetic - I think - experience with cashier's voice and kept getting her to talk more so I keep having it.  Curds.

Checked B&N, got my father-in-law's birthday gift.  Got trapped by giant rainstorm for over an hour.  Could not find book recommended by Jon Broad, played dollies with Abby, and watched a girl crush on Max in the kid's section.  She arranged toys to spell his name, then was really sketchy and moongazy.  Max also won a mango/orange smoothie in a Harry Potter trivia contest by answering a question about Quidditch.  Had to reconnect battery cables on car in rainstorm, stopped home, took the dog out again.  Freshened, checked emails, left house to go back to school at 2:40 for Abby's K'garten assessment.

She aced it, demonstrating advanced knowledge, outgoing personality, scientific inquiry (TEACHER: "Is this butterfly symmetrical?  ABBY: "I don't know; let's fold it in half and find out.") and excellent motor skills.  She was bursting with pride, and so was I.  C met us at what will soon be the kids' school and we re-grouped at home so Abby could de-brief, which she did, at length.  Watched Matt Damon defend teachers on the Internet and tapped out for ten minutes during Shark Week.  Had a graphics layout meeting with a customer in a mall food court at 6pm.

Went really well, the meeting - couldn't find the Jon Broad book in Books A Million, either.  Stopped briefly at the grocery for one more dinner ingredient only to find that everyone ate whilst I was out.  We watched the new Phineas & Ferb movie together, and then I packed a few boxes while C read to the kids.  Abby fell asleep on the couch and was easily moved.  Max went much later.

Now it is 11:11.  There is always going to be too much to do now.  I will attempt to sleep soon.

Generational

So I'm watching some Inspector Gadget episodes with the kids while C recovers from a minor throat thing (MINOR - no freaking out required) and Max and I have been talking about various jokes and technical aspects of the show, and then this happened:

ME: When I was your age, we used to argue at the school lunch table about what happened to Gadget's stuff when the van changed into a police car.

MAX: 'Cause of the loss of space?

ME: Yeah.  Different people thought teleporting, pocket dimensions, collapsible / shrinking stuff, shuffling things around...

MAX: There's probably a line a little from the bottom that you can stack stuff up to so it won't be affected by the transformation.

ME: A fill-line?

MAX: Yep.

ME: That's exactly the same idea advanced by my friend Jonathan, the friend you were named for.

MAX: Cool.

June Days

It's been a challenging series of highs and lows the last few days, and the rain falling like a hysteric's tears over the lightning outside would comfort me if I thought the intention to wash it all away might possibly be behind it.  C's asleep on the couch with the remotes and a giant bottle of soda, wrapped in a blue comforter while Max half-snoozes at 43 minutes past midnight watching the first couple of Harry Potter films in reverse order.  Abby's crashed in the general chaos of play that is Max's room, and I'm taking a short break from finishing The Hunger Games, a book I'm enjoying a lot more than I thought I would.  The escape is necessary.

We went from the heady time-burning and pleasantries of an out-of-town visit straight into C's final NiH performance of the year, and one at which she spoke emotionally and elegantly on rights and reasons.  I once again worked stage left, and it was harder than it has been in times past, but also more enjoyable.  The next day, our guests moved on, and we helped a friend move out of his current situation and into a better one.  Much sweat and joy was experienced.  Last night we also had our 16th anniversary dinner, which was a welcome respite from the rest of the world, and much needed time together.  Also, it made me miss a Stanley Cup game it sounds like I'm glad I missed.  The good feelings continued into this morning, and then the day went to shit.

Beginning with failure errands (mostly) and ending with family tumult, the back three-quarters of today uniformly sucked, and I'm glad they're now in the past.  I'm tired of outpouring and am thinking of simply retreating to my rooms with a stack of books and large glasses of water.  Until Monday, which is the newest source of household friction; the WBC is coming here on Monday, and we can't seem to agree on an approach to our counter-protesting.

I've had "an incident" with them before, so I know what NOT to do, but...

Summer's Here

I woke up this morning from a dream wherein, in order to fool some people who were looking for me, I killed myself.  I continued to go on after killing myself however - it was clear that no suicidal impulse was involved, simply a masterstroke of doing what no one would ever expect.  The me that I killed wasn't entirely me either, since I went on to critique my work, discuss the decision with others and finally, foil the villains of the dream.  One wonders what terrible thing they had in store for me that would have been worse than my actual plan for foiling them.  The logic of the dream was terribly muddled, as dream "logic" often is, but it made perfect sense at the time.  Of course.

I got up, then, and made blueberry muffins and coffee, moving very slowly.  Outside, walking the dog with my daughter, Abby turns to me and asks, "If the grocery store is always open, why do the doors have locks?"  While there is a perfectly good reason for the locks, I am reluctant to give it.  I am more amused by the question than anything, which is perfectly cromulent given the data at her disposal.  The dog spent some time acting like a fruitcake and wondering, as I was, why it had to be so freaking hot so early in the morning already.  Summer's being forced upon us here in Middle Tennessee.

I completed my financial aid crap this morning, and started bank accounts for both kids yesterday as part of our errands.  I finished the screenplay that I wanted to write last week, and have my brother-in-law reading it now.  I plan to clean my carpets this weekend.  I've got a photo scavenger hunt set up for my kids for today, am thinking about swimming after I hit the store for taco night ingredients, and am going to go look at a house for sale today that I can't afford.  Unfocused?  Fucking.  And also A.

I am beginning to think that the new messaging architecture on Facebook is broken based on the number of answerless questions I have on there.  I'm planning my Summer movie schedule now, and have decided to grudgingly go see Green Lantern, even though I'm far more excited about Captain America, Super 8, Cowboys Vs. Aliens, and the movie my kids are going to make before the Summer's over.  Stanley Cup Finals start tonight, and I'm hoping to have some friends over.

Ah, Summer.

Five

My daughter Abby is five today, and none too soon at that.  She's been wishing her life away since late last year when the promise of Kindergarten reared its head and became the focus of her small universe.  That, and getting some kind of lizard to take care of.  For the last fourteen days, I have been asked every day - often more than once - how many more days 'til her birthday.  Yesterday was a particular burden for her, as she just couldn't wait for it to be over and nighttime so she could go to sleep, wake up, and have it be her birthday.  And now it is.

We plan a pancake breakfast out somewhere, and then perhaps a park.  At 1, we have to go over to Max's school and watch a video of him and his classmates doing commercials for stuff they made up.  Then we're picking up a pink cake with polka dots, making pizza from scratch, and having presents.  Quite different from the last couple of years.  This weekend there will be a pizza/games visit with friends, and in between I'm going to do the best I can to extend the birthday magic all week.

Abby at five talks constantly and has zero attention span if you're boring.  She can read well but often doesn't, preferring instead to be read to.  She is shy when she decides to be, but often strikes up conversations with total random strangers.  He sense of humor is weird, and once tipped, her giggles are unstoppable and infectious.  She has the attitude born of trying to be heard in a family where everyone is bigger and talks a lot, and she managed to inherit my temper to go along with it, unfortunately.  She's all legs, and they are often bruised.  The left knee is ripped out of half of her pants and tights.  She likes pink frilly things, but prefers Max's old hoodies and T-shirts to her own.  She's often filthy, covered in mud, dirt, sweat, chocolate, juice, pizza, clay, paint - whatever she's been into.

She's excited about the pool this Summer, planting white squash and eggplant and digging up worms.  More than anything though, it's about Kindergarten, making friends and being at school.

Here's birth, one, two, three and four.

I made this mix disk for her recently - these are all songs she likes, picked and that make her dance happy.  Enjoy.

1. Fireflies - Owl City  (because it makes her think of her brother, who brought this song into our house)

2. Down To Earth - Peter Gabriel (because it's in Wall-E, I think)

3. Music For A Found Harmoniu - Penguin Cafe Orchestra

4. Cheesecake Truck - King Missile (sings along with this one, easily the most requested)

5. Cat Came Back - Wally Pleasant (makes her laugh)

6. Upside Down - Jack Johnson

7. Crazy - Gnarls Barkley (it's one of Max's 2 favorite songs, so I think that's why it's here)

8. Robot Rock - Daft Punk (does a little girl version of "the robot")

9. True Skool - Coldcut

10. America  - Knaan, Mos Def and Chali 2na (sings along, kind of)

11. Run's House - Run D.M.C. (not going away anytime soon)

12. Despicable Me - Pharrell Williams (again, because of the movie)

13. Spider-Man Theme (Junkie XL Remix) - Michael Buble (I think just because it's got Spidey in it)

14. Stylo - Gorillaz, Bobby Womack and Mos Def (we listen to a lot of Gorillaz - I don't know why this one, especially)

15. Uprising - Muse

16. Hail Umberto - Eric P. (because of cheese sandwiches, duh)

17. Where's Your Head At - Basement Jaxx

18. Hymn of the Big Wheel - Massive Attack

19. Fireflies (Adam Young Remix)

Open Letter to TN Governor Haslam

Gov. Haslam,

My name is Garrett Crowell, and I am the husband of a Rutherford County educator, the father of two school age children come the Fall, and an admitted student at MTSU, also starting in the Fall.  Many of my friends and family are career teachers, some retired, and some active in this state and others.  My connections to the practice of education are numerous and meaningful.

I am writing to strongly object to both the purpose and tone of the so-called "Professional Educators Collaborative Conferencing Act of 2011," a preposterous strike against the collective bargaining rights of those who most need them, teachers.  Pushed through committee in the late hours of Friday when exhausted educators would mostly be in bed asleep, this bill is exactly the opposite of what Sumner County Rep. Maggart says it would be.  She stands on the floor of the legislature and contends that this act will strip the confrontation out of the negotiations while shouting above the angry voices of teachers and TEA representatives who feel short-changed by the process.  She wants to allow more voices at the table to debate the rights and futures of Tennessee educators, while excluding those same voices from the act's development; instead writing and creating a completely partisan situation where contentiousness is at the heart of every dispute.

In short, Governor, I am writing to urge you not to sign this debilitating act into law, and instead to take up the cause of educators in your state who need to have their rights protected.  The age of the demonized educator, it seems, is on the rise, and it would be truly shameful for you to be an active part of a process that cripples the ability of Tennessee educators to effectively educate.  The long-reaching results of this act will likely include less teacher satisfaction, as salaries and benefits decrease, they are yoked with rules and standards that make the classroom experience inefficient and ineffective.  That in turn could lead to fewer teachers, as fewer people enter an unstable field with fewer benefits, which in turn leads to an uncertain future for Tennessee's children.

Please listen to the voices of the 3000 that congregated in Nashville on March 5th, and the hundreds that will gather in the Convention Center at 9:15 this morning.  Please pay heed to the emails and calls and protestations that should be flooding your office - this is the collective voice of democracy, an under-represented phalanx of teachers and their supporters telling you that this act will create conflict and contention, abuse and abasement of rights and responsibilities, and will hurt teachers, schools, and children all across Tennessee for the foreseeable future.  

Please do not sign this act into law.  Still your pen and allow teachers to retain their hard-earned right to collectively bargain with the forces that would seek to deprive them of their rights.

Sincerely,
The Squidbag

Teaching Intolerance

While I was cleaning up my kitchen this morning in the wake of last night's dinner and this morning's four breakfasts, two lunches and a morning dog-stravaganza, I was thinking about children's programming, since it was being beamed to me from the next room while my daughter struggled not to feed her toast to the dog.

The state of children's programming, for the most part, has become pretty diverse and tolerant: as parents of the consumers, we insist on it.  Dora speaks Spanish, one of the kids that the Cat in the Hat creepily hangs out with is black now, Martha Speaks is part of an ethnically mixed family.  The Imagination Movers only have the one female character, but she's Hawaiian and smarter than they are, so I'm calling that one good.  Lots of shows have such an ethnically mixed crew you'd swear Benetton was involved.  Oh, and before you leap in with the paucity of gay people on kids' TV, I think we can all agree that Bert, Ernie, Murray, Rosita, Baby Bear, The Count and Big Bird are all gay, and by going over quota, Sesame Street's got everybody else covered.

It's clear that, if not bending over backwards, kid TV is trying hard to create a diverse and tolerant landscape where everyone is accepted, but I was wondering - sort of in the vein of this previously mentioned weird-as-all-get-out Jehovah's Witness propaganda - whether fundie conservative racist homophobic teabagger narrow-minds let their kids watch this kind of thing, since it seems counter to everything they stand for, and if not, is there any hate-making children's television out there?  I mean, I know about the strictly religious programming that would fall into that category, but what about something less mainstream?

The Cat in the Hate?  Segregation Street where the Muppets hold an Aprtheid-like dominion over the obviously minority humans who choose to live there?  Super White, where Whyatt and his friends change the story by burning the books?  Martha Speaks when Spoken To, Like a Woman should sponsored by the Mormon church?  Imagine a kids cartoon from the Westboro Baptist Church, or even just Glenn Beck.  Curious George would be black-bagged and taken away for asking too many questions, the bad guys in shows would always be Zionist Jews, sneaky liberals, gay people and intellectuals.  Every character would assert their right to bear arms, and the heroes would empty soulless mouthpieces who spew jingoistic garbage devioid of thought at anyone who will listen.  Animated Sarah Palin: Sarah's Rogue Riders, powering into your town in an American-made truck full of flags and platitudes!  Orange John, whipping the people into a delicious smoothie of ineffectual leadership!  The UnionBusters!  

C'mon - how much of a leap is it from FOX to Foxy, the red-hot animated female host of Fox and Kids NewsHour?  I think you want to donate to your PBS affiliate right now.