“Marxism is the opium of the intellectuals.”

- Edmund Wilson

Huzzah! I've hired a new minion at the office which means the deluge of work I've been dealing with will eventually diminish back down to, say, what bursts out of a fire hydrant. So what is it about this happy event that sparks a headline like the one above? It's a simple explanation, really, and one that may also "explain" why our family is the way it is.

With the new person about to come on board I've had to refamiliarize myself with some of the benefit options that are available from my company. This, in turn, reminded me of when I started a job with another company several years ago. At the dinner table I was discussing what benefits I had signed up for with my wife and mentioned that part of the life insurance package included a $10,000 benefit on the kids.

The Mall Diva, who was about five at the time, piped up, saying something like, "What's that all about?"

"Well," I said, matter-of-factly, "it just means that if you die, Mom and I get some money."

"No fair. I should get the money."

"No, you'll be dead and Mom and I will get the money in case we want to buy a puppy or something because we're lonely."

The little Diva thought about this for a couple of moments.

"Well, what if you die?"

"Then you and Mom get a lot of money."

"So, how will we know?"

"How will you know what?"

"If you're dead."

"Oh, well you'll just come in some time and I'll be laying on the floor with my hands and feet curled up in the air like a dead cockroach."

As it turned out, mother and daughter went out that evening to run some errands while I flopped on the couch in the living room to read. Later, when I heard them coming back in through the kitchen, I quickly rolled off the couch and assumed the position described above before MD could skip into the room.

"Da-DEEE!" said the Diva in her "not funny!" tone.

My wife, still in the kitchen, simply said, "I'm not even going to look."

Several months later I became sick enough at work to have to come home. Coincidentally, the little Diva also got sick and had to come home and join me. We were lolling around on my bed in medicated apathy when we heard my wife coming in through the back door.

"Daddy - let's do cockroaches!"

We quickly drew ourselves up into position, side by side, waiting for my wife to come down the hall to check on us (this is a very difficult position to hold when you've been throwing up, by the way, even more so when a little girl is shaking next to you trying to control her snickering).

My wife finally came to the bedroom door and locked in on us: "OH NO!" she gasped. "My family is dead!"

I can't remember if she said anything about getting a puppy.

I may be a week or so away from resuming regular posting. A recent commenter, however, suggested posting pictures of squirrels because "Squirrels are funny." Others think they are a terrorist menace.

Watch the video below and decide for yourself: documentary or propaganda?



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"In the world it is called tolerance
but in hell it is called despair.
The sin that believes in nothing,
cares for nothing, seeks to know nothing,
enjoys nothing, finds purpose in nothing,
lives for nothing
but remains alive because there is
nothing which it would die for."

~Dorothy Sayers

Aging black leather and hospital bills,
Tattoo removal and dozens of pills.
Your liver pays dearly now for youthful magic moments,
But rock on completely with some brand new components.

— "Rock and Roll Lifestyle," by Cake

My generation is not going to grow old gracefully, but we will do it stylishly.

Nancy at Away With Words called my attention to a new, nearly-invisible, "personal communications assistant" from Phonak called Audéo; described as "a breakthrough for living life to the fullest, bringing back the speech understanding we can start to lose as early as in our twenties. Sleek, stylish and discreet, it's the ultimate high-tech accessory."

That's their description, anyway; you might simply call it a hearing aid.

Audéo is backed by an eye-catching (and ear-supporting) print ad campaign featuring aging-but-still-edgy wearers who, you presume, would rather be run down from behind by a freight train than wear their father's hearing aid — or even ask for one. While Audéos are nearly invisible, those parts that do show come in such cool color combos as Solar Flare and Raku Glaze, to name but a few. The Audéo concept and ad campaign are solid and creative way to market a sensitive product to an audience not quite ready to admit that they need it, similar to the way Haggar now promotes it's slacks and in keeping with ED ads all featuring virile, hunky-looking guys with just a touch of gray.

Naturally, Audéos aren't needed because you're getting older; oh no, it's simply the result of your full, active lifestyle. Personally, my full, active college lifestyle once included going to a number of rock concerts where my connections got me front and center tickets right in the cone of the speakers. A typical conversation in those days might go like this:

"Man, I saw The Tubes three days ago and they were great! My ears are still ringing!"

"Dude, that's so cool!"

"What?"

In fact, my ears are still ringing. For the last couple of years the soundtrack of my full, active lifestyle has been a steady keening sound. Nevertheless, as I type this now I can clearly hear the dehumidifier running, the hum of the computer and the distant chirping of our parakeets. If someone were to say something to me, however, my first response would probably be, "What?"

Like most things having to do with getting older I've simply gotten accustomed to this gradually. To lift another song lyric, "A man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest." For the most part I can hear what (I think) I need to hear but there are times when I struggle to follow the conversation at Keegan's with all the background noise and I know my daughters hear things in songs that I never catch.

So of course I entered my zipcode on the website to learn where I can find an Audéo specialist near me for trying out my own personal communications assistant. Meanwhile I look forward to more cool products coming my way, like an Xtreme Walker that converts to a street luge complete with an iPod port, or thong-style Depends. Forget the reading glasses, I want some "personal visual enhancers" and my favorite sport drink, now in prune juice flavor!



Hey — I heard that, Mall Diva!

Late Sunday evening I packed my bag and got in my car to head to the company event that has been consuming my waking (and a few non-waking) hours for the past several weeks.

It was a warm summer evening, in the gathering twilight that I like best when it is still light but the sky is beginning to gray and the lights of the cars and houses really seem to pop. I swung out onto the almost deserted highway and flipped over from radio to CD and was rewarded with a couple of songs from Springsteen's Born to Run album.

The quality of light, the open road in front of me, a couple of anthems from my youth...it was as if a screen door slammed in my mind, a dress waved, and a vision danced across the porch as the radio played.

I put the pedal down and off I screamed into the night.

I joined the family (both immediate and MOB) at Keegan's tonight for trivia night and the added attraction of the quarterly drawing for the trip for two to Boston. My team had won or finished in the money a few times in the last three months so I had a few entries in the beanpot. Since you have to be present to win I wanted to be sure to be on hand.

Tiger Lilly and the Reverend Mother were somewhat interested in the outcome, but the drawing time was past their bedtimes so they went home and left the Mall Diva and I to collect whatever winnings were to be had.

Finally the big moment came. After a bit of folderol from Marty as he drug out the suspense, the winning name was drawn: my friend, Dr. Jonz. Half-hearted cheers and groans filled the patio where most of the bloggers were gathered. In the hub-bub I suddenly heard my name called over the P.A. as well. "Hey, you won something!" someone said, so I went into the bar to see what second or third place might be worth. I saw Terry Keegan standing at the bar near where Dr. Jonz was collecting his loot so I went up to the proprietor and said, "I heard I won a trip to Duluth."

"Not quite," he said. "You won a trip to Fargo."

"Oh."

"Actually, you won two weeks in Fargo."

"You have to be present to win, right?"

"Yes."

"Tell them you didn't see me."

As it turned out, my prize was a handsome necktie advertising Sam Adams Light that will be perfect for wearing to church, which is about the only place I wear a tie anymore. I went back out to the table where the Mall Diva and the rest of the group were waiting to see my prize. MD took it from me so she could inspect it more closely. After a few minutes she handed it back to me.

"Happy Father's Day, Poppi!"

Eat your hearts out.

The Nightwriter's at a company function and the 'Hens' have hit the town to paint it light red.
Right now we're at Cafe Latte having dinner. Salads, sandwiches, and of course, ridiculously caloric desserts.
TL: Can I have a bite of your foccacia?
MD: If I can have a bite of your cake.
TL: I am not a 'Hen'.
MD: We're still chicks. I'm having technical difficulties. (trying to cut her tomato)
Lots of munching.
TL: You're not putting down all of our dialogue.
RM: That's because it's lame. I'm only writing the cute stuff.
MD: We can make eyes at cute boys, like that one right there. (points to a four year old)
I have a lemon shrimp pasta salad, balsamic vegetable salad and chicken ceaser pasta salad and the chicken ceaser is the best.
RM: MMMMM, that is good. What else can I have?
MD: You can have my balsamic tomatoes.
TL: (sarcastically) MMMMM, I wish I had some balsamic tomatoes.
RM: Eat your potato chips. I paid good money for those.
TL: No, I want to eat my cake.
RM: I want to eat your cake, too.
TL: Apparently my cake is in hostile territory, with predators on all sides.
TL: I was looking at Faith's baby pictures today. You were so cuuuute.
MD: I'm still cute. Watchoo talkin' bout?
TL: But I didn't come across the picture of you in the bathtub with Lindsay.
RM: Let me clean your plate for you.
TL: Wanna lick it?
RM: Ummmm, no.
MD: That lady down there is carrying a lamp shade.
TL: I think she's gonna take it to a party and when she comes home, she's gonna put it on her head. Then her boyfriend is going to see her and say, "Hey! Why didn't you invite me?"
RM: I'm going to have a cucumber-potato chip sandwich.
MD:That's weird.
RM: We'll see.
*Chews thoughtfully*
MD: That's more than weird.
RM: You're right. It wasn't the taste sensation I was expecting.
MD: Haha! The taste sensation of the century!... Aargh! My wrist is itchy!
RM: Well, take one of those ice cubes and rub it on there.
TL: Or, do you have a stick of deodorant? If you rub it with that it'll stop itching.
RM stares.
RM: You think she just carries a stick of deodorant in her purse?
TL: I don't know what she carries in her purse! If somebody she knew walked up and said to her "You stink!", she might want to have it!
MD: Mimes putting on deodorant in the restaurant.
TL: I'm serious, I read it in a book!
RM: Oh, then it must be true.
TL: I think it was a Southern remedy or something.
RM: Yeah, the air is different down there.
RM: I'm hot.
MD: Me, too.
TL: So am I.
RM: Alright, time to go.

That concludes this section of the Night Hens Chatroom. Do we know how to have fun or what?

"Justice to my readers compels me to admit that I write because I have nothing to do;
justice to myself induces me to add that I will cease to write the moment I have nothing to say."
— Charles Caleb Colton

You see, that "nothing to do part" is kind of essential for regular blogging and a missing element in my schedule of late. That should not be construed, however, as an indication that I've run out of things to say.

Regardless of what the sporadic posting might indicate, and in case anyone was wondering, I'm not hanging up the blog or going on official hiatus; the past two weeks have just been monumentally busy, and last Friday was a week's worth all by itself. I have three major events occurring in three different parts of the country that I'm trying to coordinate and all three have crucial deadlines this coming week (to tag-team with the crucial deadlines related to these events that had to be met last week). On top of that I have two newsletters to edit, a new direct-mail campaign that's about to drop, and several other projects vying for attention that I would love to give a lick and a promise to if I could only summon the spit to do so. Oh, and I've also been interviewing candidates to fill the vacant position on my staff so I DON'T HAVE TO WORK SO FREAKIN' HARD! Meanwhile, my personal schedule of activities and duties away from the office has barely abated as well.

So, how's it going with you?

Ah well, one of the big events will be over and done with (for good or ill) on June 11. Another one goes off June 15-17, and if the flaming, rotating hoops I've had to jump through so far on that little number are any indication, the last few days leading up to that event are going to be beauties. After that things will get back more or less to normal, if I can remember what that looks like.

Memorial Day Weekend wasn't much of a holiday for me, as I brought the laptop and all the tons of things that can be stored on it home. There are occupational hazards with doing things like that. That Saturday I was taking a break to do my chores and bent down to snatch a couple of handfuls of laundry to put them in the washing machine. When I straightened up it suddenly felt as if I'd been tasered in the back. Bilateral back spasms shot across my back about a third of the way down, to the point where I had to make a conscious effort to breathe. The initial burst subsided, but the twinges and aches (and occasional breathlessness) continued throughout the long weekend. I discovered I was particularly sore when I sat in my recliner with my laptop in its place and my head inclined toward the screen. Hey, it's not loading 16 tons of number 9 coal or getting black lung disease, but work can be hard sometimes.

During this crunch time it's not only been hard to find the time to write, it's been hard to find the time to browse my favorite blogs and news sites. This has the effect of dampening the stimulation that usually leads to better blog-posts (or at least better researched ones). In the gap I've spun out more personal observations on things going on in and around my life since I don't have to think much about these. It's kind of fun, but I fear I'm drifting toward what a guest on Hugh Hewitt's show a couple of weeks ago described as a "thumb suck" blog; all navel-gazing and domestic details.

Now, I enjoy a good thumb suck blog as much (or more) as the next guy. Some of my favorites could fall into that derogatory-sounding category, and blogs like Lileks and Cathy In the Wright helped me make up my mind about getting into blogging. That may well be my true calling. Still, I'd like to think I can sneak the hammer in from time to time, thumbs-be-damned.

Soon, I hope.