Nuclear Family Warhead

As some of you have no doubt noticed, my sidebar went to a rave and got ahold of some bad blotter acid, or something.  Nothing I’ve tried has fixed the situation. So; since this theme has a history of bad behavior, missed curfews and snarky back-talking, it is grounded for a month.  It will not leave this Theme Editor until it’s attitude changes.  In it’s place we have it’s older, more responsible brother theme.  This theme minds it’s P’s & Q’s and knows when to keep it’s mouth shut.  No arrests, no convictions.  He’s a little shy, otherwise he would have been here taking care of business all along.  Please be patient with him as we redecorate his room.  Snarky back-talker theme is moving to the basement bedroom.  Teach him to toy with me.  Little smart aleck.  Please excuse us while we fix things up.

Nukeboy1 has been blinded by the light.  Well, sort of.  He has taken up the guitar for the second time.  The first time was 2 years ago when he was 8.  This time he’s a little more serious about it.  His turnabout can be explained in one compound word: Rockband.  He got it for Christmas, and has been rockin’ out ever since.  So much so that his guitar will only strum “up”, the “down” strum is broken.  So, since the guitar doesn’t work properly anymore, he has picked up the drums.  His buddies have Guitar Hero III or Rockband, and they talk about it endlessly.  “Dude, I could so kick your butt on ‘Highway Star’”.   “I nailed Weezer on EXPERT last night!”  Overnight they are getting an education into old school music and what rock and roll really means.

The coolest thing for me about all of this, is that he is getting a glimpse of some of the music I grew up with.  I’m obviously biased, but I think I grew up at the perfect time.  I had my older sister, who turned me on to all kinds of music.  Usually just by playing it in her room while I sat in the hallway outside her door; silently.  Listening.  Taking it all in.  I learned about Moody Blues, Gino Vanelli, Carole King, Boz Skaggs, Chicago, Todd Rundgren and so many more.  My brother got an 8 track stereo system for Christmas one year (Yes! I’m  THAT old!), and I learned about Bachman Turner Overdrive, Led Zepplin, ZZ Top, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Steve Miller, The Doobie Brothers and the list goes on and on.  Once I started my own collection, I soon left my older siblings in the dust as my collection grew and grew.  In 1981 I bought my first stereo system.  That same year my album collection grew to 300+ lp’s; much to my Father’s chagrin.  He thought I should save my money for a car.  I thought I needed to rock.  By 1984 I had amassed over 450 lp’s and put a stereo system in my VW Bug that once caused my Father to walk out of the house, knock on my window, and tell me to “TURN THAT CRAP DOWN!”  I had to smile after saying “Yes, sir”, and watching him walk back inside.  He heard my car stereo (windows closed, no less) inside the house?  Cool.

By the late 80’s my lp collection was north of 600 and my CD collection had blossomed to a little over 150.  There was some duplicity there but, hey, you can’t buy the brand new CD technology and NOT buy The Wall.  Sure, I had it on LP, but on CD it made me even more Comfortably Numb.  I had a nearly photographic grasp of all music released from 1972 to about 1994.  Albums, bands, who was in each band, what they played, what side a song was on, which number it was on that side, the year it was released, who wrote which song, on and on.  My friends used to call me “Shrevie” after the character from “Diner“.   I don’t think I was as fanatical as he was, but, then again….I could get lost for hours inside my favorite record store.  I’d look for deals and bands that I could “discover” in the cut-out section.  I’d scoff at those who only bought cassettes.  Fools.  I’d buy my own blank tapes and mix tape myself into a coma. 

Nukeboy1 doesn’t have that same opportunity.  The music he had been listening to before his “Rockband Epiphany” was the manufactured artists that all seem to sing on each others songs: T-Pain, Chris Brown, Rihanna, Timbaland, Flo Rida and many others.  I’m not dissing these artists, and I’m not turning into an old fuddy-duddy; it’s just not my cup of tea.  It pisses me off because kids today don’t have near the selection or choice that I had.  Sure, you could say that I’m no different; that I’m a “victim” of what was being forced down my throat when I was a kid, but the difference is; I had more avenues to explore than American Idol and itunes.  Record stores, bootleg tapes of up and coming bands, independent radio stations instead of “Clear Channel listen to what we tell you to listen to” stations.  I had a choice.

Music has been, and always will be, subjective.  Abortion, politics and music are three subjects that can garner the most emotion and fanaticism when debated.  Of the three, music is the only one where you can at least find some common ground with someone who doesn’t share your point of view.   You may think their Slim Whitman fetish is asinine, but they may scoff at your Black Sabbath affliction.  If you both can share a beer over side 2 of Back In Black; then it’s all good.  Sorry, I forgot we don’t have “sides” anymore.

Nukeboy1 has inundated me with questions the last week and a half on all things “Classic Rock”.  I’ve shared as much as I know with him.  His curiosity and quest for knowledge is mind numbing.  Why can’t he tackle fractions like this?  I already know the answer; for the same reasons I couldn’t.  He’s got the fever.  I did what any responsible parent should do; I dug out all of the CD’s and went through them with him.  He picked out a starter stack of about 25 CD’s that he is presently working his way through.  Little does he know that my list for him grows exponentially each day.  I encourage each of you to do the same.  Dig out the old albums, dust off the turntable, dig the cassettes out of the attic (if they haven’t melted) and let your kids discover the same way you discovered.  Make suggestions, let them know that there are plenty of choices out there.  The dialogue that it opens up may surprise you; and place you back on common ground.

The meat wagon pulled into my driveway the other day.  I’m not talking about the county coroners’ Hearse, or a burrito buggy that frequents construction sites; I’m talking a 1998 Dodge Ram 1500 with dents a plenty, peeling paint and in desperate need of a tune up.  I mention the tune up only because the children who were riding their bikes up and down the street were now lying in the grass gasping for air.  The eye-catcher; though, was the Kenmore 7.0 cubic foot chest freezer in the bed of the truck.  That’s funny, I don’t remember ordering a dead body.  Maybe NukeMom ordered me something special for Father’s Day.

“How are you today?”; the voice startled me.  It was coming from the Unabomber look-a-like who was walking up my driveway.  Not the sketch drawn Unabomber; I always thought the sketch looked like Tom Berenger (Platoon, Major League, The Big Chill), the actor.  Poor guy, no wonder he wasn’t getting any acting jobs then.  No, he looked like the Ted Kaczynski-scruffy hair-livin’ in the Montana wilderness-Unabomber.  He had been across the street talking to my neighbor.  What am I, Park-n-Go?  “I was talking to your neighbor about some fabulous deals I’ve got”.  Oh God, here we go. 

As some of you know, I’ve spent most of my life in and around restaurants, so this guy trying to sell me meat was going to be an exercise in futility for him.  He’d have better luck selling Juan Valdez a case of Folgers Crystals.  I immediately dis-armed him by pointing to the brand new freezer in my garage and showing him my Sam’s Club receipt.  It clearly showed where I had just purchased an entire Ribeye roll for less than $6.00 per pound; so buying his 6 individual 7oz Ribeye’s at $28.62 per pound just wasn’t making me feel all lovey-dovey.  He continued with his sales pitch, throwing out words like; ‘wholesale’, ’case discount’, ‘flash-frozen’ and ‘package deal’.  I think he even said ‘chance of a lifetime’ at one point.  I just kept walking him towards his truck until we got to the driver’s door and he finally took the hint.  He tried one last time with “I don’t know when I’ll be back this way again”.  I thanked him and said ”No” for the 15 ba-zillionth time.  He finally started up his truck and backed out of the driveway.  The bike riders were back, but they were prepared this time.  Two of them headed up-wind while those trapped down-wind dove for cover.  

I know the poor guy was just trying to make a buck, but I have an aversion to buying meat off of a truck from someone who looks like an urban terrorist.  It’s not like he was the Schwann’s guy or something.  I’m sure some of it’s good; some of the things I’ve heard about the filet’s is positive, I’m just not willing to take that chance.  Food poisoning and child rearing should never collide in the same sentence, let alone the same household.  If he comes back next time with some Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream, THEN maybe we can do some business.  Keeping my fingers crossed…

Today is Nukeboy1’s day to have Dad bring him lunch at school.  He went with the healthy option this week and decided on Subway.  Finally!  After suggesting it all year, he finally decided that this; the last lunch of the year, would be the healthy one.  That’s fine, except that today I am in full carnivore mode and I’m craving a greasy cheeseburger the way a chubby Britney Spears craves spandex; foolishly and relentlessly.  I suppose I could go to 2 different places, but then I wouldn’t be “leading by example” now, would I?  Subway it is.  At least they don’t cut that ridiculous “wedge” out of the bread and then place it back on top like they used to.  Remember that?  The first time I ever ate at Subway I thought the sandwich maker was some part-time scrapbooker who just got carried away with my bread.  I looked inside the sandwich fully expecting to see tomatoes cut into hand-holding paper dolls and pickles cut into cloverleaf’s.  Was I seeing things?  Had she spelled out “Have a Nice Day” with the squeeze bottle of mayonnaise like on a birthday cake?  I was seeing things.  She got the “H” done and then the manager yelled at her to hurry things up.   

This started me thinking of other not so great moments in the world of food.  Remember the “McDLT”?  It kept the hot side hot, and the cool side cool; if I recall.  George Costanza himself (Jason Alexander) did the song and dance for the commercial.  It’s a great exercise in early attempts at diversity, also.  The only thing I couldn’t see was an Indonesian Phlebotomist.  Here’s the video.

After seeing that, it’s hard to think of all the classic Costanza-isms: the marble rye, the wedding invitation death glue, shrinkage, “Is anyone here a Marine Biologist?”  But back to our subject; the marketing people at Taco Bell have been working overtime the last decade or so.  I think it all started when they were overstocked on flour tortillas and needed a way to unload them.  Some genius in marketing who is probably CEO by now, said; “Lets just slather some re-fried beans on it, wrap it around a taco and call it a gordita!”  The 3am munchies would never be the same.  Come to think of it, late night diners can explain about 74% of Taco Bell’s menu.  No sane, sober person would eat that stuff.  Eventually it will lead to this:

I wonder if Taco Bell’s long range marketing plan is to eventually have customers order by the pound rather than the item?  Could be; look how McDonald’s and Burger King have trained our children to choose where they eat based on the toys, not the food. 

It’s not just the restaurants who do it  either, there are plenty of examples of food abuse on the home front as well.  Think about the absolute worst thing your parents ever fed you.  Now, have you tried to feed it to your kids?  What are your kids’ least favorite items?  My list isn’t huge, but then, it’s not only one item either.  With apologies to my Mom, here is a list of my least favorite dinners as a kid:  Chicken livers and onions with beets.  No kidding.  At the same time.  It took all 5 of us kids to rebel one night at the table together.  Our solidarity paid off next time Mom & Dad had this meal and we got hot dogs and mac & cheese.  How about beef liver and apple rings?  See the above scenario to see how things turned out.   Thankfully, my parents’ venture into the wonderful world of animal organs ended there, and we were never subjected to cow’s tongue or calf’s brain.  We lived in El Paso, the menudo capital of the world.  Menudo isn’t just a boy band from Mexico, it’s a dish made from the stomach lining of a cow.  It’s supposed to cure a hangover, but I was never brave enough to think that I could hold that down when I was having a hard enough time holding down the previous nights Taco Bell.  There was pineapple salad, which was 2 leaves of lettuce with pineapple tidbits on top.  Yum!  A slight variation of this salad was usually served with fish sticks and you simply had to substitute a dollop of mayonnaise for the pineapple.  Are you getting hungry yet?  Cream chip beef: they have another name for it in the military, ask a veteran.  Cabbage and vinegar is in there somewhere, along with brussel sprouts, creamed spinach, creamed corn; basically any vegetable with cream that has no business having cream in it in the first place.  In their defense, my parents’ list of menu items is 10 times what I serve my kids, and 90% of it was excellent.  I still call my Mom today for recipes and reminders.  I just don’t ask about the ones that used to give me bad dreams.

I felt it fitting this week to choose some words that could be easily “misheard” or “misunderstood” to go along with the Obsessed With An Alien post.  Check it out to see how many songs you’ve been singing wrong all of these years.  So, with clarity as our goal, let’s get started.  Our first word is apologia.  It means an apology, as in defense or justification of a belief.  It’s pronounced: apple-oh-gee-uh.  Sounds like someone stammering after being offered fruit; “Apple?” “Oh! Gee, uh, don’t mind if I do!”   And, no, it isn’t that chick that was in Purple Rain with Prince.  That was Apollonia, who was once part of NASA, I think.  You may have also thought that it was the actor who played the giant foot piano with Tom Hanks in Big, but, wrong again.  That was Robert Loggia.  So, there we go.  Clarity at it’s finest.

Our second word this week is imbroglio.  It means a misunderstanding or disagreement of a complicated or bitter nature, as between people or nations.  Can you say Clinton/Obama?  It could also mean an intricate and perplexing state of affairs; a complicated or difficult situation.  Kind of like this blog.  The perplexing part, I mean, not the complicated part.  It’s pronounced: Im-bro-yo.  Keep the “G” silent.  Don’t say: Im-brog-leo.  No, this isn’t the last name of that Natalie girl from Australia who sang about being “cold and naked on the floor”, that’s Natalie Imbruglia who was in Johnny English with that Mr. Bean character.  So there you have it.  Wasn’t that as clear as mud?  I hope I didn’t confuse you and put you in an imbrogliotic state.  No, I don’t think it’s a word either.  Don’t forget to catch up on all of the words on the BWW Home Page.  There will be a test.

At dinner last night Nukeboy2 was showing off his big brain.  “Ask me some words to spell Dad!”  Obviously grammar is riding in the back seat at this point.  We made it through “Kat” and “Shuld” before I remembered that in the 2nd grade, it’s all about fawnicks.  I mean; phonics.   I don’t feel that it is the best way to teach a child, which is evident when Nukeboy2 tries to read me something he has written “phonetically”.   He struggles with the pronunciation because his brain knows what the word looks like when he reads it in a book, but he gets confused when he tries to read what he has “sounded out”.  I think it has had an effect on his hearing also.  I think he is hearing “phonetically”.  During the course of this spelling bee I told him that before he knew it he would be “A sesquipedalian”, to which he responded; “Dad, why would I want to be obsessed with an Alien?”  After I finushd choking on mi stayke and beens, I tuk a drik of wadder and triyed to explane.  He understood what I was telling him, and I’m not worried in the least.  He is an incredibly smart kid and I know he’ll do fine next year when they actually teach him how to spell correctly and erase the waste of time that was the 2nd grade.

Our little experiment reminded me of all the times I thought I knew the words to a certain song, only to be outed in a most embarrassing way at the most inopportune moment.  Like when Train was singing “and that Heaven is overrated” and I thought it was: “and that Van Halen is overrated”.  NukeMom laughed for a month after correcting me on that one.  My little sister once thought that Lipps, Inc. were singing “won’t you take me to Bogota” when they were actually singing “won’t you take me to Funkytown“.  It didn’t help matters that her class was studying South America at the time.  A girl that I know swears that her college roommate used to sing “I’ve never seen your pizza burnin’” in perfect tune to the Rolling Stones’ “Beast of Burden“.  Fact is, there are a million of them out there and I’m sure some of you have some good stories to tell.  So let’s hear them!  Let me know your most embarrassing misheard lyric moment.  You can check the site Kiss This Guy to see how many other people share your karaoke nightmare.  I used to think God created karaoke so that we would all stop getting the words to songs wrong; but then I remembered that by the time you’ve had enough drinks to get up there and sing, you can’t read anyway.