Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 634

I wish I had thought of this first

Best headline ever

A reader forwarded me this story along with this message:

It's as if one of your characters leapt from the page and entered real life.

I agree. 

In fact, I could probably use this story as the basis for an entire novel.

The story, from The Huffington Post:

Teen Burglar Kills Goldfish Because He Didn't Want To Leave Any Witnesses, Cops Say

Here's my favorite part of the story:

When the homeowners returned, not only did they find their belongings stolen, but found their goldfish had been poisoned. Someone had poured hot sauce, mustard, ketchup and spices into their fish tank, and all three fish were dead.

Three teenagers were arrested for the burglary, according to the Daily Herald , and a 16-year-old involved with the incident reportedly told officers he "didn't want to leave any witnesses," so he killed the fish.

I can't help but wonder if the alleged burglars will be punished more harshly if found guilty because of the killing of the fish.

I know they were only goldfish, and I know it sounds ridiculous, but I kind of think they should be.

If not for cruelty, at least for stupidity. 

Oh yes.

"Be ashamed to die until you have won some victory for humanity."

- Horace Mann, address at Antioch College, 1859

It doesn't trump my favorite quote:

"Don't say you don't have enough time. You have exactly the same number of hours per day that were given to Helen Keller, Pasteur, Michelangelo, Mother Teresa, Leonardo da Vinci, Thomas Jefferson, and Albert Einstein."

-H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

… but it comes close.  

Final birthday present

Last night the cat puked twice:

Once on the chair and once on the floor. 

I rose from my chair to begin the cleaning process when Elysha stopped me in my tracks. 

"I'll do it," she said.  "You don't have to pick up cat puke on your birthday."

It's a good rule of thumb, and it was also one of the nicest gifts I received for my birthday. 

The gift of time.  The gift of self-sacrifice.

The avoidance of cat puke. 

I think I'll write her a thank you note.

An ineffectual glare and an aimless finger point

As I drove down the street adjacent to my own yesterday afternoon, a car pulled out of a side street into the path of my car, forcing me into the oncoming lane.  I bounced off a snow bank on the opposite side of the road before restoring control and returning to the right side of the road.

And despite the dented fender and moment of sheer terror afforded to me by the careless driver in the other car, the most frustrating part of this entire episode was the the tinted windows on the white Jetta that nearly hit me. 

As I passed the car, which had screeched to a halt on the right side of the road, I was unable to make eye contact with the driver.  The tinting on the windows was so dark that I could not see inside the car.

I have a mean-ass glare and am quite skilled at pointing an angry finger, but I need to be able to see my target in order to be effective.  Instead, I found myself glaring and pointing at the spot where I hoped the driver's eyes were located, but the whole situation was considerably less satisfying than it should have been.

Stupid tinting. 

I think the whole process of making your car look cool in any regard is kind of silly, since it's only a car, but could we at least reserve accoutrement like window tinting to those who know how to drive without nearly killing people like me?

Not quite the same anymore

One more comment before my birthday passes:

While I enjoy celebrating my birthday very much, am I the only person who also finds a deep sadness in celebrating a birthday after you mother has passed away?

Forty years ago my mom and I began this journey that I am on together, but four years ago, Mom stepped off the path, leaving me to finish my journey alone. 

There was something about having my mother here on my birthday that made it feel like a celebration of our day.

The day we met for the first time.

One of the most important days in both our lives.   

Now it's only my day.  I can celebrate today with friends and family, but I have no one left to celebrate that day forty years ago.

I celebrate that day alone.    

The mother who gave birth to me forty years ago is no longer with me, making today feel a little more empty and a little less worthy of celebration.

Typical fortieth birthday gifts?

I turned forty today.  My wife surprised me with a birthday party on Saturday that I enjoyed very much.  A few of my buddies took me to a heated driving range and laser tag before we returned home to celebrate with twenty or thirty of my close friends. 

I was describing the gifts that I received to some of my students and former students today, and in listing them, I realized that this may not be the typical gift list of a forty year old. 

My gifts included:

1.  A pocket copy of the US Constitution
2.  A sweatshirt that reads:  Matt, The Man, the Myth, the Legend.
3.  A basketball
4.  Gift cards to Dominos Pizza, McDonald's and Wendy's
5. Snow pants
6. Mille Bornes, a French card game that I played as a child
7.  Underwear (from my in-laws)

And what did my students give me for my birthday (in addition to their homemade cards, some sweet and some not-so-sweet):

Diet Coke and candy bars. 

In the words of one of my former students, "It's like you're not even a man yet, Mr. Dicks."

Another said, "I can't tell if you're an adult nerd or just a big kid."

The husband of one of my colleagues and the bearer of the McDonald's gift card asked his wife, "Are we really giving McDonald's gift cards as a birthday present?"

One of my friends said, "You're easy and hard to buy for at the same time."

All fair points.

And part of me kind of wishes that I desired the more traditional gifts that a forty year old might receive, because there are times that I can feel less than manly in my pursuits. 

But another part of me is happy that I have no need for the more traditional gifts that a forty year old might receive.  A quick Internet search revealed items like watches, cufflinks, ties, fine bottles of wine, sunglasses, nostalgia-based gift baskets, weekend getaways, gift certificates to fine restaurants and mid-life crisis items like flying lessons to be ideal gifts for the forty year old.

None of these things appeal to me very much.

Which probably says a lot about me. 

Some good and some not so good. 

An education to most certainly brag about

Sarah Palin said:

"I want the mainstream media, and I've said this for a couple of years now, I want to help 'em. I want—I have a journalism degree, that is what I studied."

—in an interview with the Christian Broadcasting Network, Feb. 4, 2011

It is true. 

Sarah Palin was awarded a Bachelor's degree in communications with an emphasis on journalism, after attending, over a period of five years, the following institutions of higher learning (in this order):

University of Hawaii Hawaii Pacific University North Idaho College University of Idaho Matanuska-Susitna College University of Idaho (again)

This may seem like a lot of schools and a variety of degree programs, but fear not.  I am quite certain that there was universal alignment in the core curriculums between each of these schools, even though they spanned three different states and are not affiliated with one another in any way. 

Even if a person wanted to attend five different schools (including enrolling in one twice) over a period of five years, I am quite certain that a student could ultimately receive a fully cohesive, high quality education in communications and journalism that would most assuredly result in the unimpeachable ability to improve upon mainstream media's standards and practices.

Given all that we know about Palin so far, I think the quality and depth of education that she received in earning her Bachelor's degree is fairly evident.  

And how generous of her to offer such expertise to help the professionals currently running what she now refers to as the lame-stream media.

Lame-stream media.  Hardy har-har.  I assume that she learned her flair for hyperbole in college as well. 

Or colleges as well.   

I'll grant you that it's a little odd that Palin is so anxious to help an institution that she insults on an almost daily, but perhaps this is simply an expression of her multi-faceted skill set.  

Expertise in journalism beyond reproach, a desire to help her fellow man, and an acerbic wit to rival the best.

A deadly combination. 

Sexy rumpus. I like that.

Outstanding advice from From The Oatmeal's Valentines Day cartoon:

__________________________________

If Valentines Day really means so little to you, then I politely ask you to shut the hell up and treat it like any other day.

OR

Go have a sexy rumpus adventure with someone who smells nice.

Less complaining.  More sexy rumpus.

Not cool. I think. Actually, maybe its very cool.

It's hard to imagine that this was unintentional.  Right?

Maybe? 

I'm not sure. 

My question is this:

If it is intentional, is it wrong?

If little kids are unable to pick up on the hidden message on a conscious level or even understand its meaning, is this a problem?

My first reaction was less than favorable, but then I remembered that I am the teacher who wants to develop subliminally-based broadcasting software for my classroom Smartboard that flashes messages to my students like:

Work hard.

Mr. Dicks knows all.

Don't interrupt.

7 x 8 = 56

Homework is cool.

Can I begrudge a film studio's attempt to make a children's movie more appealing to the adults who have to accompany their kids to the theater?

If intentional, it's deceitful and and a little crass, but it's clever, too, and clever usually wins in my book.