This is a journey into the sucking vortex of randomness and nostalgia that YouTube can allow you to get lost:
Back in the early 90's my friend Matt showed me a song called Television, Drug of a Nation (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sgOWTM5R2DA) by The Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy. Somehow, it popped into my head and I looked it up. I remember the lyrics really hitting home. I just listened to it again and shook my head because I think that it still rings true, only more so perhaps.
Then through a click or two I found this old gem from MC 900 Ft Jesus: Truth Is Out Of Style (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYtlpG0hb38&feature=related ). I lingered in around his tracks for a while. There's a strange familiarity with these songs -- not sure how to describe it, but it is sort of a simplicity and rawness (not in a vulgar way) that reminds me a bit of Beck (Killer Inside Me).
Then, I somehow found my way to a series of really bad or really funny (not sure which) sexy Bollywood video clips.
This quickly degraded to boob pressing videos from Britney to Hilton. Actually, they were pretty boring (does that mean I watched them?)
OK, off to see something different. I hit the channel button.
The first button I chose, which was fairly random in that I didn't read what it was until after I picked it. OMG! It was called the ForceMeBig Channel. What is that you ask? I have no idea what the point of this video was, but it had some skinny dude in boxers showing you his profile before he shake bongs (think beer bong with a protein shake) over 4 thousand calories of a weight gain mixture shake in two tries. You watch him do this, he shows his profile before and after, cleans up his mess (and they mention he does this before his boyfriend comes home) and then he takes a nap for proper absorption. The whole thing is narrated as if it is a training or a science video with quiet music in the background. Huh?
The next one was boggling also. This guy was documenting his getting fatter by posting videos of his belly over time. Each entry had a higher weight to it. I didn't watch those -- I could see them on the side strip that shows related vids. But I did read the comments under the one I saw and was equally surprised: They all seemed positive. They ranged from, "oooh, so cute," to "I can't wait until 250." I was a bit confused, since I am trying hard to go in the opposite direction as that.
Trying to get out of that mess, I clicked on something from DadLabs titled,
What Makes a Great Babysitter? (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UsLRZWimmfE) This time I at least looked before I clicked. This caught my eye because at Friday night dinner over a friend's house we were talking about how hard it is to go on vacation (without our kids) because there is nobody who can watch them overnight. We came up with the idea that we could start up our own business of having a kiddie hotel -- just like a pet hotel! Parents could drop off their kids and go on a guilt free vacation on a weekend. Our wives immediately dismissed the idea as complete idiocy. I bet they were thinking about Daddy Daycare: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rgFkJCbB2ks
Not sure I want to describe the next descent into strangeness, but you wouldn't believe me if I did, so I will. This is a bizarre entry: all you see is a woman playing/caressing her high heeled shoes with her amputee arm. Not much warning there.
Next up on American Idol: Danny Noriega. Poor Danny. Every time I hear his name, I think of Manuel Noriega, former Panamanian Dictator. I wonder whatever happened to him. <---- back to Manuel in a minute. Where was I? Oh yes, Danny. I watched his audition where he sang Proud Mary. They loved it. Me, on the other hand, loved Ike and Tina's version, here recorded in 1974: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zdg4xeK9F9Q&feature=related
But now it is over, and I can't stop thinking about where the hell is Manuel. Did he die? Did he get out of prison? Quick-- ask Wiki!
"The Federal Bureau of Prisons website as of February 2008, does not give a projected release date for inmate Noriega (ID # 38699-079).[6] However, he may be handed over to another country for trial or imprisonment instead of being released into the public realm."
From there I began a similar journey I shall call Wiki-creep: The random wanderings through Wiki links.
I clicked on the Bureau of Prisons link ----->lethal injection ------> decapitation. Here I came across one of the funniest lines in Wikipedia that I can remember:
"Decapitation is invariably fatal, ..."
With that, and an almost 2 1/2 hour journey of time I could have gone to bed, I will sign off.
Post script: You guessed it. I didn't sign off. I continued hitting Wiki links. Ugh. There's just so much interesting info. My, how time flies.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Friday, February 15, 2008
My Two Dads, or, We Don't Need No Stinkin' Badges
My daughter is in Brownies, and it seems for every accomplishment she has with the troop, she gets another badge. We used to be pretty good about putting them on when she got them, but I can't remember recently doing it. I think it may have been farmed out for Grandma to do, or we've just been putting them off. There's probably a huge bag of them somewhere just waiting.
I found myself strangely thinking of these badges this past week, thinking of the badges we collect for things we have done and experienced. This week, I certainly have collected one for the Life Events: Death of a Parent Badge, Dad Version.
The problem with this though, is that I already collected that badge a year ago: my stepfather, Nick DeLuca, died of Liver Cancer on New Year's Eve. Just the month before on a whim, we took a ride together out through the country, where he showed me places he knew. It wasn't said, but there was a sense of bonding, an acceptance, a love that was present and poignant. A few weeks later after going to the hospital to get some pain checked out, he was sent home with an advanced stage of cancer. He already knew. He was ready. I took care of him in his last days of hospice care. I was lucky that I had off for the winter break. He was ready and he let go.
On Tuesday, February 12, 2008, a little after 10 p.m., my dad, Rick Selvin, let go of ravages of illness that has dogged him since last June. It was a strange illness, and knowing his past history, I thought it would be just one of his many attempts of knocking on Death's door and running away before he answered.
You see, like a Phoenix, the bird that rises up from it's own ashes, my Dad seemed to come back from the brink. Each time he reinvented himself, not always for the best, but always his own self. He was married three times, survived non-Hodgkins lymphoma, had beaten extreme obesity, had heart attacks and eventually had a heart transplant, and to top it all off, kidney failure. It seemed that no matter what happened to him, he always came back and never lost the humor that put it all into perspective.
When my dad received his heart, he said he asked G-d for just 10 years. This last September was the 10 years. Probably because of the anti-rejection immuno-suppressant medication he had to take, he got an infection that usually only AIDS patients get, and with that, the doctors couldn't find it. His condition rapidly deteriorated into a frail shadow of a man where the barest whisper was an exhausting effort.
In January, he left the hospital for a stint in a rehab facility, and I thought he would be on his way to gaining strength. Last week, that ended when they sent him back for what would be the last straw: liver failure. It was just too much for his body to handle, and with the liver gone, kidneys not working, feeding tube, pain medications, there was no other intervention.
When I saw him last week, I thought he looked better than the last time in December. His face was fuller and the look in his eyes was back. The eyes were the key to his soul and you could see it then. He was there. But his voice was still barely a whisper.
By this time I knew what the news meant: It was the liver. And I knew from past experience that nothing good can come from a broken liver. Once again hospice care was put into place, only this time, going home was not a viable option. He was indeed ready.
Funny word viable. Seems an ironic word to use.
But with my dad's sense of humor, I think he would appreciate it. Just like what he put into a profile that I found on the web: "As of this writing, to the best of my knowledge, I am still alive."
Well, this I have to say: Nick and Rick, my two dads, in my heart, you are still alive. Nick, I will always remember your strong compassionate guidance, the consistency I needed, the family trips, the bakery and the times you let me in behind the scenes of the business, and of course, your chair. Dad, I will always remember your sense of humor and the corny jokes that went with it, your mastery as a wordsmith, your talent as a musician that I always looked up to, your interest in science and generally anything interesting, and the ability to look back and realize that it is never too late to change and say you're sorry.
I love and miss you both.
I found myself strangely thinking of these badges this past week, thinking of the badges we collect for things we have done and experienced. This week, I certainly have collected one for the Life Events: Death of a Parent Badge, Dad Version.
The problem with this though, is that I already collected that badge a year ago: my stepfather, Nick DeLuca, died of Liver Cancer on New Year's Eve. Just the month before on a whim, we took a ride together out through the country, where he showed me places he knew. It wasn't said, but there was a sense of bonding, an acceptance, a love that was present and poignant. A few weeks later after going to the hospital to get some pain checked out, he was sent home with an advanced stage of cancer. He already knew. He was ready. I took care of him in his last days of hospice care. I was lucky that I had off for the winter break. He was ready and he let go.
On Tuesday, February 12, 2008, a little after 10 p.m., my dad, Rick Selvin, let go of ravages of illness that has dogged him since last June. It was a strange illness, and knowing his past history, I thought it would be just one of his many attempts of knocking on Death's door and running away before he answered.
You see, like a Phoenix, the bird that rises up from it's own ashes, my Dad seemed to come back from the brink. Each time he reinvented himself, not always for the best, but always his own self. He was married three times, survived non-Hodgkins lymphoma, had beaten extreme obesity, had heart attacks and eventually had a heart transplant, and to top it all off, kidney failure. It seemed that no matter what happened to him, he always came back and never lost the humor that put it all into perspective.
When my dad received his heart, he said he asked G-d for just 10 years. This last September was the 10 years. Probably because of the anti-rejection immuno-suppressant medication he had to take, he got an infection that usually only AIDS patients get, and with that, the doctors couldn't find it. His condition rapidly deteriorated into a frail shadow of a man where the barest whisper was an exhausting effort.
In January, he left the hospital for a stint in a rehab facility, and I thought he would be on his way to gaining strength. Last week, that ended when they sent him back for what would be the last straw: liver failure. It was just too much for his body to handle, and with the liver gone, kidneys not working, feeding tube, pain medications, there was no other intervention.
When I saw him last week, I thought he looked better than the last time in December. His face was fuller and the look in his eyes was back. The eyes were the key to his soul and you could see it then. He was there. But his voice was still barely a whisper.
By this time I knew what the news meant: It was the liver. And I knew from past experience that nothing good can come from a broken liver. Once again hospice care was put into place, only this time, going home was not a viable option. He was indeed ready.
Funny word viable. Seems an ironic word to use.
But with my dad's sense of humor, I think he would appreciate it. Just like what he put into a profile that I found on the web: "As of this writing, to the best of my knowledge, I am still alive."
Well, this I have to say: Nick and Rick, my two dads, in my heart, you are still alive. Nick, I will always remember your strong compassionate guidance, the consistency I needed, the family trips, the bakery and the times you let me in behind the scenes of the business, and of course, your chair. Dad, I will always remember your sense of humor and the corny jokes that went with it, your mastery as a wordsmith, your talent as a musician that I always looked up to, your interest in science and generally anything interesting, and the ability to look back and realize that it is never too late to change and say you're sorry.
I love and miss you both.
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