Preparing for the End of the World

There was another reminder on the radio today that Friday is the end of the planet according to the Mayan Calendar. I think, in a way, it takes some of the pressure off of things, especially during the holidays. It's sort of de-stressing more than it is distressing.

If you think about it, there really are a lot of benefits to the end of the world coming this week. You just have to look at the bright side of extinction. Here are a few points to consider:

1. Christmas Shopping-Schmisshmish Shopping -- Okay, so I'm a little behind, make that very behind on my Christmas shopping. Unless friends and family would be excited to receive a bottle from the huge collection of gourmet sauces we've accumulated from a store where a good friend works, I am coming up short in the gift department. Then it hit me. Why am I stressing about this? If the world ends on December 21st, then it really doesn't matter what was or wasn't under the tree when it vaporized.
2. Survivor Finally Ends -- Just before they begin filming Survivor Modesto ("Jeff, what exactly is a Rocky Mountain Oyster?"), we realize that we are all actually part of Survivor Planet, the ultimate reality show, at the moment our front lawns catch on fire. Good luck finding that hidden immunity idol because the phrase "final three" is going to take an a whole new meaning when icebergs begin floating into San Francisco Bay.

3. Al Gore Redemption -- Sure, it's a big price to pay to be able to say, "See, I was right!" Still, as you watch your mailbox swept up in a sea of magma on Friday morning, you just may have to admit that this whole Global Warming thing might be real. Sure, there won't be time to be interviewed on CNN to claim victory, but still he'll know he had that one right.
4. No Fiscal Cliff -- And we thought our politicians were incompetent and leading us into economic ruin with their fiscal impotency. Of course, they couldn't possibly be as incompetent as they appear to be. Really, could anyone really be that clueless? Of course not. This whole Fiscal Cliff thing is just meant to distract us from the real issue, that being the end of the world. While we rush out to meet with our tax planner to see if we can still afford our Netflix subscriptions in 2013, no one is paying any attention to Earth's poles reversing.
5. Supersized Credit -- If your credit card company doesn't bill you until after the 21st, then, guess what! Your credit card has just been supersized. Ready for a Brookstone massage chair? Wanna spend 15 minutes with a Kardashian? Go for it! You'll never see that credit card bill. This brings a whole new meaning to the phrase "Shop 'til You Drop!"

6. It's Raining Cinnabons! -- Have you been skipping some of the foods you love so you don't end up five pounds heavier for the New Year? Well, if there isn't going to be a New Year then it's time to stop saying "No" to the foods you love America! Since we're known as a nation that holds back and says "No more for me" at the buffet line, it will be nice to see people finally let loose and indulge themselves. ("Make that a double-double-double-double!")
7. Peace and Quiet -- Is it too much to pay to die in a ball of flames to have Sean Hannity, Piers Morgan, Diane Feinstein, Donald Trump and John Boehner finally shut up? I really don't think so. Is the reversal of gravity too high of a price to cancel America's Got Talent, Bridezillas, the perpetual laugh track on the Disney Channel and any cooking show with Bobby Flay? No, that sounds about right. Where do I sign?

8. Virgin's "New Earth" -- Who is the only guy with his very own outer space airline and the financial resources to rebuild on a new planet? Sir Richard Branson, of course. Imagine what a fun new world that is going to be. I want in! I'm picturing very stylish outfits, sort of Star Trek meets Dolce & Gabbana, and martinis served with most meals. Virgin is already close to taking over the Earth with all of its new ventures, so this just sort of formalizes it by eliminating Earth and starting over on a new planet called "Virgin's New Earth." I hear WiFi will be free!
9. Party Like It's 1999 -- I imagine the first time people catch a glimpse of the Mayan Comet headed towards Earth there are going to be more than a few End of Earth parties thrown. I plan to hit as many as I can before impact. If you've been saving that good bottle of scotch or that 1989 bottle of Georges de Latour for just the right occasion, then you've just found it. Drink up!

Now, I know you are probably wondering what the tenth reason is that the end of the world this Friday is a good thing, because lists always come in groups of ten. Don't worry, I'll post that one soon...Saturday morning.

Rock On?

Who says nothing exciting ever happens north of the bay?

Last Friday morning, a one and a half inch rock was found in the yard of Novato resident Lisa Webber. She naturally concluded that the rock was a meteorite from the previous night's meteor shower. Because really, where else would a rock in one's yard come from? It's not as if you could just find a rock anywhere outside, right?



The Metorite as pictured in the Marin IJ

 This being Marin County, where things like distressed wild turkeys are taken really really seriously, it was only natural that NASA was called. According to our own Marin IJ newspaper, Peter Jenniskens, principal investigator for NASA's Cameras for Allsky Meteor Surveillance, came to Webber's home.

Now, if you've seen E.T., you can imagine what the scene was like at the Webbers' house. I'm picturing lots of guys in HazMat suits walking around with tongs to carry the meteorite into a mobile clean room.

Webber was quick to contain the situation, telling the Marin IJ, "I told him (Jenniskens), I'm not selling this (the rock) to a meteor market person. This is for science. I want him to have it for as long as he needs it and then when I get it back, I'll give it to my neighbor's son."

Not in Novato

Apparently, Webber is under the impression that there is a vast black market for meteorites in Novato. I think aside from that whole Lex Luthor/Cryptonite thing, she probably doesn't have a lot to worry about.

Not to be left out of the intergallactic hysteria, the San Francisco Chronicle declared "Tiny Meteorite Fragment Hits Novato Home" complete with a picture of the meteorite in foil, because any scientist knows that Reynold's Wrap does protect you from unknown outer space radiation. And, right on the heels of the Chronicle, the San Jose Mercury News declared "Scientist: Rock that hit Novato home is a meteorite." So, there you have it.

What was a bit ironic is that the home is occupied by a pastor. I don't know how the job review process works for pastors, but having your home pelted by outer space debris can't be the greatest sign. "Lord, send me a sign!" (Thunk!)

Novato-geddon Cancelled

To any neighbors constructing "Meteor Shelters" in their backyards (we don't really have basements here.), please stop digging. You can rest assured that we don't actually have to send Bruce Willis up into space to blow up the big one before it targets Marin County. People of Fairfax, uncover your hot tubs and take the tarps off your "herb gardens." Things are going to be okay.

It turns out that the meteorite found in Novato was actually a rock. I know! What are the odds of that?!?!

"I sincerely thought it was, based on what appeared to me was remnant fusion crust," said meteor hunter Jenniskens. "On closer inspection, that crust was a product of weathering of a natural rock, not from the heat of entry."

I can only imagine how many producers at The Discovery Channel were crushed to hear this news, since this now means their "Midget Meteor Hunters of the Everglades" show will now be cancelled. Rest assured Little People Big World, your time slot is safe.

So, if there is a moral of this story, I guess it is that sometimes a rock is just a rock. Sometimes, it's better to call Marin Landscape (Colored Gravel!!) before you call NASA. But still...rock on Marin County. Rock on!

Embarrassing Moments at Work

I feel sorry for the replacement refs. No really, think about it. We all make mistakes at our jobs once in a while, right? These guys are making mistakes on national television that has the whole country talking about how incompetent they are. That's gotta be tough.

One Ref Signals Touchback as the Other Signals Touchdown

There they were at the very last play of Monday Night Football, one of the highest, if not the highest rated programs on television. Two refs standing and facing each other giving two completely different signs with their arms. In the replay, you can actually see them looking at each other with a sort of "What the bleep are you calling that for?" expression on their faces.

Can you imagine what a stealth life these guys must be leading these days? Imagine walking into a sports bar in any city other than Seattle as a replacement ref. Conversation starts at the bar and eventually that dreaded question is asked as it always is, "So, what do you do for a living?" If you are replacement ref, you absolutely have to lie about your job. "I'm in sanitation. Um, I manage a pit bull adoption agency. Um, I manage a Kato Kaelin fan website." You would literally say anything other than "I'm a replacement ref for the NFL."

I've made mistakes at work. Probably the most embarassing...so far...happened early in my career. I was summoned to present an overview of the fledgling marketing program to the board of directors of the consumer software company in which I worked. I had gone through my PowerPoint presentation and rehearsed several times. I knew that thing cold. I was ready. So, I got into the meeting room with those board members and went through each section. There was "Advertising." There was "Trade Shows and Events." There was "Partnership Marketing and Licensing." And, there was "Pubic Relations."

I'm sorry, what was that last one?

Yup, I forgot one little "L" and it changed the tone of my whole presentation. There it was projected on an 8-foot by 10-foot screen (this was pre big screen tvs)...my strategy for "Pubic Relations." Thankfully, I just did this in front of 8 men who found neither humor nor repulsion in my slide.

Now imagine completely screwing up your job in front of millions of viewers. Imagine half the country talking about how awful you are, so much so that your employer has to call a press conference to comment on your actions. These guys are going to be lucky to ref a U12 soccer game after they are done with this gig.

So, the next time I have an "oooops" moment at work. The next time I pop off with a sarcastic comment in a staff meeting that would have been better left unsaid. I can think to myself, "at least I'm not a replacement ref in the NFL."

Bobblehead Economics

This week the political conventions are starting, which sort of plays out as the not-nearly-as-televised-as-they-used-to-be live versions of Best in Show. If you don't remember that movie, it's a spoof about people dressing up dogs and parading them in front of a crowd in hopes they will win best in show.

This year's big issue seems to be the economy. It seems when voters aren't working that they get a little cranky and stop caring about whether the government agencies are adequately regulating produce. I was previously concerned about the economy myself...that is until I discovered Bobblehead Economics.

Oh, I'm sorry. Did you miss this class in your studies? It's true that not every university offers Bobblehead Economics. Some people have to learn it on the fly on the mean streets of The Embarcadero in San Francisco.

Let's back up a step. Yesterday, my family went with some close friends to see a Giants game. We were there in person to see them not play so very well against the Atlanta Braves. (By the way, isn't is kind of politically incorrect now-a-days to have a baseball team named after Indian warriors attacking pilgrims? I'm just sayin'.) Anyhow, yesterday turned out to be Pablo Sandoval Bobblehead Day, a holiday that ranks right up there with Arbor Day and England's Boxing Day. People were lined up down The Embarcadero to get their own PabloBabloHeads.

A "PabloBobloHead?"

The general concept seems to be that if you've bought a ticket for your kids, they get to go home with a bobblehead to remember the day, whether they are in a $200 box seat behind homeplate or a $12 bleacher seat high above the field.

Unfortunately, that's not quite how it works out. We watched as people got in line, over and over again, and then left with four, five, six or more bobbleheads and headed out to the parking lot. This was as the game was about to start. At the time, I thought it was just some sort of bizarre hording activity. People were literally walking away with trash bags full of bobblehead boxes with looks on their faces as if they had just agreed to be married to a Kardashian for 72 days.

This morning, the mystery of Bobblehead Economics unfolded as I went on eBay out of couriousity. It turns out the Pablo Sandoval Bobbleheads are being sold just one day after the game for $44. So, here's how Bobblehead Economics works.

1. Buy the cheapest bleacher seat for $12-$14.
2. Stand in line over and over with your ticket and collect 6 bobbleheads.
3. Place them on eBay that very same evening and price them at $44.
4. Sell your bobbleheads for $264.
5. Net profit: $250.

Now, if either one of our political parties can harness the power of Bobblehead Economics, we could be at the dawn of a brighter economic future for America. Let's ask our media to stop asking Obama/Biden and Romney/Ryan about "jobs" and "taxes" and get to the real issue. "How will bobbleheads play into your economic strategy?" Until they can answer that question, I'm remaining on the fence.

So, the next time you are at a game and some guy walks by you with a trash bag full of bobbleheads and you think to yourself, "What a rube." Keep it to yourself, because the rube is probably wearing a Rolex and on his way to see his investment advisor.

Sometimes It's Better to Leave by the Window than the Door

There he was, my 12-year-old son, climbing out a fourth story window and about to rappel down the outside of the building. I was on the ground watching as he discussed this with the fireman up there with him and watched as he gathered courage and emerged outside of the window and eased his way down. I was extremely proud and I have to admit my eyes teared up as I watched my son overcome his fear and do this.

I guess I should provide some context at this stage. My son was in the Fire Squirts Camp put on by the Novato Fire Department. Thankfully, he wasn't leaving a burning building. He was leaving the practice tower the firemen use. Still, four stories up is four stories up.

My son has had an issue with heights in the past. Hotel balconies aren't his favorite nor is walking by the railing on a raised walkway. The firemen told me that yesterday it took him 20 minutes to build up the courage to go out that window. Today, with about 100 people watching, it only took him about 2 minutes. He even turned, took his hand off the rope and waved at us below and gave the fireman in the window a fist bump before decending.

Sure, my son learned first aid and how to put out a grease fire this week. But, what he really learned was, "You can do this. You can do things you think you can't do even when your own brain is screaming at you to run away."

Seeing my son's courage to overcome one of his most significant fears has really inspired me to look at my own fears. What am I missing out on in life because I'm not willing to climb out the window and see what's below?

I've worked in jobs in the past for people who weren't very honest and, frankly, not very nice. I stayed in them too long because they gave me a title I wanted and pay for a comfortable lifestyle. I also stayed in them because I was afraid that, if I left, someone else might not give me that title and that comfortable lifestyle. What if I didn't have a business card with a title on it? How could I answer when someone asked me what I do?

Sure, good people were being laid off to prop up an internet stock price or increase a software company's valuation, but I still got to be "an executive." In retrospect, I should have moved on to the next chapter much earlier in these situations. It was time to get up, throw a rope out the window and rappel out of there. Granted, the highest office I've had in my career was only on the third floor so this is not as dramatic as it sounds.

Still, I hope my son has learned a life lesson today. I hope he learned the same lesson he taught me today. Don't let fear box you in. If you are in a situation where you can't find the door to opportunity, use the window.

It's a Bird, It's a Plane, It's a Fish? No, Sausalito's AquaMan is Here!

Sausalito has its very own member of the Justice League. I know, because I saw him on Father's Day from the very cool Bar Bocce that my family took me to. We had just finished a game of bocce ball and collected our first round of refreshments when "AquaMan" decided to crank up his jet pack and start flying around in the bay in front of us.

What? No cape?!

For just a smidge under $100,000, the JetLev R200 can be yours and you too can fly 28 feet in the air with the help of a pump you drag along the water below you. It is pretty impressive to see in person. Like a helicopter, he hovered in the air and then angled himself forward to go rocketing off to another part of the San Francisco Bay.

I'm almost completely certain the owner of this JetLev is single. I mean think about the conversation you'd have with your wife about purchasing a JetLev.

Wife: "You want to buy a jet pack for the water?"
You: "Yes! It will be so cool!"

Wife: "How much is it?"
You: "$99,500. It's not like it's a whole $100,000!"

Wife: "Is this something we can do together?"
You: "Ummm. You can watch me and if I get close enough to shore I can spray you with the jets of water."

Or, for $84,000, you could have this instead.

This is just not a conversation that is going to go well. It turns out that $100,000 actually buys you a lot in the way of water entertainment if you give up on the idea of flying. If you are willing to be on the water instead of flying above it on a suped up waterpik, there is currently a 53-foot sailing yacht for sale in Sausalito for $84,000. Sure, you aren't flying, but good luck sipping champagne and getting frisky with a special someone in the JetLev. If you own a JetLev, that is just one of many "solo activities" you'll probably enjoy. If you own a yacht instead, you can sail all the way across the bay from Sausalito to Tiburon with other people. 

For those of you considering getting your own JetLev and thinking to yourself, "What could possibly go wrong? There's no way I could embarrass myself with something so cool!" Then, as a public service announcement, I leave you with this video.

Slumming with the Queen

There she was, Queen Elizabeth the Second, in all her glory, sailing down the Thames on the "Royal Barge." What, what? Did the words "royal" and "barge" just appear in the same sentence? That can't be right.

They named the barge? Really?

What is going on over there across the pond? I'm a little concerned. Here in America we have people like Kim Kardashian and Paris Hilton, who have ascended to their pop celebrity thrones by being the daughters of the guy who got O.J. off and the guy whose hotels used to be nice, but are kind of run down now, and they fly around in private jets and party on yachts. Yet, in England, the Queen celebrates her 60 years on the throne of actual royalty not by sailing down the Thames on the "royal yacht " or the QE2, a cruise ship named after her, but instead is sent down the river on a barge ala Huck Finn style? This has my crumpets in a knicker!

Jerry Brown Unveils the Queen's New Budget

What other parts of the British royalty have been downgraded? Does the Queen leave the royal barge to be taken in the Royal PT Cruiser to the Royal Bowling Alley? Is she then served Royal Buffalo Wings? I'd like to know just how deep these budget cuts have gone. Is Jerry Brown doing the budget for the royal family these days?

Now, I may not be an authority on the British monarchy, but I have watched Downton Abbey. I can tell you that none of the characters on that show, including the gay cranky butler, would be found dead on a barge. They would take their ellaborate costumes and their overly dramatic gazes into the camera and find a boat with an actual motor.

And where's the British Navy in all of this Queen on the Barge Business?! You guys sunk the Bismarck and now you can't provide a boat with a motor for the Queen? I mean the "HMS" in the name of your ships stands for "(In) Her Magesty's Service" and you send The Queen down the Thames on the HMS Git'Er Done?

Faster then the Royal Barge! By the way, where's the driver?

So, the next time on I'm down south on a Duffy electric boat going 5 knots through Newport Bay, I will think to myself, "I could totally beat the Queen's barge right now!"

When Scotty Makes You Think About Midlife

"He would rather have flown when he was alive, of course," said Wende Doohan, widow of James Doohan, who played the part of Scotty on the original Star Trek.

This is a quote that I found wildly funny yesterday. You see, Scotty has passed away and his widow was commenting about his ashes being sent into space on Space-X's rocket a few days ago. So, the addition of "of course" to the statement that Scotty would rather have been alive for the voyage into space really tickled my funny bone. But, after a night's sleep thinking about this, I realized that, for me, this quote is kind of profound.

This is a guy who was all about space exploration and was teleporting tribbles through space before my family had a color television. Though he may have acted in other shows, we really only knew him as Scotty, who kept telling Kirk that "she's giving it all she's got" when he'd phone down to the engine room and tell Scotty that if the Enterprise didn't go a little bit faster they'd end up being lunch to some very aggravated aliens. What a shame that his first actual trip into space was after he was dead.

So, in my midlife crisisness state of mind, I've started thinking that I don't want to end up like Scotty with my wife saying, "He would have really enjoyed doing that when he was still alive." Who would have thought Scotty would reach out from the grave to teach me a lesson about life? Not me. I'm actually more of a Next Generation kind of a Trekkie.

Now, I'm not talking about a bucket list. That's a few decades off for me. Still, it's time to think about things I'd like to do before my wife sends my ashes into space. Do I want to go into space? Not really. Pretty much the best ride into space is going to be with Sir Richard Branson and, while I think it would be fun to have champagne with him during the flight, let's face it that this guy doesn't have a great track record of landing balloons on Earth let alone returning to Earth from space. I think I'll give Virgin Galactic a few years to work out the kinks.

I really don't have anything so dramatic in mind. I think it would be fun to bike up the California coast, or at least part of it, someday. I could see myself picking up the saxophone again and playing the occassional gig someday. I'd like to eat pho in Vietnam instead of the San Francisco Financial District someday. Other than that, I think my voyage to space is more about just trying to enjoy where I'm at and who I'm with. Thankfully, I'm surrounded by awesome and supportive family and friends on a daily basis, so this isn't a hard thing to do.

I guess Scotty's advice to us, other than "Don't get typecast as a Scottish guy who runs the engine room on spaceships" (Not a lot of parts available other than Scotty. I'm just sayin'.), is to do what you want to in life...now. It doesn't have to be big. You don't have to jump out of a plane, unless that's your thing. But, make sure you do that thing that you've always wanted to try before your wife is telling CNN, "He would have rather flown when he was alive, of course."

Of course.

Space-X, Make Us Cool Again!

I turned 46 last week and that had me thinking about what I would have expected life to be like when I was younger. When I was 16, I could not have imagined I'd someday think 50 was right around the corner. Yet, here it is creeping up on me. I guess my biggest question to the powers that be is, "Where is all the cool stuff?"

Retired with No Upgrade!

When I was 16, people would fly between New York and London at supersonic speedy luxury on The Concorde. The graceful looking plane had such a sleek, long nose that they would have to lower it when they were landing so the pilots could see the runway below out their windows. Champagne at more than 1,000 miles an hour. What's not to like about that?

So, now that I'm 30 years older, imagine my dismay that not only did they retire the Concorde, which apparently still required tubes like old-timey televisions used to use. But, they haven't replaced it with anything. In 30 years, air travel has gotten slower, not faster. What's up with that?

Retired with No Upgrade!

What else was around when I was 16? We could go to space and back with The Space Shuttle! Wow, if we can send a plane/rocket into space and bring it back and land it on a runway in 1982 then by 2012 we'll probably be close to building the first version of the Enterprise to go explore new planets, right? Well, unfortunately not. Now if we want to go to the International Space Station we built, we have to hitch a ride with the Russians and hope they still feel like providing taxi service to us as Cranky Putin Pants takes over.

So, no pressure guys, but Space-X, our only hope of regaining coolness is pretty much you guys. If you aren't familiar with Space-X, this is a private company that has built a space launch system and even has a price list on their website to take things up into space. It's sort of like the Mayflower Moving of space, but more expensive. Well, if Mayflower built their own carbon fiber super high-tech trucks and launched them into space. If you have $10.9 million around and a desire to get something into space, all you have to do is visit http://www.spacex.com/. At 12:44 a.m. PST Tuesday, they are going to launch a test capsule and attempt to reach the International Space Station and dock it. They were orginally going to launch last Saturday, but a computer ended the launch one second before liftoff. Better to find out there is a problem one second before instead of one second after liftoff. If they are able to launch it tomorrow morning, we're back! If not, we'd better send Putin a case of Florida oranges, because that's the only thing lifting off from Florida for a while.

And Don't Even Get Me Started About Not Having a Flying Car Yet!

When Food Freaks Out (And No, This is not a new show on TLC)

I came home from work and there it was on the front cover of our town's weekly paper. It's front page news and sure to alarm home owners all over town. Is it a tornado? Is there a tsunami danger? Are there fires raging in the nearby hills? No, it's worse than that.

WILD TURKEY SMASHES NOVATO HOME'S WINDOW

That's the real live headline on the front page of our town paper this week. According to the Novato Advance, a 15-pound wild turkey crashed through a second-story window and damaged a Novato home. I can just picture the family, who has asked that their name not be released to the press, sitting in the family room watching television when the music from "Jaws" starts with the barely audible "gobble gobble" of a turkey call heard in the background. Then, suddenly, a Ballistic Butterball comes flying through the window.

Now, the fact that this is front page news says a lot about the town I live in, but not quite as much as the second part of the headline. You see, in Marin, we aren't all in agreement in terms of the difference between food and pets. Here's the second part of the headline:

Bird Remains in Critical Condition at Wildcare, a San Rafael Animal Shelter and Hospital

"He was incredibly stressed and scared," said the director for animal care at WildCare. "Right now, he's having a hard time breathing but we're trying to keep his wounds sterile. Right now, he's on supportive care until we can get him stable enough to do some X-rays."

She's not talking about the person who suffered the Turkey Home Invasion as being "stressed and scared." She's talking about the turkey. The turkey is being treated for physical and mental wounds. It's all hands on deck, STAT, so we can save this out of control Butterball so it can live another day. They are going to X-ray the turkey? The article even goes on to say that the owners of the house are visiting the turkey in the animal hospital to make sure it's okay.

I grew up in farm country and I can tell you in farm country when a wild turkey crashes into your home or gets caught in the overly elaborate chrome guard on the front of the ranch truck, it does not get rushed into therapy. It's wounds are not cleaned. It's dinner. Wild turkey is served with Wild Turkey and it's dinner.You don't visit the turkey to check on its mental health. You visit it every hour or so to baste it! Thank goodness a Turducken didn't come through the window or they'd be trying to save three birds.

So, to the volunteers at WildCare and the homeowners caring for this turkey, I give you credit for being better people than me. Because in my world, sometimes food is just food. 

Of Flash Mob Men and Goldfish

Was it Novato's version of a flash mob? It might have been.

Last night me and five other guys from the neighborhood decided to go get pizza at our local "fusion fern pizzaria," Boca Pizza. I call it "fusion fern," because normal pizzarias don't have octopus salads on the menu nor cook eggs on top of pizza, which is actually quite tasty. Still, for Marin County, this is our version of the manly pizza joint hangout.

We were outside at a patio table with a stunning view of the parking lot as chardonnay was being poured. (As I said, this is a Marin County pizzaria. There isn't a lot of Pabst Blue Ribbon being served with the pies.) I was sipping on my Anchor Steam when a man emerged from the bar at about 9:30 p.m. and decided to stop on the sidewalk and belt out Journey's "Don't Stop Believing!" Now, I don't know if it was the wine we drank before going to get pizza or the beer I drank there, but I thought he did a pretty good job. When a server came from the restaurant to guide our singer back into the restaurant for another stop at the bar, we asked our server if he wasn't available to do another set as we had some other Journey songs in mind that we'd like to hear. This was met with skepticism from our waiter, who was clearly less enthusiastic about having "Dads Gone Wild" at his egg-on-top-pizzaria than we were.

Anyhow, to Mr. Journey of Novato, nicely done. You can have your own little flash mob at our humble shopping center anytime you want to. Just remember that "When the Lights Go Out in the City" is also big with us North Bay Dads.

Dead Fish Walking

I received a text from my daughter yesterday and it read, "I won a fish!" Now, I know this sounds like good news, but this house has a track record with fish. Despite our nicest intentions, we have continually reaffirmed the Darwin Theory when it comes to fish. I'm sure when the fish understood who had won him at my daughter's school's fun day that the other fish were like, "Wow, bummer, dude. That's a rough house for fish."

Perhaps the incident that best describes our fish-tending skills is the time I took our kids to Petco to get some more fish several years ago. I asked the young guy working in the fish section if the different fish we were looking at actually get along in the same tank. He assured me they did so we took the fish home and placed them in the same tank together on our kitchen counter. Well, as a day or two went buy, we started noticing that there were fewer fish in the tank and that the remaining fish looked pretty darn beat up. It turns out we had actually brought home fish that feed on each other and put them in the same tank to see who survived. It was our accidental version of Fish Thunderdome.

So, out in our kitchen right now, little "Turtle" the goldfish swims around in circles in his vase of a home hoping we have gotten better at tending to fish than we have been in the past. Turtle, bro, I do too.

Apocalypse How?

Poor Francis Ford Coppola.

Sure, he directed The Godfather and Apocalypse Now, movies that received a small audience in limited release, and, sure, he also has that winery to relax and sip his way through life. But now, he's got a real crisis...at least according to his attorney.

A small Italian restaurant right here in Novato has dared to name itself "Tavola," which is Italian for "table." You'd think it would be a harmless play on words. It would be like if I opened up a soup restaurant in Italy and decided to name it "Bowl." Well, it turns out that Mr. "Loves the Smell of Napalm in the Morning" believes he owns the Italian word for table, Tavola, according to a recent article in our local paper you can find by clicking here.

Coppola is suing the family-owned restaurant for trademark infringement claiming he owns "A Tavola" due to his restaurants' style of serving in which "servers come to each table offering an assortment of family-style dishes," according to the complaint filed in U.S. District Court in San Francisco. Um, do you think we should tell him that there are other restaurants out there in which servers "come to each table offering an assortment of family style dishes"...? He might be crushed to hear how the Grand Slam works at Denny's. ("You mean they come to your table and offer you breakfast and then they come back and bring it to you?!?!? Sue them!!! Sue them, too!!!")

So what is Mr. "Take the Gun and Leave the Cannoli" so worried about? "Customers and prospective customers of your restaurant are likely to be misled into believing that your goods and services originate from, are sponsored by, or are associated with Francis Ford Coppola Winery or even Francis Ford Coppola himself, when, indeed, they are not," said Coppola attorney Giselle Galper in the article.

(A Stunning Image from a Coppola Movie would have gone right here to make this blog entry pop, but I didn't want to get sued too. So, instead, enjoy this picture of pasta. Disclaimer: This pasta is in no way connected to or cooked by Francis Ford Coppola and was definitely not served family style at a table A Tavola style.)

The Pirraglia family, which owns the Novato restaurent with the horse's head on its pillow (Seriously, have you not seen the Godfather? These are golden references here!), declined to comment for the article. I suppose that's wise when a mega movie mogul and restauranteur with unlimited resources decides to sue you. Had they been able to comment, I wonder if they wouldn't have said something along the lines of, "Dude, we serve Italian food on tables, so we used the Italian word for table." Maybe I'm oversimplifying. But, I really find it hard to believe that this is all about the Pirraglia family's master plan to leverage the Coppola style of serving food (servers bring it to your table) to dominate the Italian scene in Novato.

I hadn't planned to eat at this restaurant as I usually cook my own Italian, but now I surely will. If my $6.95 for pasta will help them fight off a lawsuit from a big bully, I'll happily give it to them. I hope the Pirraglias are able to weather their way through this. They just better make sure they check behind the toilet in their restaurant before agreeing to meet with Coppola's attorneys. (Seriously, you haven't seen the movie?! That was a huge scene!)

A Tiburomoronic Crisis: Occupy CVS Tiburon

It's time to put it all in perspective. Whereever you live in the world, your community may be suffering from things like a bad economy, drought, an oppressive government, or even trying to recover from one of history's largest earthquakes and a tsumani a year ago. Still, your troubles pale when compared to the crisis currently being endured by the Marin County town of Tiburon.

It's not just a sign. It's a red sign. And, it's not just a store. It's a CVS store that does things like have sales on items like bathroom tissues. (They don't say "toilet paper" in Tiburon. Too pedestrian.) I kid you not. For weeks the town has been in a hubabaloo about whether or not the new CVS store could have a red sign out front, which would be consistent with its branding. Don't believe me? Here's the article in today's Marin Independent Journal.

"I'm just astonished that corporate America is throwing its weight around like this in a small town," said severely traumatized resident Steve Bendinelli, one of 50 residents who attended a Tiburon Town Council meeting to protest the sign. This is after 260 residents signed a petition against the sign.

So, this is about "The Man" forcing Tiburon's scrappy residents, who are in no way corporate CEOs or bankers themselves, to put up a red sign? Well, if that's the case, you know what you Tiburonites have to do. It's time to Occupy CVS Tiburon, brothers! That's right! Get out of those bay-viewing mansions, grab a tent at REI in neighboring Corte Madera and set up a camp right in the parking lot of the CVS in Tiburon. Don't worry about the kids, your domestic staff can watch them and make sure they make it to private school while you are occupado. This issue is more important than shelter! You need to take a stand, get out there and camp outdoors in a parking lot for at least a month to show "The Man" that he can't put a red sign in your town.

By the way, please let me know when you set up Occupy CVS Tiburon so I can set up a stand on the sidewalk that sells $12 glasses of chardonnay in the evenings and $6 lattes in the morning. You'll Occupy my kids all the way to college.

So, the next time you hit a rough patch in the road, just keep in mind that at least you don't have to deal with the problems that the residents of Tiburon, California face.

Party Like a Pope!

Tonight is the night! It's my daughter's first high school Turnabout. If you are unfamiliar with the term, as I was, it is the rebranded Sadie Hawkins Dance. Apparently, today's youth aren't familiar with that term.

The dance is being held in the Pope John Paul Student Center, so you know it's going to be awesome. Nothing says "party" more than having a pope's name in the venue. Thankfully, the Virgin Mary Dance Arena was already booked by the Shriners.

My daughter is wisely going with friends, rather than asking out a boy to the dance. Dances are already terrifying enough for most boys without being asked out. The night already presents many challenges for high school boys. First of all, it requires bathing and wearing shirts that have buttons. A hair brush may also be involved. This requires a lot more preparation time than most high school boys are used to.

Then there's the actual dance. Initially, there are the girls out dancing with each other while the boys are huddled against the wall attempting to appear like they are enjoying idle chit chat while actually cowering like a herd of wilderbeests in view of tigers. They are all having the same thought, "What if a girl actually walks over here and askes me out. Then what do I do?!"

If they notice a girl walking over, then the left brain and the right brain start arguing. The girl starts walking in slow motion while the boy's brain goes into full-on debate mode.

Left brain (consumed by puberty): "Hey, this could be fun. She smells nice. Maybe they'll play a slow song and I get to touch her shoulders. Could be awesome!"

Right brain (still able to think logically): "Dude! YOU CAN'T DANCE! You are going to look like a penguin being electricuted if you go out there. What if they play Lady Gaga and all the girls start dancing with each other and you are left alone doing the "Flaying Penguin" in the middle of the dance floor? Run, dude, run!"

For me, in high school the right brain typically won the arguement. To say I was mostly terrified of girls in high school would be an understatement. There were a couple dances that I "went to" that I actually couldn't get myself to go inside. I don't know if that made me shy, wimpy, terrified or just some combination of the three. Thankfully, in college, the left brain took over and I actually had a lot of fun at dances. Thanks left brain! More Prince, More Rick James, More Billy Idol! Bring it on!

So, to my daughter and her friends, I say,  "Have a great time. Enjoy the music and the dancing!" To the boys, all I can say is, "It gets better...really."

Let's Be Frank About Valentines Day

We're here again. It's that holiday that sneaks up on us clueless, distracted husbands every year. We vaguely know it's in February, but it still seems like you wake up one day and the radio proclaims that today is the day to celebrate your love.

Valentines Day is tougher as a grown up. When you are in elementary school, a generic card with a candy heart attached with some kind of toxic glue did the trick. Everyone in class had to get one so Stinky Phil who didn't bathe much wouldn't feel bad about not getting valentines.

When you hit college, Valentines Day consists of getting the good pizza that doesn't turn into plastic form upon cooling (Sorry, Pizza Answer, Eugene) and maybe even getting wine instead of beer to go with it. Follow that up with a midnight game of frisbee golf and romance can't be far behind. (Yes, I was that lame in college.)

When you become a 40-something dad/husband, Valentines Day takes on a new form. It's something that happens between carpools and work. You try to find a couple of hours to remember you are a couple that can talk about something more than...well, carpools and work.

People take different approaches to Valentines Day. I don't mean to discourage any in particular, but you might want to think twice about that reservation you have for tonight.

If you know people in the restaurant industry and have read Anthony Bourdain's books then you already know this. Anyone with 8 hours of vacation saved up at a restaurant is taking today off. They don't want to be anywhere near a restaurant on Valentines Day. Why is that? Well, diners on Valentines Day are sort of punching a timeclock rather than really enjoying the dining experience. They are going out to say they went out for Valentines Day and they aren't the restaurant's regulars and they probably won't be back again for a long, long time. So, in a word, they are cheap...really, really cheap. Valentines Day diners are known for ordering cheap and then tipping low, so the A Team at the restaurant is at their homes making risotto or albondigas for their loved ones instead of cooking in their restaurants.

So, who is cooking and serving in restaurants on Valentines Day, you might ask? Well, it's Stinky Phil from elementary school who has been dicing and slicing produce for months in the back of the kitchen and finally gets his chance to cook tonight. Is tonight the best night to order that seared Ahi with the raw core that has to be done just right so as not to get you sick? Perhaps not. I'm thinking burger well done is the way to go.

I'm lucky. My wife likes to eat at home on Valentines Day and I try my best to recreate a meal we had in Paris together for our 10th anniversary as we approach our 20th anniversary. Tonight's conversation at the dinner table should be particularly interesting as this is my teenage daughter's first Valentine's Day in high school. There should be at least one story about an awkward teenage proclamation of love or at least a Facebook "poke" or "like" to report.

A Brief Note From the Carpool
Hey you in front of me with the minivan with the racing stripes and the oversized wheels on it revving your motor in front of the middle school this morning...Don't Do That! Your minivan is not coming across as a Monster Truck even though you've clearly spent way too much money on it trying to get it there. Just settle down and accept that maybe your days of cruising the middle school at 7:40 a.m. are over and head on down to Cinnabon where you'll feel more at home.

So, whatever you decide to do for Valentines Day, whether it's cruising the middle school in your suped up minivan or braving Stinky Phil's latest creation at your local eatery, just keep in mind that Valentine's Day is just a day. We'll all get through this.

Gee, I Didn't Know I Needed That

Did you know the United States has an Olympic Women's Trampoline Team? I didn't either.

Yesterday, I was at MacWorld Expo. I hadn't been in more than 10 years so I wanted to see what's new in applications and software and I thought that would be a good place to do it. It turns out the show has shrunk to less than a quarter of the size it was 10 years ago. Gone are most of the megabooths that used to be at a show where companies would try and outdo each other. Most of the booths now are just 10 feet across.

This raises a problem. If the booths aren't very impressive anymore, then how do companies bring attendees into their booths? There were some creative approches. One company that was marketing earphones wanted to demonstrate that their earphones don't come off during workouts. To demonstrate this, they put a trampoline in their booth and had a member of the U.S. Olympic Women's Trampoline Team do various flips on the trampoline while noting that the headphones she was wearing stayed put. Do I remember the name of the company that makes the earphones? No. Do I remember what a women's trampolining uniform looks like? Yes. "Go USA!"

A few other companies decided models were the way to go. One 10-foot booth had no fewer than four models and another company with a booth of the same size had six girls in and around it. While certainly drawing their fair share of attendees, this created a problem for the companies, however. With four models and two sales people sharing a little 10-foot booth, there was no room left for any customers to actually enter the booth and see whatever these companies were exhibiting. They had created a sort of "Babe Blockade" between themselves and potential customers. Marketers have a rule that goes with trade show exhibits: There is a correlation between the lack of interest in a company's product and the number of models they hire to put in the booth.

"Gee, I Didn't Know I Needed That."

Wondering what to get your sweetie for Valentine's Day? Want to send her a message that every moment out with her is magical? Then MacWorld exhibitor IntoxiCase may have just what you are looking for to set the right tone. They've invented the iPhone case that is also a bottle opener. It's sort of the Swiss Army Knife of cell phones without all the practical tool parts. Says the brochure, "The Intoxicase was evaluated by dozens of bartenders and after hundreds of bottles opened all iPhones remained perfectly safe and reviews were exceptionally enthusiastic." The accompaning app detects when a user cracks open a bottle and offers "exciting characteristics" including "hilarious sound effects." It also keeps count of your drinks and will post "another bottle opened" on the user's social networks. It also displays a screen that shows how many gallons of beer have been consumed by the user. Your sweetie will be so proud!

"But, Didn't You See Anything Cool?"
Yes, thanks for asking. I saw artists mixing paints, creating colors and then create art on their iPads using the NomadBrush. This little brush and the accompanying apps make the iPad's screen behave like a palette with real liquid paint on it. Artists can even use tools like scrapers to add texture to their "paintings." It looks like a regular brush with real hairs and the "liquid" paint on the screen reacts to it just like it's a real brush. Very cool for creative types!

So, even though the show is a quarter of the size it used to be and even though departed Steve Jobs' rally was replaced by some applications developers sitting on Barcaloungers sharing their stories about programming apps to a less than rivited crowd, MacWorld still managed to soar this year...at least in the headphones booth.

The Day the World Stood Still...Well, Not Really

Wikipedia, Craigslist and a few other websites went dark yesterday to protest the proposed Stop Online Piracy Act, which they say would bring censorship to the Internet.

Did you notice? Me neither!



Suzanne Somers Pre ThighMaster

 It turns out I could go an entire day without having to look up a "possibly correct" community created definition for "Three's Company" (According to Wikipedia, "The show, a comedy of errors, chronicles the escapades and hijinks of the trio's constant misunderstandings, social lives, and struggle to keep up with rent."). I was also able to make it through the day without searching for a transvestite that does good landscaping work.

Could it be possible that these websites are not as vital to our day and they believe themselves to be? 

I mean, of course, this blog is essential reading for you. Where else can you learn about pooping toys and Japanese marketing campaigns? But still, maybe it isn't Wikipedia, Craigslist and other sites that should be taking a break from us. Maybe we should be the ones taking a break from them.

Maybe we are just a little too wired into the grid. It's like the guys you see walking around (and they are always guys) that have their cellphone earpieces in just in case they get a phone call. They aren't driving. They are walking through a store or an airport terminal. Is the information in their heads really so valuable that they need to be instantly available on that first ring...that opportunity would be lost if they had to pull the earpiece out of their pocket and place it on their ear?

Perhaps we can live without instant mobile access to puppies that dance online or that video of the jumping skateboarder that missed the rail and ended up eliminating a potential limb from his family tree. Maybe we don't really need to instantly know what JLo said about global warming at the American Idol warm up.

So, the next time the WIFI goes down and you can't get online. Take a breath. Everything's going to be alright. There are things going on in the world that you don't instantly know about and, you know, that's just fine.

Signs of Intelligent Life

I'm encouraged!

There are two data points that lead me to believe that as a civilization we are improving and this has me very optimistic this fine Friday.

According to USA Today, 2011 saw a dramatic drop in the number of people killed by lightening. As a matter of fact, nearly 90 percent of the people struck by lightening last year survived. They attribute this to a higher level of education. I'm not sure what education has to do with being struck by lightening. Does this mean fewer people freeze their tongues to metal street light poles during lightening storms because they are now inside reading the classics? I don't know. But, I find it surprising and encourageing that if I'm struck by lightening that I have a 90 percent chance of living. The next time there is a lightening storm it's time to head for the hottub! I don't actually own a hottub, but my neighbor does...

The other sign of our improving civilization is that ABC News reported this morning that the Kardashians are having trouble booking gigs because people have stopped caring about them. I haven't really understood the Kardashian phenom and I was under the false impression that Kimmy had been in a music video to get her semi-famous. My neighborhood educated me that Kimmy had actually been in a sex video and that made her famous. I, of course, immediately Googled the video and drew the conclusion that the video is amazingly well lit and photographed to be an "Ooooops, I didn't mean for that to get on the internet" kind of thing. Clearly, Kimmy raised the stakes on what someone will do to get her own reality show.

So, could it mean that we are becoming smarter as Americans? We are managing not to get struck by lightening and, when we do, survive 9 out of 10 times. And, we are learning to stop buzzing around the Kardashians like a moth fascinated by a lightbulb. Combine this with the fact that Charlie Sheen has not been quoted in a newspaper for more than a month and I think there might be some real hope that we are becoming a nation that thinks once-in-a-while. Granted, I'm setting the bar pretty low, but at least it's a starting point.

Japanese Stores Telling It Like It Is

Please note: the Motion Bloggers Association of America has deemed the following blog entry to be R-rated due to the use of improper (at least in America) language.

It's not just a sale. It's a Fuckin' Sale!

No. No. It's true. I kid you not. There are some marketing folks in Osaka that are finally telling it like it is. Their department store isn't just having a sale. They are having a "Fuckin' Sale."



Victoria's Secrets, Eat Your Heart Out

 Now I have to say as someone who has spent more than two decades in marketing, I find this really refreshing, even if it happens to be accidental.

Marketers have been trying to link satisfaction, wealth, attractiveness and sexual pleasure with their products since Ogilvy and Mather invented client double billing and the three martini lunch. The Japanese clearly said, "Hey, if we are trying to say this sale will equal a great sexual escapade then let's just go ahead and call it what it is!"

Or, maybe it played out like an episode of The Sopranos:

"Hey, Tony-san, you think maybe like we should have a discount of some kind?"

"Paulie-san, talk to me."

"You know, Tony-san, it's like a sale. Things are even cheaper for family. It's a sale."

"No, Pauli-san. It's not just a sale. It's a fuckin' sale."

"Fuggetaboutit."

Anyhow, I don't know how they arrived at it, but kudos to Japan.

But Seriously, Poor Me

If you haven't heard the wimpering an whining from your location, you may not be aware that I've been sick. When I catch a cold, my "man up" quotient goes to about 2%. I could be sitting in an emergency room next to a guy with a railroad spike embedded in his forehead and I'd be like, "I know that must hurt, but, seriously, I have the sniffles and my sinuses are really stuffy. Do you mind if I go in before you?"

Thankfully, my wife gave me a Kindle Fire for Christmas and thanks to Words with Friends, it is giving me something to do other than blow my nose. (By the way, Alec Baldwin, when you are going to friend me? We all know this is your game!) My 11-year-old son spanked me at Words with Friends and I'm strangely proud of that. While many men would wallow in the knowledge that they aren't as smart as a sixth grader, I choose to read this as a "my son is incredibly smart" moment. I mean that's the case, right? It's not that I couldn't pass sixth grade if I was enrolled in the class taught by my son's wonderful teacher whose name we still cannot pronounce. ("Hello Mrs. McKrackles...uh...McKringle...uh...oh, never mind.)

So, now that I'm back on the mend and feeling better. I think I will embrace life as the Japanese do. I'm not just going to take a bike ride this weekend. I'm going to take a Fuckin' Bike Ride. Would I like some fries with my burger? Hell no. I want some Fuckin' Fries with that! Bring it on, Tony-san!