Timmy RL Fake and Chairman of the Bored's blog: "Real Life"

I got these photos from a buddy of mine in Houston. The next time you're wading in a third world eco-paradise stream or lake, just remember, your place in the food chain may get re-shuffled. I bet this reduces the urge to go skinny dipping.

This is not a virus warning, but an antivirus warning. I've been using McAfee Antivirus and their other products on my computers for as long as I have owned one. Their antivirus software has always gotten high marks from Maximum PC Magazine, which is a source I trust and highly recommend. Well tomorrow I'm uninstalling McAfee from my computers. A month ago I noticed my checking account was short and found out McAfee had hit it for my yearly subscription. I called them up and they confirmed that I had not authorized auto-renewal and said I would have a refund in 3-5 business days. I was furious, explained what a shitty deal that was due to their mistake, as if giving them a piece of my mind would do any good. That was bad enough to sour me on the company, but today was enough to set me on a campaign. Today I found out that a couple of days ago they did it again - they made yet another withdrawl from my checking in an attempt to get me signed up for another year. So I called them up again and was calm at first, but by the time I was finished I am sure they will not only remember my name but have nightmares about me. So if you have ever purchased something from McAfee with a debit or credit card, make sure that info is not stored in your McAfee account. Better yet, if you have never purchased from them, don't ever do it!

This is from Stephen Covey's Seven Habits of Highly Effective People and is a story I often think of when I fell I am being too judgmental of others. One day, a ten-year-old boy went to an ice cream shop. The place was very busy and a waitress finally made her way to where he was seated. The boy thought for a time as the waitress impatiently waited for him to speak. Finally he asked the waitress, "How much is an ice-cream cone?" She said, "seventy-five cents." The boy started counting the coins he had in his hand. The waitress became more and more annoyed as other customers waited. Then he asked how much a small cup of ice-cream was. The waitress impatiently replied, "sixty five cents." The boy said, "I will have the small ice-cream cup." The waitress, irritated at how inconsiderate the boy was of her situation, brought him his ice cream and scurried to serve the other patrons. The little boy had his ice-cream, paid the bill and left. When the waitress came to pick up the empty plate, she was touched. Underneath were ten pennies as tip.

Six years ago nearly nearly to the hour I was sick and called off work. At about 8:30 AM I made a bed on the couch so I could watch TV and rest all day. When I turned the TV on it was on our NBC channel and the Today show was on. I hate watching network news programs because they hype stories and twist facts so bad in order to grab an audience, but I lay there and watched, too lazy to turn the channel. After a few minutes, they showed a shot of the WTC where flames and smoke were pouring out of it. As Katy Kuric was talking about the possibility of an air traffic control problem, I saw the second plane hit. I must have stopped breathing for a minute as I sat up and looked at the mayhem. I think I remember every minute of that day from that point on - making phone calls, messaging people, and eyes glued to the TV for most of the next few days. As flights were canceled I realized I had friends ad family stranded all over the country and wondered how they were coping. I talked to my daughters as soon as I could. I remembered events as a kid giving me nightmares about an atomic holocaust and always thought my kids would grow in in a friendlier world. Every day the next few weeks there were reminders that none of us would ever be the same. Eventually, we would carry out our day-to-day routine once again, but it would be a different world for Americans, and much of the planet. What still strikes me today is the slow healing process, certainly more so than any other event in my life time. I didn't realize until weeks later what a zombie I had become. My company sent a truck load of supplies to ground zero in NYC and I managed to gather a few thousand pair of nitrile gloves from my lab to send. We all helped with everything we could, yet felt so helpless. A few weeks later, college football resumed play and I was sitting with close to 70,000 other people at Mountaineer Field in Morgantown. There was a pregame tribute much like thousands of others around the country. At one point the announcer said, "...a moment of silence for former WVU quarterback Chris Gray who was killed in his office at the WTC..." I can't say I knew Chris, but I met him and spoke with him a couple times outside the locker room, as he played two years with my cousin. I can still hear that silence - just a light breeze, flags flapping in the wind, and me crying. I'm sure thousands seated adjacent cried, but all I could hear was my heart beating even in my face, deep, broken breaths, and my hands rubbing my face. I think that was the point that the zombie left and the more human me came back to my body. Chris was a great kid and I was so sad to hear that he was killed, but I think now I was crying for everyone, and for all we had lost. http://www.wvu.edu/we_remember/memory_chrisgray.htm

In my mind the internet could be compared to the printing press in terms of it’s significant effects on our society. When the printing press was invented suddenly the written word was available to the masses, and so, people learned to read. Things in print became more believable that the word-of-mouth from which they came, songs and poems could now be preserved on paper, Christianity spread due to the bibles printed, and then Christians stepped in and tried to censor other publications, yada yada. My aunt Jane sent me an email today thanking me for some pics I sent her. I replied back within a couple minutes, and then she replied, and so on. I have a few family members, some a couple miles away and some a continent away, with whom I keep in touch. I’m going to scan some pics of Aunt Jane’s daughter tonight, pics I took over the last 24 years of her life, and email them to her. It’s a lot easier and less expensive now to exchange photos, but what else has changed? From the time I was born until recent years, I visited my Aunt Jane weekly, at least. She’s only 10 years older than I, and so we’ve always been able to relate well on things. When her daughter Angie was a toddler I would take a few pictures of her almost every weekend. I shot a roll or two of film back in those days and would send them away to be developed on Monday, to ensure they would be back to me by Friday, and then on the weekend I would share them with the family. Photos meant a lot more in those days, and even just a few years ago. They didn’t have to be 8x10 to be displayed. Even a decent snap shot would be stuck on the bottom edge of a framed photo, put it a cheap frame, or even stuck on the refrigerator. Letters from relative meant more, too. I have a drawer full of old letters, yet I get emails from a certain cousin daily and instantly trash them because I know when I see, “FW:FW:FW…” that it’s worthless. This week Aunt Jane gets, “LOL, yeah…” instead of a hug. Instead of sitting on the porch with a photo album she’ll go click, click, copy, paste, and stick them in a folder. I’ll drive past her house and think, “wonder if she got that joke I emailed?” instead of “wonder if she’s home so I can stop”. Is change for better or for worse? No matter which way you point a finger someone will agree with you. Technology is not evil or downgrading; it’s just a tool, and it’s a poor craftsman who blames his tools. The printing press didn’t change the world; we did by it’s use. The internet has not made me less personable; it’s my responsibility and I'll own up to it.

I think if you're bored or don't like where you are right now, the best thing to do is look behind you. So, being not particularly happy with where I am now I spent most of the day looking back. To quote the Dead, "What a long, strange trip it's been." I talked to a friend today that I used to work with at a saw mill when I was 18. I made straight A's in high school but when I graduated I decided not to go to college right away, which given the economics of the Ohio Valley in 1979 turned out to be 4 years. For four years I worked for minimum wage in mud, snow, and heat, through pneumonia, broken bones, and bruises before starting college. Now, looking back, I can say I loved it. I have a college degree, but I was educated at a saw mill. Then came playing scientist for the last 19 years and along the way singing in bands, doing some writing, some photography, engineering, and a few other things, all of which I still love. My interests are diverse. I can remember every play of my favorite football games, every eagle on a par 5, every passage of my favorite operas, and every t-shirt raised at Aerosmith concerts. I love a good fillet with a nice merlot, and I love cooking kielbasa over a fire until it bursts and washing it down with a Corona. But I digress. Anyway, it's been a long strange trip, and I can look back and say I've loved every minute of it and wouldn't change much at all, so why is it I'm rarely satisfied with where I am at the moment? As a mater of fact, if I look ahead I'm rather lost. I guess we all do that, and it's not such a bad thing.

For those of you who asked about my daughter last night, she's ok. What happened was this - Last night Taylor was at work in the clothing store, Rue 21. She was up on a ladder removing a metal pole that clothes hang on from it's braces and it fell on her head. The good news is, Shortliners are thick headed. The bad news is they are stubborn and she kept working. Her coworkers noticed she was not herself, and when she could not figure out how to make change for a customer giving her a 20 for $10 worth of goods, they knew it could only be two possibilities - either Taylor was an Ohio State graduate or she had a concussion. So they took her to the emergency room where a doctor diagnosed her having a moderate concussion. No damage to the pole, the patient is nauseous but resting comfortably.

This is a photo I snapped of my dad at his Memorial Day Weekend Party last Saturday night. Over 200 people were there at his camp before I left at midnight which makes me laugh because these days he doesn’t make a bunch of phone calls or schedule a lot of bands. People just show up. In 1987 he had a birthday party that people still talk about today. Ten kegs were empty by the time I got there at 4 PM from shooting a wedding, along with most of the food which he had bought from Rax – several cases of burgers, buns, and fries. The remaining 12 hours people survived on beer runs that cleaned up every grocery store and gas station in the for miles. After that, mom told him no more; it was just too much for her, not to mention their bank account. The reason I laugh is there’s nothing mom can do to stop it now, and so she sits and tries to enjoy it. People just know Mouse will have a party every summer holiday, and the big one around his birthday. These days everyone comes in vans and pick-ups filled with coolers of beer and food. One guy has a karaoke outfit and his friends pay bands to come and play, although an organized band is rarely needed because there are so many musicians there that just like to jam. Families pitch tents, and some bring in campers days before to fish, swim, get in the horseshoe tournaments, or just hang a hammock and enjoy quiet days and music at night. For me, one of my favorite times of the year is getting out of my car at the camp, yelling “Shortliners!” and hearing hundreds answer in unison, “Eat your honey!” Mark Twain once said, “When I was 18 I thought my old man was the most ignorant man ever born. By the time I was 28 I was amazed at how much he had learned in 10 years.” Nothing could sum it up better for me. He can do math in his head faster and with fewer mistakes than I can do on a calculator and can still kick my ass in anything but golf. When I was 18 it was embarrassing to me when my friends would tell me how cool it was that dad had a kick-ass system in his Van, always blaring Nazareth, The Who, or Charlie Daniels. I was jealous when the guys in my band talked about what he could do with his Stratocaster. I remember taking shots at him, criticizing him about his shortcomings and vices, which drove a wedge between us well into my adult years. I think of 1993 as being the year reborn. I divorced a woman who was jealous of my family and started following my dad’s band around again. I didn’t much care for the music but loved to hear him play. Back then I never, ever bought myself a drink because his friends would come up to me, tell me they we proud to meet Mouse’s son and buy me more beer than I could handle. Those times were the most important lesson to me I would ever learn, not just because at age 32 I learned what are really about, but because in the coming years dad would undergo several surgeries for carpel tunnel which would take away much of his ability to work a guitar, while leaving the love to do so intact. And so Saturday night I listened for hours as guys would say, “When’s your dad gonna play? I came here to jam with Mouse!” When he finally decided to break out his Strat I grabbed my camera, knowing I’d have to take candid shots. I listened as he played, not nearly as well as a few years ago, but still better than most of the guys who had showed up. I could pick out times when he was struggling, which was killing me, and yet the other musicians smiled like they had been jamming with Les Paul himself. After ever song there was a roar from hundreds of people that echoed out the Shortline. Now at age 46 I realize, that’s what it’s all about.

This is going to sound stupid to some of you. I was sitting here tonight working on a story, came to the end of a sentence, and was trying to decide whether or not to end it with an explanation point. This is one of my pet peeves, the misuse of punctuation, and so I wanted to do it right. So I imagined it as being a real life situation and decided, yes, it needed an exclamation signifying a bold revelation point rather than just a period which would be indicative of just an end. That’s when it stuck me that this is an exercise that I should be applying to real life. How much of what we do should have an abrupt finality and how much should be not just a benchmark, put a point of pride and hope? I know I really need to do a better job at deciding what the important things are in life and give them their due attention and praise. Looking back, there have been a lot of problems in my life I could have avoided, but then again, maybe looking forward there are a lot of things I can make better. So here’s the explanation point!

I was scrambling tonight. My daughter called me and said she was coming to visit. I started straightening up, running the vacuum, throwing stuff out of sight, and something occurred to me - I was excited about my daughter coming to visit and maybe that's the way my mom and dad feel. So as soon as my daughter left I made things right and sent them an email. It didn't take long because I just copied and pasted one I got from my aunt, so 2 minutes and I'm back doing stuff I like. I hope I always have this appreciation of family.