Seems about once every year or so some blogger mentions the end of men, real men, manly men or whatever. Or talks about the pussification of men. Men and women both do this. The former do it in a woe is me sort of way that other men aren’t manly like they remember men being. And the latter tend to do so lamenting they can’t seem to find a real man or how equality ain’t all it’s cracked up to be and, gosh darn it, they want a cowboy to sweep them off their feet. Yet, all they run into are best buds who take them shopping.

The latest one I’ve run across is this piece, wherein our heroine asserts she may have married the last manly man. A new twist on an old classic. And I can sympathize.

Except that it’s nonsense. Manly men, real men, etc. are everywhere. They’re out working in their yard now; at the office; working on a car; playing with kids; teaching a dog to fetch a beer; getting manicures; or where ever else. Yeah, that’s right. Getting manicures. A lot of folks seem to think there are certain lists of specific behaviors that indicate what is and isn’t a real man. That’s also ludicrous. Personal grooming preferences make you no less a manly man than drinking beer, farting and scratching your ass make you more of a man. Real men are still there but perceptions have changed. Social roles have changed. Men may or may not be the primary breadwinner and that doesn’t make them more or less a man. And men now take a far more active role in childcare. Hell, that definitely makes them more of a man. Being a real man or manly man is more about stepping up or down when you have to.

Also, social perceptions of the ideal man have changed. We’re quick to jump and say that this person is or isn’t a real man. Even though that man is portrayed as a sex symbol in popular culture. Before, it was rough and tumble men of action. Now, it’s men of action who wear nice clothes and get manicures. There’s not a man I know that hasn’t looked at a trailer for one of the Twilight movies and laughed at the feminine male vampire lead. But none of us have met Robert Pattinson and don’t know if he’s a real man or not. Meanwhile, soccer moms are acting like the hyper tweens they were when they attended that New Kids on the Block concert in high school.

I do agree with the author that a lot of the issues with men these days are the result of the death of manners. It costs nothing to be polite. Take your hat off. Open the door for a woman. And ladies first. But I think the death of manners is because people don’t get their asses kicked any more. That is, folks don’t encounter one of these manly men for guidance that often. A good friend of mine has a son older than both my kids. His son is into sports and as rough and tumble as they get. But he opens the door for my little girl, lets her go first, and offers her the first juice box. He’ll be a manly man. His dad has done well.

Via Glenn.

I have two twin nephews and they are completely different in personality. One is more literal, hands on, and practical. And the other is a bit more figurative, creative and imaginative. Anyway, I have a minor blemish that requires a band-aid on my neck. Our family met their family for dinner the other night and one of my nephews asks what happened to my neck. And I say zombie bite. My literal nephew says No, really. What happened? My more imaginative nephew asks Can I see the zombie bite?

A bit back, Junior was playing with a water gun. I asked her where she got the water gun and she says we don’t call it a water gun we call it a water shooter because gun is a bad word.

I asked why that was. and where she learned that. She said she didn’t know. I explained to her that gun is not a bad word. And no to believe every thing everyone tells her.

This sort of left me scratching my head, honestly.

In Junior’s gymnastics class, one of the girls has two mommies. No big deal. Doesn’t bother me. They’re a charming couple and nice enough. However, I had reservations about having the gay talk with a six year old. I can’t imagine how the conversation would go since her understanding of anything relating to a relationship consists of moms and dads. And her understanding of the differences between the sexes consists of boys have wieners and making poop jokes. So, I was kind of worried about how that conversation would go and how awkward it would be for me. Still, I figured I’d have to man up and talk about it. And I might even have to get a copy of Heather Has Two Mommies to go with our monstrous library of kids’ books.

But an interesting thing happened. Nothing.

She’s never asked. It’s never come up.

Went to Talkeetna, and checked out some snow dogs:

From Travel

Here’s a pic from the dog sled, which was more like a dog cart. In the off season, sleds don’t go as well as a wheeled cart. Who knew?

From Travel

We also flew to a glacier and here’s a shot from the plane:

From Travel

Mount McKinley is back there somewhere, behind the clouds. Here’s Pippi err The Mrs. standing on a glacier:

From Travel

And here’s a view from the lodge:

From Travel

We were behind that having some local brewed Alaskan beers.

About to land on a glacier, check out the view:

From Travel

I note they did not ask us to discontinue use of any electronics prior to decent. Our runway:

From Travel

Poor moose:

From Travel

No word on how many people died. BTW, moose are gigantic.

At first, I was like:

From Travel

And then, I LOL’d:

From Travel

The major difference between a polar bear and black/brown bears is that polar bears actually consider people to be food. Or so I am told.

A look at Couch Cushion Architecture here and here.

As I type this, it is 11:06 pm and still daylight. That really messes with me. I have excess pillows, towels, and robes blocking the windows to make it dark.

On the plane, I sat next to a woman from NBC. I asked her what she was doing and she said “covering Sarah Palin”. I said “Oh, are you stalking her and planning on moving in next door?” and she said that she was actually there to do a story on the crazy stalker guy who bought the house next to her write his book on her. She even said that he was a crazy stalker guy.

No one in Alaska is in a hurry. This also, unfortunately, applies in traffic.

Everyone is very, very polite. I say that as a Tennessean. When folks from Tennessee think you’re very, very polite then you’re really polite

Speaking of Palin, the town of Wasilla looks like any small or midsized town in the US. Quite clean, SuperTarget, and strip malls. Not the podunk, hick town I was expecting from the press.

Free public ranges! Well, OK. One. I saw it on the drive.

When you reserve a compact car (because it’s all that’s available), they actually give you a four door F150.

In AK, iPhone beats Droid because I have no data plan that works without roaming.

Despite rumors, I did not kill a grizzly bear in a national park, re-igniting the park carry debate. Wasn’t me

In downtown Anchorage, I saw a vehicle with the ar15.com logo sticker on it. Small world, made smaller by the internet.

The city that Northern Exposure’s Cicily was patterned after looks nothing like it. And Talkeetna is fun to say.

In some of the smaller towns, there are no street numbers in addresses. You just hope to be observant.

Related, your GPS won’t work. You need a special Alaska GPS. Sounds like a scam to me.

The scenery is quite breathtaking. Took a plane ride to a glacier. How often do you get to stand on top of 5,000 feet of solid ice? Or land on it in a plane?

In the off season, sled dogs practice with wheeled carts and I got to ride one.

Tomorrow, I must work.

Me to my son: Well, look at you. I think you grew some last night.

Him: I did?

Me: Well, you are four today.

Him: Yeah. I did grow last night.

Happy birthday, son.

My 9 year old nephew:

The police department came by our school to teach us about gun safety. And they sucked at it.

Followed by my other nephew, who looks at his mom and says:

Are we allowed to say sucked?

A bit back, I picked up a AR-15 22LR conversion kit (available at Brownells). It’s a drop in unit that allows you to fire inexpensive 22LR ammo from your AR. Simple math makes it worth it. Inexpensive 5.56 ammo is $0.22 per round. Last time I was at WalMart, I snagged a box of 550 rounds of Federal for about $16, or $0.03 per round. The conversion unit is priced with a magazine at $180. So, after one case equivalent of 22LR, it pays for itself.

Took it to the range Saturday in Junior’s pink AR and ran 3 magazines through it. It ran perfectly. I was hitting clays at 30 yards with it easily (not flying, stationary). Next, I’ll give it a go with some subsonic ammo.

I really don’t think you have the power but I appreciate the sentiment.

This weekend, I had to go do some grocery shopping. An otherwise uneventful trip to the supermarket ended oddly. I was at the check out and some elderly man walks by and asks the cashier if they have a pay phone. She says they do not. He seemed a bit flustered and concerned so I offered him use of my phone. He was thankful, said his phone’s battery had just died, and he just needed to call his wife and tell her he was running late. He made the call and left a message. He gave me the phone back and said bless you.

Then, I’m in the parking lot loading my groceries in the car when a man comes walking toward me. He seemed a bit disheveled and intent on being near me so I made sure my truck’s door was between us and had my weak side toward him. He holds his hands out toward me palms up and begins to speak. Conversation goes like this:

Him: I ain’t no bum or nothing [he shows me his calloused hands that indicate he was a laborer]. I’m a roofer. I work for [such and such].

Me: [an odd opener I thought] I believe you. Can I help you?

Him: Today’s payday and I just spent my entire check to fix my wife’s car [he motions to a car and a woman and child are sitting in the car, it’s not running]. It’s just about out of gas and I need some gas to get my family home to [a few towns over].

Me: Sure. How far a drive is that? [And I hand him $10.]

Him: ’bout 50 miles. Do you have a card or a phone number? How can I get this money back to you.

Me: Don’t worry about it. Be safe and get your family home.

Him: Bless you.

Me: Thanks.*

I get in my car and start heading home. My phone rings. It’s the number the first guy called. She inquires who it is and I explain that I loaned her husband my phone so he could call. I tell her he said that he was going to be a bit late. And she thanks me and says “bless you.”

* yeah, his story could have been bogus. Who knows? But he did have a wife and kid in his car. I believed him. And I’m not gonna leave a woman and child to sit in Kroger parking lot.

Went and test drove a car this past weekend. I drive the car down the interstate for a bit then exit and pull into a subdivision. I get out of the car to swap seats with the Mrs. so she can drive it too. Then the kids, who are in the back seat, tell us they want to swap seats too. After all, they need to try out all angles too, I guess. So, we let them switch seats. I thought it was funny.

Heh

My wife actually bought a Shake Weight. Obviously, she’s unfamiliar with me making fun of it on the internet or she would not have bought one. I told her that she could try the shake weight exercise one night and the next night we could try my slightly modified work out and compare results.

I finished Junior’s first AR:

From Pink AR

From Pink AR

Her birthday is in June. I can’t wait.

My wife was expressing her displeasure with my appearance today (hat, t shirt, MP3 player in my ear) and got her insults mixed up. She said I looked like a ‘tool bag.’

Kids made me see the chipmunk movie. It was horrible.

Had a good time. I did, of course, warn that the low cut top she was wearing wasn’t a good idea. I’m not opposed to it and actually am a fan of the look but brass is hot and tends to travel in that direction. Lesson learned. Anyway, here’s a 7 yard group with the 22:

Not bad. So, NK, that solution already taken care of. But not the solution I’m looking for.

As promised in the last music post, this week is kids’ songs. One of the things about kids is that you get exposed to all kinds of music. A lot is bad but a lot is good too. We’ll talk about the good stuff. And, of course, you get to expose your kids to music as well. It used to be a tradition that every night the family would watch Jack’s Big Music Show. It’s a great show with good music. Like Jerry Lawson & Talk of the Town:

And more

Read the rest of this entry »

Our cat has suddenly started sneezing and we think it’s allergies. Junior was obviously concerned about the cat sneezes since the cat is her most favorite thing ever. The cat starts sneezing and I overhear this conversation between Junior and the Mrs.:

Junior: Why is the cat sneezing so much?

The Mrs.: I think she’s allergic to something. Could be something new in the house.

Junior: The Elf on the Shelf is new in the house.

The Mrs.: He is new in the house.

Junior: And he goes back to the North Pole every night.

The Mrs.: Yes, he does.

Junior: The cat is allergic to the North Pole.

Squeaky:

how would you describe your success with concern to having children and guns in the same house?

Like this:

From Kids

I’ve told Junior that any time she ever wanted to go shooting, she just had to ask. And we’d drop whatever we were doing and go. So, there’s no need for her to handle a gun out of curiosity when I’m not around.

I’ve written about Kids and Guns quite a bit.

Via Reason, I’m a cyborg. With an exobrain.

We, generally, have access to information at all times. Instantly. Within a few clicks of a mouse or buttons on your smart phone, you can convert gallons to M³, find a recipe for goulash, do algebra, calculate adjustments for windage, learn first aid, confirm that Johnny Galecki was actually Rusty in Christmas Vacation, and anything you want or need. You don’t have to commit a lot to memory because you can look it up. In other words, you have a hard drive.

This is interesting to me. See, as a financial guy, I’ve spent a lot of time learning and retaining lots of information. I mean, other than dick jokes and song lyrics. Information that I and anyone else can look up instantly online. That wasn’t always the case but it is now. Seems the future will belong to those who learn to quickly look stuff up.

One of these days my kids will say something like I don’t need to know that 2.2 kg equals a pound 2.2 pounds equals a kilogram* or how to solve quadratic equations. And they’ll be right. What they will need to know is how to use information.

The future is thinking not knowing.

* ETA: LOL. From memory, I got it wrong. Shoulda googled it.

A day with the nephews, who are 9. They came up yesterday and we did a little shooting, fixed a door, and played Mario Kart on the Wii. We got hungry and went for pizza. Get in my truck and Renegade by Hed (PE) was playing. Knowing that the lyrics were probably inappropriate for young ears, I turned the stereo to radio and Nickelback’s Rockstar was playing. The kids knew and sang every word. I was a bit ill at ease over them knowing lyrics about drug dealers on speed dial and whoring around. I don’t know that it was better than the occasional ‘nigga’ or f-bomb.

Note: This is a post I wrote in 2002 when the blog was a pup and I had about three readers, two of which were me. So, in anticipation of the upcoming holidays, I post it again. Blogging over Thanksgiving will be light. I have about 7,000 people coming by and some food to prepare.

I have a few pet names for my lovely wife, such as sweetie and honey. I also refer to her, at least weekly, as the light nazi. My wife has this superpower to detect wasted electricity almost instantaneously. For example, if I leave a light on and exit the room, she immediately hones in on the room using her bizarre extrasensory capabilities (seriously, the Department of Homeland Security could probably use her to detect unusual electrical fluctuations). Upon her discovery that I am ‘heating the neighborhood’ or ‘letting the flies out,’ I’m in for a quick reminder to turn out lights and shut doors.

One problem I have with her ability is the fanatical zeal in which she enforces her duties as the sworn protector of home electrical efficiency. Another example: when I am in our office and have the lights on then decide I’d like a refreshing beverage, by the time I return from the kitchen the lights are off in the office. Also, in her zeal, she has turned lights off on me while I’m still in the room reading. She seems so obsessed with ‘saving that quarter’ that she occasionally fails to notice that someone is actually benefiting from the use of the electricity in question.

My wife apparently has been saving up all this electricity usage for the holidays. Every year, me and the wife also get into an argument over Christmas decorations. The argument stems from the fact she wants to put the decorations up right after Labor Day. Whereas, I prefer them to be put up about the second week of December. This past weekend, satisfied that she had saved up enough electricity to warrant decorating for the holidays, yours truly wound up doing a lot of work in preparation for the upcoming holidays. Until this past week, the wife and I were the only ones living in our subdivision. We just got a new neighbor so I suppose the new neighbor was the cause of the tackiness that is holiday decorations. Since, other than us, he’ll be the only one to see them. Unless of course people start driving down a new subdivision to look at houses in the dark.

On Saturday, the wife and I pulled all the holiday knickknacks out of the attic and started decorating the house. I argued about it less this year than ever. I basically said ‘honey, it’s not even Thanksgiving yet?’ and she replied with ‘but Thanksgiving is late this year.’ I shrugged and said ‘Oh.’ Learned helplessness has finally set in. I can just agree and do it quicker then I can disagree, argue, and wind up doing it anyway. Ah, the holiday spirit.

We put out our Frosty the Snowman salt and pepper shakers, put up our Christmas tree, put a Nativity scene on the mantle, and put out all the other stuff from the eight boxes that were in our attic labeled ‘Christmas.’ This took up half our day.

Sunday rolls around, and I find out the wife had bought about nine boxes of icicle lights. Yours truly was then taken to task to take said nine boxes of lights (at 300 lights per box) and trim the house with them. A friend came by to help. Fortunately for me, my friend had done this before. I hadn’t.

Your average SayUncle is about six feet, one inch tall and weighs about 170 pounds. Your average SayUncle is also lethargic on the weekends. And your average SayUncle’s natural habitat is some primitive, oblong, leather bedding (commonly referred to as a ‘couch’) where the SayUncle stalks its prey, the elusive Sam Adams and the only slightly less-elusive rum and Coke. Your average SayUncle is also poorly equipped for climbing steep inclines, which is a required skill when hanging 2,700 icicle lights. The reason the average SayUncle is so poorly equipped for climbing is because the largely sedentary SayUncle often catches several Sam Adams’ or rum and Cokes per day on the weekends, in between naps of course. Mind you, the only known SayUncle in existence hasn’t lived in its natural habitat since it wed the SayAuntie, who is hell bent on destroying the SayUncle’s natural habitat.

The friend shows up. We put the ladder up to the house and he climbs up. Then I climb up. I realize in about five seconds that my boots are poorly equipped for walking on the roof. You need something that allows you to bend your ankles. It was also at this point that I realized I’d never really used a ladder to climb on a roof before. And that I didn’t really know how to get from the roof to the ladder, and subsequently to the ground, safely. After my friend’s instruction, I figured the whole ladder thing out, climbed down, and put on some sneakers. Then it’s back up the ladder to discover my friend had already placed one box of lights. Then, I cut myself on the gutters. I refuse to climb down and am content to finish the job while bleeding on the hangers. We then develop a system in which I place the hangers and my friend inserts the icicle lights into the hangers. About three hours later (when it’s dark, but we’re working with lights so . . ) we’re done.

I call the wife. The friend calls his wife. And we all stand around outside looking out over our icicle lights and the lighted garland on the porch. My wife looks me lovingly in the eyes and smiles, she’s happy. I look at her and smile. The whole time thinking that we will waste more electricity on these Christmas lights this year than I will waste by leaving lights on for the rest of my life. Also, I hope our only neighbor appreciates the holiday display because I don’t think anyone else is going to be driving by our subdivision to look at our lights. I put my arm around my wife and smile again because I know that I’m bleeding on her holiday sweater.

With the light nazi appeased, the SayUncle was allowed briefly to return to his natural habitat before bedtime.

Happy holidays!

My wife has an uncanny ability: any computer she touches will lose its internet connectivity. She won’t touch any settings. Just turns it on to check email or write something and our household internet connection goes poop. Sadly, I think there’s a gene that causes this and my son has it too.

My kids are into The Super Hero Squad. It’s entertaining. Yesterday’s episode featured a scene in which we discovered that all the super villains were planning their world domination on a social networking website called Maskbook, which looked just like Facebook. Funny.

Junior on anatomy

Last night, at bath time I was rinsing the kids, when Junior looks at me, points to her chest and says This is my booty. On by booty is a knuckle.

I lost it at Luke Skywalker Inside A Rotting Carcas (sic). Via tom.

This year, my kids are going to be a dalmatian and a dragon.

Trailer for the movie Where The Wild Things Are. The Mrs. is excited and wants to take the kids to see it. I wonder, though, how exactly the movie is going to work. The book is fairly short and how will they make a feature length movie out of it?