YouBoob

When I was young, my brothers and I used to watch TV... a lot of TV! My mother would have to kick us out of the house to get us to play. My parents called the TV "the boob tube". I guess their reasoning was, if you watch too much TV, you would grow up to be a boob. Back in the 60's "boob" was a slang term for what is now referred to as a nerd, or better yet, a jerk.


Move the clock ahead forty years and kids are still entranced with the "boob tube". But these kids have taken it one step farther; they are now the boobs on the tube!


YouTube has given everyone a chance to show the world what an jerk they are! And the kids are taking full advantage of it. They love to make themselves look silly! Like the old saying goes, negative attention is better than no attention at all.


I'm not sure I understand it. When I really need to show the world I'm a jerk, I go out and sing karaoke, or I post a blog. At most, though, I am showing myself off to a couple hundred people, not a few million like you can with YouTube.


And appearing is so easy to do. You just need to rig up your cheesy computer camera so it points at you (and not the dirty house and dishes behind you), log on, and create! Video magic for all to see!


Wait a second -- I think I see the light...Yes! I, too, can be a star! My next article will not be appearing on ezines.com. Instead, there will just be a website for you to click on, and then you will be able to see me actually read my next post to you.


Hope I remember to comb my hair. .

Wilbur and Us Chapter 16 "The Wanderer"

Wilbur was now a more obedient pig than before, but that was not the same as being a good pig. Wilbur still had a mind of his own, and with that mind came desires, urges, and needs.

Though Wilbur was now forever banished to the backyard, he still longed for the freedom of the front yard. Wilbur would spend hours staring out the front screen door, imagining himself as “Mr. Big shot front yard pig” carousing our front yard, and our neighbor’s yards as far as he could see. I would see Wilbur stare longingly out the front door and I would say to him “Don’t even think about it big fella, that is one problem neither one of us needs.” Wilbur would just stare ahead; little did I know that he was biding his time, waiting for his chance. That is one thing about Wilbur, he is a very patient pig; and very determined.

One day while I as at work, Jeff left to run some errands. He swung the front door shut and hopped into Rhea’s Mustang. Jeff hadn't noticed that the front door had not closed tightly, but Wilbur did. After Jeff drove away Wilbur walked up to the front door and gave it a push with his snout. It was if Wilbur had said “Open Sesame!” because the door swung open for him. I’m sure Wilbur was feeling very pleased with himself as he walked out into the sunshine of the front yard.

“Mr. Big shot, front yard pig” was back! Wilbur spent an hour or two strutting around the front yard smelling the new smells, and snouting the different plants, when he thought to himself, “Why confine my wishes and desires to this small yard, when I can go anywhere?”

So Wilbur decided to go exploring. While humming the song “Don’t Fence Me In” to himself, Wilbur started strolling down the side walk.

When Jeff got home he noticed that the front door was wide open and wondered why. He found Rhea in our bedroom watching “Judge Judy”, and asked her if she left the front door open for a reason. Rhea had worked the night before tending bar, and had not got home until the wee hours of the morning so she replied, “No, I just woke up and haven’t been out of the bedroom all day. Why?” He told her that he just got back from running errands and found the front door wide open. “Oh no, the dogs must have got out!” she exclaimed. “No, I left all the dogs on the back patio before I left, and they are still there.” They looked at each other and said at the same time, “Wilbur!” They searched the entire house, and the back yard, but there was no sign of Wilbur.

Wilbur, being the lazy pig that he is, is a late sleeper; often not coming out of his closet/bedroom until after 11:00 am. He must have got up just before, or just after Jeff had left, and noticed that the door was not shut tight.

At that time I was on my way home from work when my cell phone rang. It was Rhea. “Wilbur’s gone, somehow he got the front door open and he took off.” “Are you sure?” I asked, “Did you check the house and back yard for him?” “We looked everywhere for him, but he’s not here!” Rhea blurted out. “Ok, ok, calm down. He couldn’t have gone too far.” I said. “Start looking through our neighbor’s yards; I’ll be home in a half an hour.”

As I raced home all the different possible scenarios played through my head; and most of them were not good. To half of the people in my area, Wilbur would be nothing more than 300 pounds of free bacon, and the other half would call Miami-Dade Animal Services, or the police on him. Since it was only about 2:30 in the afternoon, I was hoping that perhaps Wilbur had not yet been noticed by any of these people.

When I got home I saw Rhea and Jeff down the street looking through the front yards of our neighbors. One thing in our favor was that in our area everyone’s backyard is fenced off, so we knew that Wilbur could not have wandered into someone’s backyard where we couldn’t see him; but we had no idea which yard he had wandered into.

After checking all the yards on our street, we checked the side street with no luck. We got to the next street a block behind our house, where we saw a group of school kids talking and pointing at something in one of the yards. We walked up to see what they were pointing at. There lying in the shade of a big bush was Wilbur, sleeping. “What is that mister?” one of the kids asked me. “That is our pet pot belly pig.” I replied. “His name is Wilbur, and he has been very bad, we need to take him home.” I walked over and yelled “Wilbur! What are you doing here? You need to get home now!” Wilbur got up and grunted to show his displeasure at being woken up. As Wilbur walked by all of the children backed away in fear. “Don’t be afraid” I said. “Wilbur won’t hurt you. Here, come and pet him. He loves to be petted.” I stroked the bridge of his nose to demonstrate what Wilbur liked. Though timid, each kid took a turn stroking Wilbur’s nose. “His hair feels funny, like bristles!” One child exclaimed. “Yes his fur coat is different than a dog’s” I explained. “But he likes to be petted just like a dog.”

So there we were, the whole group of us escorting Wilbur back home. When we got to our house, all of the kids petted Wilbur one more time and said good bye. From time to time the kids will still ring our door bell and ask us if they can pet him.

YouBoob

When I was young, my brothers and I used to watch TV... a lot of TV! My mother would have to kick us out of the house to get us to play. My parents called the TV "the boob tube". I guess their reasoning was, if you watch too much TV, you would grow up to be a boob. Back in the 60's "boob" was a slang term for what is now referred to as a nerd, or better yet, a jerk.

Move the clock ahead forty years and kids are still entranced with the "boob tube". But these kids have taken it one step farther; they are now the boobs on the tube!

YouTube has given everyone a chance to show the world what an jerk they are! And the kids are taking full advantage of it. They love to make themselves look silly! Like the old saying goes, negative attention is better than no attention at all.

I'm not sure I understand it. When I really need to show the world I'm a jerk, I go out and sing karaoke, or I post a blog. At most, though, I am showing myself off to a couple hundred people, not a few million like you can with YouTube.

And appearing is so easy to do. You just need to rig up your cheesy computer camera so it points at you (and not the dirty house and dishes behind you), log on, and create! Video magic for all to see!

Wait a second -- I think I see the light...Yes! I, too, can be a star! My next article will not be appearing on ezines.com. Instead, there will just be a website for you to click on, and then you will be able to see me actually read my next post to you.

Hope I remember to comb my hair. .

YouBoob

When I was young, my brothers and I used to watch TV... a lot of TV! My mother would have to kick us out of the house to get us to play. My parents called the TV "the boob tube". I guess their reasoning was, if you watch too much TV, you would grow up to be a boob. Back in the 60's "boob" was a slang term for what is now referred to as a nerd, or better yet, a jerk.

Move the clock ahead forty years and kids are still entranced with the "boob tube". But these kids have taken it one step farther; they are now the boobs on the tube!

YouTube has given everyone a chance to show the world what a jerk they are! And the kids are taking full advantage of it. They love to make themselves look silly! Like the old saying goes, negative attention is better than no attention at all.

I'm not sure I understand it. When I really need to show the world I'm a jerk, I go out and sing karaoke, or I post a blog. At most, though, I am showing myself off to a couple hundred people, not a few million like you can with YouTube.

And appearing is so easy to do. You just need to rig up your cheesy computer camera so it points at you (and not the dirty house and dishes behind you), log on, and create! Video magic for all to see!

Wait a second -- I think I see the light...Yes! I, too, can be a star! My next article will not be appearing on ezines.com. Instead, there will just be a website for you to click on, and then you will be able to see me actually read my next post to you.

Hope I remember to comb my hair. .

Teaching An Old Dog New Tricks

When I was in college back in the 70's, computer science was a new subject that had been recently introduced. My roommate was a computer science major. I never saw the guy without a big stack of computer cards bound tightly with rubber bands. There were no PC's, Apple, or Microsoft at that time; computers were programmed by punching a card for each instruction you wanted the computer to perform. To run even the simplest program you needed to punch 500- 1000 cards with no mistakes, and you had to keep all of the cards in the correct order. Just one typo, or misplaced card would ruin all of the hard work you put into the program. Needless to say I wanted nothing to do with Computer Science, or all of those punch cards. When I graduated in the late 70's I took pride in the fact that I was probably the last student to graduate college without ever taking a Computer Science course.

Five years after I graduated the first personal computers were introduced to the public. These computers did not run on punch cards, but instead you simply typed your instructions into the computer by writing them on a monitor screen. This, of course was much easier than punching a thousand cards; but the user still needed to understand computer language, and programming. Since I never learned either one, I shied away from these new PC's.

By the mid 90's computers had got so powerful and so simplified that your average twelve year old could work them with no problem. It was about this time that I decided that I too should become computer literate. I bought a computer and started fiddling around with it. It normally did not take too long before I encountered a problem, or the computer would freeze up on me. My solution to these problems was to call my thirteen year old son to come and fix them. I was a complete and total pain in the butt for my young son; but what was I to do? In the last ten years I have become a little better on the computer, but compared to a normal nine year old I am still a computer moron.

Computers have taught me a lot about humility. My wife just bought me a new lap top computer that I am trying to figure out. Thank God I have grand kids!

Are You Man Enough

I grew up with two brothers. One was older than me, the other younger. We were all separated by one year intervals, so we grew up fairly close in age. This, of course, meant that we fought…a lot. Being the middle son, it seems that I was always in the middle of one of the fights. My older, and my younger, brothers seldom fought amongst each other.

My dad, knew that boys, would be boys, and he did not interfere with most of our squabbles (unless something got broke, then we all got spanked). But, woe to the child that started something then came running to him for help. His answer to that kid (usually me), was always firm; “If you’re man enough to dish it out, you better be man enough to take it! There is nothing worse than someone who can dish it out, but can’t take it!”

These words are the wisdom by which I live my life. They taught me quite a few things such as: taking responsibility for my actions, empathy for others, and that what ever I did to someone else, I had better be able to take when someone did it to me.

These three things are the cornerstone of our interpersonal relationships. Those who have learned, and follow them, are well adjusted, and normally get along with others. Those who haven’t learned them are maladjusted, and unpopular. Nobody wants to associate with someone who can’t “play well” with others.

We all know some of these “don’t play well with others” type of people. These folks feel that they have Carte Blanch to do, or say, anything they want to others; but are quick to take offense when someone responds in kind to them. Perhaps they just don’t realize that their behavior is churlish, and childish. Maybe they just aren’t smart enough to grasp the lessons most others mastered in elementary school.

Perhaps they weren't lucky enough to have a dad like mine.

A Transcendental State of Gullibility

When I was a young teen there was this girl that everyone had the hots for; her name was Pam Prue. Pam was a gorgeous girl for a fifteen year old. She had long flowing hair, a pretty face, and a big set of knockers; all of these things were rare for a fifteen year old girl in my school. All of the boys in school had the hots for her. One of these boys was my older brother Albert. Pam used to ride the same bus as Albert and I, and Albert was always drooling over her. The problem for Albert was that since she was so beautiful, she had her pick of any guy she wanted to go out with. Albert was over weight, and obnoxious, so he never really had any chance with her, and he knew it.

Shortly after the end of my freshman year during the summer vacation I was hanging around at my friend Doug’s house. Doug’s parents both worked during the day so Doug’s house was the logical place for us kids to hang out at during the day. Doug and I were bored, very bored and we didn’t know what to do for kicks. We were so bored that I finally said to Doug “I’m going to call Albert to see what he’s up to.” This shocked Doug because we NEVER wanted Albert to hang around with us.

I called my house and Albert picked up the phone “Hello” he said. I really don’t know what came over me, but I said in as high a voice as I could muster “Hello, Albert, this is Pam Prue.” Albert replied “Really?” I figured Albert would recognize my voice immediately but he didn’t, he really thought it was Pam Prue on the phone! Since I had Albert on the line (both literally and figuratively) I kept going using bashful sounding pauses to figure out what I was going to say. “Yes” I said, “Since school has ended I have missed not seeing you on the bus. I was wondering if maybe you could come by and see me?” Albert, noticeably taken by surprise said “Really?” I said “Yes really. I have been noticing you a lot lately and I think you are kind of cute. Can you come to my house and spend some time with me?” Albert said, I would like to but I have to mow the back yard right now.” “Well can you come over after you finish? I really would like to see you.” Albert replied, “I’ll be over as soon as I get done.” I said “Please hurry, I really want to see you!” Albert said “I’ll be there in an hour.” Then he hung up.

I hung up the phone and looked at Doug who was sitting at the table agape not believing what just happened. I said, “Let’s wait ten minutes then walk down to my house.” We waited ten minutes then made the short walk to my house. Out in the back yard was Albert sprinting back and forth across the back yard with the lawn mower! It took all of our self control not to bust out laughing until we got in the garage where Albert couldn’t see us. We weren’t laughing very long because here came Albert. Albert threw the lawn mower in the corner of the garage, jumped on my little sister’s banana bike that he was two sizes too big for and started peddling off. “Where are you going in such a hurry?” I shouted to him as he left. “Never mind you turkeys!” was all he said as he peddled away on the three mile trip to Pam’s house. Doug and I continued laughing our butts off until our sides were sore. Albert had once again reached a transcendental state of gullibility.

About an hour later I went home for lunch. My mother had various cold cuts and bread on the kitchen table so we could make sandwiches. Albert was making a sandwich so I strategically went on the other side of the table to make mine. I causally mentioned to Albert, “So Albert, how is Pam Prue?” Albert burst out “You son of a bitch!” and started chasing me around the table to a chorus of “Stop! Stop!” by my mother. I made a dash for the door and away I went.

Forty years have come and gone since that day. I have never found out what happened when Albert showed up at Pam’s front door. To this day Albert maintains he figured out my scheme before he got to her house, and turned around.

I know Albert better than that.