Them Avatarians is Tall!

Well, the verdict is in. “Avatar” is a good movie. It appeals to everyone. I’ve listened to people talk about it for the last few days. Some people will say they did not like it. They will be lying. The smartest person I know loved it. The dumbest person I know loved it. Below are their reviews. I’m not saying who’s who, though.

Review #1:
Damn, I went to see that Avatar movie. That was a good movie. It was about these aliens on their home planet of Avatar. The Avatar alien race is killing the humans who’ve come from Earth to mine some valuable rocks. Then this crippled Marine “Semper Fi!” gets hired to infiltrate the Avatars via a virtual reality machine. And it’s cool because he can’t walk in the real world, but in the make-believe world of Avatar, he can! So needless to say, he likes being a big, blue Avatarian. Then he ends up falling in love with this girl Avatar so he switches sides, fighting for the aliens on their home planet. They’re called “Avatars” because they have to tame and fly around on pterodactyls. Like how some people call pilots, Avatars. Man that was a good movie.

Review #2
The movie 'Avatar' takes place almost entirely on Pandora, a moon of Polyphemus, in the Alpha Centauri A system. I think the naturally occurring floral neural network of the moon must have somehow influenced the evolution of the moon's fauna so that the physical, biological communication links of each of its species were compatible with one another and the network itself. Interesting ...

So there it is. The dumbest person I know and the smartest person I know both missed the point of the movie. Oddly, the dumb guy was closer than the smart guy. The movie's point is that we no longer need Kevin Costner to make a good 3 hour movie.

I'm just going to ease back into this blogging thing.

First of all, I just wanted to post some photos of my old bike. A 2001 LeMond Zurich. For a long time, I had some dura-ace open pros on it, but now I've got them on the Cannondale, and so the original wheels are on the old bike. I like to call my bike "Ol' Yeller and Blue". It has been consigned to the trainer for the last 3 years and has become corroded by sweat. It's been nearly impossible to shift to the big ring because of the old rusty cables responsible for that duty. Tuesday morning, the cable finally snapped. I decided to run the bike over to Olympia for a Makeover (and new cables).

It ended up being quite a job because some parts had rusted to the frame. But in less than 24 hours, They returned it to me like this!!!




Wow, I might just start riding again. Olympia is my favorite shop. It helps that it's in the 'hood.

Well anyway, here's a preview of what you'll be looking at most of next Spring/Summer:



If you like the way it looks, thank the guys at Olympia.

I'm just kidding. I'll be golfing.

The day my little puppy died.

For my 8th birthday, my parents bought me a little puppy. He was the runt. Though he was small in stature, he had the heart of a lion. So we named him Leo. This was the first time I had responsibility for another living thing. What I didn't understand was that even though little doggies love the taste of anti-freeze ...

Ok, I'm just kidding. I never had a dog. Well, I did but I don't remember it. It was when I was one years old or something. So long little Leo. We miss you.

A Departure

My oldest daughter turned 19 today. On my way to work I was thinking about that. The first thing that came to my mind was how she was when she was little. One particularly bittersweet event popped into my memory. Actually, there is a photograph of it. I first thought of the photo, then the event. I don’t know who took the photo. It might have been Jolene’s mother.

In the photograph, Jolene is somewhere around 3 years old and our backs are to the camera. We are flying a kite out at either Lake 11 or Lake 16. I don’t know which. Why did this memory come to me? Well That’s what I was wondering.

From the time she could sit up and play, each night we’d go into her room and play some game. Usually, it had to do with me trying to stack blocks as quickly as she knocked them down. Or we’d wrestle, or I’d tell her stories.

Every night I would drag my feet to play with Jolene the requisite 20 minutes or so. I didn’t want to play with her. I just wanted to sit and relax.

Every night I would enjoy myself so much playing with her that the session typically went for an hour or more.

She was smart and funny. She had a wonderful sense of humor. I was very proud.

Every night I would put her to bed. We would play a game, saying goodnight to all sorts of animals, warning them to quiet down because it was bed time and if they weren’t quiet, we promised the animals we’d make a sandwich out of them and say they taste like chicken.

At that time in my life, I was working 2 or 3 part time jobs. I was a sophomore at UNO taking 12 hours. My ex-wife did not work. I was exhausted. Jolene was the only part of my day I enjoyed. It was a rather dark time.

Eventually, my ex-wife had had enough of my screwing around at work and school all of the time and threw me out of the house (this is very close to the truth). I had wanted Jolene to have a normal life from the time she was born. The burdens she had were not fair in my mind. I left the house because the family was broken. She was a baby in a house where the parents were always yelling. I thought (perhaps incorrectly) that it was better to spend a couple of great weekends with her a month, than 7 days a week of fighting with her mother.

In my most painful memory, I tried to explain to my daughter that I was leaving while she (I’m crying right now) was standing in her crib balling. Why was I leaving her? She thought I loved her. She was a baby girl losing her daddy. Her best friend. Her superhero. My ex wanted me to lie to her and tell her I’d be back soon. Maybe she was right. Maybe I should have lied. I did not believe it at the time.

Leaving my wife was easy. People did not understand that. They thought I was miserable because I was no longer with my wife. At that time I was only allowed to be with my daughter for very short periods of time. The courts had not decided anything yet and My ex claimed she did not trust me alone with my daughter. She’d let me visit for an hour or 2 here and there. The only visitation I had was with Jolene’s mother present, making it difficult to be myself around my daughter.



One time however, when she was 3 years old, I was allowed to take Jolene unsupervised to the lake where we flew a kite. The ex met us out there and took Jolene back home. I think that’s where the picture came from.

Before Ex got there, I got to watch my daughter as herself with me as myself. Her daddy showing her how to fly a kite (today she’d say she taught me, but she’s a liar).

As I stood behind her, watching her looking up to the sky, carefully holding the string the way I’d instructed, I had the strong revelation of the pain awaiting me in the coming years. I loved being with her so much. I wanted to have her knock the blocks down every day. But it would only be a couple of times a month for the rest of her childhood.



I believed that one day she’d want to come and live with me. She was smart and funny. Her personality was similar enough to mine. I reasoned that her mother would eventually have the same effect on her as she did on me.

Finally about the time she was 16 or so, she moved in with us. I was so happy for her. I had always wanted something for Jolene that I could never give her until this point. A home life she deserved. It was not fair that she should be in a crazy house where the parent heaped too much responsibility on her. She should be allowed to live her high school years unencumbered by her parents’ problems. We tried to do that as much as possible.

She’s in college now. She earned a full ride. I’m so proud of her I can’t express it. I only write about this because I’m hoping it will be suitable in lieu of me spending money on some gift.

That last line is for Jolene. Did I mention she has a great sense of humor?

Happy birthday Jolene.

The Real Wesley J

The truth is stranger than fiction. At least that’s the old cliché. I’ve always believed that to be only partially true. I guess it depends on what truth and what fiction you’re talking about.

The other day when someone calling himself “Wesley J” commented on my blog, my first reaction was to take it at face value. I was confused by the vile, crude, illiterate nature of the comments. Knowing the real Wesley, I had not expected that type of response. On the other hand, I had never seen any of Wesley’s writing so even though he has always seemed intelligent, maybe it just didn’t translate to the written page. There are many extremely intelligent people who are simply cursed when it comes to reading and writing. Unable to convey the witty thoughts “forming in their brain”, they are limited to the basest form of human communication. Threatened by their clearly inadequate literary skills, they must resort to homophobic derision and name calling.

Of course, when the real Wesley stepped forward and explained that I had been duped, the fake comments made sense. Wesley’s explanation was articulate, like I would have expected.

However, the fact that the prank was engineered in the way it was shows the perpetrator is an intelligent person, which I can verify now that I have finally figured out who it is. Although there will never be the remotest hint of it in his writing, this is one of the smartest people I've ever encountered. I’d venture this is one of the few true geniuses I know. To hide behind my psyche undetected like that. Whew. Wait until I tell you who it is!

Before I continue I must warn you. “Wesley J” is tricky. This story has a few parts that I’ll unveil over the next few days. In between, there may be comments from “Wesley J”. They may persuade you that my conclusion is false. But I make this promise. After I’ve shown you who he is, there will be no doubt.

I’ve known the person now calling himself “Wesley J” since I was 14 years old. I met him the year I despised myself more than any other. When I turned 15, I said to myself,
“That was the worst year of my life. I doubt there will be any that bad again ever.”



So far, it’s true. After a bitter painful divorce when I was in my early 30's, and the ensuing extreme poverty, I can honestly say the joyless 14th year of my life was the worst ever. I was unhappy all year. Some call it growing pains or puberty. All I know is I didn’t like it. I didn’t want to be me. It was during that summer that I met “Wesley J” and we immediately became best friends.

But to talk about that, I have to talk about the comment of “Wesley J’s” that gave it away. Like I said, I know the guy. Even though we are now sworn enemies, he was most likely bored with my sorely inadequate guesses as to his true identity, so he threw me a bone when he lied and said he was in New Mexico. Only "Wesley J" and I will ever know what that truly means. But I'll let you in on as much as I dare.


Eleven months out of the year, my dad worked hard. He’d scrimp and save to put away enough cash for a big annual family vacation. These were great. Usually something big like Disney World!

On this particular year we were going to go to Florida for some fun and sun. At least that was the plan. However, my grandma had a dying brother who lived far, far away. My grandma never drove a car. At this time, she was about 65 years old. She was resigned to never seeing her brother alive again. My dad decided it would be nice if we modified our vacation plans so Grandma could see her brother. As it turned out, this change resulted in one of the most memorable vacations we ever had. At the time, there were 5 in our family. We had a 1972 Chevy Nova with no Air conditioning. We were going to be taking Grandma with us. We were also going to take my aunt (mom’s sister-german [ sic ]) with us because she would like to see some of her uncles/cousins-german [ sic ] as well (look it up. I just learned it today and wanted to use it). So with seven people, the Nova wasn’t going to cut it.

So my dad bought a big huge Ford Custom 500. It was the first car I ever saw that ran on “unleaded fuel”. It was roomy enough for all seven of us to ride in comfort to our ultimate vacation destination. The place relevant to the tale of "Wesley J". Because you see, my grandma’s brother, Marion, was dying of emphysema. On the suggestion of his doctor, he had moved himself and his family to the dry climate of Farmington, New Mexico. The hint “Wesley J” left for me in his last comment. Oh, he doesn’t live there anymore. He tends bar at an island resort. But he used to live there. Oh did I mention my great uncle’s last name? It was … Keeler!

(To be continued. Or not)

Thanks Wes, someday I will repay your great kindness

source

There lived a huge and fierce lion in a forest. Once, weary after a long day of hunting, the lion returned to his cave and soon fell asleep.

Not long after, a little mouse chanced upon the lion’s cave. Thinking that there might be food inside the cave, and not realizing that it was a lion’s lair, the mouse decided to explore the cave.


As it was dim inside the cave, the mouse could not see clearly. Suddenly, the mouse hit against something very big, and it felt warm to the touch.

"This must be my day!" the mouse thought. "This could be a big meal!"

The mouse walked around the thing that he had hit to find out what it was. As he looked, and his eyes became more adjusted to the dimness, the mouse had the greatest shock in his life. There, right in front of him, lay a sleeping lion!

The little mouse was terrified. Without wasting a second, he made his escape. But in his haste to run away, the mouse tripped over the lion’s nose! This woke the lion up. He was very angry.

The little mouse trembled in great fright. He immediately picked himself up and tried to dash away. But the lion’s paw clapped down upon him and held him tightly to the ground.

Just as the lion was about to kill him, the mouse quickly spoke, "Please, Mr Lion, do not kill me! I’m so tiny and won’t make a good meal for you. Spare me now and some day I will repay your great kindness!"

When the lion heard that, he was amused. "How could a tiny creature like this repay me?" he thought.

But the lion was full after his hunting that day. So he released his paw and let the mouse go.

Many days later, while the lion was hunting for food, he ran into a hunter’s trap and was caught in a big net. The lion struggled to free himself but the net was too big. Unable to free himself at last, the lion filled the forest with his angry roars.

When the little mouse heard the roaring, he realized that it was the lion that had spared his life. The mouse knew immediately that the lion was in some kind of trouble. He ran as fast as he could to where the lion was.

When the mouse saw that the lion was caught in a net, he quickly gnawed at the net until it parted. The lion was freed. And he was glad that he had spared the little mouse’s life.

If Wes had a Facebook page ...

I'd SO request his friendship. But I think he might be a little too cool for that.

Uh hey, wesley.

I already have a yellow bike.

Sorry about the last one, Wes.

My bike snobbery leaked a little on that one. Bad judgment. I know you and that you are too fine a person to hold it against me, a sinner. But for my peace of mind, could you please confirm your forgiveness in the form of a couple of reassuring comments? I mean, come on, it's the least you can do, loser. Oh crap, there I go again. Now I really do need 2 comments to confirm that we're cool. At your earliest convenience, of course.

What's better than a comfort bike with Aerobars?

Nothing.

The finest person ever?

Perhaps.

Go Hawkeyes!

Wow, those Iowa football players sure are a handsome bunch! I bet Iowa has a good coach, who's nice and things. Probably not as nice as Wesley, though.

If I paint my bike yellow

Will you comment on my blog, Wesley? Twice if it's not too much trouble. No reason. Just wondering. Thanks.