The Power of Glaze

Who would have thunk it??? The power of the fryer, and oil, and bread, topped off with a rich puddle of hig fuctose corn syrup, sugar, magic powder, and other fatty items that your mamma would turn in her grave if she saw you downing a few handfuls before, after, or during supper…well…I had a little idea!

On my way home I stopped off at the video store to check on a flick, when it hit me like a mack truck…the simple whif of glaze. I’ll admit it, I was powerless to its fatal attraction. I could not run. I could not hide. The sweet smell of fat on fat caught my nostrils and had entranced all my senses drawing me closer like a moth to the flame. I was trapped. I tried to escaped, but nearly cracked my skull after having slipped on my own saliva. Wouldn’t that be a headline, “Family sues after a poor, humble. podcaster and Father of three slips and falls on own saliva drawn from the smell of a nearby donut shop” page two would be about some lady sueing for hot coffee.

Any-who…I paid for the box of heaven-sent goodness and breathed in the aroma all the way home. I carried it like a trophy into my castle announcing to the neighborhood, that I, master and commander hath brought home for my family, glazed donuts. After dinner, we ripped into the box like we were digging for…well, glazed donuts. It was great. my eldest son began a canga line, and the other two boys followed in line. What was I going to do…disappoint them. No, I say. I grabbed my fourth or fifth (you tend to forget as your heart goes into a sugar coma) and started chanting the lovely song, “Donuts, donuts, doooooonuts” as we marched around the kitchen table in laughter – chugging the milk, chomping another bite of perfect goodness (which I truly believe God had allowed us to create for us to endure such things as…Mondays, Sunday drivers, and instances when the local Walgreens runs out of stock on the only true to form candy: Black Forrest Gummie Bears) and circling my wife who was shaking her head, which I think was nothing more than self-pity for her not joining us in our crusade for that which is Holy and pure…the glazed donut. Why else would my own wife not join us, unless she too was trying to survive in The World Gone Mad?

The cheeseburger

You get in the mood for certain cravings. You know how it is…chocolate chip cookie dough blizzard, krispy kreme glazed heaven, excuse me…I meant to say donut, and of course…Black Forrest Gummie bears. Again, you know how it is.
Something overpowers your mind and while you had full inteded to go directly to the bank, the grocery store, and then home…somehow you get sidetracked. You find yourself turning into Burger King with visions of Cheeseburgers dancing in your head. liek a zombie you slowly pull out your wallet, hit the drive through, and kindly place your order for three cheeseburgers. (What? Don’t give me that look when I can’t even see you! You, all condescending and pias! I was hungry. It’s better for you then ordering 2 cheeseburgers and a large fry…is it not? I rest my case)
Then it hits me…I hate going through the drive through at Burger King. Hate it!!!! They take forever. Why? Why must they take so long. There are barely any cars in the parking lot, it is clearly after lunchtime as the hour hand zooms past 1pm, and there I sit, like a nin-come-poop waiting in line at the BK for a cheeseburger that I could have just as easily done without. I can do nothing ‘cuz they already have my money. Now they have my time as well. And all the sudden, after roughly 3 years of my life pass me by, they motion for me to pull forwad, and hand a small paper bag with steam rolling off the top. I pull forward as the aroma of fresh (sort-of) hot burger and melted cheese fills the interior of my poor, humble, podmobile. I pop out the first little bundle of joy, unwrap, and sink my teeth into what experts could only describe as a fat bath waiting to pre-maturely carry me to my grave. I smile. The second burger went down just as nice and as tasty. The thrid and final was a tad bit difficult to fit down the ‘ol hatch, but my friend, the stomach, with whom I have a very good friendship, made some room on the side. You see, my stomach and I have been friends for a very long time. We’ve had kind of a pact, a contract if you will…one that states if I am friendly toward smy stomach, and heed to its completely legitamate requests of fatty burgers, salty pizza, buttery popcorn, and Black forrest gummie bears, it promises to do all it can to keep thing nice and civil like down below. It’s like the hulk…you would like it when it gets mad, but then again, what else would you expect from a person living in TheWorld Gone Mad.

The Santa Claus Interrogation

A guy pulls out of a Liquor store parking lot with a Santa cap, and Santa Suit hanging out of the trunk of his car. I think to myself…no wonder Santa didn’t come to our house last year! Someone had kidnapped Santa Claus mob style, stuffed him in the back of the car, and has been interrogating him ever since. I can just see it now. Santa, tied to a chair with red licorice. sitting in a dark room with one beam of light shining down upon the once jolly old elf…who has now been clean shaven and stripped to his whitie-tightie undershirt, and his bright red boxer draws being tormented by Islamic Extreemists with Krispy Kreme donuts and flamin Hot cheetos just inches out of reach taunting him for the where-a-bouts of his secret toy factory located somewhere around the North Pole. They neglect to feed him, but rather sit there eating Allen Bros. Nicely Marbled Steaks under a lights basting of A1 sauce and sauteed mushrooms. They deny him any water, but rather set an ice cold IBC Root Beer on a nearby table, and promise him that it’s all his if he agrees to give up the toy warehouse, he may go free with the IBC, and a fresh bag of Black Forrest Gummie Bears. Of course we know the end of this story…dont we? Santa didn’t say a word, and he winds up in the trunck of the car while the UN plan a rescue attempt, might I see geothermal, earth friendly rescue attempt, whose plans are to be set in motion once they save the Polor Bears and Empire penguins from certin destruction because of us careless humans. And the worst part about it is, he didn’t get a drop of the IBC…or a single Gummie Bear.

Strange Old Ladies

Picture this. I am pulling out of a parking lot in tow, or at least trying to pull out, and this little ‘ol lady is just kind of…standing there in the middle of the road. She’s looking up, down, and around in circles. And there I sit thinking…what is the deal? Do I not have more important things to do than to sit here waiting for the mind of this lady to return? Finally she realizes that she was smack dab in the middle of the road, picks up her grocery bags, and walks kiddie corner, as opposed to just right across the road, like any normal person, I pull out, and in my review mirror I could see the guy behind me who must have been a little less patient peel out of the lot and nearly hit the old woman. I wasn’t sure whether to be upset that she was almost hit, or that he missed her by a few feet. Kidding. C’mon, I may not be the nicest person in the world, or a politician, or even a thinker, but I am an eater. And although the last comments have absolutely nothing to do with the rest of this blog, I get in the strangely awkward funny points where I can. With a young punk squealing out of the parking lot and nearly hitting the old, aimless woman would not only have knocked out the teeth she may have just recently received through the mail, but may have seriously injured her, sending her to the emergency room, and who knows what kind of family she has and needless to say what kind of insurance she may have. Of course he would have received a bad gig on his record for wiping out the glue of society all because he had to wait a few seconds more because someone had lost their way…proof positive once again that we live in The World Gone Mad.

Light dawns

What is it about the wee small hours of the morning that brings about a slew of inspiration for creation on everything from the real of personal realization to the wonderful world of spirituality. Some may argue that they are one and the same. I can see that argument, but that is not what this personal ranting is all about.

For years I have been staying up through 1, 2, 3am in the morning sifting through papers, scribbling notes for my next book, watching movies, or completing another video project. Perhaps it is because there is a world of difference between what one might accomplish during the daytime and what he can swim through at night. You don’t have business email, busy phone calls, steady appointments, and of course your average, everyday “non-intrusive” and “un-interrupting” telemarketing call to see how little I like my current phone company and if I would care to switch. Now-a-days you will receive the same thing through a text or call coming in on your cell, that is of course unless you are being scammed by someone who grabbed your cell ID while your parents drove under a bridge with you in the backseat texting your future girlfirend/boyfriend.

In these wee hours of the morning, as things quite down, your creative being awakes, opens the eyelids of it’s piercing ability…and comes to life while you type away sipping Monster or red bull as you perfect your website…only to be changed a week later to keep up with the Jones’s. (not Jones Soda…ask your folks)

I guess you could say that if we lived in a sane world, one could work and play during the day and recoup…rest up…grab some shudd-eye when darkness falls…but alas we do not reside in a world of sanity which is the main reason we creative type people excel when the bats awake from their nap and our creative buds begin to bubble past midnight thus proving once again that we indeed live in the World Gone Mad.

Michael and the Bear

For years, I have been watching those 30 second Coke commercials with
the big polar bears and their cute little polar bear cubs flopping around and
discovering this magical drink we have all come to know so well and love
just as much as the bears. When they pickup an olde fashioned glass coke
bottled filled with the liquid goodness, and then pop the top and drink of the
soda of the gods, and then sigh, and grin, you can’t help but to jump up from the sofa, race to the fridge, and pop the top of an ice cold Coca-Cola and enjoy….just like them. You smile as you retreat to the couch with the knowledge that for the next few minutes, nothing can interrupt your joy, for you have found the fountain of youth and the world could be coming to an end, fire and brimstone rain from the sky, cats could be taking over the universe, but it’s all good….’cuz you got a Coke and a smile.
So I have always looked forward to the Coke commercials around Christmas time and they help to get me in the Christmas mood and as the first one hits the airwaves, we take the fam to the store and stock up on Coke and chex mix, for the grand commercials of the polar bears have sent out the hidden, subliminal messages that, “YOU MUST HAVE THIS IN YOUR HOUSE FOR THE ENTIRE MONTH OF DECEMBER, THROUGH CHRISTMAS, AND THEN SOME.” Who am I to argue with logic.
You can imagine my surprise when I won a great big Coca-Cola Polar Bear at a Christmas party years ago. I carried it home with pride and it has sat near our Christmas tree every year since.
I came home from work one day, and was shocked to find my bear had been moved. It was no longer sitting in its faithful spot as you enter into Casa Di Bakerboy. I perused the room and found our poor bear being beaten by my eldest son. “What in the world?” I asked myelf, “What in the world would cause such hostility towards a stuffed teddy bear whose main purpose in this life is nothing more than to bring peace, love, and coke to the many homes of fine grown-up children, such as myself, and there’s my son, my own flesh and blood, beating the snot out of this poor, helpless bear, bearing the coke sign and wearing the coke scarf with pride. What has happened to my son?
I walk to the couch to ponder this horrendous act of inexplicable rage and merciless anger. I sit, hands cupped over my face asking, “Why? Why? Why?” I then hear a news report about Al Gore and his “Inconvenient truth” about global warming…and then it hits me. Lightening struck my brain as an epiphany unveils opon little ‘ol me…a poor, humble, podcaster…with nice hair.
Michael must have been watching this report and became infurriated with the lies that spewed out of the mouth of our former Vice Pres. It was obvious. Michael thought it was probably better for there to be no polar bears at all than to have to put up with this stuff about how we as humans control the atmosphere and are killing the animals, and then the focus of the tree-huggin liberals is shifted from saving humanity, to saving the bears (ya’ know, cuz they do so much for us like….umm….let me get back to you on that) and so he took it upon himself to attempt to rid us of the problem all together, so that we could get on with our lives. He grabbed the nearest bear, and started to whale on it (no pun intended) You will all rest tonight nowing that the bear is safe, and is still under our tree to this day, which is of course proof to you, that we indeed continue to live in the world gone mad.

Slipping through the Cracks

What in the world is that about? Ok, so we have another kid, acting like a little baby, who bacause his girlfriend dumped him (yup, that’s never happened to anyone except him) he lost his job at McDonald’s (I guess his life is over, how does someone go on in this crazy little world having been fired from McD’s? Oh, the humanity of it all) and he got kicked out of his house for not following rules. So, what? This is the only kid who has to follow rules? Are there no parents out there who lay down the law for their kids? I commend the parents on their attempt to not only keep order in household, but also trying to teach this little 19yr old baby some respect.
In case you have been under a rock for the past few days I am of course speaking of the little brat who had some bad luck, stole his step-dad’s AKA Assualt rifle and went on a shooting spree at the Biggest mall in Omaha, NB. Does human life not matter anymore?
The authorities say this kid left a note. I know, your saying that he’s not a kid anymore…he’s 19! Obviously regardsless of the passing years, this little fame-hungry boy decided to remain an adolescent and his actions reflect exactly that. Are you kidding me? An adult. Adults don’t, at least they shouldn’t if they are acting like an adult, go on little rants in a rage and attempt to go out in a hale of fire because they lost their job and got dumped by their girlfriend. The scriptures tell us that< When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I thought like a child, but when I became a man I put away childich things.” Don’t these kids ever get a “No” from their folks? Or a bad mark on their paper. Well, I guess in some schools they no longer get a red mark on their paper for fear the child will feel badly about his grade and his spirits may be broken thus rendering him depressed and must now go on medication. What a joke. And, if you live in the lovely state of MA, you might be able to vote for or against a new law saying that children may no longer receive spankings as a form of correction from their parents. They say it killd their spirit and once again, they become depressed. The Bible, however teaches us that a Father disciplines his children if he indeed loves them.
How many times have your parents told you to be in by a certain time, or be back at the house by such and such time? Why do they say that? Because they care. Why do you get punished if you do wrong? For one, you knew it was wrong to begin with. Two, becuas they love you ya’ dope. They want you to learn from your mistakes so you won’t continue to make the same mistakes in the future. There, does that make it easy to understand?
Heaven forbid we take responsibility for our actions and start acting like Americans, or at least the way Americans used to act. We used to take pride in our work, and face the darkside head on regardless of the consequences…not baby it down so that we don’t feel bad. Some sports programs offer a trophy to EVERYONE…win or lose because it is confidence inspiring! Why even try? That’s the message we send these young people. Why try because everyone will end up with a trophy at the end…and there’s really no need to keep points.
I’m not talking about winning and losing. I’m talking about setting our own kids up for failure when they become adults and go into the real world to compete for jobs, salaries, and in some cases food! We can’t just tell them…ahh, it’s ok. Here’s a trophy for you too. They have to learn that there is a winner, and there is someone who lost. Does that make them a loser? Only if they embrace it and walk around with this chip the size of Brad’s mom on their shoulder saying…wo-is-me! I lost. There’s no hope. Why move on. They have to face the fact that someone will be better than them at some things, which is the reason to be to try harder, to go for the gold, to move higher, not give up. If everyone gets the same thing, then why try? If you ping a Harvard graduate up against a guy who just barely graduated High School two days ago, and they go in to a video editing studio, both get a job doing the same thing, and both making $65, 000 per year…then what was the point of the older gentleman going to Harvard, investing his time, talent, and finances into learning?
Can’t our students, teens, and kids work for what they receive anymore? Does it have to be handed to them on a silver platter because we don’t want to hurt their feelings? Or their spirits? Or get them depressed? I know there are quite a few of us who work 2 and 3 jobs to give our kids everything they want. I commend you for your efforts, but they are being applied in the wrong area. It is ot about getting our kids what they want. It is about giving them what they sincerely need, and that’s PARENTS. STRUCTURE. FAITH. A BEGINNING. A FOOT-HOLD.
It’s part of life. The Bible tells us to run as if we are to get the prize, not run and keep with the status quo, or in other words run at the same pace as all the others. We are to strive harder, reach higher, and do all for the glory of God, not for ourselves.
Far too often we think that it’s all about us, and heaven forbid we lose our footing and have to get back up. Some of us would rather sit on the floor and be picked back up. Our parents, teachers, and friends should be in our corner, but that does not mean they are there to fight our battles, and ease the pain if we happened to get hurt. Granted, they can help heal our wounds, and coach/mentor us. It is said in the Bible that we rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those in mourning. That means your parents can hi-five when your excited about a play in the game, a score on the soccer field, or a level on the xbox 360. And when you’ve had a rough day, they’re there with you, because they too have had rough days growing up. Their job is to HELP get you back up, dusted off, and back on the horse.
This 19 year old baby writes a note that he left for a family with whom he was living which said, “I am sorry. At least I will be famous now, and I will go out in style”. What a hoser. Fame to this kid was worth more than his own life, and that of the people around him. It’s like the kooky lady who had an abortion and a hysterectomy (an operational procedure to eliminate the possibility for you to become pregnant) because she said it was just selfish to have children because it kills the planet. Unbelievable. How does such a person come to that conclusion. Of course directly after, she held a press conference saying how she is “still able to travel, see the world, and hang out with her friends”
…but having children is selfish? What a crock! Nonsense! I am steeming up just thinking about such stupidity!
I listened to some of the commentary after the shooting in Nebraska, and the question they started asking was, “How did this kid slip through the cracks?” The answer is he didn’t. He didn’t slip through anything! He dove right through as much as he could. He stole a gun from his step-dad. He was incarcerated for delinquency of a minor in possession of alcohol, he had been fired from McDonald’s for allegedly stealing $17 from the cash drawer, was kicked out of the house for not obeying his parents. And still, you are probably sitting there as you read this and say, “So what! His parents probably had harsh rules like clean up your room, do the dishes, wash the car every week.” They were trying to teach him a little responsibility. The next thing you know the media will be blaming the parents. “Oh, where were the parents in all of this?”
Can we not take responsibility for our own actions? What we do? What we choose not to do? And how we choose to go about it? Are you not your own person? Are you a product of your environment or is your environment a product of you? The scriptures teach us to be no longer conformed to the patterns of this world, but to be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Change your pattern of thinkning. Step up! Take some responsibility for what you do. Change the world around you and stop blaming others for what happens to you or how you treat those around you. All this…proof positive that we indeed live in The World Gone Mad.

Cat Food

So, there I was walking through walmart to pickup a few extra things. Cat food, above all else was on the list…placed there by my lovely wife. And thus, I find myself walking through that stupid cat ailse with all the tree-huggin cat lovers. What’s worse, it was Thanksgiving Day! Yea. That’s right. I am a procrastinator. On a four day weekend, I waited until Sunday night at 9pm to finish my homework. That’s how I roll.
Anywho, as I squeezed past all the other people with no life I quickly noticed all the different brands of cat food, in one ailse, at one store. No one else stood there in amazement. I was dumbfounded, as usual. Why in the world would there be more than 1 brand of catfood? I counted 10. 10! I had to stop at ten because that is about as high as I can count without removing the socks and shoes. I noticed there were more bags with different spelling, so there must have been other brands in addition to the 10 that I counted! WHY! I ask in the name of all that is holy and good! They’re cats – not people. Do they even have taste buds? I’d have to say no, otherwise they would’nt stoop to eating the crap they call “Cat Food” sold in pretty little bags from over 10 different brands across the nation. It’s a scam, a conspiracy. Again, at the risk of sounding redundant…They’re cats. Do they care what brand of cat food they eat. NO! They don’t sit at home talking to their owner saying, “Oh, sir/madam, I ask that you not purchase that aweful brand of cat food that you so foolishly brought home last month. It was nearly unbearable and I had to choke to get it down. I require something a little more smooth and robust, with a bold flavor.”
They’re cats. They poop in a box and sleep all day. the different brands are more about the pride of the owner than the preference of the feline. “I chose sheeba for my animal. Nothing but the best will do.” C’mon, people. Is there nothing else that we can allow to consume our time and money more important than to slowly drift into the cat ailse and baby step our way from one bag to the next reading the labels for nutrition information and flavor to avoid irritating the allergies and accomodating for the taste of our pets. Again, they’re CATS! Just another indication that indeed, we live in the World Gone Mad.

The Forgotten Stuff

Have you ever noticed, it doesn’t really matter if you are in a hurry or not, but your wallet and your watch, two of the most important items on your person are most likely to be forgotten. Some people have a morning routine which includes cleaning up for the day, throwing your clothes on, and then sliding the wallett in the back pocket, keys in the front pocket, followed by change and/or a small pocket knife which is just the right sice to open an envelope, slice through a piece of scotch tape, or get tackled by three airport security gaurds the size of Brad’s mom who go by the name of Bertha, Tiny, and the Beast, pin your hands and ankles to the ground while a scrawny, little man in a dark suit walks up, takes the 2 inch knife from the guards and asks you what your planning to do with a dangerous object like that.
Where was I? Oh yea, the forgotten. My brother and sister-in-law just left the house and wasn’t in any specific hurry, but did have a destination. They stopped at the gas station to get robbed while they fuel up their tank, reached into their back pockets and realized that they had bother forgotten their wallett/handbags (I believe my brother carries the wallett, and my sister-in-law carries the handbag. I could be wrong. I overheard Mom talking about a trip he took to San Fransisco, had a nice Quiche, and talked about poetry. Don’t ask, don’t tell. ((Kidding))
To top it off, neither one of them had a watch on. I’m quite sure that I have found myself in the same situation…not in San Fran eating quiche and discussing poetry, but wallet, watch, cell phone all forgotten and there I am looking like a dope in front of the fuel up station wondering what I could tell the clerk to ask for grace in allowing me to go get my wallet and pay for the fuel. Whatta’ ya’ gonna’ do?
So the next time you get ready to leave the house, contemplate what you may be doing, what time you’ll be doing it, and how much money you will require to get it done, and whom you might call while paying for whatever it is that you’ll be doing at whatever time it might be that you are doing what it is you’ll be doing while paying the tolls/fees and discussing the whole matter with your boyfriend/girlfriend and you too might avoid an emergency of forgotten items leading to another indication that we do indeed sometimes forget the most important items of the day while living in the World Gone Mad.

Passive Coffee

Why would someone do this? You gotta’ be passionate about something, otherwise, why get involved? Would it be because if you don’t do it, no one will? How many times do we fall into that little trap? I could name quite a few into which I have fallen…but that’s not really necessary. Let’s just list some random examples…shall we?
Steak. Need I say more? Ok, for those of you who have yet to experience the thrilling rush of flavors from a well marbled, well seasoned, well aged steak…here goes. I meet with a good friend and mentor of mine once a week for breakfast. We started with the little things like pancakes, and one week we might eat at a little restaurant in town, one week we might find ourselves eating at a chain…then we thought, why eat out every week? Not only does it become expensive, and the service leaves something to be desired, and you can’t guarantee the plates, cups/glasses, or even the silverware wasn’t cleaned by someone they happened to pickup on the way to work who was never really formally trained by his mom/dad to properly clean the dishes so instead he rinses them off with a little ice water, grabs the nearest rag off the floor left there from last night when an associate vomited all over the floor from food poisoning because he was playing with Chinese toys over his lunch break and somehow ingested the little toy and the lead spread throughout his stomach…and…I digress.
Where was I? Oh, cleanliness, it may not be right next to Godliness, but it has to be in the same ballpark. So, we stopped eating out and started eating at home paying as much for a couple of steaks that we could quite easily season and marinade and grill for the same price we were paying for eggs and toast at the local restaurants. On top of all that, when you go out to eat, and your planning on getting into a nice deep Biblical conversation about life and all its complexities, the last thing you want to deal with is sitting in between a table of loud chatters on one side and vacationers who have been on the road since last Tuesday and their 15 children haven’t slept all night and are just a tad on the irritating side.
If you’re planning on cooking something as delicate and yet as scrumptious as steak, why not do it with passion. You can’t just stick it on a pizza plan. place it in the oven and 15min later have a steakhouse tasting meal…nope! Doesn’t work that way. It requires attention. The same thing with coffee. Too many people plop some freeze dried year old coffee grounds made from dirt and kitty litter into a 50 year old pot and add some tap water that hasn’t been filtered since Moses parted the red sea. You just can’t expect Starbucks to come flowing out of the reservoir when you throw things together like that without a second notice.
Do you remember how much care your Grandma took in baking ginger crinkle cookies, and dutch apple pie, and home smoked honey baked ham? Excuse me one moment…I hear the fridge callin’ my name.
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Ok, I’m back. Now, remember how much time they put into making it right? They didn’t just throw it into a pot and take a nap – no! They put great attention to detail. They did it with passion. They took pride in their work. They made certain that when it came out of the oven the aroma was so powerful that as she turned around there would be your dad attempting to negotiate for the first bite while you stood there with your best puppy dog eyes, begging to lick the spoon, but if she would refuse, you were ready to play the part of Hansel and Grettall and take care of ‘Ol Grandma so there would be no dispute over getting to lick the spoon.
Do you understand where I am going with this? Do what you love (within reason, legally, and biblically sound) And love what you do. Take pride in your work, and let others know that you are proud of the outcome of your project because they can see that you put forth your best effort. “Whatever you do, whether you eat, or drink, or whatsoever you do, do all to the glory of God”