My hairbrained scheme

In Alaska we frequently encountered paticipants in the Iditarod, amateur mushers, or others associated with the sport (it is the official state sport afterall). Having two Saint Bernards holding the floor down at home, I couldn't help but wonder how well they'd do in the race. Sure it's 1000+ miles and rather cold (-60 and frequent blizzards), but Saints were built for alpine conditions, and what's a 1000+ miles?

Saints were bred to rescue people in the alps, and one Saint, Barry, was reported to rescue over 2000 people trapped in blizzards, buirried by avolanches, or otherwise fucked over my mother nature. Having two Saints at home who are at home on the coldest of snow (-12 this year) validates the whole built for the cold aspect, but ours don't seem to be able to rescue too much before wanting to take a break (perhaps they're unionized Saints). Supposedly a Saint can pull as much as 2900KG, so maybe a few could pull a bunch more who are resting and then take turns?

Let's say I have some underachievers who can "only" pull 2500KG (over 5,500 pounds), that means a 200lb dog (a big Saint), could pull 27+ of his pals! Since this isn't easy to do for distances let's lighten the load and give him 10 buddies to pull, so he's only working about 9% of the time. To break the monotony, give him nine buddies, so 10 Saints pull another 100 and a musher (on a big ass sled). Wouldn't that be more impressive than a bunch of gnarly huskies? It would be like the Budweiser Clydesdales of the north. Maybe we could get a sponsorship gig?

Sure we'd need huge mounds of food for the 110 dogs, and there would be a bunch of big piles of shit everywhere, but imagine the possiblities. That beer deal would be the tip of the iceberg. Books, movies, video games, etc... It would be like Beethoven meets Snow Dogs meets Cool Runnings!


I got tired of copying and pasting sleeping dogs, but you get the point

Planes, trains, and boats

In the past weeks, Liz and I flew on 6 planes, strolled through 7 airports, rode 4 trains, cruised on 3 boats, and rode on countless buses. We stayed in 3 lodges, visited 3 ports, traversed numerous biomes, and wandered through 2 Canadian provinces and one big ass state.

And this doesn't even sum up our journey!

Alaska was our primary destination, and we started off with two days in Fairbanks at the Princess Lodge (we booked our tour through Princess). There we embarked to excursions on the Riverboat Discovery III and the El Dorado Mine (both tourist traps, complete with gift shops everywhere--including the boat). The boat ride was particularly fun (we even saw a genuine red nosed reindeer!), and we really loved the folks in Fairbanks.

Next we boarded the Alaska Railroad (special 2-story panoramic cars for us) and headed down to "Glitter Gulch", the gateway to the Denali National Park. We stayed in another Princess Lodge, this one looking more the part, but also featuring that motel charm. There we sampled the hot tubs, enjoyed great food, and waited out the somewhat dreary weather. That afternoon of overcast skies gave way to a gorgeous morning, which was a fortuitous start to a wonderful day (ignoring the 75 minute late start). Denali is the name of the park and the mountain (well some debate the mountain's name), but most see more of the former and less of the latter. Denali being such a huge snowball of a mountain creates its own weather and usually is veiled in clouds, but our first glimpse of the mountain was nearly complete, with just a hint of a cloud. This was 12 miles or so into our 60 mile (120 roundtrip) journey. Before that glimpse, we saw moose, and shortly thereafter we saw Grizzly Bears, caribou, marmots, and a fox. Later still we saw squirrels, more caribou, more bears, and Dall Sheep. All along our journey, we were surrounded by beautiful vistas, clear skies, and lots of biodiversity.

By now we'd already gotten to know the larger than life nature of Alaska, Alaskans, and their heroes. It seems everyone had climbed Denali, raced the Iditarod, or both! Even the kids joined in, as they're expected to do recess outside until it's colder than -20f! Imagine being hit by a dodgeball at -20! School stays open no matter the weather, but parents can keep their kids at home at -50f. In Alaska, Paul Bunyon would be a smurf.

All of this and we were only 1/3 of the way through our trip! Another rail encounter delivered us to another lodge, the Mt. McKinley Princess Lodge. We ate more great food, wandered through a swarm of mosquitos, and stared at the clouds wondering which one the mountain was hiding behind. We also drove by Wal-Mikes in Trapper Creek (think Wal-Mart meets Sanford and Son with an Alaskan flair) and saw another moose. Before long it was another time for train ride, this time all the way to the boat, but we caught a last glimpse of the mountain before our next trek.

This was our longest trip by rail, including some of the best views. We traveled along side some beautiful views of rivers, mountains, and swamps. We saw more Dall Sheep, quite a few out houses, and even Wasilla. We ended up our journey with a one lane/one rail tunnel to Whittier. Cars and trains take turns going through the 2.5 mile tunnel, and the two directions of traffic must wait as well--only in Alaska! Once we exited our tunnel, the big boat came in sight.

We've never cruised before, and I'm pretty sure Liz hasn't been on too many boats of any kind. After our cattle call boarding procedure we were introduced to Purell and lots of it. It seems you can't do anything on the boat without sanitizing before, after, or most likely both. Before long we found our room, met our steward, and tried on our life vests. Then we started exploring the ship. Our boat, the Diamond Princess, is a newer vessel, and a biggish (too big for the Panama Canal) one at that. Despite all this size it really seamed you couldn't go anywhere without either traversing the casino or the art gallery. Later we discovered you could also go anywhere you wanted if you were willing to wander across the pool laden deck, which was the preferred route, as it also housed the pizza, ice cream, buffet, and chocolate buffet.

We soon settled in, and the next two days were relaxing journeys through fjords gazing at glaciers and keeping an eye out for wildlife. I half expected to see whales and eagles, but certainly not as abundant as we saw. We also saw seals and porpoises. We even found the rare seagull that found the sea (as opposed to some Wal-Mart parking lot in Ohio or a landfill). As impressive as the sights were, the sounds were also noteworthy, especially the sounds of glaciers calving and crashing into the sea. In between the natural sights and sounds, we strolled into the casino, learned our lesson, and eat away our disappointment in one of the many four course (or more) meals.

The following days saw us arrive at Skagway, Juneau, and Ketchikan (all down south and far removed from the tundra we saw before). We previously arranged for activities in Juneau and Ketchikan, but Skagway was pretty much unplanned. We wandered through town, became bored of all of the jewelry stores (no matter how much the Princess infomercials hype the diamond deals, you're still in the US!), and wandered into a tour operator looking for adventure. We signed up for and got a Yukon Adventure. While Princess offered tours that go just enough into Canada to bring about the annoyance of passports and shit, they don't really go anywhere besides the edge of British Columbia (which isn't at all like Colombia btw). Notions of heading to the Yukon somehow seemed more entertaining, and the price was right.

After all the excitement of Skagway and our 100 mile trek into the Yukon, Juneau was a bit more subdued. Juneau, the capital (almost as big as Rhode Island and Delaware--combined!), is a small town (all that area and like 25,000 people), and it was a small town overrun by 7 big ass boats. Sadly it was foggy, so we didn't get to see much besides tourists, but we hear it can be pretty. We did get to see a one-eyed eagle, listen to Christian music, and almost give into the sight of a McDonalds and smell of Subway. Ketchikan was almost as uneventful, but the Coastal Wilderness Tour we booked brought us eagles, seals, and bears.

Soon time had flown so fast that it was all over, and we began to pack our bags, eat our last meals, and begin planning our next adventure. Many many more pics can be found here.

Unmet Expectations

I've discoved that I expect too much from this world, and I'm slowly coming to terms with that sad reality. When I drive in a car with "automatic climate control", I expect it to know you're appoaching a dead polecat (skunk; not some stripper cat) and put the AC on recirculate. I also expect to be able to fast forward a DVR to points well into the future (I keep trying just to see if they slip that feature in). Isn't a 8:00pm football game on the East coast aired at 5:00pm on the west coast? Can't we keep going around the world so that I can finish March Madness in say February, with enough time to procrastinate and still get the winning picks to my bookie?

It should come to no surprise that my latest disappointment was so ... well disappointing. The culprit, Chocolate Lucky Charms. You see Lucky Charms was always a favorite of mine as a kid (it's why I grew so tall--kinda ironic since the leprechaun stays so small), and the notion of replacing those bland oaty bits with something like Cocoa Puffs or Cocoa Pebbles, well that's a match made in heaven--sorta a Count Chocula with all the magical Irishness of Lucky Charms. So why is it my hell?

The chocolate bits aren't chocolatey, rather they're just brown. Brown in color, but worse yet, brown in taste. You see when I close my eyes and think of the color red, I can taste Hawaiian Punch (Fruit Juicy Red), and when I do the same with orange, I taste McDonalds Orange drink. With brown, well I picture shit and a taste those oddly shiny crap nuggets that someone must have randsomed a leprechaun into putting in the box (better than giving up the pot of gold I suppose).

hypermilers, damn you!

Ever be cruising along at a speed that actually gets you somewhere in a limited amount of time (unless you get pulled over) and have some jackass who's on the cruise control and putzing along slowly to use less gas get in your way? Those bastards are hypermiling, which is the lowest form of dorkiness--yes WoW geeks, you just moved up a notch, but don't let it get to your head, and no you didn't just level up. Anyway, those morons drive slow, tailgate, occasionally run red lights/stop signs, or even turn the engine off and cruise! All to save a few ounces of gas. Oh, they usually have a bunch of annoying bumper stickers all over the back of their cars (often none are on the actual bumper, aparantly they didn't understand the concept). If I'm going to be stuck beind some 1984 VW Golf diesel, I expect to see black sooty porn and not black sooty propaganda.

What's worse is that the nerds who write the OED, who are one notch above WoW players and two above hypermilers--unless they happen also to be in those other groups, decided that hypermiling is the word of the year. Kinda jumping the gun in mid November, eh? Anyway I was rooting for schadenfreude, which is my favorite word. I suppose it's not the end of the world, as I know sooner or later I'll be hypomiling (my word of 2009) and I'll get to watch some hypermiling jackass rear end a semi they're tailgating while their engine is off and their power brakes aren't so powered. Then I'll roll down the windows (keeping my AC on) and yell, SCHADENFREUDE! Don't think they make any hybrid hearses, nor have I ever seen any with any bumper stickers.

My knight in slobbery fur

I haven't dropped off the edge of the Earth--there is one ya know! I've just been busy, lazy, and sore. I could write about being busy, but that's no fun, besides most of its work stuff, and I don't want to get fired. Writing about being lazy seems oddly hypocritical, and well that leaves us with sore. You see a few weeks back, my back, decided that it wasn't really my turn to load the dishwasher, and I was hammered with the lovely reminder that you're alive that is deathly pain. That and an inability to move (even more than that brought on by lazyness), and I was in need of help. For centuries we've all had the reliable, loyal, and slobbery rescuer available at a beacons call--no not that Life Call I've fallen and can't get up shit. You see most of us are beyond earshot, but some of us gluttons have them on the premises for moments like this!


Kuma, my knight in slobbery fur!

Before I knew it, I was being attended to, and for once not leaned upon, as Kuma was there for me to lean on him! He was like a big lumbering walker, which is more than I can say for myself, as I was just big and lumbering. Kuma led me to a more modern lifeline, my Blackberry, which brought Liz and then the wonders of Columbus' wonderful ER experience. I just wish Kuma had his barrel, as I could have just drank my way to good health and bypassed the ER. Or I could have just went to his vet, which could have been cheaper and offered a less feral waiting room. Good to know in case this ever happens again, and I hope it doesn't.

I'm fine now btw

Feeding giraffes, rhinos, and mammoths

Day five of our epic California safari

It almost never got this far, as we arrived for our "10am" flight at 8:30--too bad it really was a 9am flight! Amazingly we ran, breezed through security, and luckily all was well. Despite a few minor calamities at rental car counters, over aggressive valets, and bum fights, we made it! Sadly these delays made us too late for the zoo, but we did get to go on a hippi safari in Balboa park.

We sought adventure on our first full day in San Diego, and we went to the San Diego Wild Animal Park. Being on vacation we spluged on a African Photo Safari, where we got to drive amongst the gazelles, antelopes, rhinos, and giraffes. We actually got to feed giraffes, but the cutest thing was watching the rhino rub his itchy back on the truck we were in. Almost as amusing as the rhinos was watching the people and their interactions with the animals. Sadly we really wanted to feed the rhino, and that was another tour. We had a blast nonetheless.

Afterward we got to chill with Liz's peeps, eat great mexican food, and watch a shitty movie on an awesome TV.

Another day, another adventure. This time the San Diego Zoo was open, and the place is huge! We trek through the humble Columbus Zoo often, but this place is off the hook. The rate paths for novices, intermediate, and experts--some have warnings for those with wheelchairs. We hiked and hiked, and finally, we fould the pandas! Damn things don't do much. They're sleepy pacifists (the speghetti monster gave them the digestive system of a carnivore but they eat bamboo). During our journey, we passed three different meerkat enclosures, and a whole lotta pigs. We've never seen so many pigs (or types of pigs) in our life.

We still wanted to feed the rhinos, and that's where our next day would take us (back to the Wild Animal Park). The rhinos are absolutely adorable, and they just sit there and chow apples. Well, first we had to track one down, and after some coaxing, we were chucking apples into their huge heads. They're a bit bashful at first, and once they're full, its time for a bath (ever see a rhino roll on his back--we have!). The rhinos actually reminded us a lot of our big dogs.

All in all I took thousands of shots (see below), and he had a blast. We did everything we could have wanted to do, plus a bunch of fun work stuff (dinners, conference, and a hokey conferment ceremony). After all was said and done, we began our trek north. Along the way, we stopped at a favorite restaurant of Liz's, and I got a t-shirt for winning the Gamblers Challenge (eat a 35oz sirloin). Kinda sad a rhino gets some apples and I get a sirloin the size of a cat!

I'm 17 years ahead of the world

Liz and I saw Hamlet 2 this weekend, and it was everything I'd hope it would be (among other things in included a sequel to Hamlet involving a time machine and Jesus--sexy Jesus in fact). Watching the clever sequel to the Bard's masterpiece seemed oddly familiar, like deja vu. It took a few moments for it to all make sense, but it wasn't long before it hit me in the face. This notion of a time machine to fix Shakespeare's tragic endings wasn't new, I had thought it up in 8th grade! No it wasn't Hamlet, we didn't have to read it until high school, and to be honest after seeing Kennith Branagh's version in a foolish moment masochism in college, I'd wish them all a horrible death. No need to go back in time to save anyone. Anyway, it was "Romeo and Juliet", which has a similar story to Tromeo and Juliet.

We read the play, watched the movie (yeah the one with the chick with nice hooters), and afterward we had to do some lame creative project. Dioramas, mobiles, scrapbooks, and other shit were heaved upon our teacher. Not being one to be outdone, I decided to fight fire with fire, and do a bit of writing--a new ending to "Romeo and Juliet". Sure it's rather adolescant, but for a good reason. I was like 13 or 14, and I was heavily influenced by what I saw on TV.

One day MacGyver and his boss Pete were out fishing. They caught marlin on MacGyver's homemade line. Pete was sea sick and he had already puked three times on "Phoenix I," the corporate boat, so MacGyver drove him home. MacGyver wasn't tired, so he decided to read the book he got this month. The book was a Shakespearean play, "Romeo and Juliet," to be exact.

LATER

After reading the play, MacGyver dozed off. He was saddened by the tragic ending. He wished he could do something. "WAIT," he thought, "Maybe I could build a time machine." He thought about what he would need.
He decided to call Dr. Bruce Banner a buddy of his; the good doctor was an expert on many time traveling theories. The doctor could warn him of any dangers. The doctor was not as smart as MacGyver; nobody is.
MacGyver knew he needed to travel to modern day Verona so he called the "A-Team." They could get him a plane and help fly it. The A-Team could build anything, but not with as few resources as MacGyver. MacGyver needed their help due to the little amount of time in a 60 minute episode.
Face, Murdock, B.A., Hannibal, and Bruce arrived. MacGyver acquainted them of his plan. The "A-Team," will build the plane and MacGyver will build the time machine.
B.A. quickly pulled the van up to the garage. Hannibal told Face and Murdock to unload the welding equipment. They did so. B.A. congregated the spare sheet-metal and steel tubing that MacGyver has lying around. Face detached the engine from MacGyver's truck. Murdock went up to MacGyver's attic to get the excess carbon fiber MacGyver has up there. B.A. welded a large frame. Face bent the sheet metal to form a fuel tank. Murdock modified MacGyver's truck's engine. He made it into a jet engine. Hannibal and B.A. weaved the carbon fiber around the frame B.A. made. Face took the glass from MacGyver's truck to form a windscreen for the plane. Murdock took the gauges from MacGyver's truck and put them in the plane. B.A. welded the engine on. Face welded on the fuel tank. Murdock connected the fuel tank to the engine. Hannibal cut a door in the plane's body.
MacGyver gathered ten coathangers, a potato, and a touch-tone phone. First he stretched out all the coathangers. Second he tied all of them together forming a loop. Next he separated one connection, putting the potato between the ends. Finally he wired the phone up to the potato. The machine would get its power from the potato. The date would be entered into the phone's keypad. The coathanger loop would be the gate between now and then. Bruce warned MacGyver of the ramifications of altering history. The group went out to the plane.
B.A. said "Good-bye," to the others. B.A. got into the van. Before he could start the van, face gave B.A. a shot that put B.A. to sleep. They boarded the plane. Murdock moved into the pilot's seat. B.A. was dumped on the floor. The plane whizzed down the street. Eventually it became airborne. The plane would just barely make to Italy.
During the flight MacGyver sewed some period appropriate clothing. The plane made it to Italy, but the plane did not make it to Verona. They had to ditch the plane in the middle of an open field. They did not know that Rambo IV was be filmed on that location. Explosions were occurring to the plane's right. B.A. woke up. Then Rambo came running towards them. He did not know that the plane was not supposed to be there. He sprayed lead into the plane. Fortunately all of Rambo's bullets were blanks.
"Cut," said the director, "I said cut dammit." Rambo ceased fire. The director approached the plane. MacGyver went to Rambo, while Hannibal tried to make up an excuse for the director.
"We have supplies for the Pope," said Hannibal.
"The Pope you say; what supplies do you have," said the director.
"Parts for the Popemobile," replied Hannibal. Meanwhile MacGyver persuaded Rambo to divert the director while the A-team fixes the plane.
"YO, Direcduh," said Rambo. The director went to Rambo. The A-team took all that was worth keeping. All was loaded on three Jeeps. The A-team, the doctor, and MacGyver boarded the Jeeps. Rambo jumped in one of the Jeeps. MacGyver grudgingly let Rambo come along. After three tense hours they arrived in modern day Verona.
MacGyver set up the time machine. Dr. Banner warned MacGyver once again. B.A. did not want to have anything to do with a time machine, so he suggested that he stay back, I mean forward, to guard the machine. Murdock called B.A. a coward. B.A. decided to go along. The group walked into the loop. Upon arriving in the past, they noticed that their hair was standing up. B.A. was not affected, as his hair stands up anyway. They were 100 ft. from the gates to the city. As expected, they arrived on Thursday, Juliet's second wedding day. MacGyver suggested that they all wait by the gateway, while he went to Friar Lawrence's cell.
Rambo had another idea; he grabbed as many weapons as he could. He raided the gates of the city. He sprayed lead into the guards that tried to stop him. He then ran into the first building he saw, and then he set a bomb to blow up five minutes from then. He ran out of the building carelessly mowing down anyone he could find, enjoying it. Meanwhile, Dr. Banner could not stand the violence. He got bigger, greener, and meaner. He became the "Incredible Hulk." He ran into the city randomly taking care of anyone Rambo hasn't killed. Rambo stormed the Montegue's home. He did not shoot anyone; he instead pulled out his trusty survival knife. He began gashing people with it. He cut into people, then pulled up with all of his strength. One by on he killed all the Montegues, but one, Romeo. He then pulled out three grenades, and then ran out of the house throwing the grenades on his way out.
B.A. encouraged the A-team to do the same. Hannibal instructed B.A. to retrieve a cart. B.A. did so. Hannibal told Murdock and face to gather wood. They did so. Within ten minutes the cart and the wood became a wooden tank. Hannibal retrieved a nearby horse and hitched it up to the cart-tank. The A-team boarded the tank. Murdock controlled the horses. The tank stormed the town.
Meanwhile, Hulk stormed the Home of Paris. He sought out anyone. First he picked up a servant, then he threw him 20 feet. Next he saw Paris; he then picked him up and crushed him. Hulk continued.
Concurrently, MacGyver arrived at Friar Lawrence's cell. He told him that Romeo will not be informed of the Friar's plan. At first the Friar did not believe MacGyver, but finally MacGyver convinced him. The Friar then went immediately to Capulet's tomb. MacGyver, believing his job was done, returned to the porthole.
As this was going on, Rambo stormed Capulet's place. He did not know that the A-team was attacking from the back of Capulet's place. The A-team fired at servants, and at Rambo. Rambo was hit by a bullet.
He turned and ran into the building spraying lead all over the place. Rambo had lost touch with reality. He no longer had full control of his body; primal instincts took over. He became the ultimate killing machine. He shot and killed all the A-team. He killed Capulet, Lady Capulet, Nurse, and anyone else he could see. He set bombs all over the complex. He stormed out of there. He ran into neighboring homes doing the same. He no longer knew why he was killing, he just knew he liked it.
Rambo saw Hulk; he immediately shot twenty, thirty, forty times. Hulk did not fall; he attacked Rambo. They fought hand to hand for minutes. Then Rambo pulled out his knife and stabbed Hulk with inconceivable power. He drove the knife upward. Hulk had a twelve inch gash stretching from his lower chest to his neck. Hulk then bit into Rambo with his last strength. Hulk fell.
Rambo, wounded, stopped for a minute. He stuck his knife in the hole from the bullet. He cleaned out the wound by twisting the knife. He then pulled out the bullet and the knife. He opened a bullet. He poured the powder in the wound. He then lit it. The ferocious heat sealed his flesh shut.
While this was going on, MacGyver arrived at the porthole. Only Colonel Decker and his merry men were there. "Where's Smith and the A-team?" asked Decker.
"Good question," returned MacGyver.
"Cut the crap kid, where is Smith?" yelled Decker irately.
"Colonel, I brought them here, and then they left. They refused to listen to me. Good luck finding them," said MacGyver.
"Put Mr. Angus MacGyver in cuffs," yelled Decker violently. "Damn you Smith," whispered Decker. "C'mon boys lets go after them," cried Decker. The group spread and searched for the A-team. MacGyver stayed behind handcuffed to a tree.
Rambo began his onslaught again. He attacked people, animals, even trees. He threw grenades everywhere. After destroying every building in town, he returned to the porthole. On the way he ran into a few of Decker's men. He slaughtered them with rapid bullet fire.
Back at the porthole, MacGyver used some lint in his pocket to unlock his handcuffs. He then waited for the rest to return. MacGyver saw Balthesar. He ran to him rapidly. "Balthesar! wait!" he yelled. "Juliet is still alive," he blared.
"What be you sayith," responds Balthesar. "I saw the fair Juliet put in her final resting place, she be as dead as Elvis," he replied angrily. "Do you hath say my dear eyes lie to thy?" questioned Balthesar.
"No, and you are right Juliet is as dead as Elvis," MacGyver stated with authority. MacGyver explained what happened to Juliet. Balthesar finally understood it all. MacGyver sent Balthesar on his way. Rambo returned. Upon seeing a familiar face Rambo got back in touch with reality. MacGyver and Rambo exited the past and entered the present.
Romeo talked with Balthesar. He then returned to what was Verona. The town and its residents were gone; only corpses remained. The only people left were Romeo, Balthesar, Friar Lawrence, and Juliet. Together with new residents, new town was built. Romeo ruled the town. Everyone who lived, lived happily ever after.

LATER

MacGyver woke up. He looked around. He realized that he was dreaming and that none of this really happened. He still felt dejected by the tragic ending.



Ok, the ending is a cop out. Throw out everything after that last "LATER", and it's so much better than the real thing. Still tragic, but kinda happy--right? The Tivo of life is 17 years behind me. Time to fast forward through commercials!

Tom Jones, Niel Diamond, and Magnus

Ever wonder what it's like being Tom Jones' tour manager or maybe Niel Diamond's roadie? Whew, I though I was the odd one. Anyway, besides being trampled by over exuberant ladies and maybe some confused dudes, I'm sure it's got its charms. You never get bored or are at a loss for good people watching. The closest any mortal will ever get to this insanity is taking Magnus out in public, as like the lure of Mr Jones and Mr Diamond, he's irresistible. Actually, his draw is much much stronger.

I suppose it makes sense, animal attraction to of all things an animal, but Magnus is so much more than an animal. I imagine maybe the Dalai Llama or some other quasi deity strolling through Tibet may get as much attention as our dear Magnus, maybe on a good day, but I doubt it. You don't believe me? Mom's abandon babies in shopping carts, cashiers leave their tills, and grown men become as sappy as a little girl with their first little pony. Even people used to being around puppies are compulsed to touch him, to dote over him, to merely be near him. Other dogs feel the lure too. Everyone wants to be near the Magnus, though ironically enough, Magnus just wants to lie by my (or Liz') feet and lay low.

I suppose he's a bit like a fluffy (1980s) Michael Jackson. Gosh, I hope his fur doesn't turn all white. He does has a high pitched bark, and I've seen him playing with my gloves. Hmmmm

Intervention time!

Putting the cart before the horse (part 4)

Our journey continued when we reached Dingle following the fool hearty trip through Connor Pass. Dingle, a quaint seaside town now brimming with tourists (we saw more tour buses in Dingle than we saw tourists elsewhere), still possess ample charm. Liz came in search of the legendary Murphey's Ice Cream, and I searched for the eponymous berries. At least one of us came away with the prize. Beyond foodstuff, Dingle offers a host of interesting characters, from the sharp witted dude in the ice cream shop to the tour guide turned B&B proprietor, the people were more interesting than the cows and sheep (which says a lot--really).

After strolling through town, and buying some umbrellas (Guinness of course--too bad it wasn't raining Guinness), we made our first journey around the Dingle Peninsula. While I was unsuccessful in my berry quest, we did rind roadside shrines, beehive structures, stone forts, and lots and lots of sheep in our first go round. We didn't stop for too much, as we were killing time (ouch bad pun, you'll see) while our B&B proprietor was attending a funeral. It was unfortunate, as when we met her, we discovered she had quite the attack plan for seeing all there is to see in the peninsula (and saving a few bucks with local knowledge and tricks). We also began our strategy for the next day's mission, the Ring of Kerry.

The Ring of Kerry, is a route around the Iveragh Peninsula, which has a spine of mountains, glorious valleys, and beautiful lakes. Oh, it overlooks the ocean too. We initially decided to follow the advice of the B&B proprietor and bypass the full blown ring, focusing on the Gap of Dunloe and a few other chunks of the ring without going whole hog on the 170 kilometer (105 mile) journey. On our way to the Gap of Dunloe, we saw goats (sadly the only two we saw in all of Ireland) on the roadside and followed signs to a nearby castle. We should have known that having goats lead us to a castle might make the castle a bit more WT than average, and the doublewide trailer, broken cars, and the "Villa Roma" sign indicated either we were in some long lost (very lost) Roman Villa, or in the land of Irish Rednecks with a sense of ironic humor. I'm not sure which would have been the better option.

The Gap of Dunloe is a valley that's composed of grazing land for sheep and a narrow road that's closed to traffic, unless its hoofing it. When we say hoofing it, we mean allowing an animal with a hoof to do the dirty work, in this case a horsee names Beauty. Bueaty was driven by a dude with a heavy Kerry accent, lots of stories to tell, and aparantly a cell phone with awesome coverage. We rode into the valley and back, passing folks who really didn't understand "hoofing it", running into horse traffic, and watching silly Americans develop saddle sores that will make them walk like the survived Deliverance.

After our horsee trek, we had plenty of time left, so we decided to throw caution to the wind and take on the ring. Along the way we had pancakes, visited some forts (being cheapskates and not paying), snapped a lot of pics of sheep, and enjoyed the breathtaking scenery. One of the most vivid moments was watching a bunch of tourists who were congregated in an incredibly windy break in the mountains try to take a picture. It must have been a sustained 50mph+ wind with stronger gusts--it was rather funny. Beside that we saw more trailers, surfers, lots of big ass buses, and more sheep. We made it through the ring in good enough time to make it home to Dingle for dinner, and another journey (remember it stays light until 10:30pm!).

After tapas, you know the traditional Irish dinner, we decided to re-do the Dingle Peninsula. I had the brilliant idea to go the opposite direction that we were given directions in, which likely would have just been novel had the map been more accurate than One-Eyed Willy's treasure map. Despite our wanderings, we visited an oratory that was 1400 years old (ie not built in 1400AD, rather 600AD) and still holding up well, some ruins that were ruined, and caught a glimpse of the Sleeping Giant. By then we were actually seeing the sun set, and it was soon time to retire. Our two days in Dingle, along with our journeys in County Kerry were wonderful. Sadly we only had one more night in Ireland.

Our last night was in Bunratty, which is conveniently (and I doubt not coincidentally) close to the airport. We made decent time, including another visit to Limerick, but alas when we left the charming company of our B&B there, we were too late to visit the local castle. Having already heard Sinead, or gracious host fail to get us a reservation at the castle for dinner, this was a rather crushing disappointment. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and damnit it was our honeymoon. In a land where divorce has been only legalized in my lifetime and where having kids out of wedlock is still tantamount to being shunned, I knew the power of marriage and being on a honeymoon had to have some traction. Fortunately our efforts to fly standy at the catsle paid off, and we were able to feast on soup, ribs, capons, and other medieval fare. Ironically enough, we were seated accross a family from Powell. Before you know it, the night was over, as was our Irish honeymoon. The memories will last forever, and we'll likely find ourselves back in Ireland someday.

Putting the cart before the horse (part 3)

You wanted more? I sure hope so, as here it is:

One thing that was omnipresent from our time in Connemara through the rest of the trip belies visualization, as relies moreso on other senses--notably smell. Ireland has a unique way of fueling fire, almost as creative as Cleveland's use of flaming rivers, they burn the dirt. You read that right, they dig up peat in bogs, slice it into bricks, and dry the lot. The dried bricks of peat can be burned. You can even buy peat briquettes in grocery stores. The sweet smell of peat permeates the landscape, and homesick Irishmen can even buy incense that smells like peat.

So we drove south from Connemara, smelling peat, and enjoying the countryside. Friday was a disappointing day, as everywhere we ventured seemed to be closed, off limits, or a secret place to park and fornicate. We spent an hour looking for the legendary Castle Mattrix, but we were unsuccessful in finding a way there.

Putting Friday's disappointments behind us, we set off from Adare and headed toward Dingle. The last words of the gentleman at the B&B were to warn us to avoid a certain town (Castlegregory) if it was cloudy. It was cloudy--Ireland and all, and we decided to head there. It wasn't that bad--how bad could it be? Well Castlegregory was fine, though the clouds and rain tempered the view quite a bit. We were able to see surf shops, surfing school, and lots of tourists. It was almost like Florida--well not really. Anyway, we had survived Castlegregory. We then set out to get to our final destination, Dingle. We had no idea what we were getting into.

There's only one vaguely direct route between Castlegregory and Dingle--the Donner Connor Pass. The clouds and rain hindered our view of the pass, but we clearly saw the "Turn Back Now" signs--both sets. We trekked on. The road, like most we encountered in Ireland, typically accommodated 1.5 normal sized cars, which is about the size of one US highway lane. Unlike that highway lane, which is meant for one car going one way, the roads in Ireland are meant for two going opposite ways. The road to Connor Pass started as 1.5 cars wide, with occasional moments that allowed for two, but it degenerated to barely accommodating one car passed the second "Turn Back Now" sign. This would be problematic with two way traffic on a cliff side, which was the case, but throw in one more variable, and it became rather crazy: fog. Aha, that's what we were warned about. The fog in the pass made it impossible to see more than feet in front of your car, which together with the blind corners, made it insane. To make a long story short, I f'ed up and backed into the mountain trying to find a way to let 10 cars coming head on pass us. Good thing we had that damage waiver! We finally made it through the worst part, and when we saw the "Turn Back Now" signs in our rear view mirror, we knew we were done with it.

We then made it to Dingle, and were ready for the final days of honeymoon. To be continued...

Putting the cart before the horse (part 2)

I told you there would be more!

In Doolin we noticed a lot of hokey Irish souvenirs playing up the sheep as an iconic symbol of Ireland. They were cute and all, but gosh, we saw 100x more cows than sheep. Maybe after one too many Guinness the sheep and cows start to blur together.

After the two joyful days in Doolin and the surrounding area, we trekked to Connemara. The region is divided by several mountain ranges (yes Liz they're mountains, not hills :p) and dotted, nee blanketed with sheep. Sheep on either side of the rode and on the rode. Fences seem to be more a suggestion of a boundary than a real indifference, and the sheep's brazen attitude toward oncoming traffic made Canadian Geese look timid. Maybe it's the punk rock inspired spray-painted doos? Regardless, they really are the most striking memory of our journey--well that is if you ignore the bizarre inhospitable manor house we stayed in (imagine the hotel from the Shining with a Frenchmen pretending to be Irish running the show).

The Zetland Country House really was in the country, which we found out when the only available lunch offerings was their own (based on their 60 Euro dinner prices and the readily apparent creepiness, we passed). Our wanderings led us on a 10 kilometer trek to a marginally less isolated place which featured a gift shop/pub/restaurant. Given that was our only option, we begrudgingly took them up on their lackluster dining options and watched an Irish soap featuring chlamydia and statutory rape as the main story line. Sadly the TV show was better than the food.

After this lackluster beginning to our Connemara stay (which we drove forever from Doolin to get to), we saddled up our mighty Getzy and drove on. We barely made it to the gorgeous Kylemore Abbey before closing time, but alas the gardens that interested us more than the abbey were already closed. The abbey itself is now home to an exclusive girls school--you know the type that you see in horror movies. We took pictures (and a passer by was kind enough to take our picture) and moved on (to the gift shop).

We also had to pass on the nearby national park. Irishmen take note: if it's daylight until fucking 10:30pm, don't close your outdoor activities at 6pm--that's lunacy! We enjoyed the the rest of our journey by driving through the countryside, taking in the beautiful vistas, and driving on the stunning Sky Road near Clifden. We finished our day by enjoying a delightful dinner on the patio of a pub.


Even more to come ...

Putting the cart before the horse

Before I start some long rambling blog or series of blogs about our honeymoon, I should write about our beautiful wedding. Well I should, but I won't (not today). Anyway, our honeymoon. I suppose our honeymoon began when we left the reception, but to avoid writing some torrid romance, I'll start with our flight to Ireland. Ireland is surprisingly close to the US, and our flight to New York and our layover there was almost as long as our trip to Ireland. In that layover, Liz and I had the opportunity to see the Ukrainian Special Olympics team. I never met an Olympian, but it likely was best that we didn't ask for autographs or photos. In hindsight, I wish I asked for both. Before long we were on our flight to Shannon, Ireland (no where near Kathy). After a bit of shock at the cost of the more or less required insurance (it will pay off later), we were rewarded when the kind unassuming lady behind the counter blurted out chuckling "drive it like we stole it". If we ever stole a car, it would not be a golden Hyundai Getz.

After whirling through two dozen or so roundabouts (and a few roads not on our Garmin) we arrived weary and jet-lagged in Doolin, a seaside town known for its music scene. A uber power-nap revived us for a trek to the Cliffs of Insanity Moher, which in true Irish fashion was cast in an overcast sky and on-again / off-again drizzle. The cliffs were a sight to behold, and you really need to be there. The fact that they had a suicide hotline # posted was a real clue that nothing good comes from getting too close to the edge. Seeking a better way to get near the salty spray, we went to the docks in Doolin. A quick glance revealed why there were no boats departing, but it sure was a great sight to see, let alone sound to hear. All of this is a whirlwind that was just day one.

I had been not so much persuaded but rather goaded into the Irish Breakfast, which is likely what the wicked witch fed Hansel and Gretal. It's huge, but I suppose you gathered that already, but it's also heart and well ... fatty. Irish folks love bacon (well they call it that, they like our confused friends to the north--and I don't mean Michigan-- call this odd hammy stuff bacon), and they love sausage (bangers in Gaelic) just as much. A few clogged arteries later, and we were off on our journey to the Burren. Ever wonder what the moon would be like with lichen and sheep? Well we were there, and we took pictures. Its really hard to describe, but its really amazing. What's sad is it's really just some giant ad for conservation efforts, as cave men (and cave women--time for you cave gals to stand up and take the blame as well) apparently damned themselves by felling a few too many trees. One thing led to another and everything lighter than boulders blew off into the sunset. Oddly enough conversationalists had to stop yuppies from boosting these rocks for zen gardens.

More to come ...

My Dream

You know I actually write a gazillion cryptoblogs, but many never really become tangible, thus the dearth of blogs lately. This got me thinking about my lifelong ambition, my manifestation of the "American Dream" (btw isn't it rather ethnocentric of us Americans to assume such aspirations are exclusively American? What's the Canadian dream? never mind, that was expressed in Strange Brew). Anyway, I was was thinking about not writing a blog about writing a blog about something I dream of that I always wanted to do but never have--kinda like the blog I wasn't writing ...

Gosh, no wonder I get headaches, it's like some tangle of wires thrown in a drawer! Still with me? Ok, my dream, the Cryptozoo! Duwha? We've all been to zoos, and most of us live to tell (those jackasses who harrass innocent and rather bored tigers excluded), and well they're big expensive, and the market is rather saturated. Yeah, elephants are adorable, Sun Bears are cute, and we've all seen monkey masturbate. Been there done that. My dream is so much grander, a zoo for animals that don't really exist! A cryptozooological paradise!

Who needs an orangutan when you can have a sasquatch? Who needs goats in a petting zoo when you can have the goat sucker! Who needs a zebra when you can have a unicorn! This is stuff P.T. Barnum can only dream of, and now I can only dream of! The beauty of my innovation isn't the wonderous nature of the critters, as others have already made them up (moonshine, marijuana, and other vices may have played a role as well--is it a coincidence that big foot gets sighted in forrests with shrooms or Nessie gets spotted by drunken fishermen?), rather it is the limited overhead. Yes this is a business (I suppose that's the American aspect of the "American Dream"), and there are costs and consumables.

The costs, next to none. It's a cryptozoo, so once the animal actually exists, well then it belongs in a real zoo. As long as it's a zoo for make believe animals, there only needs to be make believe exibits. A fenced in area with trees, large foot prints, maybe a nice pile of poo (readily available thanks to owning a Saint Bernard) and voila! an exhibit of a sasquatch. Set up some interesting sound effects, pay a cryptozookeeper to stand there and talk about seeing the sasquatch a little bit ago (heck there are whack jobs who would do it for free--and not even know how full of shit they are!). Next to that a pond, with a smoke machine running full tilt, maybe a few odd shaped logs floating around (and a beer cart selling concessions to boost "sightings"), and you have a Loch Ness Monster display. A few gnawed up goat carcased, a stand selling souvineer barf bags, and you have a chupacabra lair. The list goes on and on ... Oh, and don't forget the nightly alien light show!

As for the consumables, well that's the souvineer stand. Who would want to go to the worlds only crytozoo and not come home with a cute plush Abominal Snowman or the even more Abominal Snowwoman? How about souvineer sasquatch poo (time to turn Kuma into a cash cow)? T-shirts, lunch boxes, goat meat, the list goes on and on.

Any investors?

Our Bustrip to Florida

Being the starving artists we are, Liz and I opted to take the 'bus to Florida. Well we're not exactly starving, but the nuances of no longer living in sin tend to be pricey, and we didn't really take a bus. We took Skybus, which is an apt name. I suppose Rickshaw Airways was already taken.

Things started out ominously as the impending "white death" led even the nickel-and-diming Skybus to offer free rebooking. Not wanting to forgo our $20 seats or worse yet face the wrath of my mother, We sucked it up and took on the elements. This seemed rather foolhardy when we faced a couple inches of snow while dropping our pups off at their home away from home, but we managed to make it out roughly on time.

After a couple hours of being in the concession stand of the skies, we landed at an airport I up until a year ago didn't know existed. My ignorance was vindicated with seeing what looked like a recently inflated terminal followed by seeing a novel new way to pick up baggage (just walk up to a train of baggage cars and grab whatever looks nice).

After these scary discoveries, we proceeded to go to the zoo, which as you know is a pastime of ours. Before long one day let to another, and our three day stay was over. At least Liz got to enjoy the wonders of cracker life through a meal at a fish camp, as well as the haunted happenings of St Augustine through shopping for a ghost tour (there were 9 or so being pawned off on passers by). We didn't get to take any of these tours, though we doubtlessly will one day.

This was all back in February (getting caught up with my backlog of blogs), and we've since actually enjoyed a "white death", which actually had more bite than bark, but that's another blog.

Our First Vacation

My employer (rhymes with Haitian Pride) was kind enough to send Liz and I on a trip to Walt Disney World last week, so I could officially receive a couple of professional designations (CLU, ChFC, and CASL for those non-existent people who care). To be honest the free trip was a huge part of my motivation for getting this motley assortment of letters to append at the end of my name and stamp out some of the white space on my business cards. While it would have been nice to spend all of my time with Liz and my parents (who joined us for a couple days, as they are still Floridians), I had to be fettered and tethered to the conference that went on (for IRS reasons--this is a "business" trip after all). Liz did manage to spend a lot of time at the theme parks, and oddly enough I did too (a real pimp can be at two places at once).

For the past few weeks, we both were very excited about the trip, as we haven't had a real vacation yet, and well who wouldn't be excited to go to "The Happiest Place on Earth"? All of that anticipation seemed in vane, as Liz informed me that Disneyland is "The Happiest Place on Earth", and Walt Disney World is merely "Where All of Your Dreams Come True". Damnit! If I want to dream that Disney World is the "Happiest Place on Earth", well then IT IS! I was going to be fucking happy! After being reminded that Disney World is a whole lot more expensive as an Ohioan (they have all sorts of Florida discounts that I've exploited over the years--next time I'm getting a fake Florida ID beforehand), we placed our fingers on the biometric turnstiles (EPCOT technology at work) and got happy--err had productive dreams.

We spent the better part of the first two days at EPCOT, which is dork heaven complete with animitronic dinosaurs, purple dragons, and lots of simulated culture. Liz even got to ride Test Track, which is kinda like a French chef touring a McDonalds kitchen. Oh speaking of smelly hairy types, one of the many fanciful meals we enjoyed was Liz's first encounter with es cargo. We also got to dine with the princesses in Norway, though I thought it would have been cooler to dine with the trolls, provided we weren't the main course. We also got to chow with Pooh, Tigger, and Eeyore in the Crystal Palace and some fellow dorks at the hotel (who knew there was another financial services nerd/engineer couple?) Crazy world indeed. Oh speaking of hotel, if you don't mind power outages (for "homeland security reasons") or intermittent construction that sounded like a moose getting unwanted dental work done, give Hilton a call.

Beyond EPCOT, we went to the Animal Kingdom, where we conquered Everest (really cool ride btw), brought elicit dinosaur contraband back from the past, and got to see many animals (which would seem obvious, but the first time I went there I saw more vultures eating a skunk carcass than anything I wanted to see). Too bad we missed the "Blackhawk Down" parade through Little Mogadishu. The following day we overcame Liz's dislike for free fall rides and being trapped in an Aerosmith themed roller coaster at MGM Studios. Lastly, we wrapped it all up in the Magic Kingdom, where we learned that it pays to complain to Disney employees. In between we got to witness my mom's amazing ability to use her Jedi mind tricks on the greater at the Polynesian meat feast (previously Disney Dining said they were booked full all week and suggested we try a night 180 days in advance!--that's not making my fucking dreams come true!)

Speaking of dreams coming true, I found out that it will be easy to add some more letters after my name and get a free trip to San Diego next September and something else which I'll save for my next blog.

A Scary Sight

Today as I was driving home I saw a city bus, all decked out in one of those hokey ads that envelop the entire bus. While the usual ads are for insurance carriers, collision center, or even the godforsaken Buckeyes, this one was a tad more alarming.

It had an ad for the local VA hospital, which apparently is in need of some psychiatrists. Yes, they have resorted to the side of a bus to diagnose and treat shell shocked soldiers who have seen god knows what, done stuff I don't want to know about, and maybe had some really fucked up shit happen to them. Oh yeah, some of these guys may have re-enlisted and had even worse shit happen the 2nd time around. I feel bad for these guys, and I suppose they should have good treatment, but more importantly, if they're in bad shape, perhaps violent, or in some post traumatic stress induced stupor, well they should really be taken care of. I'm not sure that whoever is wandering around, in need of a job, desiring nothing better than shitty government pay, and responding to this bus ad is up to the task.

I'm a Genius

Few things survive through the millenniums as pyramids, and few things can be guaranteed to succeed as those that have made it through the millenniums. These two facts are relatively benign on their own, but when a genius puts them together, well you have brilliance. Bask in my glow.

While others have built pyramids in recent years, they have made them into various trivialities as casinos, arenas, or entrances to museums. These aren't structures for the ages, and all in all, they are just rubbish. Greatness demands more, form must follow function. Pyramids, the structures people visit, the things on the dollar bills (which is what it is all about--money that is), and the structures one can see from space--they were the final resting place for royalty--ney gods who walked the Earth. What made them gods? The fact that they were buried in pyramids! We all want to be divine (that's why there are so many Mormons), and we all want to walk among the gods (that's why Zeus was such a mack-daddy--no real answer why no one wants to invite Mormons into their homes), so why not sell divinity?

Sell divinity? Yeah, that is my scheme dream. I need some help from investors, but why not take some abandoned land, scare off the hobos and shit, and build a giant pyramid. We could use prison labor (to make it authentic, we kinda made slavery illegal, but it seems to be a good compromise) to get it done, and when done it would be a giant mausoleum. If people pay thousands to be hacked up and frozen, why wouldn't they want to be hacked up and put in Canopic jars? Want to kick it old school and take it with you? We can offer treasure rooms, space for your loyal servants (you'll have to make arrangements to kill them, as I'm not a murderer--a scoundrel yes, murderer no), and even a fancy curse if you pay enough. Given that it would be quite an addition to the cityscape, I know I could get taxpayer funding for most of it, and hell it would be quite an urban revitalization. We could open up a Valley of the Kings shopping mall, a Nile River waterpark (crocs optional), and a Cleopatra's beauty school (she wasn't really that pretty, but we all have room to improve).

Once this works, I can sell franchises in other cities. Soon there will be pyramids everywhere and a whole prison system of really buff and rather tired inmates. Gosh watching COPs has become much more practical, as it is a form of job fair. I need to get to work! Anyone want to be my HR manager?

Where the Buffalo Roam

Liz's folks decided to pay us a visit, and having seen many of the sights in California earlier this year, we didn't want Ohio to disappoint. To that end we tried to show off all that Ohio had to offer, which is well, not a whole lot, but what can you do? Anyway, among our various travels we went to The Wilds, a 10,000+ acre wildlife refuge.

Ten thousand acres of wildlife almost sounds like OSU's campus, but it's much bigger, and it even smells better. After driving the hour and a half to get there, we learned how 10,000 acres were just sitting there for giraffes, rhinos, and buffalo to move in: it was a former strip mine. Ah, the natural beauty of Ohio. Actually, you really couldn't tell the origins of it all, and it was quite relaxing to be away from it all.

We also discovered that our promised half off admission for being Columbus Zoo members was about as full of shit as the piles the rhinos left behind, but it was still worthwhile. Enough bitching, well, maybe after a smart ass remark about starting the tour by gazing upon wild asses. Perhaps giraffes would make a more dramatic kickoff to it all. Who knows.

Not quite as exotic, though still rather cool were the buffalo. I must say baby buffalo look almost cute. Almost cute enough to make me regret eating buffalo short ribs a couple days earlier (not to mention all those wings). Anyway, they like everything else really didn't mind us, and considering they were about as big as the chopped up school bus we were riding, I can't blame them for their confidence. Hell, I hardly fear a Mini approaching me as I'm strolling through a crosswalk.

We also saw rhinos and cheetahs, but we didn't really get close enough to get good pics--not that I'm complaining. I tend to have a high level of respect for things that are a lot bigger than me, especially things that are a lot bigger than buffalo. Maybe that's why I don't eat rhino. You have to draw the line somewhere you know. We did get to see some warring Sichuan Takin. I didn't get any pictures of the dominance ritual, which most dog owners call "humping". I don't know what they call it in prison, but I suppose I don't want to find out either.

Were you expecting this blog to have a point? My bad, I basically just wanted to post a bunch of pics. You can see all of them here. See ya next time!