Mister Brick Washer Grocery Bag Feet

May 22, 2007 - Tuesday

Mister Brick Washer Grocery Bag Feet



RW: Hello Mister Brick Washer guy, nice to see you today. I noticed that you have grocery bags for feet and that your pants are split down the side so I can tell you are a professional.

Mister Brick Washer Guy: No comprende and more gibberish that sounds like a mix of spanish, hungarian and japanese.

RW: Ummm, ok. Look buddy, I like you, so heres the deal. Use your safety fall protection harness correctly and tie off with your lanyard while you are working out of this aerial lift or I am going to throw you off the job. Got it?

Mister Brick Washer Guy: babble, babble, babble....babble, babble.

I could make out that he said he was ok, apparently he didnt want my help. No pal, you arent ok, the hydraulics on that particular type of lift could potentially catapult you out of the basket resulting in your serious injury or most likely, death. You need to listen to Uncle Rob and like a good boy, TIE OFF!

RW: Oh yeah, thats right. I dont speak gibberish. I took gibberish in the 12th grade, but it didnt stick...(now on radio) mr brick washer guy's foreman, come back...yeah buddy, come on over to the north side of building A, we need to chat.

There were no winners this day. Sure, technically I did win. He is gone and no longer presents a hazard on my jobsites, but I tell ya, we lost a good one. His contributions to the completion of this project will be missed. No one spoke gibberish more eloquently. . . no one was more fashionable, his trash bags for shoes idea was cutting edge and i will forever be affected.

walk of shame

"its ok, they know me"

May 29, 2007 - Tuesday

Aunt Marcine would call relentlessly. She was constantly worried that War was inevitable in these here United States, that someone had died or that Dana was in grave danger during her daily drive home in the peaceful valley we called home.

The year was 2002 and I had never met Dana's Aunt Marcine in a face to face visit. I did however have the frequent if not what seemed like hourly pleasure of speaking with her on the telephone.

The phone rings:

Robert: Hello

Marcine: Where's Dana?

Robert: Shopping with Vickie

Marcine: who died?

Robert: What?

Marcine: WHO died?

Robert: What are YOU talking about?

Marcine: Well you said they were at a funeral…

Robert: uh, no I didn't. I said that they were shopping.

Marcine: ok …click…


Again the phone rings:

Robert: Hello

Marcine: Where's Dana?

Robert: at work.

Marcine: Oh Lord, I hate that she is out on "that" road

Robert: ok

Marcine: click…

Another phone call:

Robert: Hello?

Marcine: Where's Dana

Marcine: oh Robby, there's gonna be a war in Birmingham!

Robert: What?! Why would you say that?

Marcine: The president is gonna be in Birmingham today, we are about to go to war!

Robert: ok

Marcine: Click…


Marcine never met a stranger. She would walk into the employee lounge at an establishment where she collected no paycheck and would pour herself not one, but two or three cups of coffee. When someone would comment on her behavior, she'd just reply, "oh, they know me".

In her mind, everyone in Anniston knew her. From what I had been told, her father had been an important man in Anniston years ago and she took all the teenagers to town in her new car for milkshakes….how could everyone not know her?

Marcine passed away in 2003 and to this day, when I walk in some place or do something in public that Dana thinks borders on intrusive, boarish and rude, I just smile and say, "its ok, they know me".

My Super Powers

May 31, 2007 - Thursday

Powdered Toast Man


Some of you might have known this, but I feel it is important to build trust by building a firm foundation with honesty.

I have several superpowers. Don't be shocked or scared. I am just like you, but better.

My first and greatest superpower is that I have super powerful taste buds. I honestly consider this to be more of a curse than a blessing. I simply can't eat the slop that most of you common people eat. If food has even a teaspoon of mayonnaise as an ingredient, my super senses are heightened and I must do everything possible to avert consumption of this aforementioned devil's condiment.



Needless to say this superpower got me in a lot of trouble as a kid. I was called horrible and hurtful names like "picky". This curse, this "superpower" has now been passed to my boy, Jack Jack and yes, his mother is out to get him. It starts with the eating of "the green beans", but where will it stop?

My second superpower is that i have the uncanny ability to avoid food messes. What do you mean by food messes Robbo, you might say. Ok, for instance, I was at Johnny Ray's in Vestavia, engaged in stimulating conversation and patiently awaiting the delivery of a piece of their best lemon pie with cool whip topping to be placed on the table in front of me for consumption. As the waitress approached, she lost control of her tray launching the pie plate toward the vicinity of my lap.

I tell you people that something takes over and I become as agile as a cat, faster than a shooting bullet. I dodged that pie that day my friends and as the entire restaurant sat in utter amazement, I stood victorious. As I raised my arms in celebration the masses begin to carry me around on their shoulders and cry out my name to the rooftops. This was just one example, if I were to write about all these experiences, there wouldnt be enough bookcases in the entire world to contain all of these events.



And last, but certainly not least, I am the Powdered Toast Man. Nothing more needs to be said.

Maximillian's Rocks

another r.wilde story - throwing rocks at babies

June 8, 2007 - Friday

Maximillian's Rocks

Chapter III

My father Maximillian Wilde collected rocks. He used the rocks he stockpiled to kill animals using a sling shot. He terrorized mostly turkeys. I hated his rock collection. What did those turkeys ever do to him I wondered. What if he hit a person and accidentally killed them. I was very uncomfortable with how consumed he was for rocks.

Some people have pocket knives on their person, but Max always had a pocket full of rocks. He felt superior to others and he always had a way to defend himself if need be.

Max had been close friends with Jimmy Carter as a youngster. They grew up together. There wasn't much to do in rural Georgia in the 1950's. Left to their own devices they determined to collect all the rocks in the world and change the global economy to one that was based on rocks. When that harebrained idea didn't float, they began using the rocks to hunt for sport. It started with bunnies, the neighborhood cats and escalated to big game in South Africa.

Max's consumption of all things rock left me wanting. I never knew my father very well, but I knew he loved rocks.

Jimmy Carter moved on and became the 39th President of the United States of America. It has often been rumored that Arafat and his Palestinian thugs didn't start chunking rocks at the Jews until old Jimmy and Arafat met to draw out a peace accord at Camp David (for the record, I am part Jew).

Chapters IV – VII have been skipped as to they were not relevant to catching the reader up to the crux of this particular story.

Chapter VIII

The neighbors that reside on both sides of my homestead have pools, granted above the ground, but pools none the less. The decks surrounding their pools are where they spend most of their free time.

Mister Baryshnikov, my neighbor on the left and his wife have between them at least seven kids and a brand new baby. This child was adorable, but he still had jaundice so they tried to keep him out side a good bit to get some sun. I see them outside and wave.

I was working ever so diligently to build a privacy fence. I have had the privilege to dig all over God's country but have yet to encounter an area with more rocks than my very own backyard. Rocks!

"My goodness at the rocks", I would constantly utter. I became very good at throwing these rocks. I picked up and threw rocks for what seemed like days on end. Max would have been particularly frazzled upon finding out how many rocks that I removed from the property.

On this particular day, my lovely wife's father, Mister K. came by to give a helping hand. You know it's bad, rockwise, when one has to borrow a TE 72 drill in a feeble attempt at breaking up these shallowly buried boulders.

Mister K. waltzed into the backyard and we decided that there was no better time to take a break than at that moment. It was hot. No. I would be incorrect to say it was hot. Hot doesn't even begin to describe the heat radiating from the sun as I watched my backyard turn slowly into a desert. I envisioned sand dunes. Sure Jack Jack could build a sand castle but what would I do with all the kitty droppings (cats are known to scratch in sand)? You tell me.

I had a hand full of rocks when I started the trek back to my patio to meet my paw in law. "What am I carrying these rocks for?", so I chunk the four stones in my hand toward the vicinity of the woods boarding my lot. One, two, three, I counted as I watched them glide into oblivion. "BAM!" I heard a thud as I looked for the fourth rock. I never saw it land.

My neighbors who were melting as they collected these sun rays on their skin like stickers sat up from their slumber and began to look around. Mister Baryshnikov walked to the corner of his deck next to his new born child lying in his baby seat and picked up a rock. He scratched his head. They all began to scratch their heads. I began to scratch my head. I was hiding in my patio dying of embarrassment.

You see, I tossed those four rocks underhanded. Yeah, that does seem girlish now that I have had time to think on throwing rocks, but jeez, I was tired and just kind of flung them. To be really transparent with you my dear reader, I sometimes pitched the rocks underhanded like a softball pitcher. A good softball pitcher hurls that cowhide upwards of 65 miles per hour, don't ya know…

Anyway, that fourth stone didn't release until I had reached the top of my throwing motion. In other words, it went backwards sailing toward this lovely family and their newborn.

I became panicked. You don't just throw rocks at babies and act like you are still a stud. You see if you throw rocks at babies, you are a bad person. Does it matter if it was an accident or not? No, I will go ahead and answer this one for you, nay, one million times, no!

As I hid in the patio, my father in law quickly hid too. "Rob, what are we hiding for?" he asked. Before Mister K. arrived at our house, he had passed a State Trooper. Mister K. might have been going a few miles per hour over the state regulated speed limit and for all he knew the fuzz had followed him to our house. We were hiding.

"I think that one of those rocks I just threw almost hit that kid." "What should I do?" We hem hawed back and forth for a few minutes and decided democratically that the only option I had was to walk over there and fess up.

I felt like throwing up buckets. That deck was full of people and I almost hit a baby with a rock. Now I am always going to be known in my neighborhood as the guy who throws rocks at babies.

"Hey y'all" I said sheepishly. They smiled back; you see they were still scratching their heads. They didn't want to believe that they lived next door to a rock thrower. Who was I, Earnest T. Bass? They wanted to believe that rock fell from the sky. I could have let them keep believing that, but in our heart of hearts, we all knew the truth.

I explained the situation and apologized relentlessly. We took over baby shower gifts and killed them with kindness. It's a year later and the incident appears to gone the way of water under a bridge, but I still have to live with this awful feeling in my gut and the guilt that never leaves every time I look in the mirror and see myself for who I really am….a guy who throws rocks at babies.

It is quite interesting how my father's obsession almost became my demise. I pronounced last year as the death of innocence. My father wished he could carry the burden of my self punishment.

I concluded that the best thing for me and for those around me was to want nothing, to be enthusiastic about nothing, to be unmotivated as possible, in fact, so that I would never again almost hurt anyone.

Thus ends Chapter VIII and the story of Rob Wilde and His father Maximillian.

Accent - uate the positive

June 20, 2007 - Wednesday

Accent - uate the positive

So I was in the airport in Philly standing in the security line when I noticed the lady in front of me who was weighed down with the necessities required for a long trip, dropped her ticket.

"Excuse me ma'am, I believe you dropped this".

A bit startled, she turned to me and said, "oh, thank you".

"No worries, that's just the kinda guy I am".

"Where are you from?" she inquired.

"South of the Mason Dixon line, if you please".

"Well don't worry, people have told me that my accent sounds dumb too", this brass lady exclaimed.

What in the world is going on? I just assisted this lady in the retrieval of her ticket without which she would have been up a creek with no paddle and she informs me inadvertently and with a smile that I sound "dumb".

I've been traveling to the land of the Yankees several times a month for the past five years and this kind of thing happens all the time. People speak before contemplating how rude they may be perceived. But even still, I am told that my accent is charming and sounds lovely more than the opposite.

I decided that I would change my response to such inquiries concerning my whereabouts and have a little fun with it.

For example, week before last I was in New Haven, Connecticut at a local restaurant when the server asked me for the one billionth time, "where are you from?".

Without hesitation or smirk, I glanced up demanding eye contact and stated boastfully, "I was born and raised here in Connecticut. Why do you ask?"

Are you staring at my feet?

June 27, 2007 - Wednesday

Selections from R.Wilde, chapter 173
(leaving on a jet plane)

"Wifey, i am about to leave. do you wanna get up and walk me out?"

:yawn: "yeah, i'm up. are you all packed?"

"I did it last night."

"What time is your flight?" she asked.

"six thirty. here, carry this to the car for me my hands are full".

"you could just make two trips ya know" she said with a smirk.

"love you doll, kiss jeffy for me, will ya?"

I arrived at the airport in plenty of time to beat the long security lines. This by the way isnt typical. It takes me forty minutes or so from the time i leave my house until i can be walking in through the revolving doors at airport and i am usually running. i get in the security line and wait. This game can take for what seems like an eternity when you are pressed for time catching a flight. Your serve mister Transportation Security Administration guy, your serve.

"why do we call it an airport? why not an air station and a train port instead? i would suppose it has something to do with the nature in which many planes are parked at one time planing and de-planing passengers wheras you think of trains coming into a station one at a time and promptly leaving before another arrives. But this isnt necessarily the case, Grand Central Station has sixty seven tracks besides Grand Central's official name is Grand Central Terminal. Why does this guy keep looking back?" i wondered.

"Hello, jeez a lou. You wouldn't think there be this many people at the airport on a Tuesday morning, would ya?" he blurted out to only me although there were plenty of other strangers in line to converse with at five something in the morning.

"Yeah buddy. Crazy huh? Yeah, i fly out of here most Tuesdays. The lines are usually longer. I guess people do like me and work in the office on Monday and then fly the middle of the week. Who knows really?"

Finally, i am through the security line. "If they dont make you feel like a criminal going through that line, i dont know what. i get so tired of having to get out my laptop, take off my shoes, put my cell phone in the bin and on and on", i think.

"what gate, what gate? lets see, ah, there it is. Excuse me sir, are there any exit row seat available?" i inquired of the friendly gate agent.

"yes, may i see your ticket?

A few minutes later i decided to walk over and look out the window to check if the plane has arrived. There were four planes sitting, waiting, yearning for passengers. Well i dont know if they were yearning so much. I can never tell which one it is. There is no logic to it or if there is, that logic changes on a weekly basis. I walked away the window and back to my seat none the wiser. I noticed a lady had looked up at me a few times as i looked at the planes.



"is our plane here?" she wanted to know.

"oh yeah, its that one" I actually pointed to one. I wondered when we got on a different plane a few minutes later if she thought ill of me later for misguiding her. I cant worry about that now. i gotta hurry up and get on the plane to ensure i claim adequate space in the overhead bins, im a bit of a space hog if you will.

There were only nine people on the entire plane. I have only encountered this low number of people on my flights a hand full of times. Typically the airline sells more seats than are actually available. They overbook like this because more times than not someone is going to be a no show. This practice is very very inconvenient when you are flying from the New York and Atlanta airports due to the fact that its not uncommon to have your flight canceled for some obscure reason.

I fly to NY and through Atlanta quite often, in fact i once sat locked inside the plane stuck on the jetway at Laguardia for five hours and dont you know there was a baby screaming its head off. I cant say that i blamed the child one bit.

As we take off, the flight attendant walks over to my seat to address me. "Sir, are you aware that you are sitting in an exit row?"

"Who, me?" i asked as i looked from side to side. "Exit row? whats this all about?"

Needless to say she got rather aggravated with my joking around. Flight attendants can be very serious people and they should be i guess. Its funny really, how they all differ. What one laughs at the other chews you out for.

She handed me the emergency brochure found in the seat back pocket in front of me. I smiled. "Sir, are you willing and able to assist in the event of an emergency?"

"To help you do what? Will i be reimbursed for my time?" i asked. I thought she was going to kick me off the plane at this point.

As i perused the brocure for the one millionth time, i became quite entertained with one particular portion.



i noticed the little man embracing what appears to be the seat cushion. it is indeed the seat cushion my tush is resting on. My mind drifts off about how unhappy i would be in the event of a water landing and picturing myself holding onto this cushion with my feeting dangling in the water as shark bait. That cushion wouldnt be much help i thought.

Then i realized how silly that was. if we really crashed, especially in water, the chances that the plane and everyone on it not being ripped to shreds was highly unlikely. silly me.

The flight attendant announced that she would begin serving the snack and beverage service starting with the front of the cabin.



i was located in the middle of the cabin. I flagged her down. "Miss, i am ready for my in flight snack now" i report.

when she finally came back around to me i asked for not only an orange juice and a pack of crackers, but the entire can of juice and a bottle of water to boot. She complied.

"Marvelous, you are doing a good job", i told her as she handed me the snacks.

"This is a nice spread" i said to myself, "even if i do say so".




i was ready to take a quick nap. i kicked my boots off and covered up with a blanket.

There was a lady across the aisle. I couldnt take it any longer, i had to say something to her.

"Are you looking at my feet?"

"Pardon me?"

"Are YOU looking at my feet? If you are going to look at them then look at them, but for pete's sake quit being such a sneak about it. Jeez!"

About that time she rang her flight attendant call button. As the flight attendant approached her she exclaimed, "i want to move!"

The flight attendant peered around the entire empty cabin of the plane trying to make a point and said "ok, move to any other seat you like ma'am. will there be anything else?"

i cut my eyes at the lady and glanced at the flight attendant and made a gesture that indicated i felt the lady across the aisle was crazy. "she wouldnt quit looking at my feet. did she tell you that? i blurted out.

Sister Moon and Jimmy the Kangaroo

July 2, 2007 - Monday


R.Wilde

[At R.'s father in law's home, outside discussing rain or the lack thereof]

Characters -

father in law - Ray Curvin

mother in law - Kitty Lynn

brother in law - Ross

wife - Larae

kid - Jefferson

Ray: "i do declare, this is quite possibly the driest spring i have ever seen."

R.: "we're in a drought for sure."

Ray: "Oh, it came a little rain earlier in the week, but its so daggum hot out that the sun just sucks it back up. See how my grass is dying here."

R.: "mines the same. good thing we arent under any water restrictions in my county. i spend all my free time watering the grass and the flowers. Aint that some kinda life?"

Ray: "i guess we are going to have to start doing a rain dance every afternoon. you still got your headress?"

R.: "nah, i traded it for an old pair of shoes with a secret zipper pocket."

Ray: you trading now? your starting to sound like Ross. That boy'll trade fer anything, ya know." See that old kangaroo down by the picnic table? he traded a penny runned over by a train and some old loose camel hairs fer it."



R.: "what in tarnation would someone be doing with camel hairs?"

Ray: "he knows a feller who uses them fer good luck, sells some too i think, along side his collection of rabbits foots."

R.: "makes sense i guess. thats a mighty sporty looking kangaroo aint it?"

Ray: "Kitty Lynn and i've been sitting on the porch swing in the evenings watching the squirrels play all around that kangaroo. They wont touch it though."

R.: "they dont know its fake?"

Ray: "i guess not, they seem pretty confused, yet very curious around it. one constantly stands guard watching its every move, course it dont move at all. Kitty Lynn asked me "do you think those squirrels have ever seen a kangaroo before?" and i said, "dear God I hope not!"

R.: "haha, thats a riot."

Ray: "we are in trouble if theres kangaroos out there and we dont know it.

R.: "you aint kidding. Has Jefferson seen it?"

Ray: "yeah, he saw it when Ross first brought it over. I think Ross was going to give it to him as a birthday gift.

R.: "no joking? a birthday gift?"

Ray: "Jefferson wont go down there close to it though. he said he dont trust it. i'll admit, its looks a mite scary, didja see how muscular it is?"

R.: "i'm gonna take him down there and make him look at it up close. its a flower pot for pete's sake. JEFFERSON! Come here son."

Jefferson: "hey daddy, whut you want?"

R.: "we're gonna walk down to see the kangaroo."

Jefferson: "Aww man!"

R.: "Shhh! Lets sneak up on him, ok?"



Jefferson: "Daddy, you are supposed to give kangaroos plenty of room if you walk up on one."

R.: "oh i know. did Ross tell you about this kangaroo?"

Jefferson: "no."

R.: "he didnt? he sure should have, i hear tell this particular kangaroo was around in brer rabbits time when all the animals left sister moon to come to the earth. anyway, the story goes that this kangaroo, Jimmy's his name i think, that Jimmy invented the first flash light and told sister moon not to come around no more, that he got tired of all her nagging. well, sister moon knew Mister Freeze from Batman and she had Jimmy frozen and here he stands today with his pouch used as a flower pot."

Jefferson: "Daddy, dats silly. Mister feeze is not reel."

R.: "thats what i thought too, but this story started making more sense when i saw Jimmy down here eating grass around 11pm one night."

Jefferson: "nuh uh, no you didnt daddy."

R.: "whose to say i aint telling the truth? What if i'm right and we is here sneaking up on old Jimmy, kinda scary huh? I always heard you cant sneak up on a kangaroo."

R: "go ahead, touch him."




R.: "careful dont feed him nothing, he might bite ya."

Jefferson: "daddy, he's not real."



Jefferson, not taking his eyes off of old Jimmy declared, the kangaroo's not real. R. instructed him not to disclose their conversation with his mother.

Back at the house, first thing, Jefferson told his mother about Sister Moon, Mister Freeze and Jimmy.

Nothing else for R. to do but tell the truth, "Larae, i have no clue what the kid is talking about" as he winked at Jefferson. He gives R. the double wink back and asks if they can go for ice cream.

R.: (speaking to Larae and the family) "happiness and harmony, thats what counts with children...(now mumbling) and kangaroos."

More friends than you can imagine

a conversation

July 6, 2007 - Friday

"Jamison, i have written a new song"

"yeah?" asked jamison.

"i did."

"ok."

"Do you want me to sing it for you?"

"Sing what?" jamison said.

"the song i just wrote, man."

"Ok."

"ok?"

"yeah, ok." jamison stated in a defeated huff.

"nah, you dont act like you wanna hear it, ill just surprise you when you least expect it."

"i do want to hear. I want nothing more right this minute than to hear this song you wrote. i want to hear it and i want to hear it NOW!" jamison exclaimed.

"you say that now, but i mean, just five seconds ago you didnt. i read your body language. you're being a dufus."

"i'm not being a dufus, i have a splinter in my finger, JEEZ." jamison pouted.

"let me see it."

"no, you were going to sing the song."

"song?"

"yea, the song you wrote, remember?"

"it can wait. i need to see this splinter. i am calling your bluff."

"oh, i have a splinter, but it will be a cold day in hades before i show it to the likes of you." jamison said defiantly.

"thats what i thought."

"are you going to sing that song for me or what?"

"are you sure you want me to?"

"yes, for pete's sake, i wanna hear the song."

"i'll sing the song, but if your splinter is going to distract you, then i won't."

"dont sing it then, whatever."

"ok, ill sing it. [now singing] its the circle of liiiife. More friends than YOU can imagine. its the circle of life."

"stop. i have heard that before."

"no you havent i just wrote this song."

"i have heard that before. that candle in the wind guy sang that, but it didnt have the more friends part. More friends than you can imagine? what does that mean?"

"what do you mean, "what does that mean"?"

"how can you have more friends than you can imagine? is that more friends than i can image or more friends than you can imagine?"

"its subjective."

"i mean, i can imagine alot of friends."

"how many can YOU imagine?"

"alot".

"define alot, is that like forty?"

"no. forty is keeping it in the box, i can imagine an infinite number of friends."

"how?"

"how what? how can i imagine an infinite number of friends or how is that keeping it in the box?"

"the infinite part."

"i dont know. i just see a line of friends that never stops."

"what do their faces look like?"

"it doesnt matter."

"sure it does."

"well the line is so long that i cant imagine the faces til they get closer to me. the people in the back of the line are kinda blurry."

"i could imagine an infinite number of friends plus one."

"thats stupid."

"no its not, its mathematics. simple mathematics."

"why dont you go ahead and imagine infinity plus infinity then."

"now thats just crazy talk."

"you're right, that is crazy talk."

"no kidding."

"this whole conversation is ridiculous."

"dont say such hurtful things, its makes for a rather unpleasant conversation. Besides, imagining lots of friends isnt crazy, its nice. If everyone imagined more friends than they could imagine, everybody would be friends and we wouldnt have wars and murders and telemarketers."

"maybe."

"have you ordered your scooter yet?"

"we should really discuss that at the meeting."

"whens the meeting?"

"tonight. save it til then."

"ok, i gotta jet."

"see ya buddy"...[humming to himself] its the circle of liiiiife, more friends than you can emajeeeeen"

The idea of scootin

July 9, 2007 - Monday



Branton: "hey R., do you wanna ride the scooter before it gets too dark?"

Wilde: "does an alaskan grizzly bear like to catch fish in the river without wearing waders?"

Branton: "what?"

Wilde: "what?"

Branton: "was that a yes or a no?"

Wilde: "oh that was a yes. do i have to wear the helmet?"

Branton: "of course you do. why wouldnt you want to wear the necessary safety equipment?"

Wilde: "look, you dont have to brow beat me. how do you start this thing?"

Branton showed Wilde again for the fifth time at least how to crank the scooter and away Wilde went having a blast.



Back from the short trip, Wilde hands the scooter back over to Branton.

Wilde: "hey Branton, has anyone given you any crap about riding this thing yet?"

Branton: "nah, everyone that sees me on it just wants to ask how many miles per gallon it gets."

Wilde: "i wonder how scooters got such bad raps? I mean, i know you have heard the joke about scooters and, well, nevermind, lets keep it holy."

Branton: "nope, no one has said anything negative about it."

Wilde: "well, my opinion on the matter is that if anyone has the cujones to ride one, you probably wouldnt want to mess with them. i'd say to anyone wanting to cause trouble, look at me, i am on a scooter. do you think i give a crap? i'll fight you in a heart beat, dont mess with nobody riding a scooter, you hear boy? thats what i'd say."

Branton: "yeah, ill go along with that, especially if you see a pack of scooters. thats got to be a mean group of son of a guns, ya know?"

Wilde: "have you tried to pop a wheelie yet?"

Branton: "nope, aint gonna neither."

Wilde: "well, when i get a scoot, watch out. I am going to build some ramps and jump'em, maybe even swerve at pedestrians. I'll definitely be hogging my side of the road, you can believe that."

Branton: "ok. whatever."

Wilde: "it sure would be a better world if everyone rode a scooter."

Branton: "before a person buys a scooter they should think about what they are getting themselves into, not everyone can handle the power of a scooter."

Wilde: "how fast will yours go?"

Branton: "fifty-five, sixty tops and it doesnt matter how fast you go, if a car sees you on a scooter, they are going to try to go past you. no one wants to get passed by a scooter, ya know?"

Wilde: "theres probably some internal need for people to feel like they are going faster than a scooter."

Branton: "yeah, but you arent riding a scooter to be a speed demon."

Wilde: "nope."

Branton: "speed goes out the window and people's only objective is to pass the scooter, i know its true cause when in a car, i do the same. Motorcycles are the same. Motorcyclists see scooters the same way the kings and queens of the 17th century saw peasants."

Wilde: "aint that a shame? Branton, you know so much about scooters. you are an inspiration. you are sooo cool Branton Taylor."

Yankee Doodle Scooters

(R.Wilde and several co-workers attend a Yankees game)




Wilde: "i can't believe they are going to tear the old girl down after next season.

JonMykel: "what?"

Kregg: "you mean you didnt know they are building a new stadium?"

JonMykel: "no!"

Wilde: "can you not see the eight cranes set up behind the stadium? They have most of the bowl completed already."

Kregg: "yeah, word is that Steinbrenner started before he even applied for the permits."

Wilde: "it must be true because they only got the permits six months ago and they seem to be alot further along."

Kregg: "quit driving circles around the stadium and park for pete's sake."

Wilde: "yeah, for pete's sake."

JonMykel: "who? the project owner?"

Kregg: "not peter, just pete?"

JonMykel: "what?"

Kregg: "what?"

Wilde: "hey! look at that why dontcha! Where are we, france?



JonMykel: "a police scooter?"

Kregg: "are the new york precincts hurting that bad?"

Wilde: "wheres the cop that rides that beauty?"

JonMykel: "oh, i am sure he parked it and walked away as fast as he could.

Kregg: "probably didnt even look back."

JonMykel: "yeah, hoping someone would steal it or kick it over and break it."

Wilde: "park park, geez! i wanna ask that officer standing behind it a question."

Wilde to the officer: "sir, yeah, excuse me, is this your police scooter?"

Officer: "why would you think that?"

JonMykel: "well, you are standing it pretty close to it, we just assumed..."

Officer: "you know what ya do when you assume, dontcha boy?"

JonMykel: "boy?"

Officer: "have youtes been drinking? am i gonna havta make ya wok da line?"

Wilde: "no sir, we were just curious....why a scooter? we've all seen chips, we know about the harley's so why the tranistion to a scooter?"

Officer: "look, keep moving, aight."

Wilde: "no offense sir, i just really want to know, you see i think the world would be a better place if everyone rode a scooter."

Officer: "listen you seem like a good kid. we dont want alot of attention to the scoots so dont go runnin ya mouth about what i am gonna tell ya. ok, kid?"

Wilde: "my lips are zipped."

Officer: "the department purchased 300 of these scoots. 200cc's of power with front and rear disc brakes for easier stopping while navigating through the congested new york city streets."

JonMykel: "how fast will they go? 35mph?

Officer: "haha ya dumb bloke, these scoots top out at 75mph have water proof this and that, tons of compartments with an automatic transmission. not only are da scoots extremely fuel efficient, they have the lowest emissions and shock absorbers making them the smoothest ride in town. they are ideal for stop and go situations.

Wilde: "so they got you on a scooter?"

Officer: "nah, it takes alot of seniority to get on a scoot, only the elite in the department get one.

Kregg: "what was the matter with just using the horses. are the scoot replacing the horse mounted patrols?"

Officer: "you still got some horses cause the height advantage the officer has when riding a horse is champion. the horses are mainly around times square, midtown and in da park. watch out for da steaming piles boys."

JonMykel: "i just dont see intimidation on the scoots though."

Officer: "have you seen them out on patrol? its a grand sight to behold."



Officer: "The scooters have been most effective fighting to stop the Five Families of the Sicilian Mafia, the Westies of the Irish Mob and Russian organized crime elements. The Scooter Patrols work with the Organized Crime Control Bureau's Joint Organized Crime Task Force and works in cooperation with the FBI's NYC field office. Its all high level stuff. The Scoots as we call them regularly assists the units of the Organized Crime Control Bureau when executing high risk arrests or warrants."

Wilde: "i had no idea."

Officer: "not many people do. we also have a COPs program we are working out."

Kregg: "COPS program?"

JonMykel: "you mean citizen on patrol?"

Officer: "exactly. you wouldnt believe some of the people that ride on patrol. Derek Jeter has a scoot. he flipping hates crime. he says when he puts on that scooter helmet, nothing can stop him from taking a bite outta crime. the helmet makes him incognito of course, like a masked man."

Kregg: "NO WAY!"

Officer: "yes way. listen, when he leaves here, it'll be on a scoot."

Officers radio: "unit 21please respond to a distrubance over on the allenwood side of the block."

Officer: "i gotta run boys, but remember everything i said is kinda hush hush, it gives us our advantage, you undastand?"

And with a wink he gets on the scooter and rides off. The boys head on into the stadium for the matchup between the Blue Jays and Yankees.





During the game Wilde couldnt hid his excitement about this new found scooter knowledge. he asked several fans sitting around his section about scooter cops. "we dont know nothing" is the only response they could muster.

Wilde: [thinking to himself] "wow this is low key or are the scooters almost unnoticeable out there?"

Sitting three rows from the field and right in front of third base, Wilde screamed out to Jeter, "hey scooter man!"

Jeter, looked around in both direction as though making sure no one else was paying attention to him and walked a little closer to where Wilde sat. Jeter stared Wilde down, winked at him and put his finger to his mouth as to hush Wilde. Jeter then tipped his hat and walked back to his position at shortstop.

Wilde and company stuck around after the game and watched as this lone scooter left from the players gate. Of course they knew who it was and admittedly felt like the streets were going to be safer, even if just a little bit.

Airport Security and the Flower Bed Romper Stomper

September 11, 2007 - Tuesday


its five o'clock in the a.m. as i sit in the airport at the gate, gate C4 to be precise. Sleep has my number. In just a bit, i will most definitely be snoring on the plane. Sure, the snoring will wake me up. It will be a tad emabarassing, but not enough so that it will prevent me from closing the lids and doing it over again.

Here is the thing i hate about flying. I just made it through the security line and they go through your skimpies and whatnot. The irritating thing they do is make you put any kind of liquid or gel containing substances like toothpaste or face wash into a tiny zip lock bag and place it on the roller for inspection.

Do you guys know why they do this? Because some terrorist prick attempted to take some kind of liquid on a plane to make a bomb, or so we were told. How does it affect us? we can only take 3 or 4 ounce size toiletries in our carry on bags. It really depends on what airport you go to. there is no consistency from city to city on what they allow.

So this morning i had to discard or allow them to discard a bottle of face wash and a tube of paste formulated to clean the choppers. The bottle of face cream was 4 ounces. The Transportation Security Administration worker person lady informed me that it had to be 3.4 ounces so i couldnt fly with it.

"ok, whatever lady...toss it i guess."

The toothpaste couldnt have had an ounce of paste but it was a regular sized tube. This is lunacy or is it loonacy? Does it matter? really? now i gotta buy more stuff. I guess they have to be careful though. As far as they know, I might have McGyver -esque skills and be able to make something out of a half empty 4ounce bottle of face wash and a flat empty tube of paste.

What would i make though? a snowmobile? a parachute? hydrochloric acid to melt through my seat belt so i can get up faster and hit the jon before there is a line to wait in? i dunno but this is stupid and dont ask me if i feel safer. These guys can throw away a tube of crap but at 5a.m. they arent checking other stuff close enough. i would bet my life on that. ok...maybe not my life, but something valuable like my 1989 leaf donruss baseball card collection and thats only because i have two of them and it looks like baseball cards arent worth crap umpteen years later after we all bought into that scam.

FLY THOSE FRIENDLY SKIES BABY!

Another quick story and i wish i had taken some pictures of the damage and the dog but i didnt so sue me.

our neighbors keep their dogs up like a pan handler pays attention to personal hygiene. Its non existent. Don't get me wrong i like a dog as much as the next guy....as long as its mine and its not inconveniencing me.

Unfortunately the one truth i have figured out on my own is that a pet, especially a dog and most especially a puppy needs plenty of attention. I had a chocolate lab that would eat the siding right off the house, no time for a plate. "want salt on that? want i should nuke it in the microwave first? No? You're good? ok."

you gotta pay attention or your pet with destroy something that belongs to you or your neighbor. Maybe you dont care. Stay classy then and stay the heck away from me with that attitude. you aint selling nothing that i am considering buying, nothing.

So anyway, back to the story and this story only has one funny quip and the moral is quite fuzzy, especially at this point.

our neighbor's pup has not only learned to take plenty of healthy poops in the yard, he has discovered he likes to lie and kick and romp and play in my flower bed. Three geraniums gone. poof, just like that, destroyed. I envision that he gripped the branches in his mouth and shook violently. I would think its funny if i saw it....that is with him doing it at his own house or with his play toy. i would laugh and shake my head and say, "that ol'dog sure is having a good time, bless his heart" , but his good time has infringed on my good patience.

Its been this way for weeks, he takes off shoes, he strows bark, he chews DW's fall yard decorum. That was the final straw really. She had some kind of straw man thing sitting on a pumpkin. that straw man just sat there, he didnt bother any one, but the puppy dog showed him no restraint. he violated that poor 8 dollar straw man and DW has nothing left but comtempt in her heart for said pup.

DW, as distraught as she was, kicked the straw man into the neighbors yard. She wanted them to see it. The whole time we are complaining about the neighbors. The neighbors this. The neighbors that. My son Jackson is soaking it all in. He is always up for conflict. He is like he daddy and is a bit of an instigator. It tickles him to play jokes and wrestle and fight. There is no malice, mind you, only fun.

So DW finds the straw man back in our yard again that afternoon and kicked it back into the neighbors yard hoping once again that they would see it and realize just how ticked we are. Jackson looked up at his mommy with his big blue eyes and said, "momma, i dont understand what you are doing, but i LIKE it."

Then he ran over and gave it another kick. That was something he could get behind. Precious, just precious,

I wish i could do a better job at expressing tone in these types of dialogues but alas, this will have to do. Its early. I got up at 3a.m. to catch this flight. Bear with me. Love covers all. Double knot your shoe strings when you tie them, do the bunny loop. kill all snakes and lastly but not necessarily most importantly chew with your mouth closed, no one wants to see your food.

kindest regards,

rob

Fly Those Friendly Skies

Yesterday on my return flight from Hartford CT, to Hotlanta (i know, how gay is it to say hotlanta?) GA. I heard the pilot say something I didnt care to hear then or ever again. This pilot was sharing way to much information.

Close enough to Atlanta to parachute out, the pilot (aka captain) speaks...

Captain Petey: (over the intercom to passengers): "hello again, this is your captain speaking, if you look out of the right side of the plane you will notice a dark wall of clouds. That ladies and gentlemen is a thunderstorm Currently we are 50 miles from the runway, but the Air Traffic Control has had us in a holding pattern for the last thirty minutes due to air traffic in this area. "



Captain Petey still talking: "Now thanks to this storm we have to deviate and head toward columbus in an effort to sneak in behind the storm. The problem with that folks IS THAT WE ARE BURNING FUEL LIKE CRAZY."

My buddy Randall was sitting next to me. We were in the emergency exit row. He casually mentioned to me that he had read the book, Free Fall about a plane that ran out of fuel at 41,000 feet.



I informed him that i would be ready in case we would be called on to lead these people to safety in the event of an emergency landing/crash.





I was ready to step into the limelight and become the hero that deep down i knew that i was capable of being.

Unfortunately the lady sitting next to us who had been sleeping the whole trip woke up and heard the captain and then our comments.



I honestly didnt think she was a woman because if you notice she had a huge adam's apple but whatever. She began to frantically look around as though she was trying to locate a lost item.

Randall: "excuse me ma'ma, are you ok? what are you looking for?"

Lady: "i'll tell you what i am looking for...."



She found it and the whole plane went nuts!





Nobody even knew exactly why they had gone so quickly into such an irrational state other than one lady lost her nerve. She went from sleep to pandalerium in 0 to 60 seconds and couldnt handle it. People are like lemmings jumping off a cliff, you scream, i scream we all scream for ..wait, why are we screaming?



Anyway, the crew finally calmed all the passengers a bit more and then we starting going through terrible turbulence.



Some people become extremely frightened when the plane starts dropping. I heard one lady scream, "i just threw up in my mouth a little."

I shook my head, tsk tsk. i remained as calm as a cucumber in a house salad. As we bumped along, i hit my flight attendant call button...ding ding and the little red light came on brightly.

The flight attendant carefully manuvered her way to the middle of the plane where i sat and said "what do you need sir, are you ok?" Most of everyone else was rather tense and praying that we land soon and safely.

"oh, i am fine, but i must have been dozed off when you previously came by with the snack cart, can i get a pack of crackers and a ginerger aisle?"

Needless to say, she was not amused, but to me one question does not a trouble maker make.

After we landed and coasted on fumes to our gate, the pilot came on the intercom once more.

Captain Petey: Folks this is your captain again. I apologize for the bumpy flight but we did get you here to the gate a few minutes early with no problems save for one trouble maker. You know who you are sir. Have a good day folks and we invite you to fly the friendly skies with us again where ever your travels take you, everyone except the trouble maker that is."

As we walked off the plane, Randall told the pilot, "thanks for saving us enough fuel to get here."

Captain Petey: "Dont mention it sailor, no worries."

Fly those friendly skies baby, such is the life.

Do You Like My Hat?

Do You Like My Hat?


Go Dogs Go.

I found this masterpiece to be insightful and full of ethically sound judgements?

This book is an amazing story of one dog's journey through life.

There is a profundity of life nesteled in the simplicity of this book. Why do we go? Why do we stop? We are all in this together, black, white, red, blue and green.

My life is about rules. I try to follow the rules. Its not my job to make you follow them. There are some rules that must be followed to be successful in life. I especially loved the part in the book where the dogs stopped at the red light and drove off again when the light was green again.

These dogs were following a path. The path was not wide, but it was the one laid out before them. There were stops on the path. There were directions along the way.

The dogs observed many things while they sojourned.

The sun is yellow regardless of where you go. This is infact science and one simply cannot argue with science. The sun shines on the just and unjust alike.

Its hot "on top" of the house, but not so much under the house. Can you stand the heat? Is it nice to be in the shade sometimes? I am reminded of what King Solomon said when he spoke of there being a time and purpose for all things under the sun.

At the end of the book, the dogs ascended to a higher place. There was a party there, a jubilee galore, but before they reached this destination, they had to follow the path that led them.

During this journey, there was one question asked over and again. Do you like my hat? I am not implying we have to accept everything that comes down the pike, but do we as people and how much more as those that are people of faith have to be so critical of everything? Why cant we be encouragers instead of naysayers?

There is a spirit of judgementalism and of being judged that creates an enormous divide between the people we want to be and the people whose lives we can and should touch.

Do you like my hat?


Do you like my hat?


Do you like my hat?


Do you like my hat?


Do you like my hat? Do you?

I said i do.

I said i like your hat, it looks good on you.

Why yes, yes i do...It suits your head, now lets find something else to do...

But we all judge based on the outside of a man and nothing changes....

we sure could learn alot from this book.

Shalom