Enculturation ad Absurdum

In an effort to bridge the generation gap before that chasm of parent/child disconnection can yawn, I've conspired with those two repositories of human wisdom, the public library's DVD section and Netflix, to indoctrinate my own children with the videographic influences of my youth.

We'll achieve true familial bonding through a mutual understanding of all my oft uttered witty and profound pop culture references, from Gilligan to Godzilla (and be able to name the respective islands they inhabit, in true geek trivia fashion).

However, it has now come to my attention that that dirty David Malki ! (he even considers his own name an expletive, apparently), has channeled his Malkilevolent super powers through the intertubes to seize upon my most cherished beliefs, and mock them...thoroughly.

[glares up into the ethernets, with Colbertesque fist shaking]
Curse you, David Malki !! Why must you destroy my dreams with such awesome wit?

Strangely, I purchased a signed print of one of his illustrated jocularities as a Christmas gift to my dear wife. It would seem he not only has the ability to read minds, but control them as well...

Pull'em up, pull'em waaay up.

George Will, in an effort to prove you don't have to believe in god to pompously pontificate on the "moral hazard" of harmless social behavior, decries the moral breakdown of modern society inherent in the wearing of denim.

Why denim? I mean, in the age of 24/7 worldwide coverage there's no such thing as a slow news day.

In my view, public places have largely become informal settings. T-shirts and denim are comfortable, often inexpensive, and wear well. Young sons almost always want to be just like dad, so dressing alike is a bonding experience for them. And where are all the stores that offer children's sizes exclusively in silk, polyester, and gabardine? I'm sure George and his considerably more well-heeled than the masses friends know.

Worn out t-shirts can be used for cleaning cloths, jeans with holes in the knees can be cut and hemmed for shorts, and old running shoes can be given a second life as casual footwear, before being ground up for that springy padding found beneath modern play structures at the local park or school.

The whole t-shirt, denim, running shoe combination is part and parcel of the "reduce, reuse, recycle" mantra of responsible consumerism. I know George doesn't hate consumerism, so it must be the responsibility that raises his dogmatic ire. Come to think of it, the reuse of materials seems rather, well, conservative. It should be right up his alley, rather than stuck in his craw (not that I spend much time thinking about other people's craws...).

And another thing, (since I, like Mr. Will, obviously have nothing better to do than complain about nothing) he uses Astaire as the trouser taste exemplar? Now, I truly love Fred's old movies; he was one of the best hoofers in history. However, the fashion sense of the time had him tapping about with his waistband barely south of his nipples. At least it's better than the "buckle the belt beneath the butt" style: a gangsta has to keep one mitt in his pocket to hold up his britches, while the man in the gunny slacks has them both free to throw some jazz hands.

(h/t to James F. Elliott)

Beware the Wiener

Inspired by James F. Elliott's recent post regarding home defense, I'm revealing one of the formerly super secret lines of defense that stand between my family and would-be intruders.

Behold the canine...

...and that's not just any kind of mutt; it's a vicious half-wiener dog.

It may appear docile as it gathers its strength, deep in martial arts meditation in accordance with the ancient Sanskrit scripture of the Sundog sutra, but don't let it's peaceful repose fool you. It's a ticking time bomb of pure puppy power.

The photograph below was taken with a long, telephoto lens, from the safety of an observation bunker at our proving grounds.

If you're looking into these eyes at close range, it's the last thing you'll ever see.

Finally, a rare action shot of the weapon deployed in battle, exhibiting one of its many attack modes. This is what operators in the field refer to as "full flap."

The frames that followed would exceed Blogger's terms of service, and therefore remain classified. Suffice it to say, what came next, gentle readers, was unsuitable for this refined venue.

Zombies need killin'

A recent post by James F. Elliot, on his blog Often Right, Rarely Correct, prompted readers to list their preferred zombie slaying weapons. I offer some of my favored implements of undead destruction below.

Remington 1100 auto-loading 12ga with 10 round extended magazine. A non-reflective Parkerized finish or camo cover (Mossy Oak Breakup is the new basic black) is preferred; zombies are attracted to shiny objects as well as movement. Great close range knock down power using buckshot, with long range capability when using slug ammunition. Clip fed weapons can provide more rounds at once, until you've emptied all your magazines, and then they're awkward and time consuming to reload under pressure. The shotgun can be back in action more quickly, and reloaded on the run. Also, 12ga ammo is one of the most widely available rounds at your local post-apocalyptic sporting goods department.

Battle-axe, if you've got the strength to wield it properly. Better than what you'd find at the hardware store; the rounded blade is less likely than that of the standard axe or hatchet to get wedged (and you will get it wedged) in zombie flesh when you fail to completely lop off that head or leg.

Dagger. The Gerber MkII with titanium nitride finish is a good choice. A quick poke in the medulla can completely incapacitate the biggest of the lumbering undead. Best used from behind, but still effective in the "hug position" if you end up dancing cheek to cheek with a flesh eating fiend.

Telephone patch cord. Doesn't everybody have at least six of these things lying around the house from all the computers, modems, and phones they've bought over the years? They make great trip wires when strung across doorways and stapled to the frame. Having that first one go down, and the others fall on top, can give you a few precious seconds to grab your weapon or jump out a window before the whole horde piles in on you.

Aerosol hairspray. It stings zombie eyes too. Yeah, they can still smell you out, but at that point you've already burst out of your hiding place and gone on the offensive. Also, a little V05 extra hold combined with a Bic lighter can really get those staggering buggers fired up, if you know what I mean.

4WD truck. Ford, Chevy, Toyota, brand really doesn't matter. Just run over'em; windows up, air conditioning on, death metal cranked. Hell, drink a beer if you want (but just one; gotta stay sharp). Oh, and wear your seatbelt. Safety first, you know?