It Was a Dark and Stormy Night...

When I travel by plane I look for a suspense or horror story to keep me relaxed. My theory is that if I’m reading something by Stephen King I won’t think so much about the time spent above five-thousand feet. I only have a couple of problems. First, I’ve read every Stephen King book known to man and second, Dean Koontz (my back-up literary 'frightener') isn’t ‘scary’ any more. Lately Dean spends a lot of time writing about psychic dogs and quantum physics. These two subjects don’t really qualify as scary when compared to the collected works of Stephen King. From personal experience, I can tell you that my Golden Retriever knows what I’m thinking, I didn't need Dean Koontz to tell me.

I submit the following to you as evidence of my dog’s psychic ability…

Me, deep in thought, “I wonder what we have to eat with chocolate in it?”

Dog, “He’s thinking about eating again…”

Me, “Maybe there’s some Halloween candy left over from last year?”

Dog, “Great, he’s thinking about year-old candy. I’m never eating again.”

Me, “The dog looks hungry, I wonder if I should feed her? Hey, maybe we’ve got some of those Nestle Toll House Morsels with the baking stuff – I could eat some of those.”

Dog, “I’m going to kill him next time he falls asleep on the couch…”

Since my favorite ‘scary Writers’ are leaving me hanging lately, I’ve decided that I’ll take a stab at horror writing. How hard could it be?

It is a dark and stormy night. The old house on the side of the mountain groans as the rain beats the windows and the wind forces a moan from the aged beams. The man is not alarmed by noises from atop the roof, assuming it is just another branch that has broken loose from the maple tree being dragged back and forth along the roofline by the wind. While this sound is irregular, there is another, lower noise that the man hears below the rush of the wind. This sound becomes louder and more rhythmic. Its steady repetition is more reminiscent of a heart beat than the random rant of the shrieking wind and a stray branch. But the man is tired, and the sound of the wind and rain makes him think of sleep.

He is drowsing on the couch when the first real 'thud' comes. It is as if someone has dropped a bowling ball onto the floor of the attic above him. Immediately, the ceiling darkens to the color of a used cigarette filter. The man, now half-awake, swings his legs over the side of the couch and sits up groggily. He rises and walks down the narrow hall to look at the hatchway that leads to the attic. As he nears the drop-down door he pauses, hearing the sound of something pushing down on the attic hatch from above.

The two latches that hold the attic door squeal in protest as an unseen force continues its assault on the hardware that secures the old hatchway. The man looks in horror as the wood trim around the hatch begins to splinter and give way. The hinges let go with a spectacular shriek as the attic hatch falls onto the wooden floor below directly in front of the man. Water streams through the opening and a guttural growl is heard from above. The man backs away from the hatch as a pair of yellowish eyes glare at him with malevolent intent. Primitive ferocity shows in the reflected light in the beast’s eyes as it jumps down into the hallway in front of the man. There is a brief spark of recognition and then…

I woke up to find my Golden Retriever standing over me on the edge of the couch. “Nobody fed you yet, huh? Okay, come on and I’ll get you something.” I try to get up but the dog will not move. Suddenly I realize that I’m receiving horrible psychic images from my beloved pet. Rage and betrayal commingled with blood lust paint a hideous panorama of thought. With a snap of her head she produces a knife from between her jaws, brings her head down and stabs me deep in my chest. She tilts her head, wags her tail, and neatly ‘folds’ herself to the dumpster behind the Outback Steak House.

As I die, I realize with horror that I have turned into Dean Koontz. With a groan and one last thought of a Hershey bar -- I expire.

The End

Fear the FUD

Mere hours from now President Barack Hussein Obama will address the US House of Representatives (as well as the rest of the world population via video feeds). White House aides have played down the upcoming speech and have let the media know that it will have none of the 'high-flying rhetoric' for which the President has become associated with with in prior 'media events'.

Tonight's objective? Oh, heck, I dunno, they didn't call ME to preview the event, but let me take a stab at it here (while it's still a free country):

• The economy is in much worse shape than he, or his economic advisors were led to believe by the outgoing Bush Administration. If only he knew five weeks ago what he knew today, things WOULD have been different today.


• The tired (old) solutions of lowering taxes on individuals and corporations will not be enough to bring this flailing economy back to life. New, bold (FDR-era) solutions of massive government spending, increased taxes, and diminished freedoms will be the mantra for years to come. The private sector, which provides 70% of activity of the economic engine of America CAN'T do it on its own. The 30% of the economy known as 'the Government' needs to jump-start the entire economy. You cannot trust Americans to spend their own money, Barney Frank, Christopher Dodd, Nancy Pelosi, Harry Reid and Barack Obama DO know how. They have proven that they know HOW to spend money over the past month -- trouble is, they are not so big on MAKING the money that they are spending.


• For some reason, American citizens have grown 'concerned' about the economy. President Obama will not know where people have gotten this mistaken impression. Sure, things are bad, but hey, we've been through rough patches before, haven't we? You know, like that one time when the Federal Government decided to bail-out a bunch of bad mortgages, spend $1.3 million on a stimulus package 'chocked full' of pork, and then decided to bail-out a bunch of bad mortgages again? Sure, that was a much worse time than we have today -- right?


• We need to control spending. The best way to control spending is to make health care available to all legal (and illegal) Americans. And the best way to control medical spending is? Come on, you already know the answer... Yes, the best way to control medical spending is to determine the procedures which are made available to those patients who can 'most benefit' from those procedures. So if you're really, really sick from illness A and you come down with a secondary illness B, don't expect to get health-care because you are a 'High Risk' patient. Shoot, you're already sick, aren't you? Do you deserve to be treated as a normal, healthy, patient would be? I don't think so. You are a burden to society, you are deemed un-worthy of treatment. YOU cost too much, and THEY'RE looking to reduce costs.


• We need alternative fuel technology (circa 1975) to create new, high-tech, and high-pay jobs. Wind, solar, tide, clean coal technologies will NEED additional monies foisted upon them lest they never come to profitable fruition. We will NOT drill for oil within the United States, or off-shore because these two things are NOT solutions to our long-term energy needs. Instead, the U.S. will invest monies into technologies proven in-efficient, costly, and less profitable to the company providing them, than in proven energy solutions (like, for example, a whole bunch of oil and natural gas resting comfortably under our nation).


• We need to increase taxes on a few of the 'wealthiest Americans' (as defined here, the 'wealthiest Americans' include seven guys named, Bill and one guy named, Warren.) These eight guys will provide the economic engine 'funding' to help Barack Obama make America great again for all Americans. Unfortunately, these eight guys will need to lay off approximately 67,000 who work for them to PAY for these tax increases. Then when these guys and gals start pulling unemployment benefits and stop buying stuff, 1.2 million other Americans will be laid-off because without the 70% of the consumer-driven economy referenced above dries up... Absolutely NOTHING happens.


• We need to increase taxes on a few of the 'wealthiest American companies' (these companies include any company with a 'vowel' in the name of their firm). If they are wealthy enough to 'Buy a vowel' they had better darn well pony up to help out the poorest of Americans. They, in turn, will lay off 20% of their employees to offset their increase in corporate tax rates. There is a bright-spot here, however, as all of these unemployed workers (let's say, oh, another 1.2 million Americans added to the 1,267,000 above comes out to roughly 2.5Million NEW unemployed) these un-employed workers will all have health-care coverage (unless, of course, they contract a secondary infection, in which case their family starts pulling Social Security benefits out of the system a 'wee bit earlier' than they expected).

I do tend to get carried away, don't I? Sorry.

So back to the FUD:

This is an example of the 'FUDD':

This, of course, is the 'Elmer Fudd'

What I'm talking about in this rambling bit of verse, is NOT this 'FUDD', it is the 'FUD' as mentioned above in the title of the blog post. It's a Sales & Marketing term used to 'Sell products or services to people who may (or may not) need them'. In this instance, 'FUD' stands for:
Fear, Uncertainty, & Doubt

'Selling the FUD' refers to making your 'Prospect' aware that if THEY DON'T BUY YOUR PRODUCT OR SERVICE (when?) RIGHT NOW!...

THAT Something BAD will happen.

"VERY Bad, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh... You buy/do this ____________ or I won't be wesponsible for what happens to you or your famiwee..."

(You should go back and re-read this prior section as 'Elmer Fudd' (or Barney Frank). Feel free to hold a shot gun to your own head while you do it just to get a totally 'authentic feel of fear, uncertainty, and doubt'). Wearing the 'Fudd' hunting hat will also add to the learning experience! Trust me, I just did it... Although the gun was really a soda bottle and I made the hat out of aluminum foil.)

So, what do I expect from tonight's presentation of the President? FUD. Lots and lots of FUD. It's how he and Congress pushed through the recent ('We didn't have time to read it but we passed it anyway because we had to do SOMETHING...') Stimulus Bill.

Barack Obama's Greatest Hits
Including the following Classic Tracks!:
"If WE don't act now...",
"We are in a crisis facing a catastrophe",
"If we fail to act, we act to fail",
"We cannot maintain business as usual",
"Yeah, you may not agree with me. But I won..."

Yes, President Obama, you won. But I, do not want to lose.

So put on your hunting caps, get out your tweed jacket and repeat after me, "Shush, be very, very quiet, I'm listening for 'FUD'." I'll keep score on my predictions for this evening's presentation.

What do YOU think that President Obama will be discussing (selling) this evening?

And, perhaps more importantly, what, if anything, will you be buying?

Natural Beef

Men should not shop at grocery stores. This isn’t because they're forbidden by some obscure governmental legislation, but because the casual male shopper finds the local grocery a frightening and confusing place. Trust me on this; guys are not equipped with ‘grocery’ genes. Allow me to convey the following real life example: Tonight as I wandered aimlessly through the grocery store I noticed something that rocked me on my heels. Perhaps hundreds, maybe even thousands of other shoppers (feel free to insert the word ‘women’ here) had passed it prior to my arrival without so much as a second glance.

As I entered the Meat department with my typical ‘I need to buy something, perhaps it can be meat, but what kind of meat?’ look on my face, I noticed something disturbing. In the open refrigerated meat case with other pre-sliced cold cuts I read the following: Pre-Sliced Roast Beef “ONLY $7.89 A POUND”. Okay, on the whole that wasn’t too disturbing (but I’m pretty sure a pound of gasoline still costs less than this). The thing that caught my eye was a circa-1970’s fluorescent orange sunburst sticker pasted on the front of the package featuring the words “NATURAL BEEF” in bold print. I know I’m not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree but, help me here, what would you make of this? Since when does a store label food, beef no less, as “Natural”? Did the cow only eat organically grown Cow Chow? Did the cow actually spend some time outside, actively participating in NATURE?

I want to know what makes this pre-sliced roast beef in the clear plastic caskets able to be labeled as, “Natural Beef”? What other labels could they be keeping behind the butcher’s counter? Do they have a supply of stickers describing the following ‘Beef’ types?

• Un-Natural Beef = Beef from a cow that ate nothing but the stuff men eat when their moms, wives, or girlfriends aren't around
• Primordial Beef = Really old beef. "It's not just aged -- it's petrified!"
• Super Natural Beef = Beef from a cow that had an uncanny ability to predict the future, but was tragically inept at avoiding its own demise
• Free Range Beef = Beef from a cow that 'got around'
• Chipped Beef = Beef I remember from numerous Boy Scout camping trips that consisted of white pasty goo with beef sporting an un-natural brick-red color. Also known as 'S.O.S.', but I'll say no more on this...
• Tipped Beef = Bruised beef from a cow located too close to a college almost anywhere in the U.S. (If you have to ask you didn't go to a real college...)
  

So the next time your mom, wife, or girlfriend asks you to go to the store, or you have a momentary lapse of reason and volunteer to run to the store for a few things; be prepared. Be calm and don’t let grocery store employees see the fear that inevitably steals into the part of the brain that controls the ‘fight or flight’ response. Repeat the following to yourself, ‘It is only a grocery store -- it’s only a grocery store. I made it through showers after high school gym class; I can make it through this.’

Next time you have to shop -- take command! Upon entering the store, walk boldly up the butcher in the Meat Department and ask him to direct you to the ‘Natural Beef’ section. If nothing else, you’ll appear to know what you’re doing – unless, of course your store only features regular ‘Beef’. At this point my friend, you are on your own.

Avert your eyes, turn away and leave the store quickly. And for goodness sake, don’t look at the Head Cheese in the deli counter – it has nothing to do with cheese; but everything to do with head.

And, um, you might want to find the 'Beer' aisle just so the trip isn't a complete waste...

How Men Shop

It’s late Wednesday afternoon, you’re out of elbow macaroni and your wife has informed you that you must prepare macaroni and cheese for the entire family. You must cook because your wife is ill. What will you do, what will you do!?

Do you?

• Explain to your kids that peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were omitted erroneously from the ‘Food Pyramid’ and that they ARE actually considered a food group and should be eaten more frequently,
  
• Tell the kids that they’ll eat again when mom feels better,
  
• Stare longingly into the pantry hoping that something requiring no more preparation than a ½ cup of water and three minutes of preperation time falls into your outstretched hand by the force of your sheer will, or
  
• Drive to the grocery store and act like you know what you’re doing
  

I have discovered that there is a profound difference between men and women when it comes to the process of grocery shopping. My wife takes shopping seriously. She makes a list, clips coupons, and she even knows what she wants before she arrives at the store (Gasp!). With single-minded purpose she uses her internal GPS, Grocery Positioning System, to move unerringly from aisle to aisle. She slows only long enough to collect each of the items on her list.

These items are actually listed, in the ‘aisle order’ as they appear in the store. Appropriately alphabetized coupons are transferred from the coupon envelope to the outside ‘coupon compartment’ of her pocketbook. When shopping is completed, coupons are handed to the cashier, the obligatory “Paper or Plastic?” inquiry is addressed and with the swipe of a debit card and entry of four-digit PIN; my wife’s mission is accomplished.

Do all women shop this way? I’ve watched them (studied them even -- no, not like 'stalking'; knock that off) during the period of my life when I was unemployed (this was NOT a good time) and I did all of the shopping. I will concede that there may be a few out there who lack the ‘grocery’ gene and maybe even a few more who make my wife look downright reckless when it comes to shopping. And for you husbands whose wives are more genetically disposed to grocery shopping than mine, all I can say is, I’m really sorry. You may want to check out a few items from the 'BEER' aisle – assuming you can find it, of course.

Grocery shopping for men is infinitely different. Whereas my wife travels the store purposefully, I meander. There is no section of the store that can be overlooked. To this end I start at one end of the store and walk clock-wise through the aisles knowing that I’ll come across something that I will need. No need for a shopping strategy here, I merely continue wandering through the store until the cart looks full enough to justify getting out of the house for forty to sixty minutes. One bright spot is that with drive time factored in, you can get nearly ninety minutes of quality time ALONE. Sure you’ll buy things you don’t need, but you might just need that spare can of pineapple rings.

Consider the following real-life exchange:

Me, “Ed, it’s great to see you, I was just getting ready to peel back the lid on this can of pineapple rings. Are you hungry?”

Ed, “Oh, pineapple rings, uh, no thanks.”

Me, “Well then, how about some hot dog chili sauce on an English muffin?”

Ed, “No, thanks, I'm good...”

Me, “Cocktail franks in barbecue sauce?”

Ed, “No” Me, “Hey, how about we grab some wings at Hooters?”

Ed, “You’ve been shopping again, haven’t you?”

Me, “Well, ah, yes, my wife’s been (insert appropriate response here): a.) very busy, b.) sick, c.) abducted by space aliens, or, d.) astral projecting and isn’t expected back in her body until next Monday.

Ed, “I’m sorry man. Are you using coupons at least? My wife uses coupons.”

Me, “I tried it once, but I didn’t know if I should alphabetize them by manufacturer or by product. In the check-out line there was a group of women glaring at me, shaking their heads and whispering to each other. I heard one of them say something about me being ‘genetically challenged’. It was horrific.”

Ed, “Hooters it is. I’ll buy.”

So the next time you get snookered into running to the store for a few things; be prepared. Accept your limitations prior to entering the store. If your wife wanted the shopping done properly she would have done it herself (like she normally does). And if you are looking for an extra can of pineapple rings; stop on over, I have about fourteen of them right now.