Deathtrap 2008!

The lovely Mrs. G. and I had the honor and privilege of babysitting Baby Emmy this weekend. It’s always a thrill for us to have the baby around, especially now that she’s becoming so...interactive.

Emmy will have her first birthday on Wednesday this week (Happy Birthday, Emmers!), and she’s really growing fast. I know, I know. That’s what kids are supposed to do, right? Well, sometimes it still freaks me out to see that this little slice of angelic love – whom I watched come into this world a mere 12 months ago – is now crawling at lightning speed, babbling like mad, and sporting four really useful teeth.

Emmy is a happy, active, and incredibly curious little girl, all right. She’s just about ready to take on Jeff Gordon in a speed crawling contest, and it’ll be any day now before she’s up and running.

So to say that we now need to keep an eye on her all the time would be an understatement. Turn your back on her for even a second, and poof – just like a medicore Fox sitcom, she’s gone.

And it’s because we now realize that fact that Mrs. G. and I have come to a harsh realization – Good Lord, our house is a deathtrap!

Now don’t worry. It’s not like we leave loaded guns around the house or razor blades on the kitchen floor. But we’ve yet to get around to properly babyproofing our house, a fact that was made all the more clear this weekend as Miss Emmy explored every nook, cranny, and cupboard she could find.

Tell me, Perfect Moms of America: Why is it that kids instinctively know where to go look for things they shouldn’t be in? There are 15 baby-level cabinets in our kitchen, yet she somehow instinctively honed in on the one under the sink, where the dishsoap and other nasties are stored.

But it didn’t stop there. She thought the garbage can was her greatest play toy. She thoroughly enjoyed getting into the cat’s water dish every time “someone” (primarily me – I’ll admit it) forgot to close the door. She tried numerous times to climb the hall stairs, even though there was no clear exit plan in place. And don’t get me started on her ultimate quest this weekend – Indiana Emmy and the Quest of the Basement Stairs. It's a good thing she doesn't have a 12 month size fedora and whip.

So our formerly little helpless angel is now Hell on Wheels. Or all fours, if you want to skip the cliché.

Ah, but all is not lost. Mrs. G. and Little Baby Scoots-Too-Fast went shopping this afternoon, and came home with a brand-new lovely babyproofing kit. Why, it has dozens of electrical outlet plugs, a couple of doorknob covers, some cabinet latches, you name it. Add that with our brand-new baby gate (which I still need to figure out how to use), and we should be set. No more chances of baby getting into things she really shouldn’t.

At least until she figures out how to use Poppy’s computer to send email. Then look out, world. You’re on your own then.

It's Nice to be Wanted

The next time you feel like your employer doesn't really give a rat's ass about you, think about this poor sap...

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Minor leaguer traded for 10 baseball bats

McALLEN, Texas (AP)—During three years in the low minors, John Odom never really made a name for himself.

That sure changed this week—he’s the guy who was traded for a bunch of bats.

“I don’t really care,” he said Friday. “It’ll make a better story if I make it to the big leagues.”

For now, Odom is headed to the Laredo Broncos of the United League. They got him Tuesday from the Calgary Vipers of the Golden Baseball League for a most unlikely price: 10 Prairie Sticks Maple Bats, double-dipped black, 34-inch, C243 style.

“They just wanted some bats, good bats—maple bats,” Broncos general manager Jose Melendez said.

According to the Prairie Sticks Web site, their maple bats retail for $69 each, discounted to $65.50 for purchases of six to 11 bats.

“It will be interesting to see what 10 bats gets us,” Melendez said.

Originally from Atlanta, Odom was drafted late by the San Francisco Giants in 2003. He pitched 38 games, all in Class A, from 2004-06, and was released by the organization this spring.

Laredo intends to activate Odom on Monday and have him make his first start Wednesday.

Odom said he was supposed to be traded for Laredo’s best hitter. But when that player balked at moving to Calgary, the bats entered the deal.

Laredo offered cash for Odom, but Young said that was “an insult.”

The bat trade wasn’t the first time Calgary came up with some creative dealmaking. The Vipers once tried to acquire a pitcher for 1,500 blue seats when they were renovating their stadium, Young said.

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And that's why it's my deepest hope that I'm not traded for a new coffee pot or some toner for the fax machine. Unless I'm traded to somewhere cool, like Disneyland or Aruba. If that happens, I may be willing to throw in some slight-bent paper clips and a staple puller, just to sweeten the pot.

Boys Will Be Boys

There's a good chance that the following story is an urban legend, although what these naughty, naughty little boys ended up doing (or, specifically NOT doing) with the shady ladies might make it true. I mean, if you're going to make up a story, don't you think you'd make it a GOOD story?

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$30,000 Worth of Hookers and Xbox on Dad's Credit Card

A 13-year-old boy from Texas who stole his father's credit card and hired two prostitutes has been convicted of fraud.

Ralph Hardy confessed to ordering an extra credit card from his dad's existing credit card company and taking his pals on a $30,000 spending spree after which they ended up playing Halo on an Xbox with the hookers in a Texas motel.

The $1000-a-night prostitutes were released without charge but Ralph was given a three year community order upon his conviction on May 9, money.co.uk reported.

The prostitutes told police they grew suspicious when the kids said they'd rather play Xbox than play with them.

Authorities were alerted to the motel by a delivery clerk who, after delivering supplies of Dr Pepper, Oreos and Fritos, was asked by the kids where they could hire some escorts.

They explained they'd just won big at a World of Warcraft tournament and wanted to relax.

The delivery clerk called the police who arrived to find $3,000 dollars in cash, electronic gadgets, an Xbox console and games, plus the two prostitutes.

Ralph reportedly told the oficers that his dad wouldn't mind, because he'd turned 13 the previous week and he'd forgot to get him a present.

Ralph and Co. told the working girls they were people of restricted growth working with a traveling circus. They added that State law did not allow discrimination against the disabled so they had no right to refuse them.

Explaining why he ordered two escorts, Ralph said he thought it was the thing to do when you win a "World of Warcraft" contest.

The prostitutes ended up playing "Halo" with the kids instead of having sex with them.

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See why I wondered if it was a bogus story or not?

But if for some odd reason it's not, there's a lot of questions that need to be asked.

1 – His old man really has a credit card with an available $30,000+ credit limit? Sweet! Pops is probably loaded anyway, so maybe having junior rack up the bill on hookers and Doritos isn't such a big whoop. Find a way to write it off your taxes. Hey, it (sorta) worked for Wesley Snipes…

2 – Xbox with hos. That's a new one to me. I suppose that's one way to avoid a solicitation charge, too – if you're not there for anything more sinful than playing Halo, you really can't be busted for vice. Still, these boys are going to have to hear about it from their buddies for the rest of their lives. "Dude – you had a call girl in your room, and all you did was play video games?" (This will be immediately followed by uncontrolled laughter and accusations about his sexual orientation.)

3 – If you ripped off the old man's Visa to the tune of 30 grand, don't you think you'd want to live it up somewhere other than a cheap motel? I mean, get a room at the Ritz! At least find a place with an indoor pool and room service. Or hop a plane to Vegas – anything goes there, right? C’mon! You're 13 – haven't you ever seen "Home Alone 2?"

4 – How many yards to you suppose he's going to have to mow to pay back the money he spent?

5 – How much do you want to bet that this will be made into a Disney Channel movie sometime in the near future? Maybe they can get Hilary Duff and Raven to play the prostitutes. (Don't laugh – this is the same family entertainment conglomerate that made both "Milk Money" AND "Pretty Woman.")

So while this story may be pure bull, it was still funny to see. And before you ask, the answer is no. I’ve done a lot of rotten things in my life, but nothing compared to this.

Besides, I would’ve played Pitfall on my old Atari 2600.

25 Years Already

I received an interesting postcard in the mail yesterday – an invitation to attend my 25 year high school reunion.

Wow – has it really been 25 years since I walked away from that place? I guess it has. (Well, almost. Graduation was on June 9, 1983. I remember this because that date was also my sister's 16th birthday, and she's probably still bitter that my completing high school interfered with her sweet sixteen.)

Being Seattle and all, where there's a whole lot of high schools to deal with (and not enough auditoriums to go around), we were one of 3 high schools to graduate in the Seattle Center Arena that night. (The Arena was the usual home to the local WHL hockey team, so the ice was covered with plywood and folding chairs, and we sat out there in our caps and gowns and shivered.)

Anyway, time was precious – there were 3 schools to pump through in one night, remember? My school graduated at 5:30, followed by Cleveland High at 7:00, and then Roosevelt High at 8:30. Time's a-wastin', kids – don't dawdle.

We lined up, they played "Pump & Circumcision" (as us crude teenage boys called it), we marched in, the class President said something none of us remembered 10 minutes later, ditto the special guest speaker – some dork from the school district – and then they passed out phony diplomas to the 202 of us who managed to finish four years at Rainier Beach (the fact that a few of the graduates there had actually done 5, 6, or more years aside).

They wrapped it up by playing "The Best of Times" by Styx while a cheesy slideshow ran, and bam – we were outta there in a record 63 minutes, making way for Cleveland.

And that was that.

It was also the last time I ever saw most of my fellow classmates.

We all went our separate ways – I was in college two weeks later, taking summer classes. Some people went off to college, some went to work, a few went off to the military, and a couple went off to the King County Correctional Facility.

I really wasn't that close with many people in my graduating class. My two good friends were both younger than me, and the ones that I did hang out with that were in my class were gone almost as fast I was. Of my 201 classmates I've probably seen and/or run into maybe 6 or 7 of them in the last 25 years, and none within the last 11. (One was at our wedding in 1997, but he is/was a drunken ass, so I didn't talk to him much.)

It's never really bothered me that I haven't kept in touch with these people, and I've never had any real urge to attend a class reunion. We didn't have a 5 year, 10 year, or 15 year reunion, so that was simple enough to avoid, and the 20 year was a potluck picnic in a park. Being 1,800 miles away made for a convenient excuse to not attend, so I politely bagged out.

Now here we are, 5 years later. This time around the party is at some fancy downtown Seattle nightclub – tickets are $75 each, and private party rooms are available for an extra cost. Great – it's the cliques separated into private groups all over again. It'll be drinking, smoking, and segregating into little cliques, just like olden times. Yeah, that sounds like a fun time all around.

Gee, can you guess I'm not going this time, either?

Distance, lack of time, not wanting to hang out with those people… they're all perfectly good excuses miss it. I'll stick with those – that's enough. Instead, I’ll save my money and go to the next Disney trivia reunion. Those are people I like.

Still, there are a few people I've wondered about. And I wonder how many of those people are curious about what became of ol' Tommy. But I'll just let this remain one of life's sweetest mysteries.

Besides, I'm all over the Internet. I'm sure they could track me down if they want to. Google is a powerful tool.

So good luck & best wishes to the Class of 83 – I'll be there in memories, and if you promise to play "The Best of Times" again, maybe I'll be there in spirit as well.

Haven't We Been Here Before?

People like to criticize Hollywood – they say that there are no new ideas left. And in many ways, they may be right. But check out where your tax dollars may soon be going, and you’ll see that it’s not only those West Coast Hollywood moguls who’ve let the creative well run dry…

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Robotic Suit Designed for Super-Soldier Era
Suit of the Future

May 15, 2008 -- Rex Jameson bikes and swims regularly, and plays tennis and skis when time allows. But the 5-foot-11, 180-pound software engineer is lucky if he presses 200 pounds -- that is, until he steps into an "exoskeleton" of aluminum and electronics that multiplies his strength and endurance as many as 20 times.

With the outfit's claw-like metal hand extensions, he gripped a weight set's bar at a recent demonstration and knocked off hundreds of repetitions. Once, he did 500.

"Everyone gets bored much more quickly than I get tired," Jameson said.

Jameson -- who works for robotics firm Sarcos Inc. in Salt Lake City, which is under contract with the U.S. Army -- is helping assess the 150-pound suit's viability for the soldiers of tomorrow. The suit works by sensing every movement the wearer makes and almost instantly amplifying it.

The Army believes soldiers may someday wear the suits in combat, but it's focusing for now on applications such as loading cargo or repairing heavy equipment. Sarcos is developing the technology under a two-year contract worth up to $10 million, and the Army plans initial field tests next year.

Before the technology can become practical, the developers must overcome cost barriers and extend the suit's battery life. Jameson was tethered to power cords during his demonstration because the current battery lasts just 30 minutes.

But the technology already offers evidence that robotics can amplify human muscle power in reality -- not just in the realm of comic books and movies like the recently debuted "Iron Man," about a wealthy weapons designer who builds a high-tech suit to battle bad guys.

"Everybody likes the idea of being a superhero, and this is all about expanding the capabilities of a human," said Stephen Jacobsen, chief designer of the Sarcos suit.

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Hmmm… Robotic Fighting Soldiers. Where have I heard that idea before???

Oh, yeah – it was here.

And here.

And the granddaddy of them all…

So let it be said that we’re all copycats of one type or another. The secret is to improve on the idea – to build a better mousetrap, er, costume…as it were.

Only let’s hope that make it 1) safe, 2) lightweight, and 3) easily accessible for any emergency. Because there’s nothing worse than a $10 million dollar high-tech robo-soldier after eating bad Haliburton clams.

And let me wrap this up with this thought - if our military really wanted to bogart a Hollywood idea, why don't they get working on one of those flying Jetsons cars, or a transporter room from Star Trek? Those we could use.


Oh, and I'd still like a lightsaber. Just in case anyone feels like making me one.

Now all we need is for a milk tanker to tip over…

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14 tons of spilled Oreo cookies snarl Ill. Traffic

MORRIS, Ill. - Police say a trailer loaded with 14 tons of double-stuffed Oreos has overturned, spilling the cookies still in their plastic sleeves into the median and roadway.

Illinois State Police Sgt. Brian Mahoney says the truck's driver was traveling from Chicago to Morris on Interstate 80 around 4 a.m. Monday when he fell asleep at the wheel and slammed into the median.

"The boxes came out of the trailer and boxes were ripped open," he said.

Mahoney says no charges have been filed but both lanes of traffic remain closed while authorities remove the cookies.

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Can you imagine being behind a tipped over truck of Oreos? 14 TONS of the black and white treasures? How cool would that be?

It's always been my (sick) dream to be behind a truck that tips over and spills something cool all over the highway. I don't want the driver to be hurt – I just want to load up my trunk with valuable merchandise, just like chocolate crème cookies.

And yes – a tipped over armored car spilling hundreds on the road will be even cooler, but the odds of someone eventually coming after you for their cash are much higher than Mr. Oreo chasing you down for return of their cookies.

For some, being in the right place at the right time pays off. My Uncle Austin years ago was on the Pacific Coast Hwy in Northern California when a truck filled with wine tipped over in front of him. Austin was never happier.

Me? The closest I've ever come to such a prize was in 1984, when I was on I-5 just south of Seattle, about 20 cars behind a truck filled with chickens that tipped over. If I remember right, there was something like 2,500 live hens on this truck.

No, we didn't get and complimentary fryers, eggs, or hot wings.

Instead, we got feathers. Lots and lots of feathers.

Fortunately, most of the crates held together, so there wasn't a lot of roadkill as the chickens tried to cross the 6-lane road. There were only a few splats here and there.

But the feathers flew EVERYWHERE. It was like giant snowflakes, if snowflakes looked like Henny Penny's outer coating.

So I'm still on the hunt for something cool spilled on the highway. No oil, no honey, no chocolate syrup, and definitely no chickens.

Maybe I should start tailgating the Keebler elves…

A Pain in the Gas

Up to this point I've been reluctant to publicly whine about gas prices, mainly because EVERYONE ELSE IS AREADY DOING IT. Would it be cliché of me to join the high price bitchfest?

Well, slide down the snivel bench, America – here comes Thomas J. Gressel with his two cents of opinion.

I'm like you. I don't like paying $3.70 a gallon for gas (this week). Nobody does. And I'm fairly sure that in 3 months from now I really won't like paying $4.70 a gallon.

BUT WHAT CAN YOU DO ABOUT IT?

Turns out, very little. Gasoline is one of those magical inflexible commodities. (I loved Economics class – can you tell?) It's one of those few items in this world that you'll find some way to buy and pay for, regardless of the price. Electricity, home heating oil, medication, stuff like that. You'll bitch about it, but it'd take a major restructuring of your life and/or lifestyle to give it up.

When gas hit $2.00 a gallon, what did you do? I know that I said "Holy Crap!", then I filled my tank.

When gas went up to $3.00 a gallon, I said "Sonofabitch!", gave the inanimate gas pump "the finger", then I filled my tank.

So whit it hits $4.00 any day now, I'll probably lay out a line of curse words that'll make George Carlin proud, and then I'll fill my tank.

The problem is that we're just not ready to break away from Big Oil. So we're stuck, paying MobilExxon and their slimy ilk record profits because we really don't have any choice.

Oh, sure – we could walk to work, if we didn't live in the suburbs 20 miles away. We could take the train, subway, or a bus, if we lived in a large urban area that offered such services. We could ride our bikes, if we weren't having to haul the kids to soccer practice, dance lessons, scouts, etc. We could drive our electric/hydrogen car, or something similar, if the auto makers in Detroit would actually make affordable gas-alternative cars. Of course, that'd mean that the gas-hogging Hummer would have to go bye-bye, which is an option that a lot of semi-macho dudes would sooner die than do.

So we're stuck, with few options other than bitching and paying. It's sad to say, but that's just the way it goes. For now.

I'm pretty lucky – from my driveway to my job is exactly 4 miles each way, with just a half dozen traffic lights in between. My convertible gets somewhere around 21 MPG in the city, so if we don't travel too far from home on the weekends I can get away with only having to buy gas once every couple of weeks. The Lovely Mrs. G. really wants a hybrid or her next vehicle, and I'd consider one, too – provided I can find a convertible. (Hey, I'll admit that even I have stupid, impractical principles.)

But it's getting to the point where the choice between paying for gas and paying for other essentials will become tougher. Maybe it means that families will have to eat at home more often, because they can't afford Big Macs and fries as often as they used to. Or maybe it means that the summer vacation plans will have to be closer to home this year, because the airfares have gone up so high. Maybe you'll have to commute to work via pogo stick – which would be funny yet odd.

Or maybe it means that we'll finally get so sick of it that we'll constantly nag Congress to come up with a solution – one that won't take 30 years to implement. And if they're so deep in Big Oil's pocket that they can't (or won't) do anything about it, then we'll boot them out and elect someone who will.

Change is hard, but in this case it's absolutely necessary – not only for today, but for tomorrow.

Because quite honestly I don't want to have to skateboard to work. I don't want to see kids in tuxes and formal dresses rolling to prom on roller skates. I don't want to have to lug groceries home in a backpack. And I don't want to be broke while Big Oil celebrates record windfalls.

So there's my soapbox bitchfest for May, 2008. I'll now return you to the usual wise-ass commentary about stupid news and stupid people. And with a little luck, the only gas we'll need to talk about from here on out will be my "SBDs" after too much popcorn.

Okay, maybe we shouldn't discuss that, either.

Duuuuuuude!

I understand that sometimes stoners have to improvise, and that picking up a pack of Zig-Zags is occasionally…inconvenient. But grave robbing just to fire up the chronic? That takes a lot of energy that could be better spent eating Cheeto-s and playing X Box, man!

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Men charged after skull dug up, used as bong

HOUSTON (Reuters) - Authorities in Texas have filed corpse-abuse charges against two men who allegedly removed a skull from a grave and used it as a bong.

The Harris County District Attorney's Office confirmed on Thursday that misdemeanor abuse of corpse charges have been filed in the case.

One of the men allegedly told police they dug up a grave in an abandoned cemetery in the woods, removed a head from a body and smoked marijuana using the skull as a bong.

Police found the cemetery and a grave that had been disturbed but are still investigating the rest of the story, officials said.

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I knew a guy way back when who used to make bongs out of just about anything he could get his hands on – wads of tin foil, beer cans, one of those "Doo-Dah" birds that they sell at the county fair (they're normally filled with colored sand), you name it. Our high school chemistry lab just about went broke after he was in class.

Brother was CREATIVE, to say the least. He was also a massive burnout, thanks to all that experimentation with his own innovative designs.

I doubt he ever had the urge to smoke anything out of a human skull, although I wouldn't put it past him if given the chance.

As fun as it sounds, I really have never had an urge to do anything – legal or otherwise – with a real skull. They're good for Halloween decorations and Act III of Hamlet, but other than that, they're probably best left to rest in peace. Bad karma and all that, you know.

I remember hearing once about some freaks who liked to drink wine out of a skull. I sure hope they washed it out first; you don't want old sinus materials mixed in with your pinot noir. And of course headhunters around the globe make good use out of their skull collections – it's the bling of the third world. Get them some rhinestones and a couple of Mercedes hood ornaments, and they'll be chilla.

So be good boys and girls – don't toke from some guy's brain cavity. Because an head full of smoky water is a terrible thing – when you're wasted.

Beware! Beware!

Thinking back to what gave you nightmares as a kid, how many of you know what I mean by this sentence…

BEWARE OF THE SLEESTAKS

Oooh – just mentioning Sleestaks makes my skin crawl, 33 years later.

For those of you who don't know what the hell a "Sleestak" is, by all means go watch old reruns of the Saturday morning kiddie show "Land of the Lost". It ran from 1974 – 76, back in the days when you couldn't flip on 500 satellite channels to find cartoons to go with your Lucky Charms.

Land of the Lost was about 3 idiots who plunged down a waterfall in a rubber raft and somehow ended up in a world ran by stop-motion dinosaurs, strange little human-ape guys, and…Sleestaks. Yeah, it wasn't a good show – not by a long shot – but it did have some of the most terrifying monsters that a certain 9 year old boy with a vivid imagination could handle.

The Sleestaks. Why, they were so damn frightening that they even earned their very own spot on Wikipedia. (Okay, just about everything in the world gets a Wikipedia notation, but go with me here…)

Sleestak are large green humanoids with both reptilian and insectoid features; they have scaly skin with frills around the neck, bulbous unblinking eyes, pincer-like hands, stubby tails, and a single blunt horn on top of the head. Sleestak are able to manufacture crossbows, rope, nets, periscopes and other relatively advanced technologies. Sleestak live in the Lost City, an underground tunnel complex originally constructed by the Altrusians. They hate bright light and rarely venture out during the day. The Sleestak attempt to capture and sacrifice humans to their god at every opportunity.

Please take a moment to re-read that last sentence again.

The Sleestak attempt to capture and sacrifice humans to their god at every opportunity.

See? Now do you see why I was always creeped out by them???

I bring up this painful childhood trauma for one reason – they're remaking Land of the Lost. And as you can see from this still photo from the new movie (coming to a theater near you sometime in 2009), the Sleestaks are back. Bigger, badder, and more CG'ed than ever.

Now, keep in mind that the star of the new LotL movie is none other than Will Ferrill, so the odds of it being a frightfest are actually pretty slim. But the mere thought of Sleestaks freely roaming the dreams of kids everywhere again? It makes me itch.

So do your part, America. Protect your innocent little offspring from the Sleestaks. Keep them away from rubber rafts and waterfalls. And for God's sake, if you do happen to end up in the Land of the Lost, be sure to bring a GPS cell phone and a .44 Magnum with you, in case you happen to run into any of these oversized lizard freaks.

In return, they may thank you. I know I will.