Planet Bling

Welcome back true believers! While reading the news of the weird (some of you may know it as BBC News) I found myself something to write about. I have the time to just sit around and read BBC News, because unlike most of you...I am retired! Not rubbing that in or anything...well maybe a little bit. Anyway...50 light years away from our little home here is a white dwarf known as "Lucy". "Why would anyone name a white dwarf Lucy?", you may ask. Is it because she is a little version of Lucille Ball? I say nay nay. The star is named after the Beatles song "Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds". Let us explore why....

The giant star has an interior made mostly of carbon, and it is constantly pulsating. Which means that the core is now the largest diamond in the world. How far are we away from Young Jeezy or Lil Weezy (who incidentally were named after their mother Weezy Jeezy...better known as Weezy Jefferson...nod to Bill) writing a song about Planet Bling? Excuse me while I beat them to the punch.

Planet Bling

Look up in the sky,

What is that thing?,

don't you know y'all

that's Planet Bling!

Got my whip in the shop,

that's gonna cause me trouble,

on how to get to Planet Bling,

guess I need a space shuttle,

Gonna bring my mining gear,

like Armageddon with Affleck,

get a chunk of that diamond,

and wear it round my neck,

Okay, that is enough...don't want to give you too much before it hits the streets. I guess the point of all this mess is...who cares about a burnt out sun that is 5 light years away from us? Ooooh, now we know that when our sun burns out in a couple million years, that it too will have a giant diamond at its core. Who cares? People who are getting paid way too much money to study stuff like this. These are the same people that pissed me off when they kicked Pluto out of the planet club. Somewhere right now, there is a Kardashian sister trying to get their boyfriend to buy them this planet so that they can have it made into a ring. So, what do we do about Planet Bling? I say we ignore it...at least until my song comes out! Until next time...Stay Salty.

101 Uses For Fat

Welcome back true believers. In my semi retired state, I have had a lot of extra time on my hands. With extra time, comes lots of news. News on television, news in paper form, and news on the google machine. What I have been seeing a lot of lately is the status of "Fat America". Myself, I just consider this as part of the "land of milk and honey". If you want to be fat...be fat! Afterall....fat is the new 30! As many of you know, I was overly skinny in my younger days. I mean TOO skinny...but no worries, I have made up for that over the years. I know that there are many of you out there thinking the same thing. It is your right to get as fat as you want, or not to (don't want to alienate the skinny folks). What the hell am I rattling about now, you might ask?

Fat Americans are becoming geniuses! What I am about to share with you all may seem like it conflicts with what I just said...but that is only because the story takes place in Edmond, Oklahoma. Yes, Terence, just an hour and a half's tractor ride away from you! Two women were arrested for shoplifting and police say they used their bodies to conceal the goods. Edmond police authorities say it was at the Edmond TJ Maxx that loss prevention officers found the duo stuffing items under their belly fat and breasts. Now this, in itself should be disturbing enough...but wait...there's more!

What could be more disturbing than trying to steal things from a store by jamming them under your gut fat? Is it the fact that this was possible at all? Nay nay...it is WHAT they tried to steal! They say they took four pair of boots, three pair of jeans, a wallet and gloves; $2,600 worth of store merchandise. How huge would these women have had to be to hide four pair of boots under their belly fat???? Let alone three pair of jeans! These are not small items, people! How in the blue hell do you even come up with this idea, let alone think that you could carry out that much bulk without being noticed? Is it an Oklahoma thing? Is it a sense of entitlement? Is it 101 uses for fat? Someone PLEASE tell me how someone could think that this would work? It won't be the two women in O-klahoma....they are busy going to jail.


Fat America is okay with me...it is Idiot America that I can't stand. It is not okay to laugh at fat people...but it sure is fun to laugh at fat STUPID people! Laughs are on me today, everyone...just do me one favor...Stay the hell away from O-klahoma! Until next time...Stay Salty.

Pope Okays Condoms.....

Welcome back true believers! I know what most of you are thinking..."Salty is commenting on the POPE?" Yes indeed...but stand by for heavy rolls, because this isn't a puff piece ladies and gentlemen. As many of you religious folk may know...the Vatican has set very strict rules when it comes to birth control. There will be none! That is as vehement a statement as I have ever heard, well next to New Hampshire's license plates sounding like a Bruce Willis sequel. As you also know...the Church condemns homosexuality. Now now now...why would I have to bring that into the equation? Follow the bouncing ball kiddies...this gets fun.

Did Darth Sidius (the Pope) finally come around and say that it was okay for married couples to use condoms as a form of birth control because we have waaaay too many babies being born? Did he say it was okay for married couples to use them when one partner was infected with AIDS? Nay nay...he said the Church was lifting the restrictions on condom use for...wait for it...male prostitutes! Male prostitutes...that serve other males...people that are defined by "the Church" as "intrinsically disordered" are now authorized to use condoms during sex to promote moral responsibility. I didn't think that alter boys could get pregnant...but I digress.

So now, every church and its people are trying to back pedal and cover Darth Sidius' tracks, saying that it must be some kind of language barrier (him being German and all) just like when he lifted the excommunication of a holocaust denier. Hmmmm...German Pope taking care of someone who believes that the holocaust never happened? Never! So the holocaust never happened, gay people have some intrinsic disorder, male prostitutes need to use condoms to stop the spread of AIDS in the gay community because it is "morally responsible", and altar boys can't get pregnant. Think I covered it all?

Many of you know my religious views are inverted at best, but one question needs to be answered by all of you.....where did they find this guy? The Church has a lot of questions to answer, and maybe some of you do to. How does someone follow a man who takes his direction from a 2000 year old book? Would you follow the directions of a 2000 year old cook book today? I say nay nay...because times have changed, methods have changed, people have changed. It's time to change people! Until next time...Stay Salty.

Kill Your Friends....It's In The Game!

Welcome back true believers! Sorry I have been away from my keyboard for so long, but I have been busy with physical therapy, little league, and trying to retire from the Navy. Not trying to make excuses, just filling you in. I posted in an earlier blog about video games, and how they are trying to make new games to ruin the world we live in. Some of you may think that means Call of Duty, God of War, or some other violent game. I say....wait for it...nay nay. This blog title is based on a popular slogan by EA Sports, the creators of Madden football games.

I have played MANY video games in my almost 39 years on this dust ball we call Earth. I have played just about every console ever created, every handheld that has passed by, and multiple computer games. I have played alone, with friends, online with strangers. It is safe to say that I love video games. One of the most popular game franchises ever is the Madden football series. 1989 saw the invention of John Madden Football for the Apple II (yeah, I said it..don't act like you don't remember the massive computing power of the Apple II!!) The first console version (and the version that made it a top-selling franchise) for the Sega Genesis followed in 1990 with a Super Nintendo version available a year later (Sega was always ahead of the SNES for some reason). EA Sports has released annual updates for all versions since 1991's John Madden Football '92. The series gained full NFL licensing and became known as Madden NFL with 1993's Madden NFL '94; NFL players licenses came two years later. The game's total franchise sales surpass 51 million worldwide, most of it in the U.S.

Okay, enough about Madden game history. If you don't know about this game from your own experience, I am sure that your kids have brought it to your attention over the years. I am not here to try to sway your opinion on Madden football. I am here to tell you about the stupidity of some people. I know..surprise, Salty Dog is going off about stupidity. After all of the hours I have spent playing video games with my friends (yes, Bill and Terence, I am mostly talking about you) I have never gotten into a physical altercation over a game. I have thrown controllers because I did something dumb, or the computer player on my team was walking around in circles instead of assisting me, or whatever the reason was at the time. I have cursed the screen, I have called my friends all kinds of names because they were beating me....you see how this goes. These are natural reactions for a rational human being.

Now let me take you to Wichita, Kansas...According to police, on Thursday night, four "friends" were chilling out and playing Madden on the PlayStation 3 when a fight broke out. When the dust settled, Luke German, 22, was dead on the front lawn, and his three friends were wanted by police. German died of "severe internal injuries" consistent with being kicked, punched and perhaps struck by a pipe. He was taken to a hospital, but died shortly thereafter. Is this a case of "When video games go bad"? Or is this more a case of stupid kids that have been coddled all their life and don't know how to lose? These kids killed their "friend" because they believe that he cheated in a video game.

Kids today need to walk away from the television. Put the video games down. Get off of the computer. Interact with people on a regular basis, play sports, join clubs, start a band...whatever! Take Playstation's old motto "Live in your world. Play in ours." The fact that people cannot separate the real world from the video game world tells me that our society is going straight in the shitter. These people are not mentally ill, they are not criminally insane, they are dumb kids that know the difference between right and wrong, but not the difference between games and reality. How do we stop this? Do we stop making football games for the home consoles? Nay nay...that is just as bad as burning Marilyn Manson records because some emo kid cut himself again. Stand up and be counted! Teach your children that TV, movies, video games....are all sources of entertainment, NOT to be taken seriously. Point this out explicitly. It may sound dumb to have to tell them that  this stuff is not real, but those who aren't told may end up like these idiots in Kansas and  think like EA Sports...."It's okay, It's In The Game". Until next time....Stay Salty!

-Salty Dog

When "Oh Say Can You See" Becomes "Oh Hey, Look At Me!"

So there I was....doing what I do every Sunday night during football season; watching Sunday Night Football. The pre game is finished, Faith Hill has done her "Waiting all week for Sunday night" thingy, and it is time for the National Anthem. This week was Kelly Rowland (formerly of Destiny's Child) and her rendition of the Star Spangled Banner. The Marine Band (which is the standard for instrumental versions of the song) takes 73 seconds from beginning to end. This would lead me to believe that between 73 and 90 seconds vocally would be within the acceptable parameters of the song. But when "Oh say can you see" becomes "Oh hey, look at me!", bad things happen.

There have been a multitude of individuals that have taken creative license with the way that they present the National Anthem. Don't get me wrong, some of these come out awesome and are well known from then on. Take for instance Jimi Hendrix, or Marvin Gaye. These are incredible renditions of the Star Spangled Banner, and obviously...much creative license was taken here, but it worked. There are many excellent versions of this song....most of them are short and true to the original. But then there are....the other renditions.....

Do I need to remind anyone of July 26th, 1990...Jack Murphy Stadium?...One word...Roseanne! 
But is that all? I say nay nay! Check this one of Snookie...I mean, Christina Aguilera destroying the Anthem. Or one of my all time favorite train wrecks....Carl Lewis (runner, not singer). Poor Carl screws up..and then promises to make it up to the crowd...but falls short of doing that. This has to be the worst version of the song ever performed in public. But by far...the worst video to watch is R. Kelly. Did he pee on the stage when he was done? Well, not literally, no. Anyone who performs the National Anthem should not ask the crowd to "Come on y'all, clap". Nor should anyone...and I mean ANYONE be dancing during the singing of this song. Oh, and for Pete's sake...if you live here, you should know the lyrics...unlike this guy.

I could go on and on for days about the destruction of our Anthem by people who think that their runs and new vocal arrangements are just what we are looking for. But if you have ever been to a sporting event (yeah, I will even include NASCAR) you know that the National Anthem brings everyone...and I mean EVERYONE in the house to their feet. Their hats come off, and their hand goes to their heart. This is THE song of patriotism in this country. Stop....PLEASE stop playing with it. Sing the song, sing it with pride, sing it with feeling, but for all that is good in this world....SING IT RIGHT!! Until next time....Stay Salty.

-Salty Dog

Military Apprectiation

Welcome back true believers! I have been gone for a bit due to my crippling knee surgery. Well, the surgery wasn't bad, but the therapy three times a week is pretty tough. But therapy and my knee aren't what bring me back to my keyboard. What brings my focus back to this blog is yet another disturbing story posted by the main stream media about stupid stuff done by military members.

Now I am sure that all of you have people that you work with that do stupid things. The odd DWI, domestic violence, the list goes on. Every time something like that happens at your job, does it make it on the local news? Nay, I didn't think so. Yet every time a sailor or a soldier makes that same type of mistake...the media is everywhere making sure that the public knows about it. The most recent incident is a tragic one, and honestly (in my opinion) one that doesn't need to be public knowledge. Article Here.

There are things that you see in Iraq and Afghanistan that shouldn't be seen. They are sending kids there that have no military experience, no life experience, and they are throwing them to the wolves. Do they perform regular psych evals on these kids? Nay nay. They just assume that they will go out, do their job and come home the same as they were when they left. Bad things happen to good people, and the media tells us all about it. Where are the articles about the rebuilding of schools? About water treatment facilities we are building? About all the training that we are giving people so that they can survive on their own? About the community relations projects we perform like painting churches (yes, we volunteer to do stuff like that)?  No, we don't get news coverage for the good things that we do, only for the messed up stuff that the minority does.

Now it isn't "This one guy, or small group of one unit within one command of one armed force messed up". Nay nay...it is "The Military" that is all jacked up. After 20 years of faithful, zealous, and obedient service to the United States Navy, I have grown tired of "Support the Troops" being pushed by the media, and them turning around and shafting us to the public. Don't get me wrong, I know that there is a portion of the population that actually understands...they support the military because they know that we didn't choose this fight, but we are the ones sent to do the job. They support the kids that are giving up their time at school, and with their friends and families to go and fight a war that they don't even understand. They don't know why they are there..they just know that it is their duty to go there and do what they are told.

As my time in service comes to a completion, I know that I will continue to "Support the Troops". I will not have a bumper sticker saying it, but I will forever understand the plight that my brothers and sisters are facing. Yes they volunteered for this. Some because they want their college paid for. Some because they can't find a job. Some because they don't want to go to school anymore. And then there are some, like your friend and humble narrator, that do it for love of country. They feel that it IS their job, it IS their duty, it IS what they need to do. To go out and fight all enemies, both foreign and domestic, that could bring harm to their country, their family, their friends, and those that they don't even know. So before you go and judge the entire military on the mistakes of a few tormented or misguided individuals...think of all the others. Think of those that are out there serving faithfully so that you don't have to. Until next time...Stay Salty.

-Salty Dog

Hospital + Stupidity = Hospital-ity

Let me welcome all of you back with a thank you. Thank you for all of the well wishes I received while in the hospital. I am home now and on the long road to recovery. I checked in to the hospital on Tuesday morning for a life changing surgery...I left for home Thursday night...what happened in between? Feel free to read on and share my experience!

So I wake up after who knows how many hours of being under anesthesia. I wake up in what will be my room for the next couple of days. I get to share a room with Mr. Brown. Nay, not Quentin Tarantino from Reservoir Dogs...my new roommate for the next day or so. How do I know that Mr. Brown's name is indeed Mr. Brown? Because every 15 minutes there is another nurse coming in and yelling his name. Mr. Brown, I need to take your vitals. Mr. Brown, you need to take your pills. Mr. Brown, you need to get up and walk around. Mr. Brown had his hip replaced 6 days earlier. He could have used some serious hearing aides too!  Mr. Brown turned the volume up to 100 on his television and decided to fall asleep. As each nurse came in the room, I would ask them to turn his volume down so that I could hear the Yankee game on my TV with my headphones on. The nurse usually turned it down and apologized for Mr. Brown since he was very hard of hearing. Without fail, Mr. Brown would wake up and accuse the nurse for changing his channel. He would fall asleep with the news on and wake up to something like America's Got Talent. I would sit there and laugh at the expense of the poor nurse explaining to Mr. Brown that she didn't change his channel. Mr. Brown left the next day.

My next roommate had a name, but I don't know what it was...he was brought into the room and was forced to stay the night because he had arthroscopic wrist surgery and there was no one to watch over him at home for the night. Every time a nurse would come into the room, I would hear him asking for Morphine. He had a camera pushed into his wrist to see if there was anything wrong. I am sure that was painful....I had my kneecap removed and replaced with spare parts....I didn't ask for pain killers until day 2. I am not saying that I am some sort of badass...I am just saying that this guy was in it for the Morphine. The nurse would keep telling him..."you just had a Morphine shot 2 hours ago, you have to wait at least 4 hours between shots." I didn't hear anything else out of this guy except "Can I get some Morphine?" until he pulled out his phone at 11am. This...this was funny. I don't know who he was talking to, but this was the conversation, word for word (I had to write it down!!). "If I dream later, I think I am going to dream about you. The image of you isn't copyright protected is it? I don't want to go to jail for dreaming about you. Alright..call me later if I am allowed to dream about you. Have a good day in school...bye." Where do they find these stupid people, and why do they send them to me? He finally checked out too.

Then I got to check out! My therapists had me up and walking around the hospital with a walker. I am very happy about that because if I had gone home without walking first, I would be having a serious hard time now. I woke up this morning at some stupid hour and had my first disagreement with my knee. My knee thinks that it needs to shoot out in pain to let me know that it is boss. I think that I need to walk around more to show my knee that I am the one in charge here. I have 30 days ahead of me to battle my own body parts and determine who is actually running this show. This new knee is an intruder...a stranger to my body and my household. It is about to learn that I am one stubborn son of a bitch, and I don't give up without a fight. Stay tuned true believers....this is going to be a fight of epic proportions! We shall see who comes out on top! Until next time, same Salty time, same Salty channel!

-Salty Dog

When 900 Years Old You Reach, Look As Good You Will Not.

Welcome back campers. Big day tomorrow (for me, not for most of you). I am having yet another surgery on my right knee. This will be the final surgery....well, final corrective surgery that is. There will be more to come years down the line to replace that which will be replaced tomorrow. Have I confused any of you yet?


The name of the surgery is Patello Femoral Arthroplasty. If you are a Roosevelt graduate as your humble narrator is, you need to look that up. That is a replacement of the knee cap and the trochlea (the part that the cap rides on). They have promised to make me better, stronger, faster than I was before. I will be the world's second Bionic Man.

I am both excited and a bit worried about this surgery. I have been through 3 other surgeries on this same knee, each one more extreme than the last. All of which were performed to avoid doing this one. Surprise...we are going to do it anyway! I am excited at the idea of being able to walk without a cane. Of being able to run again. Of being able to pitch batting practice and hit infield/outfield practice to my little league team. Of being able to do all the normal, daily activities that most of you take for granted...without pain. I have lived my last 5 years or so in such excruciating pain that I don't honestly know how I have survived. Oh yes I do...a healthy daily intake of 10 Percocet! No one should live their life eating more pain killers in a day than members of the Brady Bunch! And yes...I am including Alice in that count. So...excited is an understatement.

Worried....I am worried because if for some reason this surgery doesn't go right, I may be worse off than I am now. Last surgery they gave me some dead guy's cartilage. I felt pretty damned good for the first couple of months, and then my body decided to destroy it. So all of the pain I went through to rehab after the last surgery was for nothing. This time I have foreign parts being installed. Plastic, titanium, Teflon...who knows how well they are going to take. I do know that I will do my best to take care of these new parts, and follow all rehab instructions to the letter. I am just worried that it may not be enough. I guess what I am worried about is the unknown. I am a math guy. I like being able to figure out the equations. This one has too many undefined variables and it makes me a bit uneasy. I don't doubt the doctor's ability. I have researched the surgery over and over, and it seems promising. I just wish tomorrow would get here so we can get this thing over with.

I am always a little jittery the night before surgery, but this one is a biggy. This could be the answer to all of my knee problems. This could put me back on track for a "normal" life. This could be "The One". So it is logical that I am a little more on edge than normal. I will be out of work until October 10th or so, so I am sure that there will be time to update you all on the recovery process in between PS3 time and pain killer induced naps. For those that follow me regularly (all one or two of you), this will explain my disappearance for the next couple of days or so. I am hoping to get some good pictures once the bandages can come off. I, of course, will share these with all of you. So...until next time all....Stay Salty!

-Salty Dog

Friends...How Many Of Us Have Them?

Welcome to your two-fer boys and girls. It is not often that I feel the urge to write multiple entries in one day. The earlier blog was just for fun..to spread the good word about Death Bed: The Bed That Eats People. This one is a little different. Was I listening to Whodini today and just had to talk about one of their most famous songs? Nay nay. I was reading everyone's status updates. I have 184 friends on facebook, and I check everyone's status every chance that I get. I like to be involved, I like to know what is going on. I feel that if people feel the need to share events or sayings or quotes or links....that I should at least view/read them. In doing so over the past week or so, I have seen a pattern emerging. It is one that makes me physically ill to read.

One of the few things that I pride myself on is the lengths I will go to for my friends. If you are truly a friend of mine, I will do anything for you. I will bend over backward and kiss my own ass if that is what is required. I have been asked for a place to stay during hard times in a relationship, I have been asked to borrow money (both small sums as well as large), I have been asked to help move (everything from furniture to a body), even perform their wedding for them, and if within my power...I did it. No questions asked, no repayment of favor required. These are things you do for friends.

What I DO NOT deal well with....is psychic vampires. To quote the late, great Anton LaVey, the term psychic vampire means "a spiritually or emotionally weak person who drains vital energy from other people". These can be people that may have been your friend 20 years ago, but have turned into nothing more than an acquaintance, at best in the present. They come out of the woodwork praying on "what was", looking for handouts. You let them in...whether out of your general kindness, your memory of "what was", or general non douchebaggery. You want to help your "friend", so you do what they ask...say it's lend them 50 bucks until they can get their next paycheck. But this leads to more and more favors of increasing degrees. Where do you draw the line? When is it that you are no longer helping a friend, but claiming them on your taxes as a dependent?

The recurring theme in people's status that brings me here is complaining about "friends". They always call them "friends", even when you can tell from the writing that the term is used as loose(ly) as a 2 dollar Thai hooker. People that are only showing up when they need things. People who talk shit behind your back, yet smile in your face. These, true believers, are not friends. These are not people that you need to keep in your life. These are not people that you need to waste your time or energy on. Whodini stated it best in 1984 when they said, "Friends is a word we use everyday, Most the time we use it in the wrong way, Now you can look the word up, again and again, But the dictionary doesn't know the meaning of friends."

I have friends. I have acquaintances. I have "people I know". The latter two categories receive my kindness, as long as it is returned in kind. My friends receive my friendship unconditionally. I could not see a friend for 10 years, and the day I did see them would seem like they had been around all along. I can pick up right where we left off. My friends are treated as if they were family. And as with family, friends will fight. True friends will work past the fight and continue to be friends. If you have true friends in your life, you have riches beyond money. If you put up with fair weather "friends", you are broke beyond belief.

I want you all to take a look at your "friends". Look long and hard at each and every one and ask yourself.... is this person truly my friend? Do not accept any reasoning...they are, or they are not. Life is too short to deal with psychic vampires. Note your true friends, and share the good times and bad with them. Do not let fair weather friends bring you down when you have real friends that would never do anything to intentionally make you sad. To my true friends (you know who you are), I thank you for being my friends. You know that I would do anything for you, and I know you would do the same for me. And for Whodini...I don't need the dictionary to tell me anything...I KNOW the true meaning of the word "friend". For all of you with friend issues in your status updates...hang in there, even when the fair weather friends are bringing you down...know that your true friends are there to lift you up. Until next time all....Stay Salty.

-Salty Dog

Death Bed: The Bed That Eats People

Welcome back, dark passengers. Many of you know of my love of crappy movies. I have a large selection of Troma films, from Toxic Avenger, to Redneck Zombies, to Chopper Chicks in Zombietown. You see the pattern here..movies that you would all run away from, just by reading the name. I was first in line to rent Snakes on a Plane when it hit Lackluster Video because I knew that it was Snakes on a Plane. It wasn't "Oh look, it is a new Sam Jackson film, this should be great!" No, it was exactly what it said it was...Snakes on a Mother F'n Plane.

Nothing drives me to these films more than a good title. Zombie, From Beyond, Mutant, Giant, Alien, these are all words that will immediately catch my attention. I know that these movies will not be the cinematic tour de force that Titanic, Avatar, or any other one word James Cameron movie were...but they always turn out to be fun movies good for a laugh or two. I understand that these movies will be horribly made, badly acted, and a budget less than my kids school lunch bill for the year....but I keep coming back for more! Let me bring you up to speed on the masterpiece that was my latest foray into the world of Less Than B Movies.

Patton Oswalt is one of my favorite comedians. For those of you who don't know the name, he was the voice of Remy in Ratatouille, he was Spence on King of Queens...got the visual now? Patton Oswalt has a bit about how he has written 4 screenplays and sold them to major studios. But there was one that he DIDN'T write, that he wanted to discuss with the audience....Death Bed: The Bed That Eats People. So, since it was SUCH a funny bit, I decided that I would procure this film, and watch it in its entirety.

My friend Bill (many of you know him as well....Bill Winters) came down to Virginia to attend the greatest concert of the last 20 years (Fresh Fest) with me. Bill has heard the same bit from Mr. Oswalt, and was equally as intrigued. Upon his arrival in Virginia, the mailman had delivered Death Bed: The Bed That Eats People. We looked at the disk...looked harmless enough, but we had to wait for the right moment, the proper state of mind, for the planets to allign properly....for us to watch this masterpiece! Fresh Fest ended, we were wired for sound, we drank a couple of 40s of Old English 800, and were mentally prepared (or so we thought) for Death Bed: The Bed That Eats People. My friends....let me tell you...NOTHING can mentally prepare you for this film. But.....it was all that I had hoped it would be!

The narrator for the film is trapped inside the wall of the room, behind a painting of the bed. He states that he has been there since he died. Okay, I am already confused, but going along for the ride. There is nothing in the room of this abandoned house except...you guessed it...Death Bed: The Bed That Eats People. The bed is sleeping when we first see it. How do we know it is sleeping? It is snoring!! There are a series of deaths, I will not go into any detail, for I do not wish to ruin the film for all of you. Each death is labelled. BREAKFAST, LUNCH, DINNER, and...wait for it..JUST DESSERT. The fantastic part about this film is that the bed is the best actor out of them all! I believe his character. I feel his pain. I want to help him and destroy him at the same time! Never has such an awful film driven me to such feeling!

I recommend you all go to Netflix (or your local video provider) and rent Death Bed: The Bed That Eats People. If for no other reason than to read the description on the box. Someone worked long and hard to make this film, and for it not to be viewed by everyone in America is a tragic waste. So until next time true believers....Stay Salty.

Lost Generation

Welcome back, my dark passengers. I have taken some time off due to my busy schedule of doctor appointments and concerts that I was attending. It is the latter that brings my fingers to keys tonight. I posted a question on Facebook the other day about what fad you fell into, that you would rather forget ever happened. Some of the answers scared me, some intrigued me, and some I could associate with.

Overalls with one strap on and one strap off...yeah, I did it. Cross Colors outfits..I saw them everywhere. Acid wash jeans, for the young ones...just google this stuff. There are so many more fads/trends from my youth and teen years that I could go into here. Born in 1971, I AM a child of the 80s. We even had a cool name for our age group...we are Generation X! VH1 did not one, but TWO week long series about the decade that I came of age. We are (not unlike the generations before us) a memorable generation, to say the least.

What the hell am I on about? Where am I going with this? Who really cares what I have to say about anything anyway? I am sure that at least one of these questions has crossed your mind while reading this...or any of my other blog entries. So as I eluded to earlier...I am a big concert goer. Some of these concerts are full blown, all day festivals. Wednesday brought me to the Rockstar Energy Drink Mayhem Festival. This was an awesome show....but it was also the reason for my blog.

As I strolled around the Virginia Beach Amphitheater, I ran into a 13 or 14 year old girl wearing a Poison tshirt. No, young ones, the shirt itself was not poison...it was a concert shirt from the 80s band Poison. This shirt was brand new...let me say that again...band from the 80s...shirt brand new. Where would a person find a shirt like this in new, unused condition? Does this child even know who the band is? Does the child KNOW that it is a band even???? I cruise around further and see matching..yes I said matching...Ernesto Che Guevara shirts. Again, on 13-14 year olds! Do they know that his first name isn't "Che"? Do they know that "Che" isn't even a name? No...damned Hot Topic sales people! So I continue on.....

What to my wondering eyes should appear? The massive group of Korn fans...my favorite group of creepy little self loathers....the emo kids. I am so disgusted by this group of kids that I own a shirt that says "I wish my lawn was emo so it would cut itself!" The emo kids are running around (or moping around) in their skinny jeans (see the Fast Food blog), stupid piercings, androgynous look, fake tattoos, black cloud hanging over their head, and almost as much hatred for themselves as I have for them all. This whole "emo thing" is their fad...their generations defining moment...something they will look back on and say "what the phuq was I thinking?!".

Where did these kids come from? How do their parents let them out of the house looking/acting like this? I have a 10 year old and 6 year old son. If they EVER dressed/acted like this, I would club them like baby seals. So, Generation Emo...how will you be remembered? You won't. You are a lost generation. You either dress in "retro" clothes from good ole Generation X (having no idea what you are actually wearing), or your guys are wearing girl's pants and trying to say that they are still heterosexual. My recommendation to you is simple....wake up!! I am fortunate to have sons...but I know people that have daughters. They are going to check you out on Facebook when you come calling for their daughters. They are going to think that their daughters are dating other girls...and UGLY ones at that! Stop making me want to beat you over the head with your own Gene Simmons platform boots. Shut up....be happy! There is absolutely nothing in your life that is THAT BAD! So go home, wash the makeup off of your face son, wash your damned hair and get it cut, get some pants that fit you (and don't look like you just painted them on), pick a color that isn't black and maybe....just maybe...you will find out what it is like to kiss a real girl someday!

Okay kiddies...the ride has come to a halt. I need something to drink after that one. If you see these kids in your area, please feel free to slap them in the back of their greasy heads and tell them it is from me. Tell them to wake up and make the choice...live for something, or die for nothing. Until next time, true believers... Stay Salty.

-Salty Dog

Video Games Ruining Your Life

Welcome back children...we are on the road again. Your friend and humble narrator is a large proponent of video games. I have played every system from the original TelStar (pong), all the way up to the PS3. There is not a video game system that I have not played at least once. I owned many of them between my youth and my current status..whatever that may be. I now own a PS2, PS3, and Wii. My children each have a DSi and my oldest has a PSP. Video games are a part of life as we know it.

Games have increased mental focus, eye/hand coordination, and in some cases....intelligence. I know that there are educational games and systems geared at teaching children reading and math. But now..your Federal Government is getting involved in the video gaming world! They are spending approximately $435,000 of YOUR money to develop an avatar based video game to help pre teen girls resist the peer pressure to have sex. The University of Central Florida which is best known for.....being in the middle of Florida??...is working on this yet to be named game with a scheduled release for 2011.

The game will reward you with points for certain social skill tasks performed in a virtual world. Is this a Sims type game where you watch your character walk around the screen and talk to people? Nay nay! You will be wearing a full motion capture suit that will put you in the skin of a teenage girl (a la Leatherface). You are then put in teen girl situations like, walking around the mall, or going to a party, or moping around dressed in black, all emo-like. Then in come the evil boys...trying to get at your goods!! A boy may come up to you and ask you to make out...or he may make some innuendo..your job?? RESIST!

This game is sure to become a hit, and girls all over the world will learn the skills that they need to resist boys' advances! But what if this game works TOO well? What if this message carries over to later in the girl's life and women all over the world refuse to get down due to the insidious influence of anti-sex mo-cap suit gaming? Society will devolve into chaos just like the movie Children of Men, and within a single generation all human life will be extinguished. Good job University of Central Florida, you have doomed all of humanity!

While video games are a great source of stress relief, entertainment, and education....so is sex! Let's not let the "braniacs" at such institutes of higher learning as the University of Central Florida destroy all that this country has worked to create! Who's coming with me? Let us put a stop to this insanity before it is too late! Until next time campers....Stay Salty.

-Salty Dog

For the Love of the Game

Greetings from the abyss! Welcome back true believers, I have missed you all. I have been gone from the blogosphere lately due to my love of baseball. I have just completed a tour as Coach of the 9 and 10 year old All Star team. We just finished our journey by landing in the 7th place position in the state of Virginia. Not too bad if I say so myself. With all of this pride and joy, what could I possibly have to complain about here, you may be asking yourself. Well, my fine feathered friends, let me tell you.....

When assembling an All Star team, you have many, many kids to choose from. How do you make such decisions? There is a two hour meeting with the managers from the regular season...they put very much thought into which kids have earned their position here, which ones will work best together, and which ones have that something special that can't be defined. As many of you know, there are 9 players on the field at a time in the great game of baseball. We also carry 3 bench players on the team. Those 3 bench players HAVE to meet the minimum playing requirements for each game of 3 consecutive outs in the field, and one at bat per game. It is the Manager and Coaches jobs to figure out when and where to get those 3 kids into the game where it will best benefit the team. Follow me here...Manager and Coaches JOB. Those of us who have volunteered for these positions, were chosen by the League President for these positions, who are QUALIFIED and PROVEN to know what we are doing.

12 kids chosen from a league of approximately 48. This is an honor in itself, to be chosen as a member of this team. Parents.....parents are fans...fans are fickle...fans suck sometimes. When your child is on the field, he is under the direction of the Coaches...stop trying to tell your kid what to do, or worse...tell the Coaches what to do with your kid. You need to keep yourself outside the fence....or step up and become a Coach. This tournament was a big deal...the kids made it out of District and well into the State tournament. Be happy for your child, be happy for his team, just shut up and be happy! It was spoiled by parents treating their child like the boy in the bubble. "Someone told my child that he made a mistake! How dare you tell my child he isn't perfect!" This causes friction amongst the team and this makes for bad times on the field and in the dugout.

There is no Derek Jeter on this team, there is no David Wright on this team, these are 10 year old boys who are playing because they love baseball. The attitudes of some of these kids is that of high school ball players. They understand the game, they want what is best for the team, they understand that even though they were a second baseman during the regular season, maybe the Coach needs their speed in Center Field. The attitudes of some of the parents is that of a kindergarten child. Why can't my kid pitch? (Because your kid's arm isn't strong enough!) Why can't my kid play 3rd base? (Because he has NEVER played 3rd base and he will get himself hurt playing there) Why is my kid only playing one inning per game? (Because your kid has struck out every time we have ever put him in!). Parents need to understand that there are 12 All Stars out there on that team...not 1. The team rises together, the team falls together. While it is ultimately their play that determines wins and losses, the Coaches come up with the strategy and what is best for the team. Parents, stay outside the fences! We love hearing you cheer for the kids...it motivates them like nothing else. We love that you are there day in and day out supporting the team. We HATE that you think you can coach better than we can, yet have no desire to prove it by volunteering your time like we have. If you think you can do it..please, by all means, come do it. We would love the help!

Also...I am not a baby sitter, I am a coach. Do not drop your kid off with me for two hours a night, go do your grocery shopping, go to the club, whatever the hell you are doing while I am teaching your child the game of baseball. Do not expect me to drive your child 7 hours away so that he can play in a tournament and then complain that he didn't enjoy the ride. Do not send your child 7 hours away with 3/4 of his uniform and expect me to buy him the rest so that he can play. Do not show up for 2 days of a 5 day tournament and then complain that your child wasn't fed exactly what he likes to eat. Do not send him away for 5 days with zero money in his pocket! Step up and do your job as a parent and fan! If you want your kid to play more, take him out and practice with him at times when he isn't with me. Don't dump him off with the coaches and think that we can turn him into Alex Rodriguez when you do nothing to help at home or on weekends. I can teach your child for 3 months a year...that leaves you with the other 9. Stop blaming the coaches that work their ass off during their "free time" to help your kid, when you do absolutely nothing on your own to help your own kid.

Okay people...the ride is once again underway. Keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times. If you are one of these parents, I hope you now see the other side of the coin. If you are a coach, I hope I can be a voice for your thoughts. And as always...until next time...Stay Salty.

-Salty Dog

You'll Poke Your Eye Out Kid!

Of all the things that have been said about me...safety conscious has never been one of them. But today, the Salty One brings you a bit of a public service announcement. Don't run with scissors, don't play with fire, don't stick things up your nose, and don't pour flamable liquids into your eyeball. Wait, you have never heard that last one? Your mom never taught you that growing up? Well that is because it is commone sense for the general public. But some people's kids.....

Let me introduce you to the latest fad amongst stupid kids...Vodka Eyeballing. Is this as simple and stupid as it sounds? Yes. These kids are sitting around drinking vodka...and they decide "hey, how about I put that bottle opening up to my eyeball and dump it in?" Does this help in getting drunk quicker? Nay nay. This just burns the cornea for the sake of stupidity (see earlier blog on stupidity). So not only are these people stupid, now they are intentionally going blind for the sake of a laugh! This is going to lead to your tax dollars paying for their disability. Not to mention that it is a complete waste of good vodka!

When we were young, we did some stupid stuff. We drank Cisco, and that in itself was such a grave mistake that it was taken off the market! Along with that pain, we drank St. Ides which was a "high gravity" malt liquor. Exactly what that means, I will never know. Why will I never know...they took THAT off the market too. What can we do to stop the new crop of idiots and their eyeball nuking? You can't take vodka off the market, you can't flog them for being stupid...guess Darwin will have to step in and regulate the gene pool. Just like the kids that are into Jenkem. Jenkem is such a vile act, that I will not describe it, just click on the link.

I know this was short, but I couldn't let this stupidity go unaddressed. Next time will be more fun, I promise. Take this PSA as you will. Until next time..Stay Salty.

-Salty Dog

Ninjas Loose on Oceanfront!

Welcome back campers...and greetings from sunny Virginia. Virginia Beach is a summer "hotspot" for people in colder climates (like New York) in the late Spring until the early Fall. We have sun, sand, theme parks nearby, the ocean, and now apparently...for your vacationing pleasure...NINJAS! You read that correctly, ninjas on the oceanfront!

So you decide to visit sunny Virginia Beach, you are wandering down Pacific Avenue (one block from the beach)...you pass multiple 7-Elevens, eclectic eateries, the occassional night club. You are enjoying your walk and taking in the scenery, until....you are struck from behind with a...wait for it...samurai sword! This is exactly what happened to Dominican exchange student Diego Taveras. Wandering around Virginia Beach at 8pm, taking in the sights and lo and behold..ninja attack! He was sliced on his back, head, face, and lost part of his hand.

I have heard of Ninja Gaiden, Ninja Warrior (on SpikeTV), the movie Ninja Assassin, and even Chris Farley as Beverly Hills Ninja. What I do not expect is 34 year old Jeremie Allen Orton (notice the usage of all three names..the mark of all assissins) to be roaming the streets of Virginia Beach acting as the Virginia Ninja. Although it has a nice ring to it...it is slightly insane. A 34 year old man that wanders into Ocean Mystique to purchase a samurai sword and goes on a hack and slash spree? Insane, yes? Normal..nay nay.

Where to they find these whack jobs, and why do they send them here? Also, how does it take 3 days to locate this guy after the attack? Is it his superior training as a Ninja that kept him hidden amongst the masses? Does everyone wandering the oceanfront this time of year have a samurai sword strapped to their back? Did he slip up and try to attack a superior ninja who was also an undercover police officer? Who knows! The one thing that I can tell you, is that I will be spending my nights in my personal swimming pool. I will not blindly walk the boardwalk of Virginia Beach knowing that there may be more ninjas there waiting for prey. Or better yet, someone who thinks he is the Predator and grows out his dreadlocks and thinks he is invisible. Guess I will have to coat myself in mud before I go wandering the oceanfront from now on, just as a precautionary measure.

Alright true believers, not so much a rant this time, just sharing a little local stupidity. Until next time...wear your kevlar, stay current on your anti ninja training, and for Pete's sake...stay away from the oceanfront at night! Stay Salty!

-Salty Dog

Coffee....Just Coffee

Greetings true believers. During our long and bumpy ride, it is inevitable that we would have to pull over and grab a cup of coffee. I am a Tim Horton's guy, myself... Dunkin Donuts or 7-Eleven on occasion. When there is nothing else around and I need coffee...I will enter the den of inequity that you all know as "Starbucks".

I wander into the local Starbucks the other day and consult the coffee "menu". As we all know, coffee doesn't need a menu, it needs a cup! The line is long enough to give me the required time to peruse said menu. This line is full of 13 year old kids. 13 year old kids have no reason to be drinking coffee in the first place, but that is not my gripe here. Since when do kids like coffee? They don't, they never have. But due to coffee flavored energy drinks, they feel the need to jump in my line and order something cool from the menu that costs as much as 3 packs of baseball cards (which kids of that age should be spending their money on).

I finally make it to the front of the line, and there is an 18 year old "Barista". In my world travels, I have learned that Barista is Italian for "bartender". Now, not only am I ordering my coffee from a menu, but from a bartender as well. So... I get this 18 year old bartender asking me for my coffee order. I ask for a large black coffee. This is the most simple of all orders. The same as me asking a real bartender for a draft beer. The kid looks behind him at the menu and asks where I see that, since he can't figure out how to ring it up. I tell him that I am ordering from the "hidden menu", and question his inability to understand the request by asking, "how long have you worked here? You don't know what a large black coffee costs?" After much discussion with his 19 year old boss, they come up with a charge of 4.19. Yes my fine feathered friends, four dollars for a large black coffee. I laugh, hand Brian Flanagan (go ahead, Google that one) a five dollar bill and am asked to wait at the end of the bar for my coffee.

Aside from the bleeding of my ears from listening to the conversation of 13 year olds hopped up on Mocha Frappaccinos, my wait is uneventful. I see all the frothy, fruity, and downright faggoty drinks being delivered all around me. What I don't see is my large, black, coffee. Do I lose my cool? Nay nay. I wait patiently for my coffee amidst the pain causing dialogue of "Generation LOL". After about 10 minutes, I approach Brian Flanagan once more to inquire about the status of my beverage. He tells me that my order must have been misplaced, and offers to make a fresh one for me, post haste. He says, "you wanted a Venti Dark...was that with or without room?" I didn't think that the coffee and I needed to spend the night together, nor did I think that the bartender had the connections to actually get us a room, so I correctly answered, without room. The question of "room", I later found out from a 14 year old scholar, is whether you need room left in the cup to add cream and sugar, or fill it all the way to the rim leaving no room in the cup for extras. I explained once again that I just wanted a large black coffee. Flanagan reminded me that "Venti" was indeed a large. I jumped his shit and informed him that "large" meant large before he was born, and would continue to mean "large" long after he was dead. Which, if he didn't give me my coffee in the next 2 minutes, would be very soon.

I am now being watched by the hoards of Starbucks whores surrounding me. I am not worried what they think because I am quite sure that they don't speak English. I finally get my LARGE BLACK COFFEE and an insincere apology for the delay. I walk out to the car and begin to drive away. I pick up my large black coffee and go to take a sip (for I have earned that, at least). Just as it hits the back of my throat, the smell of vanilla hits my olfactory nerve. My brain registers this smell, but does not associate it with LARGE BLACK COFFEE. I promptly pull the car over to the side of the road, roll down the window, and pour my Venti Vanilla Dark Without Room out of my Automobile Glass Port and onto the road as I drive six miles to the last bastion of coffee flavored coffee...Dunkin Donuts. I pull to the drive through, order a large black coffee. I am given a total of two dollars. I pay two bucks, get my coffee from a 50 year old woman, and know that my life has been saved. Coffee, my friends...the life blood of America...ordered, understood, delivered, enjoyed.

I am not telling any of you not to spend your hard earned American dollars at coffee houses full of Italian Bartenders. But if what you want is a steaming hot styrofoam cup of quality caffeine, look no further than your local Dunkin Donuts or gas station. These guys have been doing coffee right from day one, and you won't be surrounded by people that don't need to be drinking coffee anyway. Until next time, true believers....Stay Salty.

-Salty Dog

Insomniac Entertainment

Welcome back true believers! I have been away from my blog page for some time now, as I have had nothing to complain about. Nothing has moved me to put pen to paper... or mash on a keyboard UNTIL NOW! If you act in the next 20 minutes, cuz I can't do this all night, you will feel my pain.

Whether it be the insane pain in my knee, the medication I am taking for it, or just plain old, run of the mill insomnia...I can't sleep. This has been going on for a couple of weeks now, and it is driving me nuts. It is now 2:30 a.m., and as many of you may know...there is nothing on television at this hour. What else is there to do when you are wide awake at an hour like this? Reading just hurts my eyes, you can only do so much on the google machine to keep you interested...so I resort to the old stand by; the television.

Strolling through the channels, there is a myriad of crap to look at. Nothing that will keep your interest for more than 2 or 3 minutes, so I continue flipping. Then, out of nowhere...my savior! "Hey guys, it's Vince...you know me". Now, I know some guys named Vince. Vince was Tom Cruise's name in The Color of Money, Vince Lombardi, Vince Neil, Vincent Price (although I never heard him called Vince), this list could go on forever. Does it though? Nay Nay. This is your old friend Vince Shlomi. "Who in the blue hell is Vince Shlomi?", you may ask. Vince Shlomi is the guy that tells you, "it's made from a German fiber. Come on, you know the German's make great stuff." You've got it...it is the ShamWow guy! You know him..the guy that looks like he has Bell's Palsy and sounds like he is from the Bronx. He is actually from Haifa, Israel and his name isn't Vince..but that doesn't matter at 2:30 in the morning, does it?

Is our buddy Not Vince selling me the wonderful ShamWow? Nay Nay. He is offering me the next great invention (this time not from Germany) the Slap Chop! What in the hell is that? Well..The Slap Chop is a manual chopper machine that works when you slap the plunger part. Every slap triggers the 3 blades below to chop and cut the food. The more you slap the Slap Chop, the finer the food gets. Today you can get the Slap Chop and Graty for just $19.95 plus $7.95 shipping and handling. But that's not all! You'll also get a 2nd Slap Chop and Graty set for FREE, just pay $7.95 to cover the shipping and handling fee! The Graty for cheese comes with 2 blades, fine and coarse. Place any kind of cheese in the container, turn and press the black top twister and the cheese comes right out for omelets, salads and pasta. I plan to challenge this claim of "any kind of cheese"..I think I will use Cottage Cheese. Maybe Ricotta.

How in the hell have you lived without this wonderful device? Oh yeah, because we have this thing called technology! We make things smaller, faster, less dependent on human interaction as possible. Imagine if you will...Vince selling you a television that doesn't need a remote control. One that comes with a dial on the front that, when turned, would tune in a different program! Or the No Misdial Telephone. Each number has a hole where you can stick your finger and rotate it. That way you were sure which number you were dialing each step of the way. No chance at pushing a 5 instead of an 8, or a 4 instead of a 7. Put your finger in the hole..and away you go!

While infomercials do indeed give an insomniac something to watch, I find myself so pissed off at 1. the poor quality of the commercial. 2. the sheer hatred of the pitch man. 3. the stupidity of the product itself. So pissed off that I CAN'T sleep, even if I wanted to. I would like to find Vince and club him like a baby seal. Okay, enough about that..I am off to surf more channels in hopes of finding Ron Popiel because I am kind of hungry. Maybe I will run into Avril Lavigne or Jessica Simpson along the way talking about the acne they had before they found ProActiv and it made them famous. Until next time ladies and gents...Stay Salty!

Pluto...We Hardly Knew Ya

Welcome back true believers. As our ride takes us on a journey not only of sight and sound, but of mind. We are not following Rod Serling into the Twilight Zone, but we are going to reach for the Outer Limits.

As we all remember growing up, we had nine planets. For those that don't remember... Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto. Pluto was discovered and designated as our ninth planet in 1930. 75 years later, a group of overly intelligent men and women got together and decided to change the definition of the word "Planet". It is a sad day in America when a GROUP of people have nothing better to do than change the definition of the word planet. I could see one lonely smart guy with nothing to do on a Friday night except watch reruns of Nova, but a group of people that had nothing else going on so they needed to change the meaning of words. And how smart do you have to be before someone takes you seriously enough to accept the fact that you changed the definition of a word? I could decide to change the meaning of the word "Midget" to mean "anyone under the height of 5'8" tall". Wouldn't the Wizard of Oz remake look a little different then? Nay nay, because no one would accept the fact that just because I said the definition changed, that it actually changed.

So, you are a fly on the wall in the big white room when these brainiacs are deciding what makes a planet...well, a planet. Big brain guy number one says, "Mars... you're big, you're red, you're rockin it pretty hard...good job, you get to stay a planet." "Venus, you look kinda like us, so you have to stay or we have to go with you...you get to stick around." "Saturn...like what you do with the rings. Keep on, keepin on." "Uranus....stop laughing and grow up. It isn't funny anymore. We get it...Your Anus...ha ha. If you can mature a little, you can stay." "Pluto...anyone seen Pluto? Oh, there you are in the back...as usual. You know what Pluto? This just isn't working out. Turn in your keys and leave the solar system. No no...just go, let's not make this awkward."

Who in the blue hell do these people think they are that they can just fire a planet? That is some ego. Do they realize that Pluto was named after the Roman god of the underworld? This is not the guy that you want to piss off. Yeah, yeah, he is also Mickey Mouse's big, happy dog..I know. Do you want to be the one to wonder which one is going to come after you? Big wet kisses from a dog or hellfire and brimstone from the depths of Hades...hmmm.

Anyway....Planets (whatever that means these days) we need 9, not 8 and a dwarf. If you grew up with nine planets, let me hear you loud and proud, "Every child of mine, will know that the planets total nine!" Until next time true believers...Stay Salty!

-Salty Dog

Entrance Theme

Welcome back everyone. Let us get back on track. As I was sitting at work with my Chief, we were discussing (for no apparent reason) entrance themes. You know what they are, those songs that are played when your favorite boxer, wrestler, or Ultimate Fighter makes his way to the ring. This could be anything from Metallica to Toby Keith, to Jay-Z. This brought up the discussion of what would YOUR entrance theme be if you were one of these guys?

How does one make a decision like that? There are so many great songs out there, and from so many different genres. Does it depend on your fighting style? Does it depend on your character's motivation? How would you choose? Do you take something current or something classic? Something obscure that will only be associated with you? I have been thinking about this for hours now and am not sure that I even have an answer yet.

I would think that I would select something hardcore. Something that would put fear into my opponent right off the bat. Die Motherfucker Die by Dope, or Bring Out Your Dead by Strung Out (if you don't know either song, please investigate and enjoy...you're welcome). The other side of my brain says that I should stick with my roots and go with an old school hip hop song. Something like King of Rock by Run DMC or Chief Rocka by Lords of the Underground. I would have to pick a song that I loved because it is the only song that I get to hear before a fight. The song will quickly become associated with me, so I couldn't just change it whenever I got tired of it.

I know that this is a short and off the wall topic, but I needed to get it out there. So true believers...what would YOUR entrance theme be? And better yet...why that song? Until next time...Stay Salty

Wait Til Your Father Gets Home

Welcome back true believers! For those of you that have been along for the ride since the beginning, you know that I am a grumpy old man. I view our children's generation as spoiled and disrespectful as a whole. As with any peer group, there are exceptions, but in general that is my view of them. Blame it on my age, blame it on my upbringing, blame it on the rain, hell...Blame it on Rio! But that is my view. Where did this come from, you might ask?

WalMart...as every good story starts...There I was....I was walking down the aisle and saw a small child, maybe 5 years old. He was throwing a box of some high sugar cereal, let's call it Cap'n Fruity Smacks, into his mom's cart. She politely told him that she already had cereal and he should put the other box back. He turned around and put the box BACK in the cart. She again, politely told little Johnny to return the box of cereal to the shelf. What did little Johnny do? He threw the box on the floor and then he threw himself on the floor. Did his mother beat his ass? Did she pick him up by the scruff of his neck? Nay Nay...she leaned down and said "get up Johnny, you are embarassing Mommy". I had an overwhelming urge to smack the mother.

What would have happened if you or I had pulled this little trick when we were kids? Would Mom have reasoned with us? Would she have spoken to us in a calm voice? Nay nay. She would have whipped our ass right there in the store. And when it was over, she would have dragged us out of the store and thrown us in the car. Would that be enough? Nay nay..then came the phrase that we all feared. "You just wait until your father gets home!" This one phrase instilled the fear of doG in all of us because we knew the end was near. The living in fear part made it worse than the actual punishment. You were stuck in your room dreading the moment that your father would return home from work. You knew that he had a long day at work and then he was coming home to deal with you, even though he didn't know it yet. You also knew that your ass was going to be red!

Today's children know not the fear of "Wait til your father gets home". They have been told by the television and their friends that parents can't lay a hand on them. I have been beaten with bare hand, wooden spoon, belt...you name it. I think I turned out okay. I respect my elders, I am grateful for all that I have. The only "time out" that I had ever heard of was during sporting events. Kids today are put in a corner for 2 minutes. Johnny recieved 4 time outs today. Does that mean that he has none left to use for the rest of the day? Nay nay..what that means to Johnny is that he had to stop being a little turd for 8 minutes out of his 18 hour day. There are no repercussions for actions any more. Standing in a corner while your brother continues to play PS3 is not going to correct the error. Whip that ass one good time and they will associate the inability to sit with the error of their ways. Let them live in fear of the disciplinarian of the family, whether that be mom or dad. Let them know that they messed up and it will not be tolerated. Stop being pansies about it! You know that it worked on you...you are all valuable members of society because your parents beat your ass when you messed up! By NOT spanking your children or some other form of punishment (take away computers, PS3s, TV, cell phones for some) you are doing them an injustice. You are allowing them to run you and your household. I am not saying that you should spank them in anger, I am saying teach them the way that you were taught. It has been proven effective.

Some of you will have strong feelings against this topic, I am sure. I welcome all comments, as always. For some of you, this may be the last stop on our ride together. Others may take your place at the next rest area. Still others will just consider this a pothole and they are stuck on the hump seat. Until next time... Stay Salty!

-Salty Dog

Reality Shows Killed the Video Star..or Did They?

Okay, so this "copy and paste this to your status" status that is going around lately has me thinking. It is basically a question of what was your first concert. I answered this question today with Ratt, 1984, Mid Hudson Civic Center. Yes, people, I said RATT. Stephen Pearcy, Warren DeMartini, Robbin Crosby, Juan Croucier, and Bobby Blotzer on drums. The Out of the Cellar tour, it was awesome. That was all I needed, and I was hooked on live music and seeing the bands. I have been to countless concerts since, but the concerts aren't what I am actually here to discuss.

Where are they now? The rock and rap heroes that we drew on our Trapper Keepers (for those youngsters reading...a Trapper Keeper was what we used to keep our school papers in back in the 80s). The ones whose shirts we wore to school the day after the concert (and for years to come). What happened? Is Steven Pearcy selling insurance now? Is Big Daddy Kane dishing out ice cream at Dairy Queen? Is Bobby Brown....well, we will leave Bobby Brown out of this one, he could have his own conversation. But the major players from our musical hay day...they have all gone in the crapper.

Vince Neil, the voice of Motley Crue. Shout at the Devil..come on people, that was hard rock in the 80s. Vince Neil was on the reality show "The Surreal Life". This show was a joke on the "talent". The group of people on the show were pretty much washed up stars from the 70s and 80s, being picked on BECAUSE they were washed up. When you are on a show with Charo, and it isn't the Love Boat, it is time to admit you are done.

MC Hammer, the man that made you stop because it was Hammer time. To this day, I don't know what Hammer time is. I don't know who was the bigger star, him or his pants. Some of you still have Hammer pants hiding in your closet or attic somewhere. You can lie to your friends, but you can't lie to yourself, they are there! Hammer was a multi millionaire who took over the world with Please Hammer, Don't Hurt Em. Now MC Hammer is where? Reality TV! First as a member of the Surreal Life, and then after seeing the success of Joseph Simmons (RUN's House) he starred in Hammertime. This show chronicled the life of the Hammer family, complete with Hammer recording a new album. This is one way to get people to buy your album I guess, force it down their throats while they watch your TV show. Anyway....

Big Daddy Kane. Aint No Half Steppin, I Get Raw, Warm It Up Kane...these were just a few of the mega hits from BDK. He was a hip hop GIANT in the 80s, mentioned in the same sentences as Public Enemy, Boogie Down Productions, and Eric B and Rakim. Where is Kane now? Is he a DJ on XM or Sirius? Is he a big shot at Def Jam records? Nay Nay...he is a judge in the 2010 Hip Hop Karaoke Championship. Not a reality show in Kane's repertoire, he is too cool for that....Hip Hop Karaoke Championship, I had to say it again because it didn't seem real the first time. (Bill, look into that one for me, we could win!)

Brett Michaels. Poison. My high school yearbook is full of quotes from him. All from a pussy ass ballad, Every Rose Has Its Thorn. But their first album "Look What The Cat Dragged In" was bad ass, and spawned many hits. Is there another Poison reunion in the plans? Is CiCi DeVille even alive still? All of you girls that remember drooling over Brett Michaels...he is on the second season of his reality show Rock of Love. The guy can't even find himself a girlfriend, he has to go the Flavor Flav route...yes, another reality show.

Sebastian Bach. Skid Row people...SKID ROW! Sebastian is so full of himself, he named his only daughter Sebastiana. Is that even a real name??? Has Sebastian gone the reality route? He has indeed. Is he looking for a girlfriend like Brett? Nay nay. Is he pushing a new album while he exploits his family, like Hammer? Nay nay. Is he labeled as a washed up has been like Vince Neil? Again, I say nay. So what reality show did Seb get himself on? Celebrity Fit Club. Sebastian went and got fat and wants to go on television and show the world that he is going to get back to fighting weight and bring back the band!! Oh, did I mention that all possible metal street cred was flushed down the city sewers with the violent power of one of those turds that you have to wipe your legs afterward? Yes true believers...Sebastian Bach starred on Broadway in Jekyll and Hyde. It isn't so bad that he was on Broadway. What is bad is that he was replaced by David Hasselhoff. That's right people, Knight Rider was singing on Broadway too, not just in Germany.

What I am trying to say here (because I know you are asking yourself WTF) is how the mighty have fallen. No...I was just thinking about all the concerts I went to when I was young and realizing that all those guys are doing reality shows now. There are a few that are still around doing what they did back then, but most have gone the "I'll take any chance I can get to get my name out there again" route. Well, it obviously worked, I am sitting here talking about them, and you are reading it. Good job heroes of my past, mission accomplished. Oh, and one word for Sebastian Bach... Hasselhoff????? Until next time true believers...Stay Salty.

-Salty Dog

Ouch!

Welcome aboard true believers! Some of you have been wondering where my B-Log and I have been. I have responded to a couple people by saying that nothing has irritated me, upset me, made me laugh, made me cry, or otherwise inspired me to write. I believe I have found a topic that speaks to all of us, and needs to be spoken about!

Many of you, if not all of you, know that I have had multiple surgeries on my right knee. The first time that it was injured was because I was being a nice guy. Helping a little old lady change her tire....but that is another story. The thing is, it was a legitimate injury... a car fell on my knee. My leg is not the most stable these days, but again..not the point. I was walking down my steps last week...or the week before... I don't know, my short term memory is shot. Ask me about something that happened 20 years ago and I remember like it was yesterday. Ask me about yesterday and it may as well has been 20 years ago. ANYWAY...I was walking down my steps (all three of them) and all of a sudden..POP! My leg buckles underneath me. That is not the worst part about it...the feeling of my thigh bone sliding forward, grinding across my shin bone, and ripping my anterior cruciate ligament in the process...hence the POP!

Is this a blog about me and my woes? Nay nay. This is about us getting old and getting injuries for no good reason. Walking down three steps should not tear ligaments in your knee. Phantom bruises...I know there are some of you out there that look down at a bruise on your arm or leg and wonder, "how the hell did that get there?" Have you ever woken up from a long night's sleep and had muscles in your arms and shoulder hurt like you just bowled in a 100 game tournament? You wonder to yourself, "when did I go bowling?" as you rub your shoulder. These are things that happen as we get older.

Remember when we were younger and we could stay up all night drinking, get 45 minutes of sleep and then go operate heavy machinery? No problems! We could pull out a knife and stab ourselves 17 times...and just sit there and watch it heal! These days are gone for us. Now we worry about sleeping wrong ( a term I have never understood). This causes us to buy Craftmatic adjustable beds. There is probably a newer trend in bedding, but as I said..no short term memory. 20 years ago? I gotcha! I wake up, go to work, coach baseball, and come home. I am not an extreme sports guy, I don't run....well I will leave it there, I don't run. Well, not unless someone is chasing me and I know that I can't take them....anyway. What is it with us that around age 28 our bodies start to die on us? Phantom bruising, sore muscles for no reason at all, loss of memory. I should not roll out of bed in the morning and immediately say "Ouch!".

There was no ranting necessary on this entry, just a sharing of pain. Who's with me people? It is time to revolt against our bodies! I think it is all of this "healthy living" style stuff that is killing us. No more organic anything. No more fad diets. No more gym memberships. I say that the only way to defeat this is to eat Fruity Pebbles or Cap'n Crunch for breakfast, Fluff for lunch, and pizza for dinner. All meals should be accompanied by some sort of carbonated malt beverage. Let's eat like we did when we were indestructible and see if that is the problem. Until next time, my friends..stay Salty!

-Salty Dog

I Have Found The Weapons of Mass Destruction...

Welcome aboard true believers! I was trolling through the interweb on my google machine, and came across some interesting "news" articles. The advantage to just scrolling through news with no agenda is the gems that you find that would normally be passed over. As my journey took me from the New York Times to the Bristol Herald Courier, I saw many stories that most of you see on the evening news. What I did find, that those of you watching television outside of Bristol, VA will not, was the story that inspired today's blog entry.


So there I was...is this not the way every good story starts? Scouring the news stories for something interesting to read, I came across this little gem entitled "Blame the victim: Religious leaflet claims ‘ungodly’ dressed women provoke rape" I will let that simmer for a second before I continue....... okay, everyone ready to continue? Nineteen-year-old Keshia Canter handed three burgers, fries and milkshakes to a car-load of Tuesday afternoon customers at the Hi-Lo Burger’s drive-though window. A lady sitting in the backseat leaned forward, between the two men in front, and handed her a leaflet that said, “Women & Girls” across the top.
“Even though nothing is showing, you’re being ungodly,” the woman told her. “You make men want to be sinful.” “You may have been given this leaflet because of the way you are dressed,” it begins. “Have you thought about standing before the true and living God to be judged?” What do you say to that? You are 19 years old, working the drive-through, and some religious nut job hands you this crap. Do you reply, "Thanks, would you like ketchup with that?"

As the story goes on, this same pamphlet states that rape victims are usually not "victims" at all, but the perpetrators! The theory here is that most rape victims would not have been raped had they not dressed the way they did. The religious nut job view is that the women forced the men to rape them because of their clothing. Who are these people? Women are making men rape...not only is this an insane statement on its own merit, but to think that a man would be so weak that a halter top and a mini skirt would cause him to commit a felony. This would mean that every waitress at Hooters was asking to be raped, and every customer was an unsuspecting rapist!

This story is one of many brought to you by the letter S, the number 3, and the religious whack jobs. I am not saying that all religion is bad. I am of the theory, "as long as you have something to believe in, good for you." It is the hardcore religious right that brings forth the lunatics. The ones that read the bible and twist it so badly that even the pope couldn't tell the difference between a verse from it and a verse from Come on Eileen by Dexi's Midnight Runners. Don't judge me, that was an awesome song! The majority of you will be singing it for the rest of the night, and for that you are welcome. But, as I titled this blog.. I have found the weapons of mass destruction....religion. Consult your history children, more blood has been spilled in the name of a god, than in every Friday the 13th and Nightmare on Elm Street movie combined. Now that is a lot of blood, just ask Tom Savini and Kevin Yager. Okay kiddies, I guess that is all I have to say for now. Wouldn't want to offend the religious head cases that are too conservative and close minded to have an intelligent debate with me anyway. So, until next time...Stay Salty!

-Salty Dog

Some People's Kids

Alright true believers, let's get this train back on its tracks! Most of you are around the same age as I am, so you will understand where I am coming from. Today's topic is about kids. Most, if not all of us have them. All of us were them. What do I have to say about them is the question.

Long ago and far away, when the majority of us were still children, we didn't have computers. Most households didn't have video game systems. We had bikes, we had baseball gloves, we had footballs, we had each other. My mother would tell my sister and I to go outside and play. There were no amplifying instructions, just go...play. The neighborhood kids would get together at someone's house, or at the elementary school, or in a field and we would just play. We would play freeze tag, climb trees, ride bikes, play frisbee, or throw a baseball. We didn't need directions, we just played. As long as we were home when our mothers told us to be, all was well. I understand that times are different and kids can't just be left to roam the neighborhoods anymore like we once did. The adults of today cannot be trusted. But that isn't the point here.

The kids of today take being told to go outside like it is some form of punishment. I tell my boys to go outside and play because it is 70 degrees and sunny in February, and they ask me why they have to go out. You would think that I had just told them that they were being dropped into the coliseum to face the lions. They would be content to sit inside all day, every day, with their PS3 or Wii, or computer, or hand held gaming system. They treat the outside like it is some sort of evil troll that they need to hide from. Don't get me wrong, I love video games as much, if not more than the next guy. I also love being out on a baseball diamond in May, or out fishing on a lake in June. I would rather be coaching or playing some kind of sport than be cooped up in the house staring at a television screen.

We grew up in simpler times than our children. Technology has made them soft. Kids of today are slaves to technology, and while I do believe that it makes them smarter knowing how to use a computer, I also believe that it makes them slightly anti social. I believe that video games increase their hand-eye coordination, but takes away their drive to play team sports that would benefit from this increased coordination.

Pushing 90 degrees in the Summer time..why don't you guys go outside? "It's too hot". 50 degrees in January, why don't you guys go outside? "It's too cold". I feel like I am trapped in a strange version of Goldilocks and the Three Bears! I remember being told to go outside and not to come back in until it was dinner time. I would spend 10 hours outside each day on my summer vacation. These were days when I had no plans. No baseball games, no pool parties, just your average day. I would round up the kids in the neighborhood who were also sent outside for the day and we would just play. What has changed so drastically over the years to make a Summer day too hot and a Winter day too cold?

How can I become a grumpy old man who yells, "you kids get off of my lawn" if the kids aren't even outside to yell at? How can I yell out my door, "Dinner time!" to my kids when they are locked away in their rooms? It is sad to think that I can send my children instant messages to tell them it is time for dinner rather than yell out in the back yard. I have always worried that the day would come when the swingset in the back yard would be empty because the kids had grown up and moved out. I did not think that day would come when my boys were 10 and 6, and it was empty because they were playing on their computers instead of on the swingset. It isn't just my kids though, I drive through a neighborhood that I know is full of kids, yet I don't see any. It is scary to know that Generation X has spawned Generation Xbox. Alright, I guess that is all I have to say for now. Until next time, my fine feathered friends....Stay Salty.

-Salty Dog

A Decade Overnight

Okay true believers, it is time for a rest stop for your friend and humble narrator. From the beginning, I have told you that this was going to be an outlet for me. An outlet of emotions that if kept inside, would eat me alive. You have been privy to the rage, to the love of my wife, to the lack of tolerance of stupidity....but none of you have seen what is boiling inside of me as I write. I thought about not even writing this one because it is a side of me that I don't like to show. I know that a lot of you just began to pay more attention because of that last sentence. Not to be rude, but this blog is not for any of you...this one is for me.

I grew up in Upstate New York. Not Buffalo upstate, but upstate nonetheless. I moved to Hyde Park when I was 8 years old. I was in Mrs. Wager's third grade class. I moved in mid school year, so I was the new kid. I had one person that I knew from visiting my Aunt and Uncle over the years, but that was all. The day I walked in, I was befriended by a boy that would become close enough to me for me to call my brother. His name was Scott Oliver Coomes, and he was my best friend for the next 20 years. Scott and I did everything together, whether it were good or bad. We were on the same baseball teams growing up, the same football teams. Our parents considered each of us their "other child". As we grew older, Scott was the best man at my wedding, and I at his. My brother Bobo.

In 1991, I left Hyde Park to join the Navy. Scott wrote to me in Boot Camp, came to visit me in Connecticut, and then again when I was moved to Virginia. Scott had a daughter in 1992, her name was Jordan Marie Coomes. For those of you that can do the math, that means that she is 18 now. He brought her down with him the last time he visited me in January of 2000. She was 8 years old. My wife and I had just had our first son the month before, and Scott changed his diaper one time so that when he was older he could say, "hey, I remember when I changed your diaper"...a bit of an embarrassment point that any good Uncle wants to have in his arsenal.

Two months later, March 6th, 2000, I received an email from Scott's dad. I woke up early that morning to check my mail before work. The email just said "Call me as soon as you get this, no matter what time it is." Scott had been in trouble all the time...never anything serious, but in trouble. I figured that he had gotten arrested or something, but called Chris at 5 a.m. anyway. He answered the phone and I said, "what did he do now?" Chris told me to sit down. This is such a cliche statement, but I did it anyway. I said, "Okay, I am sitting, what did he do?" The next words to come out of his mouth buckled my knees. My brother, whom I had talked to not three days earlier, had killed himself. I couldn't speak, I couldn't walk, all I could do was cry. I tried to explain to my wife what had happened, but could barely get the words out. I do not believe that she had ever seen me in that state in all the time that I had known her. She had to call my bosses at work and explain to them why I was going to be late.

Over the next few days, I was in a daze. We drove to Hyde Park for the funeral. I don't know as I remember the drive there. The only thing I remember was being in the funeral home and seeing the closed casket with a picture of Bobo on an easel. We went to the cemetery behind Pete's Mobil on 9. As we stood there listening to the preacher, I looked across the cemetery and saw my father standing there. My father had left work that day to see the burial of his "other son".

I bring this topic up today because next week will mark 10 years that my brother has been gone. It seems like only yesterday that I received that email from Chris, hence the title A Decade Overnight. I have not forgotten him, nor will I ever. I see him everywhere. I see him in my dreams, I see him in his daughter (who through the grace of Facebook, I still have contact with), I see him every time that I watch a Yankee game. I do not believe in god, I do not believe that everyone dies for a reason, but I do believe that somehow Bobo is still with me in everything that I do. For all of my friends, I like you all very much. But my brother Scott...I loved him, and I miss him more and more every day. So here's to you Bobo...


- Salty Dog

In The Navy....You Can Sail The Seven Seas!

Maybe YMCA was more your favorite Village People song? Sorry, maybe next time I'll make the effort to take a Village People poll. But I digress. What brings us all together today, children? My Navy, and our country.

So, during my 19+ years of Naval service I have seen it all. Been all over the world, met all kinds of people both military and civilian. I have served beside some of the most patriotic men that you have ever met in your life. They were there to defend their country, the paycheck was a bonus! I have met many strong guys, both mentally and physically...and I was proud to have served with them. Did I care what their sexual orientation was? "Whoa there Salty, this is sacred ground you are stepping on!" Hear me out....

As everyone knows, the President is trying to repeal the military's "Don't ask, don't tell" Policy. For those of you who have been living in a cave since the Clinton administration, let me fill you in. The "don't ask, don't tell" policy, enacted under President "Slick Willie" Clinton in 1993, bars openly gay, lesbian and bisexual individuals from serving in the U.S. military, but prevents the military from asking a service member's sexual orientation. It has been a political lightning rod since its implementation. My question about this has always been a political one. How is it that the left leaning Democrat who loves the poor, the gay, the minorities...the Democrat (and yes, I am a registered Democrat, so fuck off before you start claiming I am some lean to the right, bible thumping Republican) is the one that enacted this policy that basically told the gay, lesbian, and bisexual portion of the Armed Forces that they could not be themselves? They were forced to hide who they were if they wanted to continue to serve their country. Thousands who were found out, were discharged from service.

The current Commander in Chief feels that it is time to repeal this ridiculous act. I, for one, am with him. I have seen too many good sailors sent packing not because of their lack of qualifications, not because of gross misconduct, not because of inability to do their job. Nay, they were sent packing because of who and how they chose to love. I know people that got out of the Navy because they didn't want to have to hide who they were anymore. Good, highly qualified individuals turned their back on the Navy (which would not accept them as they were) because they had to act like someone that they were not. Let me tell you, true believers, if I am fighting a fire in a main engine room, or firing 25mm rounds at an incoming attack boat, or doing an emergency anchorage because the ship is going to run aground....I do not ask the guy next to me about his sexual orientation! Now, would I feel uncomfortable showering with a guy that I knew was gay? Honestly..no. I do not think for one minute that a gay sailor is going to come up to me and make a move on me in the shower. The homophobes that are going to use this as their reasoning have more issues than fear of homosexuals.

This is a "hot button issue" in the military right now, and I can't understand why. Things like this make me feel like the old salty dog that I am. "The Navy I am in now isn't the same one that I joined!" It is obviously time for me to retire NOT because of this current proposal..but because of how the people are reacting to it. The fact that someone's sexual preference is a determining factor in any situation is enough to make me sick. If you want to fight for your country, and are willing to put your life on the line right next to me...I don't care if you like guys, girls, or both. As long as you are qualified to do your job and you are watching my back, all are welcome. As a nation built on the principle of equality, we should recognize and welcome change that will build a stronger, more cohesive military. Until next time...Stay Salty.

Salty Dog