So I've Been Thinking...

Obviously, I don't post every day. Sometimes it goes longer than a week for me to update this blog. Case in point, right now. My last post was about a week and a half ago. (And -- I hate to say this -- it wasn't even that good a post by my standards. Sorry about that!)

That being said, I log into Blogger pretty much every day. Whether I comment or not -- mostly not -- I'll check out the blogs I follow and see what is going on. Also -- and I didn't realize I even do this until the other day -- I apparently notice how many followers I have.

I've mentioned this earlier, but once upon a time I was quite concerned with how many followers this blog had. Somewhere along the line, I became wise (or at least, kind of wise). I realized that it didn't really matter. People are either going to read and/or follow, or not. There isn't much I can do about it one way or the other. All I can do is write and see what comes of it. Whoever is going to read or follow will do so as long as I provide reason to keep coming back. So that's what I try to do.

Even though I don't particularly care for any metrics, I do take note.

Why am I mentioning all of this? I lost a follower. I went from 74 to 73 and it got me thinking that it is time to raise the bar here. I need to make some changes and up the content of this little blog. Now, I'm not going to do so to try and draw in new followers -- not that I'm about to discourage people from following either -- but, rather, I'm doing this for you: The loyal and faithful Duck readers.

Well, this all got me thinking -- what could I do to make improvements? My immediate thought was "More Justin Beiber!" Okay, that's a good start. I will definitely have to get my J-Beib groove back. But there has to be more than that, right? (Right.)

I was thinking that it might be good to put up a little section over there on the right for "Best of the Ducks." With regard to this, I'd like some reader feedback -- please leave in the Comments section -- about what posts you guys might have liked. Off the top of my head this and this were pretty good. This wasn't bad, too.

Alright, so we have a "best of" section and "more Beiber" as the current ideas. Regularly-scheduled posting was another thought I had, but I ran into a wall -- not literally -- with that one because I don't do this for money. As previously mentioned, I have Google AdSense but am not earning anything from that (which is fine with me because my motivation for blogging is that I simply like doing it...). But I have other avenues that allow me to write and earn money. Sometimes, those take precedent over my little blog.

Additionally, I write fiction that I intend to submit to contests or for publication. That takes up writing time, too.

Perhaps one solid article a week would be feasible. It seems like I could probably make it work if I devoted myself to one regularly scheduled column a week and then had the liberty of posting other ones when I had time or ideas. I think that just might work...

So now I'm trying to steer this ship in a new direction. (Don't worry, the ship itself is not changing! Plenty of rambling and goofy musings will be found along the course, I promise.)

("New direction? You mean to imply there was direction before?" they all say.) ("Thank you," I say in response.) (They all scratch their heads.) (Fin)

Rhinos and Spare Change

As you all surely remember from my breaking news regarding Justin Bieber's pregnancy, I love seeing what kind of topics people happen to be looking for on the Internet. Last week, I noticed that "50 Cent Rhino" was a trending topic and felt that this must be addressed.

Clearly, there were two ways of interpreting this search. One: Someone is selling rhinoceroses at deeply discounted prices. (I blame The Great Recession.) OR Two: Rapper 50 Cent is looking to buy a rhinoceros. (How gansta is that?!? "Yeah, yeah. You come around here; I'll strike you with fear. Don't mess with my crew, or my rhino will shoot you. Wut, wut.")

Note to 50 Cent: Please don't steal my lyrics. They are under a completely legal and totally verifiable copyright -- as far as anyone knows -- and you can't use them... unless you pay me great sums of money. Yes, I'm willing to sell out. Think about how you'd be the first rapper to mention having his rhino bust a cap in some fool. Consider the possibilities and have your peeps get with my peeps and we can be peeps, as the late Notorious B.I.G. once kind of said. (Uh, I hope you weren't one of those guys who had a problem with Biggie. I don't know who was hating who and shooting each other because of where they happened to live and really important differences like that.)

Note to my loyal readers: I am nothing, if not an expert on what is "gansta." But I'm sure you've probably been able to figure that out for yourselves.

So I did some fact checking (for a change...). Apparently there is an organization -- eBlockwatch -- devoted to raising awareness over rhinoceros poaching. (Well, it is quite possible they are devoted to other things, as well.)

I have to admit that I love the fact that the name of the group is "eBlockwatch" and they are defending rhinos. I mean, how many rhinos are there on a typical block? Now, I live in the boring Midwest, so perhaps they are quite common in larger, more metropolitan areas.

Maybe they are fashionable pets for the social elite in Hollywood? (I believe Paris Hilton has a miniature one she dresses in pink and carries in her purse.) I read an article that centered on the fact that the auto industry is running into an issue that the younger generation is not seeing cars as much as status symbols as previous ones had. Perhaps these young punks are now displaying social superiority by how many rhinos they have?

Who knows? All I'm saying is that the name "eBlockwatch" makes me think of something similar to a local neighborhood watch. But I digress...

eBlockwatch has found a rhinoceros that had been shot nine times and is still standing. This is quite similar to our beloved 50 Cent. He was capped nine times and is still standing. (I believe that exhausts the list of "Things 50 Cent Might Have in Common with a Rhino," unless the rhino is a multiplatinum rapper who parties like it's yo' birfday. If that does happen to be the case, they are practically twins. Think Schwartzenegger and Devito in the classic '80's movie.)

As such, the group wants Fiddy (as his birth certificate reads…) to adopt this rhino.

Now, as has been previously established, I’m not one to tell someone to do something or how to go about living his life. In this instance, though, I’m breaking my own rule. (I tend to be rather rebellious to myself.) 50 Cent, just adopt the gansta rhinoceros, let him pack some heat, and then rap about it.

Do it for the rhino… Do it for your fans.... Do it for those who barely have any cents.

Just don’t forget my big royalty check!

I Want to Win Me Some Cookies!!! (And so should you.)

Pre-pre-post note: I love the term -- that I probably invented -- "pre-post" because it seems like it should be a contradiction (pre-op and post-op are WAY different... ask any patient), but it makes complete sense -- to me, at least, which is important -- in a blogging context. It's what happens prior to the actual post, the meat and potatoes of what I feel the need to ramble about.

Pre-post note: Okay, the other day I ended my post with a disclaimer that "the next one will probably be better." Well, you know how they say that the best way to make God laugh is to tell Him your plans? I might have actually made mention of my plans and now they've changed. I'm still working on the other post, but there is a pressing matter that needs to be addressed...

I want to win me some cookies.

So I'm addressing the pressing matter in this post, which isn't the other one, the one you haven't read yet because it's not ready, but might very well be in the near future. Um, so anyhow...

One of your fellow Ducks readers is having a contest at her blog. Now, I don't "pimp" just any blog or contest that comes up. I mean, there are literally trillions of blogs out there, and literally quadrillions of people who don't know how to accurately use the word "literally."

(Note: There was a fantastic post at Missed Periods and Other Grammar Scares about this topic. I'd recommend checking it out. I also recommend such things as: dancing in the rain, breathing and sending me lots and lots of money.) (Uh, I don't have time to find the actual post... but I did look at least a little bit for it.)

What is this pimp-worthy blog?, you are (probably) asking.

(Note: I think we should move to enter "pimp-worthy" into the common vernacular. Who's with me? *sounds of crickets chirping, as a lonely tumbleweed rolls by* And why is there a tumbleweed rolling through this office? Get me the facilities guy STAT!!)

Anyway, Karen G., resident blogger over at Coming Down the Mountain: From Reclusive Writer to Published Author is having a contest (that link will take you to the post with the contest on it). I will give you three guesses what the prize might be...

Nope, not jam. Try again.

No, not a giraffe. That would be kind of cool, except for figuring out where to put the darn thing. (Also, if you have a dog or cats or mongooses -- mongeese? -- the other pets might get jealous of the fact that your newly-won giraffe can eat all the leaves that are really high up.)

Definitely not Walter Mondale.

*sigh* Fine, I'll just tell you: Karen is giving away a dozen gourmet cookies that she makes fresh!! (Waaaay better than winning Walter Mondale.)

(Note to Wally M.: I assume you are an avid Ducks reader, so I should probably clarify that I mean no offense. You're probably a decent fellow and all -- uh, assuming you are still alive, which I didn't fact check -- but cookies is a better prize. I mean, I think I'm an alright guy -- generally kind-hearted, sort of bright, fantastic ability to ramble -- but I openly concede the fact that cookies are a way better prize than I'd be. So please, Wally, don't take offense. We still cool? Good. Peace.)

If you'll kindly take note, these are not just a package of Oreos or Chips Ahoy or what-have-you. These are gourmet. We're talking the real deal here, folks. As such, I simply must recommend that you stop by (link found here) and enter the contest... even though it means more competition for me. (See, I told you I was generally kind-hearted.).

As you shall see, you receive one entry for being a follower (check!), one for leaving a comment (check!), one for posting about the contest (check!), one for Facebook posting or Tweeting the contest ("check!" coming soon), and one for adding up how many points you have ("check!" coming soon).

So you can earn up to five chances to win some deliciousness and how often does that happen in life?

Literally “never.”

Editor’s note: It is not often that our fearless writer finds himself needing to use the plural form of “mongoose.” Just thought that should be noted.

This is going to be a random one...

So earlier today I was rapping Ice Cube's "It Was a Good Day" -- as I sometimes do -- when I was reminded of the job I used to have during the summers when I was in college.

I worked for a plumbing company and it was pretty much the most awesome job I've ever had.

(Note to Human Resources in the rather unlikely event you are reading this: I mean, "most awesome job besides the one I currently have." Of course.)

(Note to loyal readers: My feelings about my job haven't changed. Still a reputable position at a fantastic company... still not what I'm meant to do. To that end, though, I've actually submitted my resume and cover letter to the American Cancer Society and filled out their online application. Given that my mother was a cancer victim, I would be very enthusiastic about working for the ACS.)

My technical title for the summer job was "Shop Kid," but I preferred to think of myself as "Head of All Operations Not Being Performed By the Important People." My duties included: putting together "orders" of fittings and whatnot for the plumbers, loading up plumbers trucks in the a.m., delivering parts and whatnot to job sites, minor truck maintenance, and pretty much whatever needed to be done. (There was a fair degree of "whatnot" involved.)

There was also a lot of driving around the city of Milwaukee and Southeastern Wisconsin, which was cool.

On my third day, I was riding shotgun with the "More Senior-ed Ship Kid" on our way back from a job site. We were on the freeway, about fifteen minutes from the shop, when MSSK asked me to look in my rear view mirror and see if I noticed anything. I saw the trailer, along with our skid mover (picture one of those construction vehicles that looks like a mini-bulldozer, only with wheels instead of tank treads...), but nothing out of the usual on my end.

MSSK looked back into his rear view mirror and saw sparks flying all over the place. So we pulled off to the side of the interstate. One of the wheels from the trailer had popped off.

Fortunately, no one was hurt and this could have been a lot worse. But it didn't stop me from asking "what am I getting myself into?"

Well, it turned out that was just a freak accident. The owner of the plumbing company quickly invested in a heavier duty trailer and no more wheels were lost on the interstate. (So that was good.)

Anyhow, somewhere along the line we had a couple of new Shop Kids enter the fray. One of them -- let's call him Andrew (because that was his name) -- was a good guy, but dude was kind of crazy.

Quick note to verify that last claim: On one occasion, we were in the yard behind the shop, breaking down a crate that PVC pipe fittings came in. Andrew accidentally got a little bit of dust or dirt in his eye and freaked out. By "freaked out," I naturally mean "took a wooden plank and smashed it in half with his forehead." All because he got something in his eye. (I'm no doctor, but I don't consider that to be normal behavior.)

Afterward, he mentioned that he was very sensitive about being able to see... because he felt that ants were positioning themselves to take over the world and he was going to need his vision to fend them off. (I wish I was creative enough to have made that up.)

Well, one day -- when Andrew wasn't busy smashing lumber with his head -- we were talking about music. Specifically, rap music.

I mentioned that I owned Ice Cube's "The Predator." (For those of you -- and this is probably a vast majority -- who are sitting there -- or standing or lying down, I suppose -- wondering what one thing has to do with another in this particular post, "It Was a Good Day" is one of the tracks on that album.) ("Oh," they all say in unison.)

Andrew immediately got out of the skid mover and started -- and I mean this in the most literal way possible -- ROFL'ing. (For everyone older than 17, that stands for Rolling On the Floor Laughing.)

"Cracker owns 'The Predator'," Andrew kept repeating, in between hysterical laughs. (I guess it probably wasn't apparent until now, but he was -- probably still is, I'd guess -- black.)

(I call myself "white," so hopefully no one gets their panties in a bunch about me not using "African American." I don't have a racist bone in my body.)

And you know what? This cracker did own "The Predator." Word.

On that note: "And today I didn't even have to use my A.K.* I got to say, it was a good day."

*A.K. is a reference to the AK-47 assault rifle. When I don't have to use one of those, you best believe my day was better than average.

p.s. This one was rather random, but I think my next one will be better.

Let's Build Something Together vs. You Can Do It, We Can Help

So on my way in to work today, I was trying desperately to get my Rush "Different Stages" cd to play. (The stupid cd player kept popping the disc back out and cursing at me.) (Only half of that really happened.)

Note for my billions of older readers: A cd is a lot like an EP/LP record except: smaller, not black, no visible grooves, one side, a needle would seriously mess it up, etc. Basically, it's round, like record, with a hole in the middle and contains music. Other than that, they aren't "a lot" alike.

Note for my billions of younger readers, from the MP3 Generation: Get a job, you young punks.

2nd Note for my billions of younger readers, from the MP3 Generation: A cd is a lot like an MP3 except: more tangible. Well, actually they aren't anything alike. If you don't know what a cd is, go ask your parents.

Anyhow, I was forced to listen to the radio for a bit while I wiped the back of the cd on my pants. (Not for fun. Sometimes it helps and that's pretty much what I was going for with the wiping.) Whilst listening to the FM, I heard back-to-back commercials for both Lowe's and The Home Depot. (I had a strong desire to build something. Then I remembered that a carpenter I'm not. I am absolutely horrible with trying to figure out how tangible things will fit together and I'm much better suited to words and whatnot. So I developed a strong desire to blog about it. Annnnnd here we are.)

Now, this got me wondering if it was intentional that the programming manager put these respective commercials next to each other. ("Eh, let's have them duke it out -- head-to-head -- and see who is truly the mightiest home improvement store... in the greater Muskegon area.") (Note: I don't necessarily live in "the greater Muskegon area," but that is where 101.3 -- The Fox Rocks! -- is apparently based.)

Furthermore, I started wondering if the first commercial (Lowe's) would be more effective, because it seemed to be a much higher quality commercial -- Note: I don't own stock in Lowe's or anything like that. I mean, my sister worked there like four years ago, designing kitchens for peeps, but she's been out of that game for a long time. -- or if the second commercial would be more effective on account of it being the last one the listener heard... assuming said listener didn't turn off the radio just after listening to the Lowe's commercial.

(Listener: "Wow. This is a fantastic commercial for Lowe's. I'm going to turn my radio off and head right there.")

Or, I suppose, the possibility exists that people started their cars the exact moment the Lowe's sales pitch had finished and were only influenced by Home Depot's less-good-than-Lowe's commercial. (The phrase "less-good-than-x" is trademarked by me. Don't try to use that piece of high caliber writing without my written consent. Thank you.)

So maybe they headed right to The Home Depot!

As such, I'm left wondering which home imporvement store stood to benefit more from this metaphorical cage match between the industry heavyweights.

I suppose that, much like the amount of licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop, we'll never know.

(Yeah, I think about really odd things from time to time.)

(You already knew that? From reading this very blog?? Huh. I guess I could see that.)

Editor's note: For all the millions of you who are concerned, the writer was ultimately able to get his Rush cd to kick in and, yes, he did rock out to "Limelight" a bit in the parking lot before entering the office. He appreciates your concern.

$#*! the Ducks Guy Says

Disclaimer: This post uses the S-word a little bit. If that offends you, I'd recommend checking a different blog and coming back when it's safer (which is most posts because I rarely swear here).

Disclaimer Addendum: I mentioned checking out a different blog today for those who are uncomfortable with limited usage of the S-word (and I'm certainly not judging one way or the other...). Well, I thought that maybe I'd recommend a couple worth reading. So if you are leaving here, be sure to stop by From the Inside Out, Missed Periods and Other Grammar Scares, On 'n On 'n On, and/or Karmatic Creations.

Note to the Disclaimer Addendum: You don't need to only check out those particular blogs today. I'd recommend adding them to your reading list and/or following them. (They are some of my faves.)

As a thought, I could have recommended even more blogs, but then we'd be here all day and that couldn't possibly be a good thing for everyone's respective productivity. I mean, if you are one of my many doctor-readers and you were supposed to be saving lives, but instead opted to read a long list of blogs that I recommended, it would be simply tragic for your unattended patients. I couldn't live with that being on my head, so I kept the list short.

You're all welcome.

*******************************

So someone asked me recently if I remember that I have a blog. (Gotta love subtlety.)

Well, let's get right into it...

Tonight is apparently the initial episode of "$#*! My Dad Says" and I'm quite conflicted. On one hand, it has William Shatner, which is a good thing in my book. On the other hand, it's a TV show based on a Twitter feed.

(Did I really just type "TV show based on a Twitter feed?" Let me check. Yes. Yes, I did.)

(The poor, proverbial little snowball in Hell suddenly has a better chance, because it must be freezing down there now.)

A TV show based on a Twitter feed?! (I apparently cannot write that enough.) Seriously?!

Well, it's actually based on the book based on the Twitter feed, but still...

Is it possible to actually develop a show based on a series of quotes? For the uninitiated, Twitter lets people post snippets of conversation or wisdom or humor, etc. I use the term "snippets" because of the 140 character count limit for Tweets. Although, if you've made it this far on the Interwebs, you probably already know Twitter's story. (And, of course, Ducks Out Of A Row readers are highly-intelligent, well-informed members of society.)

(Not-completely off-topic: My wife loves the term "Retweet" because it sounds like Tweety Bird saying "Retreat!" So this makes me picture the yellow cartoon wearing a soldier's helmet and imploring his troops to find safer ground.)

The guy behind the Twitter feed -- and I have no qualms with this, because it sounds like a fine idea for Twitter -- basically would post "shit" his dad said. Humorous enough premise for a Twitter account, but how did it go from that to a TV show? I know that unoriginality reigns supreme with regard to entertainment in this day and age -- ugh, I've officially become a curmudgeon -- but this is asinine. (Well, if I'm going "curmudgeon," I might as well go "all in.")

The premise is a gimmick that will lend itself to predictability... which is bad entertainment. (Of course, we've set the bar pretty freaking low with regard to entertainment. Am I right, the Jersey Shore cast?) How can any episode be anything other than a matter of waiting to see what kind of crazy shit William Shatner is going to say next? (This particular post is chockfull of sentences I never thought I'd write.) If that's the case -- and I'm firmly entrenched in the belief it will be -- how can this be any good?

(If you have any answers to that question, please feel free to leave them in the Comments section. Or don't, I suppose. I mean, I'm not one to tell other people what to do.)

Now, there's actually a second problem I have with this as-of-yet-unaired show: the title. If they outright called it "Shit My Dad Says," I would probably be okay with that. (The "probably" in that sentence has nothing to do with the curse word, but more on that in a second...) Instead, they make me use the secondary functions of these number keys (which I have to look at because I'm a normal person and do not have all of them memorized, except for the exclamation point... which I know is the first one) to type the show's title.

I'm not sure if I'm alone in this, but I think it is incredibly annoying when the announcer in the commercials for the show reads "Bleep My Dad Says." He seriously says "Bleep," as if we are completely in the dark as to what is actually supposed to be said there. Hate to break it to CBS, but we all know what it means. I mean, what other word that "needs" to be censored makes sense there? The F-word? No. The A-word? Nope. The Q-word? Definitely not!

(Okay, I just threw that last one in there to see if anyone is still reading. To the best of my knowledge, there isn't an actual curse word starting with "q." And if there is, I don't want to know about it!)

If you remember from two paragraphs ago, I mentioned that I'd "probably" be okay with them calling the show "Shit My Dad Says." The reason I had to drop in that caveat is because, obscenity or not, the title really pigeonholes the entire show.

Given that they had to actually develop plots -- hopefully I'm not being presumptuous in believing that they did, in fact, develop plots -- to go with the pearls of entertaining wisdom coming from the old man, why not give the show a new title?

I mean, it's not like the show is a Twitter feed, comprised solely of sayings which are 140 or less characters in length.

Anyhow, I just thought I'd speak my mind about this a bit. Now I need to go tweet my rant.

(No, CBS, my Twitter feed is NOT for sale.)

Editor's note: This dude hasn't updated his Twitter account in months. (Yet somehow he has at least one new follower added every day...) He's absolutely delusional if he thinks CBS is going to be calling.

You wouldn't like Noah Webster when he's angry...

Noah Webster must be pissed

We'll get to Mr. Webster's current source of anger in a bit, but first I need to offer a sincere apology to Katy Perry (who I'm sure is an avid Ducks Out Of A Row reader).

*clears throat*

Katy, I apologize for the incorrect spelling of "California Gurls" -- your infectious song which has apparently become "my jam" -- in the previous Ducks post. Admittedly, I had never seen the title actually spelled until last night, at which point I realized that I completely dropped the ball. So, uh, my bad and stuff.

Of course, Ms. Perry should probably apologize to Noah Webster. (Or "N-dub" as all the hip kids refer to him. He has a lot of street cred and gets mad love from his fellow ballas and shot callas. He rides with 20" rims on his Impalas. Word.)

(For those who are totally lost -- which could very well be everyone except me -- the "ballas, shot callas, Impalas" bit is from some late 90's rap song. It used to be my jam.)

Anyhow, K-dub -- as all the hip kids are calling her -- should have consulted Webster's dictionary before turning in the song title. I'm thinking that maybe her record label needs to hire people who can spell basic English words (although, they did nail the should-be-trickier "California"...).

Or maybe they should invest in some WhiteOut and go store-to-store and fix all the CD's and cassette tapes and LP's. (Admittedly, I'm not sure what they could do for the digital versions. Maybe wipe out everyone's hard drive and then install a version of the song with correct spelling?)

That leads to this:

Scene: Man at computer, wearing khaki pants, a white Oxford button down shirt and a purple paisley tie.

"Honey, what happened to all of my files? The only thing I can seem to find on here is Katy Perry's "California Girls." And wasn't this spelled differently before?" *starts playing the song* "This is a great jam, though. Who needs all that tax information, anyway?" *starts busting a move*

You know who else should apologize to Webster? ABC. (The network, not the English New Wave band.) Do you want to know why? (Please say "yes." Please say "yes.") Because they are clearly not using N-dub's greatest -- only? -- contribution to modern society. If they were, they could open up to the "S" section and find the definition for "star."

("Where is he going with this?")

Dancing With the Stars in on the ABC network. They have recently released the list of "stars" for the upcoming season. Do you want to know who, apparently, is a star? Bristol Palin.

Say what?

She got freaky with Levi and had a kid. How does that qualify someone as being a star? I'm so confused.

Now, I don't mean to dis on Bristol. She's probably a good kid and all, but "star?" Really?

I think I'm going to start referring to myself as a star. I mean, the word has clearly been devalued to the point where I might as well.

"Nice to meet you. I'm John -- blogging star extraordinaire."

(Note: My calling myself a "star" does not mean I had sex with Levi Johnston and then gave birth to our love child. Let's just cut off that rumor before it even starts.)