LEGOs: Legitimate Excuse to Get Offspring

Lego SerenityI hadn’t thought of it when I first approached my wife with that certain twinkle in my eye, but in a world where couples have children for the tax write-off, why the hell not bring a child into the world for the sake of sharing one of life’s greatest pleasures? I’m talking of course about Legos.

At the age of eighteen, I boxed up the last of my childhood treasures and stowed them in the 180-degree attic space of my parents’ Texas home. With those treasures went a mighty cardboard box of Legos. At the time, I thought I would never again experience the insight and satisfaction those plastic bricks brought me for so many years.

More than just a vehicle for fine motor skills, those bricks produced endless plans for disposable automobiles and rotating hallways and underground bunkers on the moon. Legos unlocked my geeky architect and creative hubris. [Read more…]

Expectations, Resolutions and Cowboys Circa 2013

jonesjerryThis year, make a change that matters. To illustrate the importance of doing so, here is a moral tale based on the National Football League franchise, the Dallas Cowboys. (Don’t worry, NFL fandom is not required to learn this lesson.)

Once upon a time, there was an evil NFL franchise owner and CEO, Jones Jerry. Jones Jerry was neither faery nor orc. He was pure-D avarice from his wazoo to his cork. Stab him with a knife or blend him with a spoon, as owner, operator and general manager, he’d fork you in the end.

He lined his wooly pockets by milking talent and sparking drama. He drove his players to the point of slapping their own mama while he danced and jigged high up in his skybox.

“A pox!” his subjects did cry. “It’s rigged! We supply you with money in exchange for more than Romos and Wittens and Bryants. We want a championship, or we’ll switch our allegiance to the football Giants!” (Now with more iridium!)

At first Jones Jerry did fret to the point of regret for purchasing his multi-million dollar bionical-hip (and stadium). “Don’t be a dope,” he smirked a wicked smirk. “Those hicks, I’ll lend them hope.” A mad hatter with geriatric bladder, he passed haughty gas from his executive potty. “I’ll fire the coach, that torpid roach.” [Read more…]