Thursday, August 28, 2008

Chris Hill for President!

First off let me say that my utter disdain for John McCain is palpable. I will have plenty of things to say about my Republican opponent next week when I attend the convention in my home state of Minnesota. I will be relentless.

Right now I have to address the folly of the Democrats and their elected puppet. Barak Obama seems like a nice guy. I don't know him, I only know what he says he stands for. This is true of all politicians. I'm not going to tell you that I think he is too inexperienced to govern. I am less experienced than he, and I wish to govern.

As the space party candidate it is my duty to bring up the following:

Barak Obama is not a space friendly candidate. Candidate Obama would "pay for his education plan by ending corporate tax deductions for CEO pay and delaying NASA's moon and Mars missions."

Delaying the missions to the moon and Mars? That stands against everything I believe in. End of story.

I don't care if the Senator is a socialist. Be a socialist Senator. Take money from Bill Gates. Take money at gunpoint from every corporation in America, but lets get some people into space. NOW!

This is why I miss the Cold War. If the Soviets were even talking about putting a man on Mars, we would have an American on Mars by 2010.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

I am your father...

Today I was watching The Empire Strikes Back with my 3 year old son. It was his request. He wanted to see "Luke Skywalker in the snow". What can I say, the boy has impeccable taste in cinema. When we got to the big fight between Luke and Vader, Kirk shouted, "Luke has a blue lightsaber". I replied, "Yes, I know, and do you know whose lightsaber it is?" He looked at me like I was an idiot and instantly stated, "Master Obi Wan's".

This is where I found myself in the most agreeable of disagreements of my life. I told him that while Obi Wan gave the lightsaber to Luke, it originally belonged to Anakin. Therefore both lightsabers in the battle belonged to Darth Vader. He gave me one of those stop-fucking-with-me-because-I'm-only-three looks and told me I was crazy, and then we actually debated it for several minutes. While eating fish sticks. The moment was absurd to me, but I was in nerd daddy heaven.

He wasn't convinced. He even got a little pissy about it. Eventually I had to tell him that I was, like, lots older than him, and that I knew Star Wars way better, and that it was naptime. End of story. Ha! I rule!

Monday, August 25, 2008

Okay it's my birthday.

I like birthdays, and I like getting older, I really do, but this birthday is not my favorite. I'm 36. It's the late mid 30's, but more significantly it's the age where I am officially "pushing" 40. (It is official too. There's a government office that records these things. Probably under the umbrella of homeland security.) Today I am spending my time cleaning the house and taking care of Kirk. I get to be Mr. Mom for my birthday. We are watching Spongebob. A commercial recently came on for a Star Wars Lego ship. Kirk shouted at me, "Dad! Dad! That's what you're getting for your birthday!" I looked over at my stack of unwrapped presents, and he continued with, "It's the red present. That's what's in the red present." I thanked him and continued to do the dishes. I don't really like suprises anyway.

If anybody wants to send me a bottle of absynthe, I wouldn't hate it. Actually my two favorite birthday presents are cash money in cards, and booze. If you send me a card, there'd better be cash money in it. Even a dollar. I would prefer one dollar in cash to a gift card for $20. I don't really like checks either, because then I have to do work to get anything out of it. Since I'm 36 today the best present would be a card with 20, 10, 5, and 1 dollar bills in it adding up to 36. 18 two-dollar bills would really show a lot of thought.

My gods, 18 twos. I can't believe I'm two 18 year olds old today. That is the reason I quit my job. I worked near the university, and I didn't want to have to hire some kids and be twice their age. This is also the year when the kids who were born in 1990 are coming to college. 1990 was the year I graduated high school. I just couldn't be there for that, to check an ID and see the 1990 date on it. So here I am watching cartoons and playing Mr. Mom. I'm hanging out with the one person I actually want to think of me as an "old man". Later I get to put together my lego ship. It's a good day.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Don't Tell Your Mother

Dont tell your mother-four words I heard often while growing up. My dad was always involving us in one caper or another. Nothing too felonious, but usually the kinds of things a mother wouldn't appprove of. This could range from letting my eleven year old brother drive us home from the bar to destroying a broken photocopier with a cannon. (Yes, one of my dad's friends did have a cannon. It was very cool.) There were lots of little things inbetween too. I thought it would be much longer in my parenting career before I uttered those four words to my own son, but I have actually uttered the phrase "don't tell your mother" twice, this week.

The thing is folks, there are different levels of tolerance between all human beings. Anyone who has had a roommate knows that there are different thresholds of clean for people. Some peolple can let dishes pile in the sink, but clutter bothers them, and some people are compelled to keep the kitchen clean but can let the rest of the house get piled with detritus without a second thought. This difference often causes problems. It's the same with parenting. Some things she lets him do drive me nuts and vice versa, but I am a boy so the things I have a high tolerance for are usually the kinds of things that are perceived as "naughty" or "dangerous". One thing she never lets him get away with is climbing on top of the grocery cart car, but when it's just me and the boy I encourage this behavior by calling him TJ Hooker and popping wheelies. Another time while we were waiting for his mother to come out of a store he proceeded to climb onto the roof of the car. Our actual car. I let him. She would never have tolerated that. Actually that time I wanted her to hurry so I texted her a picture of it.

The other day Kirk said to me, "Mommy hates when I climb on the cart at the green grocery store." I told him that he was right and that he shouldn't do it while she was around. I knew he was getting conflicting messages, so I just said, "When your with me you can climb on the cart all you want, just don't tell your mother." And there it was. I had become a bonafide dad.

Just this afternoon Kirk was eating cereal out of a bowl when he dropped a piece on the floor, before I could say anything he jumped down and picked it up with his mouth. I exclaimed, "did you just eat that off the floor?" He giggled in affirmation, so I just shrugged and said, "don't tell your mother." On a side note I have seen him put his mouth down on the sidewalk and eat an anthill. I told him not to. I told him it was icky, but he doesn't seem to care. Sometimes he comes in from the back yard with sand on his mouth and I'll ask him if he's been eating anthills again and he'll just say "yeah" casually.

When Kirk's sibling is born it might be good if she's a girl. I think we both need another voice of feminine reason in our lives. Then again if he has a brother, and I am the father of a pair of boys, well I can't imagine the potential danger. I wonder if you can buy a cannon on ebay?

Saturday, August 16, 2008


We have a cat who goes outside. It's easier to just let her out than to fight with her or chase her down when she escapes. Besides since we began letting her out our other cat has fully recovered from a serious bout of mental illness where she spent an entire year living in the laundry sink. It's complicated. Anyway the cat goes outside, she prowls around the yard and neighborhood, and then comes back inside for food and to poop, and to lay on me while I'm watching tv. It's become routine, until this morning.

This morning Kirk and I found something horrific lying on our stoop. It was the remains of a young bunny rabbit. Actually it was only the top half of the remains, and a small peice of bunny leg. Murder! Yes friends, our cute kitty has become a killer. There are no other carniverous predators in our area, and certainly none that would leave an offering to our clan in such a fashion. It had to be her, our dear sweet Chloe. I am acutely aware that domestic cats are monsters. They are, they are just subdued by the lazy life offered by snuggles and crunchy food in a bowl, but left to their own devices their true nature sometimes rears it's frightening head. The savage beast is unleashed.

When Kirk and I investigated the remains there were flies all over the carcass. It was gruesome. Half a bunny. I had to tell Kirk everything. I told him his own kitty was the prime suspect. He seemed fairly okay with it, but he did look at the corpse for quite awhile before I scooped it up. Chloe seemed quite proud. In her reckoning I'm sure she felt she had given us a years worth of back rent. Cats are like that. I too am proud of my little monster. I gave her extra pets tonight. I stroked her tail and called her good kitty, but I didn't let her lick me. I was still a bit squeamish over the sight of the bunny entrails.

I imagine she caught the poor creature in another yard, and proceded to mangle it to death. Then she may have eaten some of it, because I haven't been feeding the cats very well lately. (it's not supposed to be my job, but a pregnancy in the family has made cat care my job, sue me) I'm sure she didn't eat half a bunny. I bet she toyed with it for awhile until it simply fell apart. Then she brought the head home as a trophy. What a good girl. Anyway, there it is. As far as I'm concerned the case is closed. No formal charges will be brought forth, but I have my eye on her. Oh, I'll be watching. I mean I don't want to step on any entrails on my way out, do I?

Star Wars

We took kirk to see the new Star Wars movie. We don't get to go out to the movies much, so we figured this was a good chance to see something new, and not have to pay a babysitter. Kirk actually really likes Star Wars too. He loves to play with lightsabers and all of my old action figures. Still 3 years old is a little early for the movies. For him at least. He gets into the film for a while and then he gets squirmy. His mother tries to contain him, while I just let him squirm. We took him to the late morning showing specifically for the purpose of there not being many people around for him to annoy once he gets annoying. He was mostly good.

The movie itself was mostly good too. I know there are going to be many people out there who will completely hate it. These will be the same people who hate the prequels too. I will say to those people what I always say. "Shut up and make your own Star Wars." And I mean it too. I love all the movies. I love the universe of Star Wars. I even love things that are not canon. That being said it is no small wonder that I enjoyed this new animated film. It was an exciting tale set during the time between the second and third movies. It was during the precious Clone Wars that all the prequel naysayers are always bitching about. Myself, I just love sitting back and enjoying my time in a movie that has the action, sounds, and characters of my beloved Star Wars. I love watching Jedi be real Jedi, not the pussy fake half Jedi that Luke was. I love exciting lightsaber battles. I love watching the clone troopers fight their asses off. The effects were every bit as good as a live action Star Wars film. The acting was easily as good. My only concern going in was the animation style of the main characters was weird looking to me, but I got used to it.

So friends, I reccommend this movie. It will probably fail at the box office. It will be critically panned. Legions of fans will speak out against it, and yet it will probably make a ton of money anyway. I hope I'm wrong, and this movie will be embraced by Star Wars fans young and old. Still, if you don't like it, "Go make your own damn Star Wars you whiney fanboy!"

Thursday, August 14, 2008


I am from South Dakota. I haven't lived there for about 18 years. Gah, is it that long already? Yes, I guess it is. I don't even visit very often because my parents have long since moved to another state. So when I go back to South Dakota I am usually overcome by a deep sense of nostalgia. I'm not one of those people who leaves their hometown and then talks smack about it to all their high falootin' city folk friends. I truly have a fondly passionate kinship with the place of my birth and childhood. I am proud to refer to myself as a native South Dakotan.
There are some weird things about South Dakota, however. I was visiting the other day when I noticed the Think signs. Think signs, or fatality markers as they are known to the highway patrol, are exactly what they appear to be. They are signs that are put out on the side of the road to mark where someone died as the result of an accident. These signs were common when I was growing up, and I didn't realize they were unique to South Dakota until I went away. The creepiest scene is when you see 6 or 7 of these things lined up in a row, depicting a muti-fatality accident.

I'm not sure if any accidents are prevented by having the scene of an automobile death marked on the side of the road, but then again maybe it will keep a few drunks from driving. Maybe someone will think before making a phone call at 70 miles an hour. Maybe.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Chris Hill for President!

I usually don't use this forum to further my own political aspirations, but with the conventions drawing near and my current status as an unemployed individual, I find it is time for me to rally a little bit for the cause of freedom. Many of you might not know that I am running as the Space Party candidate for President of the United States of America. This is purely a write in campaign, so if I win, it will really show what a bunch of narrow minded douchebags my opponents are. Yes I will go on the record and state that I think Senators Obama and McCain are both complete douchebags. It's time someone brought honesty back to politics. How many candidates have wanted to call their oppponent a douchebag but their "advisors" told them not too? I bet it's a lot.

What I want to accomplish right now is to differentiante myself from the other two candidates. First of all I want to come out and openly condemn the practice of drowning kittens and puppies. I AM THE ONLY CANDIDATE AGAINST THE DROWNING OF KITTENS AND PUPPIES. Why do you hate animals so much Senators McCain and Obama? What did animals ever do to you?

I am also strongly opposed to cancer. I am the only candidate who has spoken out against cancer. I think cancer is bad. Why don't you think cancer is bad Senators? Hmmm? If you don't think cancer is bad, you must think cancer is good. Well I just have to say that the fact that SENATORS JOHN MCCAIN AND BARAK OBAMA ARE TRYING TO GIVE ALL AMERICANS DEADLY CANCER, is appaling, evil, and should preclude them from holding public office. Why isn't the media covering this? It seems like pretty big news to me.

Why has no other candidte come forward in support of happiness? I am an ardent supporter of happiness! I guess those other two elistist fat cat career politicians want to keep the rest of us unhappy so they can claim to try to help us through our tough lives. They just want their cushy government jobs, and thier power. Okay I have to say, I too want a cushy government job and power, but hey I'm openly admitting it.

I think it's time the American people stood up to the machine mentality of major party politics, and voted with the conviction of their very hearts and souls. I say it's time to step up and put a true maveric, a true spokesperson of change into a cushy government job. It's time to vote for Chris Hill America, and I'm not just saying that because I am Chris Hill, I'm also saying it because it's the right thing to do.

I'm Chris Hill and I approve this message.

Friday, August 1, 2008

I'm a big fancy rock star

Actually I'm a big geek. When I go to shows, (gigs as they are called in the business) I usually bring a bottle of Rolaids. I pack it with my gear. I do this because I know I'll drink a lot and that I get nervous before going on stage. Now a few people have made fun of me citing that a bottle of Rolaids in your gig bag isn't nearly as rock n roll as a bottle of Jack Daniels, but more often than not, upon pulling out my antacids I am innundated with requests to share in my joyous calcium rich booty. All the rock kids get nervous stomach. Sometimes instead of bringing the whole bottle, I'll just put a few in a ziplock and jam it in my pocket. Usually they get a bit crushed, so when I pull out my baggie all the casual observer sees is a bag full of some sort of chalky white substance. I have seen some serious glimmers of excitment in the eyes of my fellow rockers. For a brief moment I am a decadent rock god, but then I pop 2 in my mouth and offer them antacids. They are often crestfallen. Sometimes I put a few Advil in the baggie as well, and when I pull that out I look like I'm some sort of pill poppin' brain mangled drop out, hanging out on the fringes of the Hacienda night club in late 80's Manchester.

When I wanted to buy my first guitar my mom didn't want to let me. She said the rock lifestyle breeds drug usage, and she was right. I do drugs at every show. I'm playing tonight, and my baggie of ibruprofin and antacids is safely tucked into my front pocket. ROCK AND ROLL BITCHES!!!