Now THIS is Art Appreciation!

  

              For those of you who have read from the very beginning (and if you have, you need to get on heavy psychological medication), you’ll probably realize that I’m not the most refined human being on our fine rock here.  I’ve never looked at a piece of art and had it change my life, nor have I ever been brought to tears after looking at a painting of a soda can.  I had always just sort of assumed that those who did appreciate those sort of things had spent too much time at art museums or attended too many poetry readings (heard one the other day about the Easter bunny origin though…now THAT was a classic). So imagine my genuine surprise when I found myself truly moved (and not in a bowel sort of way) at a recent trip to appreciate an art form.

              My wife had been trying to get me to go see a movie with her and our daughter. I had come up with ways of avoiding it, from having stomachaches and headaches to believing I had a collapsed uterus (which as a guy, was exceptionally difficult to pull off), but finally I had run out of excuses.  She decided that we were going to go see the new Lego movie (about blocks of plastic that stack on each other, presumably). I remained quiet and simply practiced being in a vegetative state as we travelled to the theater.  I was not thrilled with the current status of things.

              My wife bought the tickets and asked me where I wanted to sit. We were still standing at the ticket counter and I began to wonder if perhaps she was a little too excited to see a movie since we were not even in the theater and she was asking where we were going to sit…Silly girl.  But of course, I was wrong. On a screen right in front of the ticket counter was now displayed a seating chart and I was asked to select my seat.  I just shrugged and pushed a series of buttons in an attempt to get some sort of video game to start.  My wife, having come to her senses, stopped me from pressing buttons and selected the seats.  I handed over my credit card and the ownership papers to my left kidney (the prices of movie theater tickets seems to have increased dramatically in ten years).  My attitude towards the situation had not changed.

              So I sell my right kidney at the concession stand in exchange for popcorn, a hotdog and drinks and we march into the movie theater. It was at that moment, ladies and gentlemen, that I fell in love with art. For we arrived at our seats and there, like seeing the image of the holy grail on a piece of toast, I collapsed and wept. The seat upon which my unworthy but was about to rest was, in fact, a recliner.  All the seats were. And a small table that moved and adjusted location depending on your every table-moving whim! I had seen my salvation…and it was good.

              The movie itself, was inconsequential.  It was some story about everything being awesome and a Lego construction worker having the hots for the same girl as Batman and a super duper sofa or something.  But the chair…oh the chair, was the single piece of architectural advancement that allowed this cynical, old, and warped-minded fool to appreciate art in all its faux leather and wooden glory.  I now am excited to go to movies…well, not driven to immediate fits of “I don’t wanna”-ness. Yes, friends, movies are art and I am now an Art-Lover! Bring on the paintings of tin cans and ugly people screaming. I will appreciate it…providing I can sit in similar chairs, maybe with cup holders and perhaps heat and a massage button. Dare I dream?

Well, off to the movies.  I heard they have a new movie about some kid who can use magic while attending some wizard school.  I wonder if he’ll…

Be Good or Be Good At It!

Positively positive? Negative.

    Okay, I am going to be honest with you; I'm a fairly negative person. Not to the point whereby I've given up on modern civilization and have decided to move into a cave (where would I plug in my Xbox, I mean really people, you've got to think these things through), but simply have accepted the notion that if you look negatively at things, you'll rarely be disappointed.

    This attitude, though flawless, does not attract a great deal of followers. Now to me that's okay. I'm not really suited to being any sort of leader of a movement except those of a bowel variety and I know no one wants any part of that.  But along with this realization of negativity, I've noticed my wife seems to be slightly less negative...or or more positive (depending on why whether you are a glass a half broken or half not yet broken sort of a person).  Because of this fact, I am going to make an attempt of being a little less negative for a while.

    So...positive stuff...well...how ya been? No, no, kept it together, they don't want to read that. Okay. Okay. Positive.  They got all those people off the Concordia last year when the skipper ran it aground...destroying the ship and the local coral formations and costing millions of dollars...nope, still negative. 

    Baseball is just around the corner...a wonderful collection of millionaires hitting and catching balls that aren't a member of any rich cougars club of Beverly Hills. No, no, still negative and mildly blue collar.

   Oh to hell with it.  I've become somewhat distrustful of our nations politicians.  There is a possibility, though probably shocking to read, that those in our government are thinking solely of themselves and not of our country as a whole.  You've got to admit, we are all still in a bit of a pickle here and there doesn't seem to be much hope that the collection of rich white guys speaking in the same tone as that of a test pattern will turn things around.  Worse still, I think we've all started to think the same thing.

    I'm starting to get the distinct impression that people are coming to the realization that politicians (most, but not all...just almost all) should either be voted off our collective island or should all be given a free cruise with some rich cougars from Beverly Hills.  And ya know what? I've got just the Captain for you.

   So is this a negative article but still in fun? Positively.

Until next time,

Be Good or Be Good At It!

A Special Easter Origin Story

              Gather ‘round, children and ‘ol Uncle Alan will tell you the story about the first Easter. No, no, not the whole religious story of dying and coming back to life and morals and lessons and such. That would be boring so instead I’ll tell you the story of the first Easter. ‘Tis the story of Hornigold the bunny and Kenway the seal…

         

  

              Hornigold the bunny lived in a hole deep within the ground.

              He’d hop and hop and eat some ‘shrooms and stagger all around.

              Hornigold loved all things and many things more than once.

              He’d smoke and drink all manner of things for months and months and months.

              ‘Twas at a party one night he met a chicken named Jenny,

              And Jenny just loved drinking her Ginny.

              She had too much and threw up and such so  Horni gave her some drugs.

              She took them in stride and down went her hide and she passed out on some rugs.

              Kenway was a lively but gullible old seal whose energy was matched only by his zeal.

              He had met Hornigold just prior to the party and his concern for his new friend was real.

              He knew Jenny was dirty and Hornigold was flirty and tried to stop Horni’s lust.

              But one quick drunken swing by Hornie and ‘ol Kenway bit the dust.

              When Kenway came to the deed had been done and passed out were Hornie and Jenny.

              A bottle of LSD lied empty on the floor, the couple oh they must have had plenty.

              Hornigold and Jenny spent much of the week recovering from that night.

              It was a few weeks later when Jenny laid her eggs that the both recoiled in fright.

              The eggs were bright neon and colored they were in all manner of shades, tints and hues.

              Jenny pleaded with Hornie to run away with the eggs as if jones’in for some booze.

              Yes, take the eggs, leave this place and give them away post haste.

              Let children find and collect them all and we’ll just pretend we both were chaste.

              So off into the world went Hornigold and alongside him was Kenway.

              A trusted friend he was to follow Hornie and make sure he gave the eggs away.

              Hornie did his job and hid the eggs and was so thankful for Kenway’s aid.

              They went to many a land both near and far and many a bar did they raid.

             

              Hornigold sent word to his bunny friends to come clubbing WITH the seal.

              And boy did they come and full of piss, vinegar and oh so much zeal.

               But ‘ol Hornigold had sent an un-proofread invitation and he was too late to repeal.

              For all came his friends and gathered all around for the clubbing OF the seal.

     Yes, children, that was the story of the first Easter. Now we all celebrate with brightly colored and decorated eggs and celebrate the story of Hornigold and Kenway.  Bet you didn’t know where this holiday came from and now you can grow up and pass this tradition on to your children. 

Oh, I guess morals are important so here’s the moral for this one…

As prepositions proved crucial in this little tale,

And grammar was not just a pile of sh*t.

Happy Easter to all and through all your travails,

BE GOOD OR BE GOOD AT IT!

              

Be sure to follow me on Twitter at @Aldog20171 for more weirdness!

             

             

             

                           

             

Good ‘Ol Days? Maybe, Maybe Not

It’s that time again, they kids are out of school and they are experiencing the much deserved (?) time off from school (seemingly the bulk of which they have already missed due to snow in the Northern Virginia Area).  Now the little and not-so-little tykes can free themselves from the bond of lackluster public and overpriced private institutions of learning so they can explore time with family and friends and learn real life lessons…in a week…hmm, okay.

Remember when we were young and we had our own spring break? A week seemed like an eternity.  We woke up whenever we wanted, perhaps went on a camping trip with the family, and maybe went to an amusement park, anything we wanted. Life was a collection of fun moments with nary a responsibility in sight. Much like the beloved comic strip Calvin and Hobbes, are days were spent outdoors causing mischief and doing things that are considered ancient history by now.  Things like Kick the Can and Freeze Tag and Hide and Seek…all ancient history.  And you know what? That’s okay.

              We all remember the ‘good ‘ol days.’ You know, when we begin to tell our kids just how much our generation was the pinnacle of modern civilization and how much, how mind-bogglingly much their generation won’t amount to a hill of beans compared to us. But here I sit thumbing through an old yearbook from Oakton High School, or Navy Elementary or Franklin Middle School and the though just struck me like a clowder of cats being shot at me by a high velocity cannon: Things weren’t all that great back then either.  In my case, it was the 1980’s and 1990’s.

              Okay, okay, I know. I was a nerdy kid…hmm, wait, no. Nerdy would imply I was a good student. Far be it for me to lie in a blog so I’ll just say I was a geek. I had nerd tendencies just not the motivation to earn me the nerd merit badge by being great in school.  But as we look back, we didn’t have any of the sophisticated video games back then (Yes, I had an Atari 2600 and yes I had ET and yes, it was butt-awful), music was a bunch of hairbands and only a handful were great. Clothes consisted of jeans and surfer shirts, even though none of us could surf.  

              Granted, the toys were the best, He-Man, GI Joe, Transformers (the old kind, kiddos) all were fun, all were great, and all would have psychomoms calling for their manufacturer’s head due to their safety inconsiderations.  And we were happy. And Playgrounds? Heck, we had playgrounds full of splinters and nails sticking out of them and not one kid died. We used to have contests to see how far we could be thrown off the tire swing and still be able breath without a tube.  We won most of the time.

              But aside from toys and playgrounds, today’s kids outclass us all the way. I mean they are smarter…perhaps due to the whole tire swing idea we had when we were there age, they have a faster sense of humor than we did in the old days and they are able to understand complex thoughts like how to actually keep score during a sports game when all the teachers and parents are too afraid to admit it’s an actual completion.  

              So, kiddos, don’t let old farts like me tell you kids today are nothing like the kids back in the ‘good old days.’  To quote a Billy Joel song, “The good old days weren’t always good, and tomorrow ain’t as bad as it seems.’

Until Next Time,

Be Good or Be Good At It!