Pet Cobra

Why I Am Not A Political Consultant

Now that the furor over Barack Obama's take on bitter rural Pennsylvania has died down (at least for now; no doubt McCain will bring it up in the fall - although he may actually be generally curious about Americans' take on economic matters, since by his own admission he knows shit-all about such things, foreign policy and military stuff's his bag, wait, maybe not).  I'm of the opinion that not only should Obama NOT apologize for his SPOT-ON comments about Small Town Americans, he should make those comments part of his rallying cry. I've drafted a speech for him.

"Several days ago, I made reference to the bitterness that many of you who cling to guns and religion are feeling. Here is what I said:

"You go into these small towns in Pennsylvania and, like a lot of small towns in the Midwest, the jobs have been gone now for 25 years and nothing's replaced them. And they fell through the Clinton Administration, and the Bush Administration, and each successive administration has said that somehow these communities are gonna regenerate and they have not."

"And it's not surprising then they get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren't like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations."

I wish to clarify my statement. I believe that I speak for the great majority of intelligent voters  - Democrats and Republicans (who are sickened by the way the GOP, the party of Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt and Ronald Reagan, has gone completely off the rails) - when I say that the Bible-thumpin', gun-totin', foreigner-hatin' shitkickers that I referred to are a big reason why we as a country are where we are. They managed to put one of their own in charge and look what happened. You know what, Small Town America? Fuck you. Thank you, and God bless."

in Just -

spring. Thank God. I will go record with this: I am a miserable prick during the winter. I hate the clouds. I hate the gray. I hate 5 o'clock sunsets. I hate wearing jeans. I like warmth, sunshine, and days that last until at least 7:00 p.m. I like to barbecue and walk barefoot to the mailbox. I like not having to turn on the heater when I go to bed. I like dressing my kids in t-shirts and shorts. I like putting the Uggs away for the season. I like the PCM over the Hollingsworth, and I'm sure I'll like the quad fish (that is, when I can finally afford to order it). The world is puddle-wonderful. Tell the goat-faced balloonman he's on on in five.

Where Beer Does Flow and Men Chunder

In my last post, I had hinted at a potential Life Changer. Some of you were privy to the big secret, that Beth was being considered for a fantastic position in SYDNEY FREAKING AUSTRALIA. She'd been in the interview process for a few weeks, giving us ample time to consider the whole thing.

For me, it was a no-brainer. As in, hell yes, I'd go and not give it a second thought. Yes, there was some trepidation - chiefly, the thought of leaving Mick behind haunted me, for as big of a pain in the ass as he is, he's our dog, and part of the family, and that would have been painful. (Yeah, I know, what about your friends and family? Two words: Skype and Qantas.) But the idea of it, living Down Under and all that goes with it - 20,000 miles of mostly empty coastline, cool critters, cooler people, watching the toilet water go the opposite direction when flushed - come on, people. AUSTRALIA. That type of opportunity doesn't come along very often, and when it does, you need to jump on it.

So Beth had two interviews with this company, during which time I obsessed over all things Aussie. I read books, checked out websites, sought out the advice of some of my Australian mates, and got all fired up. Perspective was needed - despite Beth being eminently qualified for the position, there were a lot of things that could factor into the company's decision. Cost to hire and relo, competing local talent...it was by no means a sure thing, and as a recruiter myself I know that there's rarely a slam dunk when it comes to hiring someone, especially when it involves an overseas position. Still, I was optimistic.

Well, it's with a tinge of regret that I report that we will not be departing for The Fatal Shore, at least not in the immediate future. The company decided to go with someone else, although Beth did get a phone call from the company recruiter asking her to stay in touch in case they had any additional openings in the Sydney office (professionally speaking, I never call candidates that don't get offers unless I want to keep them on the radar for other jobs, so that's a good thing).

Is it for the best? Who knows. I'd be more upset if we didn't live where we live, and the world tends to work in strange ways - Beth was called out of the blue for this job, so one never knows what will happen. And it's a bit of a relief to have an answer, even if it wasn't the one we were hoping for - the company contacted her in mid-February, and it seems like our lives have been in a holding pattern since. And over the past few weeks we've realized that the idea of leaving San Diego for a new home abroad has its appeal. So if you're living in Sydney and need a good PR person or technical recruiter, shoot me an email!

I Don't Save Daylight

The whole turn the clock back/forward thing messes me up; it affects me like jet lag. Saturday night Beth hit the sack at about midnight. I couldn't fall asleep, so I stay up until 2:00/3:00 watching "The Hills Have Eyes 2" on HBO. (For those of you who saw "The Hills Have Eyes" and thought, "Well, gee, it wasn't bad, but it really needed was more rape and mutant birthing scenes!", run, don't walk, to your local Blockbuster.) I "slept in" on Sunday, waking up at 7:00/8:00, and spent the rest of the day walking around in a stupor, kind of like Bruce Willis in "12 Monkeys".

Anyway, the important thing is that the sunset was a little after 7:00, and I watched it from the deck of the Hollingsworth, in the lineup at Home Break. Conditions were less than ideal, but the sunset was some compensation. (Two guys were out with me; one, ever the optimist, proclaimed that he was going to "take one more in" as the sun dropped below the horizon - the "more" was a bit of a stretch, as they'd paddled out after me and paddled back in before I did, with nary a wave caught between them.)

The surfing was enough to take my mind off of what would be a Major Plot Development if our lives were a movie. We are awaiting some big news, which will take us - literally - in a wholly unexpected direction.

John McCain is A Man of Character

Just ask his friends.

Ok, maybe he's hanging out with a bad crowd. But still, he's a man of principle. I mean, here is a man who has fought to reform campaign financing and who would never stoop to some of the shady tactics candidates use to secure money. Right?

Er...well...straight talk! McCain is a Maverick, and would never pander to various factions. He talks the talk and walks the wa...

Well, maybe he's paying too much attention to all of those lobbyists on his campaign staff. But c'mon! The guy was a war hero! At least we can count on him to stand up to those who believe in the rule of law when it comes to torturing prisoners...after all, the guy went through Hell in the Hanoi Hilton and surely he wouldn't condone the same types of  "interrogation methods" that he himself was subjected to...

Oh well. I've already railed against candidates who tout their "experience". Experience just means more time spent swimming around in the cesspool; stay in long enough and eventually the stink gets into your skin and your soul, and it ain't comin' off.  Me, I'm voting for The Rookie.

The Surf Report for Tuesday, Feb. 19: My Kookness is Now Complete -I Wore The Hood

By my estimation, it's been 3 months since I last paddled out. A baby daughter and a life-sucking job will do that to you. So it was with some trepidation that I loaded up the PCM this morning and headed down to my favorite spot, Undisclosed Location.

The tide was high and just beginning to recede, but it was still swampy. And cold. Really cold. I wore my O'Neill hooded vest (the vest itself is made out of a really fine polarfleece-like material, and I will tell you that it absolutely works like a charm - all the warmth of a 4/3 without the added bulk). I wasn't going to actually put the hood up, but I was the only guy out, so the hell with it.

I was in the water for maybe 45 minutes, most of it spent paddling. At one point a dolphin cruised past me. The waves were sectiony, three feet at most. (I was thinking that it might have been fun to be on a quad fish.) I surfed like a guy who hasn't surfed in three months. A guy who also hadn't bothered to slap on some cold water wax - the warm water coat turned rock hard, and on at least one occasion my hands skidded right off the deck while popping up. Thank God for heavy Volan, else there'd be a nice forehead-shaped pressure ding on the deck. (That part about the quad fish? Never mind.) Still, I got into a bit of a groove and managed to get a few nice rides. Nothing fancy, no noseriding attempts, just some mellow cruising on a chilly morning. All was right with the world.

The Gift That Keeps on Giving

I have figured it out, this whole Valentine's Day thing. You will recall that I am the head chef here at Chateau Avant, but recently my concoctions have veered toward the, well, pedestrian (let's just say that Campbell's Cream of Mushroom Soup and I, we've become fast friends). So when Beth suggested, earlier in the week, that we celebrate V-Day by putting the kids to bed early and preparing a good meal, I was all over that.

The menu:

A salad of organic mixed greens and hydroponically(!) grown watercress, tossed with sunflower seeds and a pear/champagne vinagrette.

Salmon fillet poached in white wine, shallots, thyme and parsley, with a watercress and capers mayonnaise, accompanied by fresh chou de Bruxelles(that's "Brussels sprouts" for you Philistines out there) sauteed in olive oil and garlic then tossed with balsamic vinegar and grated fresh parmesan.

Dessert was homemade panna cotta with raspberries. The wine was a 2004 Schramsberg Blanc de Blancs.

Yeah, it was good. We drank the bottle and finished up our Continental-themed evening with an abstract foreign film, the Bergman-esque meditation on the price of glory, "Hot Rod"

The Secret of "The Secret"

9:15, on a Wednesday night. I am banging out the weekly newsletter to be sent to all of Parentricity's subscribers (don't let anyone tell you that sending an email to 8,000+ people doesn't give you delusions of grandeur. It does. Jason Uber Alles!); Beth is on the couch watching a DVR'ed episode of Oprah. Oprah is hosting a trio of women who have written bizarre self-help books that center around the concept of The Power of Positive Thinking; that is, if you want something, all you have to do is think about it 24-7, and lo! It shall be yours.

"Like that book 'The Secret'", I thought aloud. "What a bunch of horseshit. You know how I know?"

I could hear Beth's eyes rolling.

"Stedman", I said. "Think Stedman owns a copy of 'The Secret'? Do you think that he reads it every night and concentrates, thinks hard about Oprah, trying to will her to marry him without a pre-nup so that he can one day dump her ass and get half her money? Do you see a ring on Oprah's finger? 'The Secret' therefore is a crock."

No response. Clearly I had debunked the whole "Secret" myth. And now I will think about this blog post, really hard, and I will visualize myself as the Man Who Revealed The Secret As A Sham, and I shall be hailed as a genius and reap untold rewards.

Why Do I Love 'The Office'?

Actual conversation at work, occurring just outside my office. Note: I am the only guy in my department:

Co-Worker #1: "We need to do a team-building thing."

Co-Worker #2: "I know! We can do Curl Your Hair Tuesday!"

Co-Worker #3: "Oooooo! That's a great idea! We can all come to work with curly hair!"

Me: typetypetype-look busy-hope they don't hear my eyes rolling back into my head

Co-Worker #1 (sotto voce): "What about Jason?"

Co-Worker #2: "Jason, would you do Curly Hair Tuesday with us?"

Me: "Er..."

Co-Worker #1: "You should! Doesn't Beth have rollers? Or a defuser? You know what a defuser is, right?"

Me: "Ah...yeah, it's the big megaphone-looking thing you stick on the end of a hair dryer..."

Co-Worker #3: "Oooooh! You should totally curl your hair!"

Me: "I'm uncomfortable."

Why do I love "The Office"? It's funny 'cause it's TRUE.

That Space Cadet Glow

Continuing with the Batshit Crazy: We've all seen the film version of Pink Floyd's The Wall, yes? Here's a fun game: get out your iPod, select "The Wall", track 1 - "In The Flesh" - press play on the video below, and mute the sound on your computer. Bob Geldof was a scary psychotic fascist in the movie, but he's no Tom Cruise: