End of an Era

It is a lucky man who has the fortune to choose when he will walk away. We are not defined by our blogs - men are more than words on a page, but your words will be missed.

Hello friends.

I once again commend those of you who have successfully completed the challenge that is the BufBloPoFo. It is not easy. Many of you were undertaking this challenge this year for the first time. I hope that you will try again next year. For those of you who were participating in their second Fortnight, I trust that you (like me) found it to be difficult but worthwhile.

This technology has made our lives easier, and has helped us connect (and re-connect) with people from whom we have been separated by the sinister forces of time, life and circumstance. This internet not only provides us with naked women, but is a valuable tool for keeping touch with those you cannot or do not see regularly, speak to frequently, or share with personally. This series of tubes is useful and wonderful for telling your friends, no matter how far-flung, what you are doing, how you are doing it, and why. But do not rely too heavily on this World Wide Web.

We are a social animal. Following the daily blogging of a few friends for a couple of weeks may have made your parents' basement feel a little less lonely. Your hours of Warcraft have been tempered with some "real world" stories of coffee too hot and kids too precious. You may feel invigorated and connected to humanity in a strong way. But the Fortnight is over. I urge you, friends, to renew these connections with personal conversations. Be not satisfied with the consumption of one-way communication provided for by push-button e-publishing. Endeavor to create lasting physical relationships. Hear, touch, smell - experience - other human beings.

The internet is amazing. Our children will have no concept of what life was like without it. It is a wonderful vehicle for pornography and anonymously ridiculing the lifework or passionate interests of other people. But it cannot totally replace the importance of real life connections. Do not let Facebook replace face time.

That being said, do not leave your blog to rot until the next BufBloPoFo. It is still a useful means of keeping others in the loop of your life. Regardless of how lonely and forgotten you feel, someone is interested in what you are doing. Keep posting on a regular basis. We know how difficult it is to write daily, but try to write at least weekly. If for no other reason, write so that there exists some lasting record of humanity. What if your blog were the only remaining evidence of our society? (The Mayans left no blogs. All we know about them is that their skulls were made of crystal and that they are going to end the world in 2o12.) Don't let future generations think we all died out in late March, 2009.

To the rare few of you who have satisfactorily completed two Buffalo Blog Post Fortnights - congratulations. I'm sure Mike will be whipping up a fancy "Two-time Completer" jpeg for our pages. We should all have a drink - if not together, at some pre-appointed time when all around the world Completers can celebrate the completion of that which is completed. At least for 50 weeks - until BufBloPoFo2KTen.

The more things change, the more I am a depressing lump

Last year I left myself a series of questions to be answered during this year's BufBloPoFo:

Did you pass the bar yet, dummy?
--Yes. Clearly, that proves that I are not dumb.
Did you get a job yet, lazy?
--No, but I have actually tried. You're the lazy one.
Did you buy a house yet, house-less guy?
--See the above answer. Job first, then house.
Do you have dependable transportation?
--Yes. I depend on my friends.
What was your favorite car?
--Probably the Geoff Bodine Chevy Lumina. I seized the brakes on Elmwood Avenue.
Are you still keeping in touch with your friends thru the blogosphere?
--Does Facebook count as the blogosphere? I'm still holding out off the Twitterlution.
Do you ever socialize with anyone in person?
--Yeah, a little bit. Not much. I am a misanthrope.
What's your favorite planet?
--Mine's the sun.
Are you still brewing your own beer?
--Not nearly often enough.
Do you have a business model in place yet to start selling it?
--Not even close to starting to get ready to think about it.
Do you still want to own a bar?
--Very much. The only reason to get a job is to make enough money to retire and buy a bar.
How much do you weigh?
--I don't know. Still lots.
Does Zeppelin still rule?
--They do. And they always will.

I am going to leave these questions here in order to answer them again next year. And every year until I am satisfied with all of the answers. Then I'll come up with some new questions.

What do I know?

I feel terribly out of my element telling someone how to be a parent. I do not have any children (that I know of - zing!). Even if I did, I don't think I would feel entirely comfortable telling someone such business. I mean, I'll still do it.

But this is just advice, and solicited advice at that. So here's what I think:

Your child will grow up to be the type of parent that you are. To some extent you are the type of parent that your parent was to you. (Now, if you are making a conscious decision to be a different kind of parent than you had, it follows logically that your kid can do the same.) But just think about it when you are thinking about how to discipline your progeny, or when you're figuring out how to celebrate something, or when you're planning a family vacation.

Think, too, about your life experiences and the memories that you carry with you. The formative events that made you who you are. Remember these - and recognize exactly what it is that you remember - as you are making decisions that might shape your babies' future.

Memories can be simple moments, special occasions, or annual traditions.

Teach them to eat all sorts of different foods. Encourage them to play a musical instrument, to learn a foreign language and to take criticism as gracefully as compliments.

Talk to them a lot, but listen to them more.

And don't smoke.

Hey, I did it!

I didn't know how to do this five minutes ago. I'm in the living room. I'm wearing jeans with paint on them, because they are my "work pants", and I was working. I feel that I should say more, but I probably won't.

To forgive, devine

Oh Mad Typist - I couldn't stay mad at you. I didn't feel slighted so much as I just didn't want to talk about soup. All is forgiven - assuming you forgive my childish tantrum.

I used to have a much more substantial internet presence than I do now. "DHKA.com" was actually a website that I had before most of us knew what blogger was. It was generally a stream-of-consciousness humor/rant site that I updated once a week. Eventually, it grew to include three other staff writers, a trivia section and guest submissions. I discontinued it when I went to Europe for a few months, and never really picked it up again. I launched this blog in order to get back on the horse, as it were, for last year's BufBloPoFo. I immediately fell back off. I know that there were those who were disappointed in this, and I vow not to let it happen again this time. I intend to keep up the blog, at least weekly (or at least weakly). I appreciate your encouragement, and invite you to follow along the winding road of me trying to find a job and whatever lies beyond.

I've never really thought about working for a magazine - except for Blush Magazine, because Laura San Giacomo is hot. I guess the easy answer would be Playboy or High Times, but I don't smoke reefer and I doubt the girlfriend would appreciate the other one. I think Popular Science might be cool, because they get to try out products and stuff, right? I have no desire to work for any of the magazines that the girlfriend sneaks into the grocery store check-out line. I wouldn't really want to work for any of those Men's interest like Maxim or Stuff or one of those. I guess I would most be interested in something challenging, important and lasting.

That seemingly simple question about working at a magazine may have just shed some light on what legacy I'd like to leave once I've passed on. I'd like to do things challenging, interesting and lasting.

Soup Post

(I'm drunk)

Ooooooh, I'm the Cultural Cuisinart, I'm too good to blog about hoffie. Ooooooh, look at what's on tv, I know a lot about pop culture. Ooooooh. I'm important so read my blog - far too important to blog about hoffie, oooooh.

I like soup. I haven't always, but I do now. Apparently, according to my mother, I used to have a real problem with cream in general and with cream soups in particular. That was before I understood that they were mostly fat. I like fat.

I like minestrone soup. Despite my aversion to sausage and meatballs, I like Italian Wedding. But, while I'm not proud of this, my favorite soup might be Amanda's mother's Seven Onion Soup which I have had on two consecutive celebrations of the birth of Jesus Christ (those more calendarialy bound call this Christmas, but some of those of us who are more enlightened celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior for several weeks).

There are a few Progresso brand soups with a Weight Watchers points value of ZERO per serving. Not that I'm a fat-ass or anything.

I don't like mushrooms or mushroom soup.

(It should be noted that I was in a bar drinking before 12:30, and that Syracuse Univerity has advanced to the Sweet 16 in the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament. Either one of these would lead to my inebriation, but both together are dangerous. Bring on the Sooners!)