My Son, The Bigfoot Sighting

Please realize that the title of this post is not “My Son and The Bigfoot Sighting”. My son himself is a Bigfoot sighting. Note that he is six years old. This is an important contextual clue.

Herewith I shall describe the theorem thus presented. (I know the previous sentence may be grammatically or semantically incorrect. I don’t care. It sounds good to me.)

When my son is outside, he is nothing but a blur as he runs off to complete odd missions only his unknowable mind can understand.

My son is often hard to find, but traces of him are always prevalent. If I can’t find him I start by sniffing out horrible stenches. If he is not the immediate source of a particular stench, I follow odd footprints. My son often walks or runs in odd fashions with odd things on his feet. If the footprints peter out and give way to gravel or cement, I listen for the sound of something being smacked by tree branches. I can tell the difference between a tree branch smacking a tree, a swing, my shed, my lawnmower, one of my daughters, my house or my truck. All thanks to my Bigfoot sighting son. If the tree-branch-smacking-noise stops before I find him, I follow the sound of the unidentifiable screeching. It may be a distressed squirrel. It could be a kid my son smacked with a tree branch. Most likely it is just my son being himself.

My son is a Bigfoot sighting. He is unexplainable and often hard to find. When he is found, he is sweet and inexplicable. He isn’t Bigfoot, but he is the essence of Bigfoot. Not everyone knows he exists, but those who do are delighted to be among the chosen few who know him despite his stench, noises and the messes he makes.

I bid you adieu…and a don’t.

Adieu…find Bigfoot in your everyday life. He is a philosophy more than a creature. As such, there is much he can teach us.

A don’t…squash the quirks of your children. Life is made sweet in through such oddities.


Searching for M.o.E. and Two Girls Named Roger…Even I am Scratching My Head

I search for M.o.E. More accurately, I anticipate M.o.E.  I suppose a bit of clarification is appropriate before you throw up your hands and unfollow me, wondering what I mean by M.o.E.

M.o.E. stands for Moment of Eruption. Moment of Eruption is when a warming Lava Lamp releases its first bits of lava. I have thus far witnessed only the afterbirth of this event, but I imagine the event itself to be somewhat transcendent. I glance over at the lamp in between whatever academic sentences I happen to be writing and only ever see the lava swelling evocatively or in a state of having already erupted. I’ve thought a lot about why this is such a big deal to me and I’ve settled on the idea that I dream big, hypnotic dreams that distract me from my actual life and the eruption of a lava lamp is quite similar to this. For instance, the M.o.E. I missed while writing this post resulted in what appears to be intestines rising from the surface of the lower lava clump to the underside of the colored fluid.

Dreams swell. They erupt. Imagining success, you stare at them but they often remain frozen in place for a time that seems interminable. Then, before you know it, massive blobs of success are floating to the top of your life Lava Lamp. They undulate as they ascend, representing the mild hiccups that every dream endures, but, try as you might, you simply cannot remember the M.o.E., or time before fruition.

Weakly put, perhaps, but I’m sure you get a sniff of the philosophy I wish to convey.

On to girls named Roger…

I was shaving before work the other day when my 8 year old daughter, still needing to eat her breakfast even though school was only 20 minutes away, came to the bathroom holding back tears.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, worried.

My daughter hemmed and hawed for a while before saying, “Brother said ‘The girls are named Roger.’ Wah wah wah waaaaaaaah.”

“Are you named Roger?”, I asked.


“Then don’t worry about it.”

-sniffle- -sniffle- “Ok.”

I bid you adieu…and a don’t.

Adieu…endure despite the setbacks. I’ve been telling my daughter for years that what other people say doesn’t matter. She still thinks that it’s worth being offended that her brother thinks her name is Roger.

A don’t…discount their feelings. But definitely let them know when they’re being absolutely ridiculous.

Oh the Humanity of the Humanities: A Terrible Title for a Touching Post

Oh irony of ironies. As I opened what I thought was a new notebook to take notes on the Humanities class I just started (a class that studies the intricacies of human expression, I must add) I was greeted by a very simple, and yet sublime, human expression.

“Princess Sparklel (*sparkle) Farts”.

I haven’t laughed as hard as I did in quite a while. My wife laughed also. This one won’t go on the refrigerator though.

Her Majesty deserves a place of honor. She shall be framed in the finest dollar store frame and hung prominently upon our living room wall.

Although I don’t know the period during which the piece was produced, I can comment on the context.

Recently, my son ran up to me as I sat in the bleachers watching my daughters cheer a football game. He said, in front of God and everybody, “Let’s have a farting party!” I expressed extreme distaste in regards to my participating in such an event. My son promptly jammed his hand up his shirt and produced several armpit farts. As my son continued to squelch and giggle, I adopted a somber expression and sternly spoke his name. His farting party came to a screeching halt as he prepared to receive a reprimand. “Do you know what happens after a farting party?” He slowly shook his head. “People have been farting all night and, as they begin to leave, they find themselves parting farty.” A strange smile lay upon his lips and he uttered a half-hearted final giggle before running off to find his mother.

I had hoped to raise a family of nerds. Instead, it seems I’m raising a family of bodily function aficionados. They art about farts, for crying out loud.

I guess it’s ok. Their passion inspires in me an emotion that results in one of the more pleasant bodily functions: laughter.

I bid you adieu…and a don’t.

Adieu…engage in farting parties. Not literally, though. Use it as a metaphor for whatever strange, and less disgusting, activity your children may wish to engage in.

A don’t…part farty. Just don’t.

Could Businesses Benefit From Sam’s Example? Food-Free Free Samples

Yesterday my wife and I went to Sam’s Club. Although I enjoy simply walking around the place, we always end up spending at least a hundred dollars a trip. We left with full stomachs because of all the samples they give away. We dined on sushi, grilled cheese, beef sticks, chips, nuts, vitamins and breakfast sandwiches. All in all, a well rounded, satisfying meal. It almost made up for the money we spent on things we didn’t necessarily need. It also made me think….

What if other forms of business offered free samples? We will forego discussing free samples from banks. That is something we all might reasonably wish for. Instead, let’s consider some unorthodox free sample examples.

A book store that hands out small chunks cut from books.

A clothing store that hands out pant legs and shirt sleeves.

A video store that allows you to sample small slivers of dvds.

A music store that plays for you a single note or chord…

…a funeral home that hands out mini coffins or bits of corpse…

I bid you adieu…and a don’t.

Adieu…take what’s given to you. If it’s free, it’s worth it.

A don’t…eat every free sample you’re offered. Especially if it’s a business owned by me.


Little Jesus: Inadvertent Blasphemy or Innocent Worship?

This morning my son banged on the bathroom door as I was in the middle of my ablutions. TMI, to be sure. Forgive me. I quickly abdicated the throne to avoid a biological mess. I then activated the Wii and inserted a Mario disc to occupy my son as I put some finishing touches on my English Composition final.

My son is fond of a certain mushroom enhancement Mario can utilize to make himself miniscule. He screams “Look I used a smally! I’m so little!” He utilized this early today and chose a water level. In the course of his game, we realized that miniscule Mario can walk upon the surface of simulated bodies of water. I marveled verbally upon this fact. My son replied by screaming “I’M LITTLE JESUS!!!”

If you are anti-religion, you may not understand my quandary and may wish to stop reading now. This is ok. Believe what you want. I simply ask similar consideration in return.  If you are religious, or simply not anti-religious, I ask you the following question: Should I be concerned about my son’s eternal well-being?

I ask this because Mario basically has to do shrooms to do what he does. Does my son’s reaction indicate that he thinks Jesus did drugs? Or was he simply applying what he has learned to a modern situation? He is six years old. Likely this was an innocent expression of immature excitement in an increasingly electronic environment.

That blasphemy, though.

I bid you adieu…and a don’t.

Adieu…present your children with unique situations. Their reactions can really make you think.

A don’t…discount religion. It is as important to adherents as non-adherence is to those who aren’t religious.

The Insolvent Joke -or- The Reason I’m Not a Standup Comedian

A couple of days ago was National Tell A Joke Day. I learned of this as I listened to the radio on the way to work. I felt that I must commemorate such an event, although it is a bit late. A few highlights from the holiday:

“What do you call a computer that can sing?…A Dell.” – Some lady who called the radio station

“What do you call a deer with no eyes?…No eye deer.” – Some dude who called the radio station

I’ve long considered a career in comedy. Although I rarely consider anything funny that isn’t also rather dark, I’m attracted to the idea of standing on a stage and saying stupid stuff for a living. Actually, I’d much rather be a sit-down comedian. Better yet, I would love to lay recumbent in a recliner and spout random banalities in between micro naps for a living. This will never happen due to my personal contributions to National Tell A Joke Day which follow this sentence directly.

A man went to interview for a job at a trucking company. After answering all of the typical interview questions in stellar fashion, the man was asked about his over the road experience.

“Twenty years.” The man replied proudly.

“You seem like a perfect fit for the position!” The interviewer exclaimed. “We’ll just need to make a copy of your CDL.”

“I don’t have one.” The man replied.

“No problem. We can get you trained. Can we at least copy your driver’s license?”

“I don’t have one of those either.”

“Is it expired? Suspended?”

“I’ve never had one.”

The interviewer; perplexed: “Then how do you have twenty years of over the road experience?”

“Well, for the last twenty years I’ve worked for Channel 6 news, flying the traffic-copter.”


The next joke may be mildly offensive. Skip ahead if you’re offended by references to Nazi Germany which, by the way, I whole heartedly do not support.

The stars in the night sky sometimes twinkle, but what did the stars over Germany do during Hitler’s atrocious reign?


Unfortunately, these cranial excretions are not enough to support any sort of comedic career. So, for now, I’m stuck in a dead-end job and fighting through college at 35 in an attempt to someday feel mildly successful.

I bid you adieu…and a don’t.

Adieu…appreciate bad humor. It’s somewhat better than, and sometimes inspired by, clinical depression.

A don’t…take offense to my Nazi joke. Hitler was a jerk and his regime was egregious. I only wish I could’ve been a part of the effort to end his maniacal, murderous tyranny. Much respect is due to my grandpa and every other person who served in WWII or supported the war effort in any way.


2018-08-15 21:19-21:20 HOURS

Visible from back patio facing West, bright orb traveling at high speed from South to Northwest. No discernable strobe or other characteristics of conventional aircraft. ISS tracker shows space station traveling Northwest to Southeast approaching South America at time of sighting. Previous confirmed ISS sightings indicate that this object moved to quickly and in the wrong direction to have been ISS. Approximately 45 seconds into sighting, object brightened visibly on lower surface. Illumination was circular and appeared as if a spotlight had been suddenly directed Eastward. No beam visible during illumination. Duration of illumination: 1-2 seconds. Object maintained constant speed for duration of visibility. Light breeze, 80 degrees Fahrenheit, partly cloudy. No visible moon. Aircraft overpass directly following sighting. Aircraft travelled slowly Southwest to Northeast with discernable red and white strobes.

I bid you adieu…and a don’t.

Adieu…watch the skies. Someday you might see some weird thing fly overhead that is probably not as strange as it appears from the ground.

A don’t…believe everything you see is not strange. If you don’t know exactly what it is, it can be as strange as you’d like it to be.