The Name Game

Shirley!
Shirley, Shirley bo Birley
Bonana fanna fo Firley
Fee fy mo Mirley...
Shirley!

(Isn't that a FUN song?)

Today's topic has been rattling around in my head for some time now, kinda like that dime in the clothes dryer that you can HEAR, but never FIND. Well, in this case, it's tumbling outta my head (finally! That noise was driving me nuts!!!).

It's all about names. The names of things do mean something, after all.

First and foremost: Why do we insist on calling Saddam Hussein "Saddam"? Since when are we on a first-name basis with evil terrorist dictators? (SIDE NOTE: Am I the only who giggles at the word "dictator"?) Are we going to have our people call his people, and we'll do lunch? Is he being elevated to the same level as Cher, Wynonna, and Beyonce? Will we see him in an upcoming edition of People's 50 Most Beautiful Tyrants? (And before some dolt says that's his "family" name... then if that's so, why did his sons ~~ you remember, Huey and Dewey, or whatever, the ones we BLEW AWAY ~~ also have the last name of HUSSEIN???!!)

Read more...

Next, the whole John Mark Karr/JonBenet Ramsey mess got me thinking about this one: Why do we always refer to infamous murderers by all three names? Were we going to confuse this creep with John Karr, the mayor of Bumf*ck? Remember John Wayne Gacy, the child molester/killer/clown/scumbag? Did we really need to know his middle name? If anything, that probably confused a few people who thought they were talking about John Wayne. I say, let's bring back the good old-fashioned two-name murderous creeps like Ted Bundy and Charles Manson. Murderers just don't deserve the same respect that we typically reserve for normal people like, say... Neil Patrick Harris or Sarah Jessica Parker. (Oops, did I say "normal"?)

Finally, I'd like to mention the use of fake names on the Internet. User ID's, screen names, nom de plumes, whatever ~~ it's all the same thing. Now, I'm not knocking the practice; most people do so to some extent, and many, if not most, have perfectly legitimate reasons why. I'm just wondering if this new anonymity hasn't somehow given people the implied message that it's OK to be a jerk, in a way that very few would have the nerve to do in "real life". For example, even in a bar, would a guy (other than a VERY drunk guy) go up to a woman and say "What size are your boobs?" I've been in a lot of bars in my life, and I've never seen or even heard of this happening. Yet, every woman I've discussed this with tells me it's commonplace on all of the Instant Messaging programs. Would these jerks act differently if the women they were talking to knew their real names? I could see it now:

Michael R. Jones of Cincinnati: Hi, what size are your boobs?
Female9195: I'm tracking you down and slicing off your gonads, you bastard.
Michael R. Jones of Cincinnati: Oops, my bad.

William Shakespeare wrote, "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." To which, I might add, "or as lousy".

Especially if we're referring to an anonymous guy on the Internet, an evil dictator, or some other miscellaneous creep.

Three Columns

You may or may not have noticed, but a couple of nights ago, I converted this site to a three-column format. The sidebar was getting full, so now I have two sidebars to kind-of even things out. Other than the extra sidebar, everything else is pretty much the same (so as not to shock my readers too much).

Special thanks to Thur Broeders, who designed the template (although technically, he modified the 2-column Minima Black template... but hey, why pick nits?). You can check out his site here (and he has lots of great templates that you can use for FREE (one of my favorite words).

In The Navy...

In the navy
Yes, you can sail the seven seas...

OK, I was never much of a Village People fan. Plus, I only made it two of the seven seas, the Atlantic and the Mediterranean. (Are there really seven seas? I kinda hope so; if not, those salad dressing folks could get sued for false advertising, couldn't they?)

Anyway, not long ago, I was going through old boxes of stuff and stumbled across this treasure: a Navy photo of yours truly, circa 1982.

Handsome cuss, wasn't I?

In My Heart Of Hearts

First of all, I'd like to know who came up with that phrase. So that they can be beaten senseless. Because, even though I use it from time to time, it really doesn't stand up well under examination. It's fairly dorky sounding, to be quite honest.

How do you go about telling your heart "no"? As children, we always hated that word. It carries such negative connotations, even into our adult lives. We like to think that once we've reached the age of majority, we can say or do as we please, as long as it doesn't hurt others, and we can have nearly anything we desire, if we're willing to work hard enough. But what if that were not the case?

Read more...

What if you feel that a certain situation would be so right, so incredible, so awesome... but yet, you just cannot get there. There is an obstruction in your way, one that is, for practical purposes, insurmountable. Do you bide your time? Continue to think about alternative solutions? At what point does it become a lost cause? Do you take a logical approach and cast everything analytically? Or do you go with your heart, and throw rationality to the wind?

I've always considered myself an optimist. I like to think that, given enough time, most things will eventually work out. And although I'm not a control freak, if I am hoping for a certain outcome, I like to be able to take steps towards making it happen. For my tastes, it's better to be proactive. But what if you CANNOT be proactive? What if you might ruin something by being proactive? Am I too impatient to just sit still with my fingers crossed? Maybe... but the potential rewards in this instance are enormous, to say the least. (So enormous as to be life-changing... and I don't use that term lightly.)

So, although I don't have much hope (hope is not dead, per se, but I would say that hope is in a comatose state, and on life support), I hope to have hope once again someday. In the meantime, what I do have is loads of questions... most of which, I don't have answers to. But the one question that I cannot dismiss from my mind is: "What if?"

I know the answer I'd like to see... in my heart of hearts.

Pluto No Longer A Planet

Just read this on Yahoo News:

Pluto Demoted, No Longer a Planet

Capping years of intense debate, astronomers resolved today to demote Pluto in a wholesale redefinition of planethood that is a victory of scientific reasoning over historic and cultural influences.

Pluto is no longer a planet.

"Pluto is dead," said Caltech researcher Mike Brown, who spoke with reporters via a teleconference while monitoring the vote. "Pluto is not a planet. There are finally, officially, eight planets in the solar system."

On a related note, the Walt Disney Company was quick to release a press statement, explaining that Pluto still meets all the requirements to be a cartoon dog.

Goofy refused to comment.

Cheesy Tots and Search Engines

Recently, I signed up with Sitemeter, with the promise that I would get some interesting and potentially useful statistics about visitors to my site. The cost was fantastic (FREE), and all I had to do in exchange was place a small icon on my site, linking back to Sitemeter. (They do have paid plans as well, that I imagine give you even more goodies, but I figured I'd start out with the freebie and see how it goes.) Well, it's been about twelve days since I signed up, and I have to be honest -- that's just about the best zero cents I've ever spent in my life. Really, when I think of all the other things I could've bought with that zero cents... It just starts my head to spinnin'...

Read more...

All seriousness aside, it really is pretty cool. I've learned some very interesting things about my site. First of all, where I rank with the major search engines. If you search on "Jim McKee", you'll get the following results:

YAHOO: I am the 41st result.

GOOGLE: 3rd result.

MSN: Result # 1. BOO-YAH!

(NOTE: These rankings may change from day to day. A couple of days ago, I was # 9 on Yahoo.)

So, for these wonderful search engine results, I would like to thank everyone that reads my humble writings on this site, and a special thank-you to those who link back to me (see "The Gold Team" in the sidebar).

Ah, but that's not all I discovered in the Sitemeter stats. No, it's gets even more interesting...

When searching on "cheesy tots", this site is # 2 on Google and # 24 on MSN. (Oddly enough, on Yahoo, I ranked WAYYYYY far down on a search for "cheesy tots". I mean not even in the top 300. I have no clue what caused this apparent anomaly.)

CHEESY TOTS.

I'm stunned. Actually, I don't know what floors me more: That I rank so high on a Web search for cheesy tots, or that so many people actually search for information on cheesy tots in the first place.

I'm not sure if such a high search engine ranking means that I'm on the way to becoming the default spokesperson for cheesy tots, but if so, then I accept the responsibility with all the solemnity due the title.

Yeah, right.

Four Go For Gold !!!

WOW !!!

Four more sites have linked to mine, and have therefore been moved up to the Gold Team (see Sidebar). I can barely keep up! As it is, I'll have to lump two or three (or in this case, four) together in one post:

The World According to EDW -- published by EDW (that kinda worked out, huh?)

Sports, Soaps, and a Wandering Mind -- published by Samantha_K

The Very Important Thoughts Of Jami -- published by... take a guess... yes, Jami!

The World of Yaxlich -- published by Yaxlich (don't know if that's his real name... and I'm sure it's none o' my bizness, so I'll just let that one be...)

I enjoy all of these blogs, and I believe that you will, too... so please, check 'em out. Share the love.

DISCLAIMER: The terms "Gold", "Gold Team", and "Gold Status", including any variations thereof, are honorary, symbolic, ceremonial, and virtual terms, have no cash value, and are not redeemable for gold nor any other precious metal.

Sense and Senselessness

Dear Reader: I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Are you ready? OK, come a little closer... I don't want the whole world to hear... Just YOU. OK, that's close enough (you may want to switch to a stronger mouthwash... I'm just sayin'...).

The secret is this: Sometimes, there's more going on here than meets the eye. Most of the time, I try to make this site humorous and entertaining. Sometimes the occasional ugly unfiltered deviation slips in, but that's definitely the exception, and not the rule.

Read more...

I also use this site, and my writings, to try and make sense out of things that happen to me. Big things. Little things. In-between things. Things that seem utterly and totally senseless to me. Sometimes it works. Sometimes I can cast an event in the spotlight of humor, laugh about it, then revisit it a day or two later, and answers start to become apparent. Not always, though. Sometimes, I can laugh about something, then reflect upon it again a few days later (or longer), and it still seems senseless. Perhaps some things are destined to NEVER make sense. As a computer programmer, I like to think that every problem can be figured out logically. However, all those bits and bytes do not necessarily translate to the human condition so easily, or so readily.

So, while you may not necessarily SEE what lies beneath the surface of the funny stuff, rest assured that there's SOMETHING there, more often than not. And all things considered, this is a hell of a lot cheaper than paying a therapist.

But remember... it's OUR little secret.

You Might Be A Redneck...

(...or, more accurately, I Might Be A Redneck...)

This is the point where all the Jeff Foxworthy fans in the crowd are expecting me to rattle off a few of his redneck jokes.

Sorry, Bubba, it ain't happenin'.

Read more...

But here's the situation: Recently, something happened in my life that made me re-examine my place in the societal food chain, as it were. I've always considered myself a cool, hip and happenin' kinda guy, in spite of being older and fatter than I'd like to be. But what if what I think turns out to be somewhat detached from reality? So, I started thinking about things, and here are the self-truths that I've been able to determine thus far:

• I am apparently not "a man of style".


• My furniture is old and beat up. (But hey, I raised a son mostly by myself, with virtually no child support or financial assistance from anyone. To me, that's WAY more important than groovy furniture.)


• My tastes are NOT for the finer things in life. Even though I'm in a white-collar profession, I come from blue-collar roots, and I'm not ashamed of that. You'd be FAR more likely to find me at a Toby Keith concert than at a performance of the Philharmonic anything.


• Keeping up with the Joneses holds ZERO interest for me. Although if the Joneses seem like nice folks, I might be inclined to invite 'em over for a beer.

But these realizations were still not enough to determine whether or not I was a redneck. So, in the time-honored tradition of the Blog-O-Verse, I sought out a quiz.

http://www.quizarama.com/areyouaredneck.php

Here are my results:

Congratulations, Your score is 10 out of 15
You scored well; this means one of 3 things:
1) You are exceptionally bright.
2) You used to be a redneck but have moved out of the south and are in remission.
3) You are a redneck but trying to hide it.

So, as you can see, the jury is still out on this subject. I reckon that'd be a jury of 12 Bubba-like individuals, chewin' Skoal and watchin' NASCAR.

GIT-R-DONE !!!

Three Move Up

It's a regular grass-roots movement, my friends. There are now NINE sites that link to this site. 3 x 3. Almost ten. Four short of a baker's dozen. Anyway you slice it, that's good news. All three of the sites featured today were on the Silver Team, and have now been moved up to the Gold Team (more on the Team concept later).

First of all, two blogs that I read and enjoy on a regular basis are Call Me Soccer Mom and Die and As If You Care... , written by Christina and "M", respectively. Funny, insightful, and often sarcastic. Read 'em -- they have the Jim McKee Seal of Approval (and you have no idea how much it costs to feed that damn seal -- raw fish is NOT cheap, people!).

Another site that has linked to me is The Bestest Blog of All Time. Although the site uses Blogger software, it actually functions as a blog directory. And for those of you who like to random-blog-surf, that site's "Random Blog" button works better that Blogger's "Next Blog". I won't tell you why, I don't want to steal the site's thunder. Just go there and try it, already!

I added another team to the Team concept, so I will take this opportunity to review the Team definitions:

Gold Team: Sites that I read regularly and recommend, and that link back to my site.

Silver Team: Sites that I read regularly and recommend, but that don't yet link back to my site.

Bronze Team: Sites that I read regularly and recommend, but that don't HAVE link sections AT ALL.

Gold... silver... bronze... Why am I hearing the Olympics theme in the background?

Hmmm...

Elvis Has Left The Building

It happened 29 years ago today: August 16, 1977.

I was 17 years old. The start of my senior year in high school was looming large, especially since I was naïve and had absolutely NO clue what lay in store for me after said monumental year. (Some people would say I still have no clue. I believe it's best to simply shoot these people and move on.)

It was a Tuesday afternoon when the news came out that Elvis Presley had died. I'd grown up listening to a lot of Elvis music, as both of my parents were big Elvis fans. (Elvis was the ultimate defintion of "star": women wanted to be with him, men wanted to be like him.) I don't remember if my mother cried when she heard the news, because my parents were separated at the time, and I was living with my dad. If I had to bet, though, I'd bet that she did. (I guess I'll never know, as she herself passed on five years later.)

So, a couple weeks later when school started, Elvis' death was still the talk of the town at Taylor Center High School (and probably at lots of other schools, as well). It was such a big deal that it got mentioned in our school yearbook, accompanied by a picture of the man himself.

Although I was more of a Beatles fan, I still held Elvis in a position of reverence. Even in 1977, his earliest songs had been around for more than twenty years, and had easily stood the test of time in fine fashion. (Plus, the Beatles themselves made no secret of the fact that Elvis had been a HUGE influence on them.) The years that have passed since then have only increased my respect for Elvis as an entertainer, and my love for his music. (Those who aren't big Elvis fans may not realize that he made some of the most beautiful gospel music that has ever been recorded.)

Arguably, Elvis Presley was the most popular entertainer of all time. His death affected more people than probably any other in modern times, although those of Mother Teresa, Pope John Paul II, and Rudolph Valentino would also have to be considered serious contenders.

It has been said that one day, Elvis will be akin to a religious cult. I don't doubt that; in fact, there may already be some movement in that direction. Don't believe me? Take a look at this.

Ypsilanti, Michigan, is home to the annual Michigan Elvis Fest, which is officially sanctioned by the Elvis Presley Estate. There are, of course, Elvis impersonators, as well as memorabilia for sale, raffles, food, and lots of other fun things to see and do.

Even though I lived in Tennessee for two years, I never did visit Graceland (I did drive by it once, but it was after dark, and I couldn't really see much from the road). I do plan to go there someday. By every account I've ever read, it's well worth your time.

Elvis has indeed left the building... but his music will live forever.

The King is dead. Long live the King!

The Official Elvis Presley Web Site

Word.

As astute readers have probably noticed (obviously, this excludes half-brainers... but not to worry, they won't know what astute means anyway), I have had to activate word verification. This is because some nimrod jerk sicced a spam bot on my Comments section. The funny thing is, it was mostly the older comments... does anybody really think that the older ones get read all that much? So much for artificial intelligence, huh? Anyway, I apologize for the minor inconvenience this change may cause.

Speaking of word verification, this happened to me the other day as I was leaving a comment on another blog...

The "word verification" word was "rudrxa".

All I could think of was: "Ask your doctor if Rudrxa is right for you. Rudrxa is not to be taken by pregnant women or intoxicated animals."

Speaking French

"It's like the French have a different word for everything."

- Steve Martin

"You know what I'd really want to speak? I'd like to learn how to speak French, cuz that's some cool shit, French. You can say 'I gotta shit' in French and it would sound good."

- Eddie Murphy

Recently, I made a reference to "yet another reason to hate the damn French". In the interest of fairness, I would like to examine a very valid reason to like the French: their language turns chicks on. All you have to say is "Oui, oui" and women start drooling all over themselves, even though, in essence, it's no different than saying "wee-wee".

But I like to think of myself as a guy who can adapt to just about any given set of circumstances. So, with that in mind, I have now mastered three sentences in French:

1. Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble.

2. Apres tous les beaux jours je te dis merci merci.

3. Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?

I believe any or all of these may come in handy at some point in time, especially should I travel to Quebec... or (shudder) France itself.And before you even ask, yes, I know what all three mean. However, our friends at Babelfish are much more efficient at translating than I could ever hope to be:

1. These are words that go together well.

2. After all the beautiful days I say to you thank you thank you.

3. Do you want to sleep with me this evening?

Astute readers may recognize these sentences as occurring in popular songs over the years. Mere coincidence, I assure you.

So, anyway, there's my plan: To conquer the French language (and in so doing, to turn chicks on) one sentence at a time. If all else fails, I can always fall back to the old Cheech & Chong catch-phrase:

Parlez-vous humma humma?

Thanks, I Needed That

Something kinda funny just happened...

I had a bottle of water in my lunch cooler. I went to pop open the sports cap so that I could take a drink... and the darn thing sprayed me in the face.

The way things have been going for me the last couple of days...

Thanks, God... I needed that.

The Next Day

Speaking from the heart (again)...

[WARNING: May be boring. For the most part, not funny. Please feel free to skip this post.]

These thoughts will probably come out in jumbled fashion. C'est la vie, as the French would say. (Yet another reason to hate the damn French!)

With the passage of twenty-four hours, the feeling of shock that I experienced yesterday has slowly metamorphosized into a feeling of dread. It's almost like someone who awakens from a horrible car accident to find that they've lost a leg. It's a total shock to your emotional system. Later (or in my case, today), the person is faced with the realization that this loss is very real, it's not going away, and things will most likely never be the same again. I feel like someone has attached a vacuum cleaner to me, and sucked out every shred of my soul.

I have never connected so perfectly with someone, on so many levels. I am certain that she didn't give the whole thing enough time. However, I have said to her everything I can possibly think of to say, so at this point, all I can do is let it be. This is my "realization moment", I suppose. Sadly, I am wondering if I will ever connect so completely again. This was not the first time I've been in love. Hell, I've been married twice (hush, you people who say those two things are not mutually exclusive). But I've never been in love like this. There were no doubts. No red flags. No incompatibilities. Everything clicked. Pefectly. Like a finely-tuned Lamborghini.

I keep hoping that, after she goes a few days without talking to me, she will realize what she's missing out on, and how much we both stand to lose. There is something beautiful and magical between us, something legendary, something most people would be jealous of, and would kill to have. However, the realist part of me acknowledges that the odds of such a revelation on her part are extremely slim. If I were like the typical jerk, I'd just say, "It's her loss." But honestly, it's a HUGE loss for both of us. This kind of connection is rare. Many people NEVER find it. To think that one might find it once, discard it hastily, then find another one... well, I think it's more likely that I might win the Mega Millions three weeks in a row.

So, that's where I'm at today. Not in such a violent emotional turmoil as I was yesterday. Just the terrible reality settling in, that something is seriously wrong inside my heart, that there is a huge, gaping emptiness inside of me... and it's going to be here for a long time. That, and the tears.

It's Over

Regular visitors to this web site may remember that I had "met" someone through the Internet (we won't go into all that again). She came into town again this past weekend, we spent the day together Sunday, and we had an absolutely fantastic time.

Well, we were talking on the phone this past evening and I playfully asked her if she missed me. Turns out, on her drive back home to (her town), she'd been doing a lot of soul-searching. And she did feel that we connected on a lot of different levels, except the most important one: she didn't have any romantic feelings for me. And when two people are looking for a relationship, that's kinda important. Like ULTRA-IMPORTANT. And it's something you just can't force, either it's there, or it isn't. And I cannot and will not say anything bad about her; she's a beautiful lady, inside and out. She was as kind and as gentle as anyone could have been under the circumstances. I could tell she felt really awful. I was glad that she was honest with me, even though it hurt like hell.

Damn. Shit. F*ck. Sonofabitch. We were supposed to run away and be spies and sell real estate and sing karaoke. Guess none o' that's happening.

Well, as you can imagine, I'm completely devastated. Hopefully, I can get back to funny stuff soon; I don't really like this kind of blogging at all, it's not for me.

God bless you all.

The Starving Fat Man

Rant overheard recently from a fat guy in a gas station:

"They don't want us to work in the United States any more. They want us to starve to death. And some of us are."

Dude, if you can't make your car note or your light bill, I'm sure there are lots of people who can relate. Seriously, everybody knows that Michigan's economy is just a little shy of peachy-keen these days. (OK, ya got me -- it sucks eggs. Royally.)

But you can't stand there with a big ol' beer gut and play the starvation card. We're not buying it.

Read Any Good Books Lately?

I cannot help but give this book my strongest recommendation. You never know when it might come in handy.

Like when one of your table legs is shorter than the others, for example.

Image courtesy of Custom Sign Generator

Arse!

Driving to work today was an experience, to say the least. The first strange thing was an accident on the freeway that had traffic backed up for several miles. This caused me to have to back up on the shoulder for a couple hundred feet, so that I could use the exit ramp to make a quick getaway, and take a good detour. Except that boatloads of other people had the same idea... so I ended up having to take a detour around the detour.

So, half an hour later (covering a distance that normally takes 5-6 minutes -- ARGGH!!), I'm tooling along on the freeway at normal speed, when I encounter one of those large digital signs. You know the kind: the ones that have traffic or road construction messages such as, "Bulgarian freedom fighters have seized I-94, one mile ahead. Seek alternate route." Only this one was having some major signal issues. Instead of words, this particular sign was showing mostly random groups of dots (maybe it was in Braille?). In the midst of all those dots, there was only one legible word:

ARSE!

(For any half-brainers who might be reading this, the term "arse" is what the British use when they mean to say "ass". Not "ass" as in donkey, but "ass" as in "You have a fat ass". Why don't they just say "ass"? I have no idea, but I like the British, and "arse" sounds pretty cool, anyway.)

I have no idea what kind of subliminal message the highway department was trying to send (Kevin Nealon, where are you when we really need you?), but based on my morning, it would work for me, as long as I could attach the words "KISS MY" onto the front of it.

Goin' Crazy From The Heat

Here in Detroit, the expected high temperature today is 101 degrees. (Not a typo, I really did mean to put one hundred and one degrees.) If the temperature does reach that prediction, it will be the hottest day in Metro Detroit in a dozen years.

Now, I don't like to complain too much about the weather. It's summertime, it's supposed to be hot. Lord knows, it'll be chilly before you can blink your eyes. (Such is life in Michigan, where our unofficial State Motto is "If you don't like the weather, wait five minutes, it'll change".) And I'll definitely take the heat of summer over winter's bone-chilling cold and several inches or feet of snow.

But man-oh-man, I'll be so glad when it cools off, even just a little. It was 80 degrees at 6 o'clock this morning. Something about that picture just does NOT seem right.

And another thing: When people talk about the heat in places like, say, Arizona, the phrase you always hear is "...but it's a DRY heat". Yeah, well, we ain't that lucky. This is a MOIST heat. Like being dunked in a vat of donkey sweat. (Now there's a sexy visual image for ya.)

Some other song lyrics dealing with the subject...

• The heat is on


• Man, it's a hot one/Like seven inches from the midday sun


• What a lovely way to burn


• It's like a heat wave


• Feeling hot, hot, hot

(Feel free to leave a comment and contribute your own.)