I Miss All Of You Too

There's a hell of a lot of corn in this country. Miles and miles of it in fact, broken up only by the occasional soybean field. It's lovely in its own way, but I'm tired of driving through it.

At least I was until I got a text message from my oldest in the middle of lunch.

"God hates me," it read.

That's my boy. A pessimist just like dear old dad.

"Why do you say that?" I sent back.

"My brother was born," came the reply.

When I talked to my Lovely Bride tonight I could tell it had been a long day, a point driven home by the screams I heard from my kids in the background. The middle son had been locked out of the basement by his brothers, apparently in revenge for his being born.

"Would you like me to kill them when I get home?" I offer.

She pauses to consider. "Probably not. Let's see how it goes tomorrow."

The oldest gets on the phone. His first words, "Your middle kid's a jerk."

"No he's not. Knock it off."

"See, you love him better." He throws the phone at the youngest who picks it up and launches into some incomprehensible story about a basketball game, told in the dialect of the Whitest Gangsta in America. I try to pay attention for a minute and then realize I have no idea what he's going on about. I don't think he knows either. The whole thing 's just an attempt to annoy me. Eventually it does.

"Let me talk to your other brother." I'm told he's left the house. He's probably out in the yard, looking for sticks he can sharpen into weapons. My wife gets back on the phone instead.

"How was your day?" she asks.

Not so bad after all.

Smile And Say Cheese

You know what's worse than spending weeks driving all over hell and back for work, staying in crappy hotels and eating bad food three times a day?

Cracking a tooth while doing it.

Goddamnit.

Zig Ziglar Can Bite My Ass

Chuckles has used his mystical wang power to peer through the veil of secrecy and find the real Snag. It is true. I am a motivational speaker. Here's what I said to my audience this morning:

Thank you for paying money to be here today. It makes me a richer person, at least materially, the only way that matters. Just as important, looking out at all of you reminds me how much worse my life could be.

I wasn't always the suave hellcat you see before you. No, I was born a simple lad, raised in a bamboo yurt without running water or sunlight. I was a hard worker, though, and by kindergarten had amassed my first million, selling gall bladders on the open market.

Other endeavors soon caught my fancy. I played professional baseball in a fantasy league for several seasons. I bred kelp. I manufactured real estate. In my heart, I still knew it wasn't enough. I had something left to give.

A decade as a Trappist monk failed to cure me of this conviction and that's when I joined the motivational speaking circuit. I stand here before you today to tell you that you can do what I've done. You can go cave diving in Bismark. You can sell multi-level marketing schemes to schoolchildren in the developing world. You can kill and gut a caribou with a rock and a Q-Tip. But first you have to dream.

Stop for a minute and close your eyes. What's your dream? Is it to be me? For most people, it is. That's not going to happen unless you steal my DNA. Find another dream. Got one? Good.

What is it? You, sir, in the third row, stand up. What's your dream?

You're kidding me, right? That's your dream? I'll be dipped in shit. That's not a dream, that's a freaking nightmare. Alright, whatever, if that's what you want, that's what you want. Jesus.

Anybody else have a dream, maybe one that's not quite so horrifying? You, ma'am, in the back. What's yours?

Lovely. That's just nice. What the hell's wrong with you people? Don't any of you have normal dreams? Did I wonder into a locked ward by mistake? Look lady, I'm sorry, stop crying but I'm not running a Belgian porn site here.

Alright, I'll give you a dream, something to hang on to. Close your eyes again and let your mind drift. Picture yourself in a boat on a river. Now, picture yourself as Paul McCartney. Picture yourself as Yoko Ono for that matter. I don't care, picture yourself as anybody but the pathetic loser you are. Now picture yourself jumping overboard and being eaten by crocodiles.

Okay, open your eyes. Who feels better? Nobody? Tough titties for you then. Suck it up and stop whining. Christ, I'd slap you all if you were my kids. Since you're not I don't care enough about you to make the effort.

Fuckers.

On The Road Again

Here I am back on the road again, which, in my glamorous circles, means lots of crappy meals at crappy restaurants, too many of which are bad chains moving in to replace the places that existed before globalization and neglect destroyed the local economies. Tonight was no exception, "meat" loaf covered with Funyuns® and ketchup.

After dinner I retired to the hotel bar with two of my traveling companions. Thankfully the management stockpiled enough bourbon to wash dinner's foulness from my mouth. Now I'm back in the room listening to streaming music on a wireless network in a shithole hotel that ten years ago would have been lucky to have cable television. Say what you like about this country, its communications technology keeps me alive.

I'll be gone a lot in the next few weeks. A bunch of miles to drive and a bunch of people listening to what I have to say. Or so I like to think. They show up at least, and that's good enough for my purposes. I tell them what I have to say, they pay attention, sort of, and at the end of the day they go away, I hope, a little wiser.

In the meantime, I'll eat a lot of lousy food and sleep in a lot of lousy hotels. I'll spend my nights drinking beer, watching movies on my laptop, wondering whether and how to change the next day's presentation. I'll miss my family, my friends. I'll even miss my stupid dog.

At least I've got a job and a place to go home to.

Do What You Love

Like many Friends of Befouled, I am constantly on the lookout for new career opportunities. It's too easy to just read through U.S. News and World Report's annual article about possible careers. Accountant, lawyer, phlebotomist - anyone can put together a list like that. If you really want to get a handle on your future, you need to dig beneath the surface. That's what I've done for you.

Allow me to present Snag's Hot Jobs of 2007.

1. Gnu-Control Expert

The proliferation of gnus in America, particularly in metropolitan areas, has led to a huge array of problems; fatherless children, overburdened police, shuttered businesses. The expansion of concealed carry laws is only contributing to this, leaving traditional methods of detection and prevention useless against those who would bring gnus into our schools and houses of worship.

As a gnu-control expert, you'll be on the front lines, developing and implementing creative strategies to reduce the spread of illegal gnus. Our nation's cowboy ethos may never allow the type of restrictive gnu laws found in most other Western countries, but there is still good money to be made finding constitutionally sound strategies to fight back against those who proclaim, “You can have my gnu when you pry it from my cold, dead hands.” Mandatory employee assistance programs are one of the many perks to be had in this rewarding field.

2. Moose Inseminator

Contrary to what many people believe, moose do not asexually reproduce. Increasing fuel costs have impinged on the traditional courtship rituals of this magnificent beast, however, making it more difficult for all but the richest to make the trips necessary to woo the cows of their dreams. In addition, certain radical feminists have begun to question the need for bulls in the first place given recent advances in reproductive technology.

This is where a moose inseminator comes in. Much like a bee, your job is to transfer the bull’s “pollen” to the cow’s “pistil.” This requires steady hands, a soothing demeanor, and a willingness to wear heavy protective clothing. While challenging and not particularly financially rewarding, this career provides the satisfaction of showing your own children a calf in the woods and telling them, “I made that.”

3. Plaque Disposal Technician

As dental insurance becomes more common, it is accompanied by the need to find ways to dispose of the plaque that is scraped off millions of teeth every day. In the past, it was typically sold as mulch or burned in the incinerators most dentists used to heat their offices. With environmental regulations no longer permitting these means of disposal, plaque disposal technicians play an important role in America’s number one industry, the fast-moving world of dentistry.

You will undergo a rigorous three-week online study course before obtaining your certification. Once properly trained, you may go to work for one of the many Fortune 500 plaque disposal companies. Advanced degrees in plaque disposal are also offered by many larger universities for those who are interested in moving into research or academic positions. Whatever you choose, you’ll be in demand, reflected in salary packages that often approach four figures.

4. Puck Tester

Hockey is the hobby of the future, but it can’t happen without an adequate supply of pucks. As the sport of kings, hockey equipment was once confined to those lucky enough to be descended from one of the great Canadian royal families. Now that these restrictions have been lifted, manufacturers find themselves unable to fill the necessary positions in their research laboratories.

You could be the person to step into this void. Density, consistency, and flavor are the watchwords of the world’s great puck testers and it is only after a grueling apprenticeship that you’ll be permitted to sign off on these universally revered icons. In the meantime, you’ll spend your days shadowing one of the masters and your nights watching tapes of Don Rickles and studying the mysteries of vulcanization. The educational process is capped off with a field trip to one of the great rubber plantations of southern Iowa. Compensation packages typically include reduced-cost bowel reconstruction surgery after five years of employment.

5. Meat Sculptor

Weddings have long been the place to find elaborate ice sculptures and cakes. Those on the cutting edge are no longer satisfied with these pedestrian accessories, however, and are now looking for new and creative ways to express their love on this special day.

Sculptors have begun to recognize this and are turning their attention to the wonders of meat. Whether it is a centerpiece depicting the happy couple in top quality veal or a more affordable collection of offal place cards, meat sculptors commemorate one of the most significant days in any person’s life. Unlimited scraps are just one of the fringe benefits of this prestigious job.

So That's What They Mean By A Funny Uncle

It was an old-fashioned 4th of July for the Snags, far away from where we live. We go to our friends' place every year at this time, a break that means the world to our kids and us. This year was typical.

We went to a parade:



















Our kids hung out:



















And we had Scotch and fireworks. That made for a tense moment when shrapnel hit my middle son, but once my Lovely Bride calmed down, it was fine.

Best of all, we had my friend's 12-year-old niece out on a fishing boat, just her, my friend, and me. First she bet her uncle he wouldn't swallow a live minnow for $10. Bad bet on her part.

After that went awry, she tried to change the subject.

"I'm going to ask you questions and you have to answer them," she said.

"Okay," we said. The fish weren't biting anyway.

"Was Noah's Ark real?" she asked.

"Yes it was," came the answer, "It was really more of a floating slaughterhouse than an ark, however. That's why some animals disappeared. Like when Noah got a hankering for some unicorn sausage."

"Next question," she said. "Why does it seem like so many of the nail parlors where I live are owned by Chinese people?"

"That's because of the Louisiana Purchase," we said. "Jefferson insisted on that as a condition because he was worried that once the railroads were built there wouldn't be enough work to go around."

"Alright," she said. "How about flying fish? Are there really such things?"

"There are a few kinds," we replied. "For example, there are vampire bass. It's a common misconception these are bats, but that's because of a regional dialect that mispronounces the word. There are also buskies, a member of the pike family. They have long venomous fangs they uses to stab their prey."

She giggled. "You guys are weird."

We headed back to the cabin about midnight, just in time to open a new bottle of wine. Our wives shook their heads and apologized when she told them what we'd said and our own kids rolled their eyes and said we were idiots. Yes we are, but for these few days we're happy ones.

Woo-Hoo! USA!! USA!!

Well, it's off to a friend's summer place for the Non-Canadian North American Independence Day of English Speaking Nations. My Lovely Bride and our hellspawn will be joining me, which cuts down on my meth use. Instead I'll fill the time with fishing and fireworks, two activities that are not necessarily mutually exclusive. The kids have their Jarts game to keep them busy between trips to the emergency room and what with the bald eagle coming off the Endangered Species list, I'll be doing some small-game hunting with my homemade DDT-soaked lead shot.

It's not all fun and games, though. We'll also be taking time to reflect on what makes our nation great. Corn dogs and the invention of the Sleep Number bed would rank high on anyone's list, but my personal choice for the heart of America is the Fuel Mart in Perrysburg, Ohio. With a wide array of hanging air fresheners and books on tape, it's the perfect place to grab a slice of Americana for the road.

Happy and safe travels and may the moose be with you on this special day!