Santa Baby

At this time of year, we take a moment to reach out to those less fortunate. Some people can't afford to give their family a hearty holiday meal and maybe they have to stretch to provide Christmas presents for their children.

But all of us have the power to make a real difference. Maybe you can donate a meal to a family in need. Or you could volunteer as Santa at an orphanage (provided you are corpulent and/or jolly enough to fill the role). You could even donate some of your old toys (or those of your children) to Toys for Tots, a Marine-sponsored organization that, "distribute(s) toys as Christmas gifts to needy children in the community in which the campaign is conducted."

"I'm not a millionaire or a toy magnate!" you cry. Rest assured. You don't have to be FAO Schwartz or even Jeffrey the Toys 'R Us Giraffe to make a difference. We can all play a part...


Yes, even if you are the owner/operator a Lincoln strip club/gay bar, you can give back to the community. Because if there's one thing that strippers and Christmas have in common, it's giving.

Inevitably, some child will ask for a shiny red firetruck this holiday season. Sadly, one child will receive their gift and then face the awkward task of asking, "Mommy, why does my firetruck smell like Cinnamon Body Spray and shame?"

cheers.
.charlie

PS - For an added treat, my mom was able to dig up and digitize a picture of me as a wee one. She passed it through the proper channels (damn you, Ben) and it is on the blog. Scroll down to see.

Happy Birthday!

Hey Charlie! (What?) It's Your Birthday. Today!

Rock on, Charlie. Love, Mom

I Don't Care If It's Not About Nebraska

This is just too funny not to pass along. I've always thought this SNL commercial was so funny, and I just found it on YouTube. Outstanding.



.charlie

How to Be Awesome

Step 1. Get a personalized license plate.

Step 2. Hold nothing back.




Yep. Saw this at the Omaha airport on my way back from D.C. It's every ounce of excellence one could hope to exude, summed up in 5 simple characters. Stamped on by a convict, enjoyed by an undoubtedly awesome human being.

cheers.
.charlie

Her New Favorite Uncle.

I didn't get to see her for a whole month and a half after she was born...


But it was well worth the wait...

She's as cute as my hands are gigantic. Hence this photo, which looks like I'm dropping her.
But isn't she amazing? My little niece, Ady Margaret, and her new favorite uncle, Uncle Chuck. My previous three nieces/nephews have had a hard time saying "Chuck," instead inadvertently referring to me as "Uncle Suck." I assume this sad trend will continue with little Ady for a while. But she's cute enough, I'm willing to forgive it.

cheers.
.charlie

Sad. But True.

Please, Kansas. XXX Gas Stations? At least use a barn like civilized human beings.

cheers.
.charlie

3.14159 Reasons to Embrace Your Nerdiness

I received a letter from a JAK reader yesterday that I would like to address. Please read the following:

Dear Just Above Kansas,

My name is Arthur. I’ve been reading your blog since the story about the stolen R2D2’s. I looked back on some of your previous entries and I noticed that you like to poke fun at nerds. Who the hell you think you are? As a nerd, I need to set you straight.

Contrary to popular belief, one doesn’t choose to be a nerd. They’re born that way. My parents found out that I am a nerd at a very young age when they caught me trying on scientific laboratory apparel in the basement. Imagine how disappointed my football-star father and cheerleader mother were when they discovered me in a white lab coat, protective eyewear, stonewashed jeans (elastic waistband), and a NASA t-shirt. Of course, it also didn’t help that I was in the process of determining the mineral content of our tap water.


Initially my parents tried to hide the fact that I was a nerd. They thought that it was just a phase that I was going through and that I could be changed. They’d set up play dates with “cool” kids, buy me roller blades, starter jackets, and Crave (you know the candy in plastic tubes that turns your tongue crazy colors). I just gave the candy to other kids and kept the little plastic test-tubes for my chemistry experiments. Starter jackets meant I had glorious pocket space to store specimen for my bug collection that I discovered on my walk to and from school. I do admit though, the roller blades were bitchin'. They even made me quit science class and attend an extra session P.E. What they didn’t realize is that you can take the nerd out of science, but you can’t take the science out of the nerd! You also can’t divide by 0. Don’t even try. It will #$@% up your universe.


So then, ma and pa had to accept me for the nerd that I was. Things were looking up as I entered high school (at the age of 13). I was deeply motivated by a 675 page Mr. Wizard autobiography that I read (in 24 minutes) and decided to be openly nerdy. But just because I was free to solve differential equations in the safety of my own home didn’t mean society as a whole approved of my nerdy ways. It was quite the opposite in fact. Some people didn’t approve of my lifestyle because they didn’t understand it. It just didn’t seem natural to them that I enjoyed science and math. Others argued that being a nerd doesn’t make sense because if everyone was a nerd, no one would understand how to procreate and the human race would vanish. They said, “we’ll be hopelessly-stuck somewhere between home plate and 1st base.” I didn’t understand hockey analogies.

That was high school, but times are changing for the better now. For every ignorant person out there it seems there are 4^2 (16) people that accept nerdiness, even if they don’t spend their Friday evenings trying to prove Euclid’s Parallel Postulate. And we even have our own TV show, Mythbusters, which is bringing our lifestyle to the forefront of society. And while we’re on this subject, I’d just like to point out an error in the “greater traction in reverse on ice” episode. The apparent 900 lbs of force exerted by the car in the reverse direction is largely due to the fact that at the beginning of the test there were MULTIPLE inches of slack in the chain that allowed the car to gain momentum, effectively elevating the force measured as the chain became taut. Ever heard of the scientific method, dumbasses?

Okay. Sorry. I’ve been needing to get that off my chest. Anyways, I hope that this letter gives you a new perspective on what it is like to be a nerd. Just remember that when you make fun of us, because eventually you’re gonna need someone to fix your computer.

-Arthur


Dear Arthur,

I appreciate your letter. However, I don't think you realize that we are, in fact, nerds as well. I mean, this is a blog. I'm an engineering major and I do nanoindentation. Do you think that I don't feel the pressure from society to be cooler? Charlie has a two blogs about the television show Lost. Do you think that he doesn't get immense crap about that from his friends? The truth is sometimes you have to be able to poke fun at yourself, whether it's about your nerdiness, your love for public hot-tubs, your interest in historical barns, or the state in which you live. So please, remember that this is all in fun. And also, I completely agree with you about that episode of Mythbusters.

-Ben

This is What It Feels Like, When Nerds Cry

It's been about a week since we last spoke, readers. My apologies, I was on the business trip from hell and I spent most of the weekend making sure Lincoln's beer supply hadn't gone bad in my absence (it hadn't). Plus, Sunday I went to a Husker Volleyball game, and it was awesome. "Why," you ask?

Girls in short shorts? Check!
Stadium nachos? Check!
A Husker team winning? Check!

All in all, it was excellent. I particularly enjoyed the "play" (and by "play" I mean "hotness") of one player. Let's just say her name starts with an "R" and ends with "achel Schwartz." Shwing.

But I digress. Desperate for content as we sometimes are, I decided to click over to our beloved local paper's Web site to see if I could unearth a tasty nugget of corn-fed goodness (my apologies for using the words "nugget" and "corn" so close together). And what, within seconds, do I find? This headline, followed by this brilliant story intro:


That says, "Man reports R2D2s stolen from his porch" followed by "There's been a disturbance in the force -- right here in Lincoln." Sigh.

Turns out a guy ordered four motorized, replica R2D2 pieces from Hammacher Schlemmer (ergonomic dog food bowls and nerd toys in the same catalog? What God did we please?!). And no, jerks, I am not the victim of this crime. There is a limit to my nerdiness, just barely.

But apparently, the UPS guy left him on the porch, and they were stolen before the lucky owner could even find them, open them, insert the batteries, turn them on and lament what his life had become. A shame, indeed.

So right now there are two people in Lincoln. One man desperately trying to hunt down his stolen R2D2 toys. Another man, the thief, wondering why his newly-stolen Roombas don't work. Honestly, I don't know who to feel more sorry for. That guy stole 4 boxes from Hammacher Schlemmer, probably believing them to be components of an elaborate massage chair, a croquet set or a to-scale replica of the Holy Grail. What did he get? Nerd toys. See kids? Crime. Doesn't. Pay.

Before you make fun of this victim (60 years old, mind you), I ask you to imagine yourself in his shoes. Personally, this would be the equivalent of someone stealing LOST action figures from me. No, I don't have LOST action figures. But my birthday is in December. Just saying.

My favorite part of the article? The close: "They might be wise to be on the lookout for Jawas. The short, burlap-caped scavengers with hoods and yellow eyes stole R2D2 in the movie." Yes, that sentence was printed in our local newspaper. On purpose. We'll keep you posted on this story, but I'm sure Nancy Grace will be here in a matter of hours for 24/7 coverage.


cheers.
.charlie

Hey Wait, Somebody Listen to My Opinion About Steve Pederson! Anybody?

Ready? Dog Pile!
It seems everyone in Lincoln has had an opinion on the Husker football situation in the last few weeks. For some reason, everyone's a bit more critical when we're losing than when we're winning. Perhaps I will never understand this phenomenon.

So after weeks of pissing and moaning, Husker fans were satiated today by the news that Harvey "The fightin' Pearl" Perlman has fired Steve "Kill me now" Pederson. By cutting this beast off at the head, Perlman hopes that the remaining tentacles (read: Callahan, Cosgrove, etc.) will soon wither and die, falling off to be eaten alive and decried in hindsight by the same Husker fans who praised them months ago. But enough of that.

It's amazing how the rumor mill works in this little town. I first heard that SP was gone at about 10am today from a buddy of mine who goes to UNL. Then more and more tips started pouring in, and finally my inbox was flooded with confirmed reports within 2 minutes of the official report. Two hours later, the Perlman press conference wrapped up and the town turned its attention from speculation to analysis.

But the shit people come up with is amazing. Ridiculous rumors, over-zealous anticipations and wishful thinking we're combined into the greatest bowl of overreaction stew I've ever tasted. Can you imagine if the press conference had been attended by fans and not media types? I can.

The Average Joe's Press Conference
Harvey: I'm announcing today the (air quotes) resignation (air quotes) of Steve Pederson as our athletic director. Questions?

Fan 1: Yes! Yes! See, I told you that slick bastard was out. I knew it, I knew he was gone. My friend works with a guy who's cousin's son delivers newspapers to some of the houses on Steve Pederson's block, and he said there was a brown cardboard box outside of Pederson's house that may or may not have been a moving box. God, it's all so clear now.

Harvey: That wasn't really a question. Anyone else?

Fan 2: Yes, any truth to the rumors about Tom Osborne as Pederson's replacement?

Harvey: We'll see about that, for now we're goi--

Fan 3: Osborne rules!

Harvey: Yes, Tom's a great guy.

Fan 3: Any truth to the rumor that scientists in Scotland have found a way to clone Frank Solich's respect for Husker tradition with Turner Gill's natural, youthful enthusiasm and combined them into a super-coach? Follow-up question, will we hire this, "Franker Gillich?"

Harvey: You're an idiot.

Fan 3: You are. Fire Perlman! Dot com!

Fan 2: What about the popular idea reported by some, i.e. my barber, that Tom Osborne was able to breathe life into Bob Devaney's lifeless corpse, reviving him to a slightly-above-vegetated state in which he is expected to be able to come back and coach the team?

Harvey: Seriously?

Fan 2: My barber knows a guy. Just sayin'.

Harvey: Okay.

Fan 1: Yes, I've heard that Volleyball coach John Cook will be taking over the defense if he is able to defeat Kevin Cosgrove in a steel cage match this Sunday.

Harvey: Ummm

Fan 1: Confirmed! Great.

Harvey: This conference is over.

Fan 3: Tom Osborne for life!

But Seriously
The thing that upsets me is this: traditionally, Husker fans are known as the classy, mature, voices of reason in the college sports fan world. And here people are, celebrating a man getting fired. Before someone calls me on it, yes I did have a glass of champagne at work today when we watched the press conference. But not because I was happy that a guy got fired. Just because I likes my booze. But who do these people think they are cheering a man losing his job? Be happy for the program if you think this was the right direction for it, but let's remember that this "villain" we so contagiously hate is a person.

The main reason people hate him is because he soiled the reputation of our program. The other side of that reputation is the classiness of our fans. Let's not ruin that one, too.

Here's to the resurrection of this amazing program, I do hope (and in my heart of hearts, honestly believe) that this was the right thing to do for Husker Nation.

cheers.
.charlie

Buying Shame, By the Hour

"Hey. I was just wondering if you'd wanna go to a public, rent-by-the-hour hot tub in downtown Lincoln with me."

If you've never had the pleasure of receiving this offer, you've never had the pleasure of visiting The Tubbery. Tucked away amidst the vintage charm of Lincoln's Historic Haymarket district is a cesspool of human existence masquerading as a romantic getaway. The Tubbery, which frankly just sounds filthy, rents hot tubs by the hour. To people. Real people. Who pay to rent hot tubs by the hour.

What kind of people patronize this fine, upstanding example of American can-do entrepreneurship in action? Well let us judge completely from this one comment I found on Yahoo! Local, a Yahoo! subsidiary where people can post their thoughts on local businesses so that all 27 people who still use Yahoo! can read them. Here, without any censorship (skip it if you're sensitive) is "Dottie's" thoughtties on Ye Ole Tubbery.

"This is the place!: The Tubbery is a very fun place to go. You can go into one of their themed hot tub rooms, they're specious, very neat, complete with all you will need, not to mention..you get a big 8-10 person hot tub to play in. This is an ideal place to take that special someone, and there's nothing like sexin' and feeling those jets hittin against your bodies! I can't wait to go back!!!"

I must point out that this message was posted on Yahoo! Local two days before Christmas, 2005. So, in the midst of celebrating the birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, Dottie found time to give The Tubbery props on its ability to facilitate "the sexin'." Dottie's ONLY other review on Yahoo! Local? You guessed it, Priscilla's Adult Novelty store. Hope she's single. I must also point out that The Tubbery is real. I can not reiterate this enough.

I assume that your choices of a "themed hot tub room" are NASCAR, Kentucky Fried Chicken and Failure.

I also assume Dottie meant "spacious," not "specious." Specious means "false but plausible." As in, "The Tubbery is the original breeding ground for all known forms of sexually transmitted disease." False, but plausible. See?

Alright, I may have to do a follow-up post to this later. I'm an hour away from lunch and if I don't get the mental image of Dottie "sexin'" her Jeff Gordon-wannabe boyfriend in a public hot tub out of my mind, I may never eat again.

Until then...

cheers.
.charlie

Dude, You Rock

Celebrate Nebraska Rejects (Special Kansas Edition)
Dude, you rock and roll all night, and party ev-er-y day. I don't know what to love more, your Winger-style hair or your Ultimate Warrior-style bicep tassles. Also, where did you find a Solo keg cup in school colors? Totally bitchin. Anyway, just wanted to write in and tell you how much I admired your relentless support of the 'Cats. I guess I'll see you at the next Dokken Reunion Tour. Until then, keep on, keep truckin'.

Oh, and don't forget to wave your Power Towel while doing the Willie Chant.

Sincerely,
One of the guys from Nelson

The "L" Word

The juvenile in me laughs.

The adult in me, well, also laughs...


Our sincere apologies to downtown Lincoln's Bennett Martin Pubic Library. I suggest you enlist the aide of Volunteer Sheriff's Deputy Dwight Schrute to find this heinous culprit.

cheers.
.charlie

*And a special thanks to Mark for snapping this pic and passing it along.

Never... EVER... Challenge Your Mother.

In issuing a blind challenge to the blogosphere (and this blog's small-but-strangely-devoted readership), I was a fool to ignore a mother's love. My mother is wonderful at two things: loving everything her children do and saving only our most humiliating pictures. Even though I think I was a mistake, I'm not immune to her love. As a Just Above Kansas reader, she jumped at the opportunity to meet my challenge. The result, for me, is an uncomfortable reliving of a time when I was mistaken for the next Doogie Howser during college interviews.

I also underestimated her relationship with Tara, a good friend of mine who works at a restaurant that my mom and her friends frequent (by the way, Happy Birthday, Tara). Now, I am forced to be a man of my word, and so I begrudgingly post quite possibly the two most regrettable, unfortunate and laughable senior pictures in recent history.

So here they are, taken in the summer of 2002, when I was but a wee lad with a bowl cut (seriously?) and a dream. And a love for the A.C. Slater pose. I stood just 5'2" and only cracked a triple-digit weight after a heavy meal. I would like to thank the entirety of people who knew me in 2002 for not bothering to tell me just how ridiculous I looked. Come on people, a bowl cut after the year 1994. That could've been prevented. Sigh.

If it helps, please imagine the person in these photos uttering the following phrases:

• Hi, I'd like to apply for college.
• One student for "American Pie."
• Will you go to prom with me?
• I'll drive.

And yes, ladies. He's single.

Well played, mother and Tara. Never again shall I doubt either of you.

cheers. i guess.
.charlie

The A.C. Slater Pose and Other Regrets

Today I'll talk about bad high school decisions, and if you read to the end, you may just have a chance at throwing down some mad Karma back at me. Here we go...


I was watching TV last night when I saw an ad that caught my attention. Not in the good, "Hey that's funny," way or the "Wow, good to see Ed McMahon is still alive," way. Rather in the, "Oh, that's unfortunate," kind of way. It was a commercial for a photographer in Lincoln, advertising his senior picture services. One photo was particularly tragic.

When exactly did the world decide it would be a good idea to professionally chronicle every kid doing something they would inevitably regret? Senior pictures are a time-honored way to capture "Wow, I can't believe I thought that was cool 10 years ago," moments.

So being the diligent chronicler of all things weird and/or Nebraskan that I am, I was able to find the picture from the TV commercial. It is posted on the photographer's Web site both as a showcase of his talents and a reminder to incoming seniors everywhere.

If you know the kid in this picture, I'm sorry. I'm not making fun of him, I'm making fun of senior pictures in general. This just happens to be a current one. So without further adieu, I present you this:



Picture the year 2017. A former member of B2K is president (Omarion in '16?). We are enslaved by our Canadian overlords. And Wal-Mart sells kidneys in bulk. Somewhere, this young man will be saying, "Oh man, popped collars! Why? Why God why? What in the name of Mario Lopez was I thinking?" Mario Lopez? What does that have to do with anything? Keep reading...

A Disclaimer
Again, I'm not picking on this kid, I'm picking on senior pictures and how ridiculous they are. It's entrapment. There's no way you're going to do something you'll be proud of later in life. And I'm not trying picking on high school kids. I'll say that high school students in this state are wonderful, and I would know. I work at a camp in the summer with them and they are bright, articulate, intelligent and impressive. So there.

And a Challenge to You, The Reader
Before you brand me a totally soulless bastard for picking on high school kids, I'll give you my sad senior picture story. Today, I stand 6'2", about 170 lbs, and when I have facial hair I almost look my age (23). When I entered my senior year, I stood 5'3", 100 lbs and got carded for PG-13 movies. And as if looking 11 years old when applying for college wasn't completely humiliating enough, I chose the A.C. Slater pose for my senior pic. You know the drill: backwards chair, arms folded neatly on the to. A timeless classic.

And so, I issue this challenge:

To any of our fair readers. If you can come across my A.C. Slater-posed senior picture, and you can scan it/get it to me in digital form, I will post it on the blog, thus abandoning any remaining chance of ever dating again and opening myself up for a confidence-shattering barrage of humiliation from all of you. Your mission is clear.
Go forth.

cheers.
.charlie

A Major Blow to Brute Honesty

Last week, Nebraska Senator Chuck Hagel announced he would be leaving the Senate, opting not to seek re-election in 2008. I'm not going to pretend to be a political expert/analyst/blogger, but, as a citizen, Hagel's departure leaves me a little empty.

Lately, bashing the president and the war has become more fashionable than tiny dogs using celebutante handbags as temporary kennels. As public opinion on the war has plummeted, politicians seeking '08 election have been the first to criticize the present, usually without making recommendations on the future. Make no mistake, I hate this president, his administration, politics, character, demeanor and pretty much everything about him. I don't agree with the platform his party purports, or how they push it. But the same people who are trashing Bush now are many of the ones who supported him earlier. And while changing your mind is certainly legal, doing it to appease public opinion is gutless and unethical.

So back to Hagel. In a time when stump speeches are dictated by unscientific CNN polls and passion-laden punditry, Chuck just said what he thought. It was unpopular (at the time), sometimes poorly delivered and almost always controversial. But it was what he felt. And it seemed, at least, to be devoid of influence from public opinion. He went against his party and spoke out honestly on a polarizing topic. He did it before it was popular. And he did so with blatant disregard to its effect on his viability as a presidential candidate, making statements that stole headlines from his own contemplation of a run for the White House.

In short, he said what he felt was right without worrying about the consequences on his career or likability. That ought to be the m.o. for any politician (or person, for that matter) but in today's world, it's not. He embodied the junior high guidance counselor adage, "What's popular isn't always right and what's right isn't always popular." And as lame as that saying is, it's a simple sentiment that has been all but forgotten by many of our elected leaders. Love Chuck or hate him, you have to admire unapologetic honesty in an arena that so regularly neglects it.

cheers.
.charlie


ps. Sorry about the serious post. We'll get back to making fun of rival Big 12 schools, worshiping Dave Coulier and Celebrating Rejected Nebraskans right away.

Special Delivery

Yesterday was a very important day for me. Not only was it International Talk Like a Pirate Day (seriously), a time-honored tradition in my family (no, seriously), but it was a good day for another reason, too...

Ady Margaret Borchert
Born 9/19/07, 5:07 pm, 7 lbs. 14 oz.

Cute kid, eh? I think so. Baby is doing wonderfully, as is mom (my sister). So forgive my proud uncle blog posting and help me welcome, in the spirit of International Talk Like a Pirate Day, Ady Marrrrrrrrrrgaret Borchert. Avast! A sea-farin' baby she be! Okay maybe not. But she is real cute, and I'm happy. If anything wasn't going perfectly in my life, that little face made me forget it pretty quickly.

cheers indeed.
.charlie

Are You There God? It's Me, Ernie Chambers

As someone who blogs about happenings in Nebraska, content is sometimes hard to come by. Sometimes you have to dig and claw until you find that story. But then, sometimes a story is hand-delivered to your doorstep, wrapped neatly and topped off with a colorful bow. Sometimes one of your state legislators sues God.

In a headline that seems ripped from The Onion, t-shirt and stonewashed jeans-wearing Nebraska state senator Ernie Chambers is suing God. Chambers' crusade is not really aimed at God (or Dave Coulier), but rather at all-too-common frivolous lawsuits that make a farce out of our judicial system while simultaneously grinding it to a halt.

Click here to read the article on Chambers if you haven't already. No need to pinch yourself, it's real. He's stepping the arena with defendants who sue for coffee that's too hot, ice that's too cold or shirts that are too "shirty." Which brings us to...

CHAMBERS V. GOD:
THIS TIME, IT'S BIBLICAL.

Chambers claims God is within the jurisdiction of Nebraska's Douglas County because, well, God is everywhere. He is suing based on the "terroristic threats" and "calamitous catastrophes" (Man, did the Rev. Alliteration-Master Al Sharpton ghostwrite this lawsuit?) that hardliners could technically blame God for. And he's asking the justice system to act within its power to prevent God from further harm upon the human race.

Soon, Geraldo and the E! Network will be setting up camp outside the state capitol building for 24/7 coverage. Nancy Grace will accuse Jesus of leaving a baby in a hot car for three hours. Jerry Falwell will ascend from hell to personally damn Ernie Chambers. Right behind Falwell will be Johnny Cochran, still looking to make a quick buck.

But questions abound. Who will preside over the trial if the defendant is seen as the judge of eternal life? Does God have to swear on the bible, or should we just take His word for it? When God says the Pledge Allegiance, does he say, "One Nation, Under Me?" Is there a jail that can hold God? How does all of this effect Christmas?

There's a lot to sort out, for sure. The best we can do is sit back and watch a crazy outgoing state legislator drain tax dollars and ironically abuse the justice system to prove how people abuse the justice system. I, for one, need answers now. I'm going to talk to the guy who stands outside the movie theater with the giant cross. He'll know.

cheers.
.charlie

Dave Coulier Has Heard My Prayers!

Okay technically if he'd answered my prayers, Karen would have her little baby by now. No baby yet. But Karen is doing well and is mega-pregnant (or megnant. And yes, that is a legitimate medical term). The doctors are thinking sometime around September 19th, so we'll be holding our breaths until then.

So Lil' Baby Football Ticket didn't work out exactly as planned, but... I'm going to the game anyway! My dad had a ticket, didn't want to go to a night game with a gigantic crowd and ceded his ticket to me. Was it a guilt trip from the blog? A father's love for his son? Nah, he just doesn't like the crowds. And for that reason, I will be sitting on the 50-yard line for the game tomorrow.

A special thanks to all of our loyal readers here at Just Above Kansas for sending good thoughts. I assure you that the blog didn't really guilt trip my wonderful father into giving up his ticket, he's just not a huge fan of going to the games. And a very special, heartfelt "Thank You" to Dave Coulier. People laughed when I named him my celebriGod, but who's laughing now? He has heard my prayers. He has answered. I am thus vindicated.

In honor of him, if a fan gets out of hand Saturday night I will promptly turn to that fan and do this:

I think it's only right. Go Huskers.

cheers.
.charlie

Willie you marry me?

Celebrate Nebraska Rejects



Willie,

Maybe it’s your boyish good looks, or your wacky hat-beard combinations, or the way your two teeth glisten in the setting summer sun. The truth is there are many reasons why I’ve fallen for you. I love the way you can catch and cook a squirrel using only dental floss, a paper clip, chewing gum, a magnifying glass, and dynamite. I love how you’ve assembled your entire wardrobe by redeeming points you’ve collected from various tobacco products. I love your undying devotion to the television show “Lost” and the related blog you update regularly. But most of all Willie, I love you--and your mad skills between the sheets. Will you marry me?

-Deb


.ben

I Mean Where Do I Begin...

...to tell you the number of things wrong with what I'm about to write about. First, a disclaimer. For those that read this blog that aren't die hard Big Red fans (shame on you), we are going to cover the Huskers from time to time. But I promise it will not be sports radio via the blog, rather it will be a series of forays into the culture of Husker football that so permeates our fair town. It will be humorous, perhaps sad and most certainly awesome.

That said, let's talk about Kansas State. One of the Husker "rivals" in the Big 12 North, the Wildcats are based in Man-Happenin', Kansas. Their mascot is Willie the Wildcat. Apparently, their new team ain't so good. They've been sluggish early, and I think I've discovered why.

In a sad, desperate attempt to artificially inflate fan support for their team, the K-State Sports Marketing geniuses recently put this together:



That's right, two new traditions. One is the "Power Towel," an idea so original that it's only been copied by 93% of collegiate, professional and semi-professional sports franchises the world over. We get it. You waive the towel, the visiting team wets itself. This tactic is best used by fans sporting stonewashed jeans, a Flock of Seagulls haircut and Snap Bracelets.

But that's nothing compared to the "Willie Chant." Oh, sweet Jesus. What in the name of Dave Coulier is this thing? Where to begin? There are so many things wrong with this. Don't get me wrong, I love Whitesnake. I just think it's time to let them rest in peace, and not try to resurrect their style as a pathetic college football chant. And how about Willie's tasty, face-melting, Guitar Hero-worthy licks? I'm surprised my computer screen didn't melt when I played this video. Is the 30something-still-clinging-to-Hair-Band-Rock target market that active? And why, oh god why, are there lasers shooting out from the guitar?

Lyrically, it's a masterpiece. I believe the words were written by a team of whales, and the sounds they emitted were so beautiful that K-State decided not to translate them into English (ala Dory from Finding Nemo).

I don't understand it. How. What. But. Then... Brain. Exploding. From. Ridiculous. Stupidity. Must. Stop.

And yes, right about now the Gods of Husker Karma are planning how Kansas State is going to beat Nebraska, just to punish me for this post.

cheers.
.charlie

Baby of Fortune Update

Well Husker Fans (and fans of me getting to go to see the Huskers play USC), things are progressing swimmingly with my sister's pregnancy. If that first sentence completely confused/disgusted you, click here and read this post. That oughtta clear things up.

Now then. Karen e-mailed me with some bad news. Don't worry, all is well with the baby, but she said, "The doc thinks it's gonna be late." What does he know? Who is this "doc?" What kind of self-respecting medical professional lets his patients refer to him as "doc?" I don't trust him.

Now I'm no "doctor," (I'll pause here to allow you to cope with the shock. Still pausing. Ready? Ok) but I think we can defy God/Mother Nature/Dave Coulier here. Let's get this party started...

Karen, I want you to put your baby as close to your computer speakers as you can. Then click play on the video below:



That's right, it's the 2007 Husker Tunnel Walk (please ignore the lame ass video that will undoubtedly be laughed at by USC fans in a few weeks).

What better way to coax 'Lil Red (your baby) out of hiding than to give him the Tunnel Walk!? What baby doesn't want to enter the world in the same way the Huskers enter Memorial Stadium every Saturday? That's a good way to start life. Now if you'd like to begin a slow clap that progressively gets louder and faster, that could help, too.

Okay, that's all my Uncle Joey (Uncle Charlie, actually) advice for the day. I hope you're doing well, staying healthy and getting ready. In all honesty I'm so proud of you, and can't wait to meet the little sucker... who will be born on September 10th.

cheers.
.charlie

The New Husker Tunnel Walk

That's right, fans. It appears from reports in the Lincoln Journal Star and Omaha World Herald (at least I've heard it's in the Herald) that the Tunnel Walk and music that have ushered in the world's greatest football team since 1994 are being revamped a little. Before you freak out, I assure you that the song you're used to, The Alan Parsons Project's "Sirius," will still be a part of it.

But the HuskerVision crew has recruited Cornhusking DJ "Mikey Bo" to lay down a fresh set of high plains beats. This video is a rough cut, using last year's footage. The music is speculative, it probably won't sound exactly like this, but it ought to give you a taste:




I have to say, not bad. Who would've thought they could change that glorious 2-minutes of 13-year-old tradition and not make it completely suck. My personal choice would have been to use Possum Kingdom by The Toadies, but that's only because I'm obsessed with that song from playing Guitar Hero II.

But all that really matters is that Husker Football starts tomorrow! Not even the use of O-Town's Liquid Dreams could taint this excitement.

Now, to release the hounds. Comment below and let the Just Above Kansas nation know what you think.

cheers.
.charlie

Now I Know Why It's Called SUPER Target.

When Super Target arrived in Lincoln last month, I was thrilled. Finally, a one-stop location where I could buy groceries, picture frames, movies, livestock, Lasik eye surgery, a puppy, my self-esteem and a girlfriend.

Never mind the fact that Lincoln had two perfectly good Target stores. And a couple Wal-Marts. And a Super Duper Wal-Mart or whatever it is when they put a Wal-Mart inside of a preexisting Wal-Mart. It was time for an upgrade. And in came Super Target, which has basically the same product offering as a Wal-Mart, but without the smell of urine and broken dreams. It's wonderful.

And so, I ventured to Super Target the other night. Intimidated? Believe it. But I was determined to explore, determined to find and purchase something I didn't even need. Because that's the Target Philosophy.

5 minutes into my shopping experience, I found this:

That's right. It's velcro-attaching hair extensions for your cat. A kitty weave. So that your cat may look like Pippi Longstocking, if you're into that sort of thing. Aside from giving me one more reason to despise people who are way too into their cats, this led me to the conclusion that Super Target was the greatest store ever. This is exactly what Lincoln has been waiting for. I don't think you could find an item of this quality at a feline specialty store (which if I owned, by the way, I would call Mad Catters. Because cat-crazy middle-aged women love puns. That's not my opinion, that's science). So thank God (or Dave Coulier) for Super Target. Because what's more American than unnecessary cat accessories?

Anyway, that was my Super Target experience. What was yours? Have you been? Did you get lost? Do you like that show LOST? I do. I love it, actually. Okay, I've obviously derailed.

cheers.
.charlie

Congratulations... Or Whatever

Celebrate Nebraska Rejects

Way to Hate Everything and Stuff.
God. Whatever. I guess you deserve some credit for having the lowest swooping bangs and oldest, most obscure black t-shirt. You truly are the most emo, Claire. By the way, you left your old Chuck Taylor's (the black ones, not the red, green, rainbow-striped or Special Edition Blue Teardrops pairs) at my house the other day while we were listening to old school Dashboard Confessional. My mom's getting really sick of you leaving those here. But whatever.

Your MySpace friend,
The.Wounded.Sobs.Blind.Me.

My Birth Plan

Charlie, What's with the Title of this Blog? You Can't Be Pregnant.
The Just Above Kansas family is expecting a child.

Okay, I'll Bite.
Allow me to explain. My dear sister Karen, who lives in Washington D.C., is expecting her first child in a few weeks. Here she is, in all of her pregnant glory:

Awww, isn't she beautiful? And pregnant! She is indeed a wonderful sister and I love her dearly. I'm also counting on her to come through with the most miraculous birth of the century. No pressure.

Why? Is Her Baby the Second Coming of the Messiah?
I don't know, we'll see. Here's the deal. This year, the Huskers' biggest game is on September 15th against the #1-ranked USC Trojans. I want to go more than anything. And I really wanna be there in case hell freezes over, pigs fly, the "Angels win the pennant" (name that movie!) and Screech gets a date with Lisa Turtle. If these things happen, Nebraska will win. I can't miss that. But there's a problem.

I Get The Feeling You're About to Exploit This Birth for Your Own Personal Gain. Oh, how you know me. Now obviously tickets are hard to come by. But last night my dad told me that he and my mom had two of them. I'm pretty sure they had to stab someone to get them. That or they had to keep their hands on a Kia at a local dealership for like 18 days. Either way, I'm envious.

So dad goes on to explain that if Karen has her baby and my mom goes to Washington to be with her daughter, there's an extra ticket. And guess who gets it? That's right. Pay dirt.

When I heard this, I almost did this dance:


I know it's awkward that I just showed a paternity test clip while talking about my sister being pregnant, but I'll pretty much take any excuse I can get to work that clip into any blog posting. It's so good for so many reasons.

This Sounds Like a Wonderful Cause. How Can I Help?
I need you to pray. To God, Allah, Thor, Vishnu, Dave Coulier, whoever. Pray that this baby comes right around its due date (September 12th) so that I may capitalize on my mother's benevolence toward her very pregnant daughter.

Charlie, Don't You Think This Wishful Thinking/Shameless Betting On Your Sister's Delivery Date of Her First-Born Child Qualifies You for a One-Way Ticket to Hell?
Probably. But like I said, this game is gonna be huge.


In all honesty, I would trade the Husker tickets to know that everything goes perfectly with this pregnancy/delivery and that the baby is healthy. That's worth more than anything to me, as I do love my two sisters more than about anyone in the world.

But I do really wanna go to this game, so if this delivery can be both healthy and well-timed, it would be much appreciated.


Here's to September 12th,
.charlie

Happy Birthday Grandma!

Celebrate Nebraska Rejects

If you see Wanda on August 15th wish her a happy 90th birthday! Then get the hell off of her land before she finishes her bottle of scotch, forgets who you are, wheels herself to the front porch, and unloads 15 rounds per second into the side of your Toyota Camry. We love you grandma!



.ben

The Jesus Stick

Dr. Cox (played by Johnny C. McGinley on Scrubs, one of the best shows going right now) once described people as "bastard-coated bastards with a bastard filling." If that sounds harsh, it is. Unless you've met the man who stands at 12th & P Streets in Downtown Lincoln on weekend nights.

John Bilka is the man with the 10-ft. cross and the -- presumably -- 30-lb marbles. His cross is tagged with bible verses and phrasings of every imaginable human sin. He's a tough guy to miss. But if you don't see him, worry not, you'll hear him. From blocks away you can hear John condemning people and their loved ones to hell unless they repent right away. For anyone with an ounce of intelligence and/or maturity, it's easy to dismiss John as just another religious zealot.

But a clever religious zealot he is. See he's made camp at 12th & P, right outside Lincoln's only downtown movie theater. And in case you were never a teenager, I'll fill you in: turns out the teens like these talking pictures. Go figure. So John is positioned with a cross, some serious pipes and some "literature" about his teachings. And while the average adult can bypass John and continue on to see the latest Jackie Chan/Chris Tucker offering without an ounce of religious guilt, the average teen sees a fight to be picked. And pick they do.

John Bilka spends about 90% of his time in baseball manager-umpire-like fights with people 1/4 his age. He seeks them out by preaching from that corner, and he jumps right in the ring with gloves drawn the second one of them makes a comment about him or his Jesus stick. It's actually pretty sad to watch. These kids usually have a fairly good point, but are predictably unable to articulate it, and eventually they walk away as John screams at them. The kids think he's crazy. Johns think he's won. And I go watch Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix again. I mean, uh, sports. I go watch sports. At a bar. With beers.

Now I could fill up your entire computer screen with all the problems I have with John: overly aggressive religious zealotry, disturbing the peace, hate-mongering, tarnishing the image of downtown Lincoln, etc. I'll leave that to the Lincoln Secular Humanists, who combat John by holding up signs of their own across the street (with things like "God Hates Wet Dreams." Secular Humanists: 1. Crazy Evangelist: 0). My main issue is what he's doing to teens in Lincoln. He attacks, he condescends and he argues points with them from the plane of faith, while they fight back from the plane of realism. I'm not saying one side is right or wrong, but as the adult in a discussion you are responsible for leveling the playing field. John should be providing rational arguments for what he believes, not glaring at them from atop his soapbox and spouting his completely irrelevant claims. He speaks like a Jesus Pull Toy, where if you pull the string affixed to his back, he'll utter one of 6 or so phrases. It doesn't make for the most enlightening discussion (especially when that discussion is with a 14-year old), it doesn't serve the advancement of civilized discourse, it doesn't teach kids anything and, sadly, it almost certainly drives more kids (and people in general) away from God than toward him. And I don't know if you've read the latest approval ratings, but the Big Man's are about as high as Cheney's -- especially among kids.

So then John is serving the exact opposite purpose than what he's saying he intends. Right? He says he's trying to teach people about God to bring them into their faith, but he's actually turning them away. Why? Because it makes him feel better about himself. See, a guy like John doesn't really care if any of these kids come to church. He's doing his part. He's shouldering his Jesus Load (literally. I mean, how much does that cross have to weigh?). "Converting" people is not his concern, he's just covering his own ass so that he can sleep sound at night, believing his life and afterlife to be secure. And he does this all by picking fights with people who don't have the maturity or emotional intelligence to fight back. It's the religious equivalent of Barry Bonds breaking the home run record against a team of 6-year-old girls.


I leave with a quote from John's favorite book. It's a cliche, but I'm gonna go ahead and analyze it for the street preacher.
"Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you." -Matthew 7:12

So according to John's book, when he gets to heaven, ole Peter will be waiting with a 20-ft. cross. And John, equipped with a mere 70 years of earthly knowledge will have all his arguments and justifications interrupted and dwarfed by Peter's millions of years of earthly knowledge. And John will be forced to walk away and duck into some insufferable romantic comedy while Peter screams at him and his friends.

Luckily for John, the Rev. Jerry Falwell will be there with a shoulder to cry on.

cheers.
.charlie

*Photo of John Bilka courtesy of the Daily Nebraskan

Engagement Announcement!

Celebrate Nebraska Rejects

Fantasia-Jones

October 19, 2007

Fantasia of India and Ted Jones of Lincoln are planning an Oct. 19 union at the Folsom’s Children Zoo. Their parents are Leo and Chemi of India and Tim and Barb Jones of Ogallala.
Jones graduated with a degree in Animal Science. He enjoys campaigning for inter-species marriage rights and playing ultimate Frisbee.
Fantasia is a 325-lb white Bengal tiger.

To Taco, Or Not to Taco?

Today I’d like to take a second to talk about something that has been on my mind lately. As we grow up we adopt certain beliefs which, over time, become a part of who we are. For example, some of us are pro-life, while others of us are pro-choice. These beliefs may have been formed logically by looking at the different sides of the issue and then making an informed decision. However, I fear many of us, especially when we were younger, were strongly influenced by our parents and the people around us to think one way or another. Therefore, it is most important that we continually evaluate and challenge our core beliefs. Today I am doing just that in the form of one simple question:

Is Amigos really that great?

Okay, so let’s try to put feelings aside for a second. That’s no easy task for me because I was raised in the Amigos at 56th and Old Cheney. 3-4 times a week we’d huddle as a family in one of the unreasonably small booths and eat soft tacos, crisp meat burritos, veggie burritos, tacos, etc. Not surprisingly, as a youngster I thought that Amigos was the pinnacle of Mexican cuisine. I also thought the donation fountain was a urinal.

Now that I’m older, wiser, and generally understand the difference between fast food and authentic Mexican food, I’m starting to wonder if Amigos is really that great. Here is a list of my concerns:

1. Some items are just American food in disguise: For example, the soft taco is unseasoned hamburger, cheese, lettuce, sour cream, all wrapped in a carbohydrate blanket. Sounds and tastes like a cheeseburger to me.
2. Perhaps the decrease in quality of Amigo's food is due to its merger with King's. When I want a burger, I get a burger. Went I want deep fried Mexican food to move through my digestive track like an unstoppable rebel force, I go to Amigos. And ne'er the two shall meet.
   
3. The prices aren’t that great for what you get. I’m pretty sure a cheesy burrito costs close to $2.00 now. I’d like someone who is reading this blog to go to the grocery store buy tortillas, a package of cheddar cheese, a can a refried beans and then see how much one of these things actually costs to make. Pictures would be nice.
4. Amigos is commonly referred to as “drunk food”. Is it strange that people say things like, “two more beers and I’m gonna need some Amigos”? Do we have to be drunk for it to taste good? Maybe we should make a new poster for college freshman to hang on the walls of their kick-ass dorm rooms: “Beer-Helping hungry people eat Amigos since 1980." Observe:But in the interest of fairness, here are some good things:
   

1. Best damn ranch in the world.
2. Tradition. It’s local and also linked to Nebraska Football.
3. Party room upstairs (at participating locations).
4. They’re open approximately 23.5 hours a day.

So now I’d like to hear your thoughts on this issue. Does Amigos live up to the hype? Why or why not? What is your favorite item? What is your record for most time spent on the can after a trip to Amigos (please do not actually answer this one)?

-Ben

A New Weekly Column

Loyal readers,
I'm happy to announce a new weekly feature here at Just Above Kansas. It is loosely (and by "loosely" I mean "completely") based on a weekly feature in the Lincoln Journal Star. Celebrate Nebraska is a 20-page insert that runs every Sunday, where anyone can submit a picture of a friend or family member, write a little blurb and then sit back and watch the disintegration of that friendship as the entire readership of the LJS has a good laugh. These pictures are often 20-30 years out of date, making them all the more awesome. If you're not familiar with this wonderful taste of local flavor, fear not: click here for the online version. I recommend perusing the "Celebrations!" section for the choicest photos.

But what about Nebraskans with lesser-known accomplishments? Not everyone is blessed with friends who love them enough to permanently, publicly humiliate them. This is where we come in. Each week, we'll be celebrating Nebraska's overlooked achievers, searching far and wide to find those whose accomplishments may otherwise go unnoticed. And so, without further adieu, I present to you the first installment of...

Celebrate Nebraska Rejects
Tim (aka Timosius the Destroyer),
Congratulations on becoming a level 18 warlord. The killer instinct you showed by using the Blessing of Might in the Eastern Plaguelands on that noob Paladin reminded me how overrated an actual social life would be. The battle resumes in your parents' basement, tonight at 8. I'll bring the Cool Ranch Doritos and Mountain Dew.

Sincerely,
Robert (aka The Beastmaster)

Barn in the USA

Dear Barn Preservation Society of Nebraska,

First of all, I would just like to thank you for your continued dedication to the preservation and restoration of historical barns across the state of Nebraska! Also, please ignore any previous hate letters you may have received from me. For some reason I mixed up your address with that of the Iowa Barn Preservation Club. Their barns can go to hell.

As you know, barns are awesome. Not only can you keep crap in them like horses, hay, fireworks, tractors, and time-traveling cars that need to be hidden until the Doc can find a way to get Marty McFly back to the future--- they also look sweet from the outside. In fact, in my best high school senior picture I’m leaning up against a double sloped gambrel-roofed barn. This is why I am now a barn enthusiast with my own barn blog.

Anyways, I’m writing because I’m concerned about the “Porn Barn”, which is located right off the interstate between Lincoln and Omaha. For decades it has provided travelers with literature, toys, movies, and private “viewing” booths. Someone recently told me that, due to the Internet, the porn barn could be shutting its colonial style double-armed doors for good.

Based on awkward previous conversations with your members, I realize the BPSN does not support pornography. However, I want to ask you one very important question: How do you feel about barnography? I’m not talking about hot dutch-on-prairie style barn action. I'm talking about barn education. Instead of taking your children to pick up the latest issue of Playboy, what if you could stop and pick up the latest issue of Barn Again! or the educational How to Build a Better Barn DVD?

In summary, I’m suggesting that the Barn Preservation Society of Nebraska raise money this year to purchase the “Porn Barn” and turn it into the Nebraska Barnography Distribution Center (or BSPN-NBDC for short). I look forward to discussing this in more detail at the big BPSN meeting this October.

Warmest Regards,

Ben

A Love Letter from California.

From the department of completely expected So-Cal behavior...

LA Times T.J. Simers has written a thinly-veiled lambasting of Nebraska culture in his sports column. Read it here, then read on.

Now, I'm not going to fall into Simers' trap and fight back with arguments like, "We do have running water!" and "Not everyone here drives a tractor!" Come on, Nebraskans. We're smarter than that. And all of the "corn cobs" who read that article and think, "We'll show him when he gets here," are only setting themselves up to prove this guy right when they make over-zealous efforts to prove him wrong.

Here's why this article bugs me: his attacks rely on tired, outdated characteristics of Midwestern people. Oh, people from the coast think we live a simple life free of any modern amenities? Really? I hadn't heard. Thank you for blowing the lid off this hilarious stereotype. It's not the falsehood in these stereotypes that bothers me, it's the lack of originality. The problem is, advancements made by big city corporations have allowed smaller communities to modernize somewhat, thus somewhat narrowing the gap between small and large cities. This leaves big city people with a little less to pick on, and thus they fall back on the old standards, like Simers does in his column. Leaving Nebraska fans to sigh, for we've heard it all before. No matter how true or unture the statements may be -- they're just plain tired.

Maybe I should ask Mr. Simers' to show me a good time when I go to L.A. "Could you take me to a celebrity's home? Or can we go get frosted tips in our hair? I've always wanted $500 jeans! I wanna meet all the a-holes that live here, you're all a-holes right? And image-conscious douche bags! Don't forget about them. How much was that bottle of water? $5! Wow the cost of living here is really out of control." I'm sure Los Angelenos would roll there eyes at the cliche, which is exactly what I did as I read Simers' column.

If you're gonna attack Nebraska, go ahead. We do it here at Just Above Kansas all the time. But be funny and be unique. Failing to do so will cause me to believe that even an unoriginal hack - whose picture looks like he's constipated and who can only think of one insult to reuse over and over in a column about a state he doesn't know much about - can ascend to the position of LA Times sportswriter. And we wouldn't want to foster any negative stereotypes, would we?


Gotta go, someone's trying to steal the horse I rode in on.
.charlie

Mystery Solved!

A special thanks goes out to Ben Polly, whose sleuthing uncovered the mystery of the "I'm Sorry" billboard. He tracked down the billboard company, who gave him the following response:

Hi Ben,

Personal boards often do intrigue others….the board on West O was placed by a gentleman, not a company. It was directed at his long-term girlfriend. I do not know the specifics (nor would we share them even if we did), but he had a reason to apologize to her and thought this would be a good way to say it in a “big” way. He did not wish to disclose his name or hers, but the 3 lines on the side represent a signature of some sort that they both understand…maybe he has just always signed his notes to her that way.

It would probably be an interesting addition to your blog, and you can speculate how you wish on the story behind it…You know as much as I do otherwise J

Donna

As Donna says, speculate away my friends. And again, props to Ben for the over-zealous but well-appreciated detective work. If you ever take out an anonymous passive-aggressive billboard for your love, you better pray to God (or Thor) that Ben Polly doesn't find out. He will hunt you down and kill you. Or at least find some shit out.


Also, I was kinda right: desperate attempt at reconciling with an ex FTW!

cheers.
.charlie

We Like You More Than a Friend.

Hey loyal readers/confused passersby,
First of all, thanks for reading. The feedback has been good, so we're just gonna keep on... keep truckin'. And, we'd love for you all to get involved in our goings on here at Just Above Kansas. Here's how you can help:

1. Sign up for our e-mail list -- it's easy, it's free, it's something to do while you're bored at work/school.
2. E-mail us ideas for stories, layouts, links, whatever. We live to please.

Interested? Just e-mail me and I'll make it happen. As always, thanks for reading.

cheers.
.charlie

I Took Out a Billboard For All My Ex-Girlfriends.

Not really. But on my way home from work I see this billboard. It sits at about 15th and West O.


Hmmmm. No corporate logos, no URL, no anything. But the thing does look somewhat professionally done, what with the little graphical elements and color choices -- an amateur probably would've gone for black and white, right?

So here are the possible explanations for who would be apologizing to the city, and why...

1. Mayor Chris Beutler (the new guy) for slashing youth sports from Lincoln's budget, rendering Lincoln's youth an entire generation of Bad News Bears. He's a nice guy, and I think he'll be a good mayor, but he did kind of screw that up.
   
2. Maurice Purify for accidentally turning into a Miami Hurricane for a few weeks there.
3. Alltel Wireless and/or Time Warner Cable for general bastardness.
4. Cliffs and WC's for both closing for remodeling/moving at the same time, leaving me with nowhere to drown my sorrows after work.
5. Rod Kush for years of agonizingly bad commercials that, for some reason, always ran during The Simpsons when I was growing up.
   

Your thoughts? Who else could be apologizing? Comment below and add your two cents.

.cheers
charlie.

I Promise We're Here

Sorry for the lack of posts. Busy week(s) of work and preparing to leave for a week. So may be a little slow (though I promise a new post soon) and then we'll hit full stride by the end of July.

And.... if you have post/story ideas or pictures or things you'd like to see here, please email me. You know you want to.

thanks.
.charlie

#1 With a "Bullet"

Here's something I hate.

"Whoa, did someone shoot up your truck, Tom?"
"No, but it looks like it, right!?!?!"

I put this in the same tool-status category as Bluetooth headsets. Exactly how low does your self-esteem need to be for this to be a part of your vehicle? Is this guy so insecure about his toughness that he feigns this sad attempt to look like someone shot up his car? Or does he just like NASCAR?


cheers.
.charlie

A Sunburn and a PT Cruiser: The Tale of My Darkest Hour

I'm not much for delving into my personal life for all the world to see, but this story begs telling. Where to begin? How about at the beginning...

A/C. Not like Slater, like the kind in your car.
You know how every car after the Model-T has air conditioning? So did my Honda Civic, until about two months ago. I went in, had the freon charged and everything was fine. For about a month. Then things started acting up again. I took it to Firestone Tire & Service Centers at 11th & N, a few blocks from my office.

They informed me that a "relay fuse" had blown, they replaced it that day, and they charged me a fairly reasonable price. Problem solved, the air was blowing cold. It was like biting into a York Peppermint Pattie.


Then, The Completely Expected.
The next day, one hour into my 7-hour car ride to Minnesota, a sound burst forth from my vents, and what began as sweet, frosty air turned into the breath of Satan. "Oh, darn," I thought, "what an unfortunate circumstance that hath befallen me." I rolled down the window, stuck my pale left arm out, and subjected myself to the one-sided sunburning of a lifetime. I arrived at the lake looking like TwoFace, assuming TwoFace's condition extended to his arm, shoulder and neck.

Before heading back to Nebraska, I was informed by my father that I was in need of four new tires, as my current set had been stripped balder than Britney Spears after a bender. Add another couple hundred to the bill.

The trip home (on my sweet new Firenza tires, I might add) was one hour more miserable than the trip there. I returned to Nebraska with an even more intense half-burn, just in time to celebrate our nation's independence by drinking beer and blowing shit up.


Back to The Shop.
I took the Civic back to the mechanic today, 6 days after my last visit. After running some checks he informed me that "The reason the little thing went out in your A/C is because the big thing that powers it is broken." Thank you, Click & Clack. This, I was told, would be a much more expensive repair than the first one. Now, if you don't know me, let me say this: though I enjoy gator boots and/or pimped out Gucci suits, I am not made of money (but I'm still fly). My tab was beginning to run up, it was getting out of control, I was angry.

But A/C is A/C. You need it. Well I do, anyway. So I bit the bullet, told the shop to go ahead and make the repair and started printing out flyers for my new prostitution business. Who knew baby would have to turn tricks to make ends meet!?!?!

Then, the dagger. They ordered THE WRONG PART. Yep. So that's another 2 days in the shop for the Civic, which means I was privy to a free rental car until Saturday afternoon. And that's where things got crazy...


The Nail In The Coffin.
It's not that I don't like PT Cruisers. I hate them. They are maybe (maybe) acceptable for 45-year-old soccer moms. But they suck. A lot. So of course, I got one. Son of a bitch. Now I have to cart myself around town in the quintessential mom-mobile, making people wonder if I'm making an emergency run to the grocery store for Capri Sun and Shasta or picking up my son from soccer practice where I push him relentlessly to compensate for the athletic shortcomings of my youth.

It sucks. So I decided to send a message to the world as I drive around. Observe:


The end result: A partial sunburn, an idiotic mechanic and the mom-mobile with a message. The only thing that could've made this story worse is if there was a Sheryl Crow CD stuck in the PT and I couldn't turn it off. So I guess I have that to be thankful for.

Attack of the Awkward Teenagers!

It's June, and that could only mean one thing: Thespian Camp! That's right, Lincolnites. Grab your lawn chair, a cold six-pack and your lanyards, head on over to downtown Lincoln and watch the magic unfold.

For those unfamiliar with this yearly occurrence, allow me to explain: the University of Nebraska holds this International Thespian Festival every year. Teenage drama students gather in Lincoln. It is their Mecca. They even pray five times a day facing the Lied Center. Okay, that last part was a lie. But they do meander around downtown, ducking in and out of our various shops and generally just trying to out-weird each other with outbursts of singing, "improvisational" monologues and strange stupid human tricks. All of it entertaining, all of it reminiscient of our teenage awkwardness.

Because here's the thing: everyone's awkward in high school. But theater kids choose to be awkward on stage, in front of everyone. And every June, Lincoln becomes the ultimate stage for fumbling pubescence and adolescent upstaging.



Glorious.

P.S. That kid in the first picture? Yes, that is an actual picture from the festival in Lincoln. No, it is not of me.

The Sweet Sound of Aluminum

The College World Series is a staple of a Nebraska summer. If you grew up here, you went, even if you hated baseball (which in this day and age would qualify you for a seat on the no-fly list, you unpatriotic swine). Recently, ESPN writer David Albright posed the question, "Why does it have to be in Omaha?" Listen, Dave. Every year we go through this same song and dance. Other mid-to-large sized cities throw a fit over why Omaha should get the privilege of hosting this event.

Now I'm not the first person to champion every Nebraska-based event -- in fact I think most of our attempts at entertainment and culture fall pretty flat. But I'll stand by the College World Series.

Albright's column questioned the validity of Omaha's "stranglehold on one of the premier college sports championship events," postulating that Indianapolis or Chicago (among other places) could deliver the same level of fervor as Omaha if given the opportunity to host the CWS. But there's a difference between Omaha and those cities: Omaha doesn't have a major professional sports franchise. The closest thing O-town has to a major sports draw is the CWS, the importance of which is intensified by cross-sections of Omaha sports fans who are reluctant to support the Lincoln-based Huskers (go UNO Mavericks!?!).

Move it to Indy. Move it to Chicago. Then tell me what happens when Joe Sports Fan sells his CWS ticket to the highest bidder because he scores last minute Cubs tickets. An Indiana Pacers meet-n-greet would draw more attention than the CWS, because the city has the luxury of professional sports franchises that are, frankly, more appealing than a second-tier college sporting event - even if it is a championship.

As I'm writing this I just muted my iTunes to watch the last pitch of the CWS. The Oregon State Beavers just stormed the field after winning their second straight title while the play-by-play man said, "The team that almost didn't make the field of 64 just won their second straight!" This is the kind of thing that a small Midwestern town -- that doesn't know what it is to have a professional sports team -- could only really appreciate. It's a state that raised children to cheer on those mid-90s Husker football teams full of small town Nebraska kids that never would've played at a bigger school. That's the kind of community that welcomes 8 teams to their homes each year and treats a bunch 18-22 year old kids like family.

The venues may be nicer in Chi-town. The BBQ may be tangier in Memphis. But the key to a successful neutral playing site is a town that understands, respects and appreciates the heart and soul of the game. Omaha does. If you don't believe me, go to a game next year. Sit next to an Omahan with no allegiances to any team in the field. And watch him enjoy the game more than most sports fans cheering on their favorite baseball team.

The CWS is what pure sports joy looks like, and it belongs here.