Ready for the First Day of Kindergarten

But Mrs. Poop is going to have to get her own.

I Whip My Hair Back and Forth

I don't care what political party you affiliate with, how much convention coverage you actually watch, we can all agree on one thing: we like cute kids. So I was thrilled to see Carina Castro continue in the fine tradition of Piper Palin. While her father, San Antonio Mayor Julian Castro was speaking about her first day of school, Carina saw herself on the big screen in the arena:

Song of the Week

"Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" - Starship
"If this world runs out of lovers, we'll still have each other, nothing's gonna stop us now."
Happy 7th Anniversary to Mrs. Poop.
I choose this song not just because I like it but because the video is from her favorite movie, "Mannequin"

NFL Season Predictions

AFC East: New England Patriots
AFC North: Pittsburgh Steelers
AFC South: Houston Texans
AFC West: Denver Broncos
AFC Wild Cards: San Diego Chargers, Baltimore Ravens
AFC Conference Championship: San Diego over New England

NFC East: Philadelphia Eagles
NFC North: Green Bay Packers
NFC South: Atlanta Falcons
NFC West: San Francisco 49ers
NFC Wild Cards: Detroit Lions, Chicago Bears
NFC Conference Championship: Green Bay Packers over Philadelphia Eagles

Super Bowl: Green Bay Packers 35 San Diego Chargers 21

Offensive Player of the Year: Philip Rivers
Defensive Player of the Year: Ndamukong Suh
Offensive Rookie of the Year: Trent Richardson
Defensive Rookie of the Year: Luke Kuechly
Coach of the Year: Norv Turner
Comeback Player of the Year: Peyton Manning

What Year is It?

For some reason my bank decided to change its routing number. That means I had to change it with every institution I have linked to my bank account for automatic payment and my employer for direct deposit. But it took one pay period for my employer to catch up, so I was sent a paycheck in the mail. An actual paycheck, on actual paper that I had to endorse and bring to the actual bank branch for deposit. At least I could use the ATM machine (that's for Razor) and marvel at the way it knows what amount the check is for. But when I got to the bank I saw that the ATM was out of order. So there I was, in 2012, bringing my paycheck to the bank, and waiting for a teller to help me deposit it. I thought for sure I had entered a time warp back to 1967.

Giant Vaginas Invade the RNC

I'm trying to stay out of the political debate this season but as I promised Damino, I would post absurdities from the campaign trail. So enjoy this picture of Code Pink members dressed as Giant Vaginas (Va-giants) to protest the GOP's supposed "war on women."

I'd point out that these vaginas don't look anatomically correct. Unfortunately I couldn't find a picture of the vagina emblazoned with the words "read my lips..."

This reminds of a classic post in Poop history.

Song of the Week

"I'm Going Down" - Bruce Springsteen
I am not a big Springsteen fan but if I had to choose one song, I actually kind of like this one.

I'm a Douche

I was so excited to finally take Chase to his first Mets game that I bought them the first day individual game tickets went on sale. I also immediately e-mailed my request to have a birthday message to Chase shown on the scoreboard.
I was very excited for this too, but my excitement turned to dread when I got an e-mail Friday night saying my message would be displayed at Saturday's game.
In my original e-mail, dated March 1, I requested the message be shown on "Sunday August 25th." Problem is, Sunday was the 26th.
After resigning myself to the fact that I would just have to buy the Fan Photo ($15 for a 4x6 picture with a Mets border) of the scoreboard, the Mets responded to my plea for leniency and said my message would instead be shown on Sunday, the correct game. And it was:

Douchey or no harm, foul?

Chase's First Mets Game: In Words

One of the biggest responsibilities of fatherhood is teaching your son about baseball. Baseball is very important to me and I want it to be important to my son (now sons). I think every young boy cherishes the memories of his first game, and I wanted it to be special for Chase as well. I decided I would wait until he was 5 years old to take him. Many people questioned my methods, and every time I saw a picture of another youngster at his or her first game I even doubted myself. But I wanted his first game to come when he could really appreciate it. When he could sit and watch without going to the bathroom or begging for ice cream every 5 minutes. I wanted him to be able to understand the game a little. I wanted him to be able to stay the whole game. And I wanted him to be old enough so that the things he saw that day would stay with him forever.
I made the right decision.
We got there early because I wanted to have plenty of time to walk around and to allow for traffic. We arrived at about 11:30. We walked into the Jackie Robinson Rotunda, the Mets Museum and the team store. At this point, slightly after noon, Chase decided he wanted to go to our seats. I wanted to take him to the Shea Bridge, but didn’t want to force him, because it was a lot of walking from where our seats were.
We sat down with 43 minutes to go until game time. I thought this was a recipe for disaster, but two things kept his attention: the planes and the groundskeepers. Every time a plane went by, he nudged me said “another plane, it’s kind of insane.” This wore off by about the 5th inning, after the 80th plane.
He loved the grounds crew. They were chalking lines, then loading the equipment onto a flatbed pulled by a little cart, which was driven around the warning track then through a gate in the outfield fence. Chase decided when he grows up he doesn’t want to be a player, “who bat and pitch,” he wants to be on the grounds crew, but “at Chase Field, because that’s my name.”
Before the game the home run apple is out of its hat and I explained that it would go down when the game starts and only come back up if a Met hits a home run. Right around the time he insisted the apple would never come back up, Ike Davis hit his first home run.
Luckily it was a very fast game, he wasn’t constantly begging for food. We got hot dogs in the 2nd (I brought a juicebox from home), and we missed the top of the 6th while we went to the concourse to pee and get ice cream (we got a cheap dippin dots imitation, which he loved). He really enjoyed the 7th inning stretch and singing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.”
The game was just about 2 hours old when the Mets took a 1-0 lead into the top of the 9th. Of course they blew the game thanks to some typically horrible defense by Lucas Duda. But he redeemed himself by throwing a runner out at the plate to preserve the tie. I had to explain how you can throw a runner out. Then I had to explain what the Mets would have to do to get a run and win the game (I really thought we’d been over all this stuff).
It was around this time that Chase was starting to get antsy, with two pitching changes and a run scored the top of the 9th took quite a while. Chase was fidgeting with his hat, and his sunglasses, he climbed into the row behind us, then down into the row in front of us. He was actually in the row in front of me when Davis homered again to give the Mets the win. I scooped him up and gave him the biggest hug ever. Then we watched as Davis jumped into the crowd of his teammates at home plate. The entire section of excited Mets fans gave Chase high-fives, he loved it.
Now it was time for the Mr. Met Dash. The thing Chase was looking forward to most, the thing that likely prevented him from requesting an early departure. So we made our way down to the bullpen area, exited the ballpark and lined up by the chop shops on 126th Street.

The line wrapped all the way around the parking lot, under the subway tracks. I overheard a security person say it would take about an hour, then we walked another half a block. I was determined to stay and so was Chase. An industrious vendor with a cooler on wheels had Italian ices, only $2, since we were now outside the stadium area. That kept Chase busy for a while, and thankfully the line moved fairly quickly. Once you go to the stadium you entered by the bullpen, then snaked through hallways under the field. You come out in right field and walk down the warning track. The runners enter the field at first base and run the bases from there, stopping to high-five Mr. Met (or doing it in full stride like Chase).

Then they round third and head for home where they meet up with their parents and walk through some more corridors revealing nothing more exciting than the loading docks. I’m pretty sure I saw a chalkboard sign saying “8 days without an accident.” What kind of accident did they have 9 days ago?
By this time it was a little more than an hour after the game had ended and there was no parking lot traffic. Which was nice, but I would recommend any other two-parent families wishing to do the Mr. Met Dash send an emissary outside in the 8th.
But I am glad we didn’t do that, I’m glad we stayed until the bottom of the 9th to see a walk-off home run (and the apple again), I’m glad the Mets won, I’m glad Chase got to run the bases. And I’m glad I waited 5 years for this very special event, because it made it even more special.

Chase's First Mets Game -- In Pictures

Outside with the old apple.

The 1986 Mets World Series trophy.

Jackie Robinson Rotunda

Chase was obsessed with the planes flying overhead. Everytime one flew by, he hit me and said "Dad, look there's a plane, it's kind of insane, it's giving me a pain." I got tired of it by the first inning. He gave up by the 5th.

He loved the grounds crew and decided he'd rather to grow up to be one of them, than to be one of the players. Except he wants to go to Arizona and work at Chase Field.

A hot dog at the game beats roast beef at the Ritz.

Name on the scoreboard.

Mets win, Mets win!

A winning smile.

Mr. Met's dash, high-fiving Mr. Met at second base.

Stepping on home plate.

From Champ to Chump

For years my go-to argument about why MMA is better than boxing is because one central body makes the fights, always pitting the champion against the best contender. Until now. Light heavyweight champion Jon “Bones” Jones refused to fight Chael Sonnen after his scheduled opponent, Dan Henderson hurt his knee and pulled out of their title fight at UFC 151. As a result, UFC had to cancel the entire event, the first time in 11 years that has happened.
Dana White and UFC fans are furious at Jon Jones over this. Jones, on the advice of his trainer Greg Jackson, declined to fight Sonnen with little more than a week’s notice. Even though Sonnen normally fights at 185 lbs instead of 205, and wasn’t even in training for a fight.
I understand why Jones wants to protect himself from a loss against an opponent he is not ready for. But this happens quite often, fighters get hurt weeks or days before the fight, and the code of honor in the UFC dictates that you just take on the next challenger, especially since he’s usually someone less threatening than the original opponent.
But I think this is an instance where the UFC has become a victim of its own success. Because there is so much more at stake financially with being a top fighter, and especially a champion, those fighters are less willing to take risks. This is one example, Jones not willing to risk his title. We have recently seen a big increase in the number of fighters pulling out of fights due to injury. Dan Henderson probably could have fought with this injury but wouldn’t be able to perform at his absolute best. And he didn’t want to take that chance in such a crucial fight. I believe other fighters who recently pulled out of fights for injuries, may have ignored those same injuries 5 or 10 years ago.
I also think this is manifesting itself in individual fights. I have detected a big increase in the number of decisions, and boring fights. Fighters seem a lot less willing to “stand and bang,” knowing a loss, especially one by knockout would hurt their careers.
But I don’t think Jon Bones Jones realizes the damage he has done to his reputation. Just a year ago he was a great young fighter, the rising star of the UFC with strong mainstream possibilities. First, he got drunk and wrapped his Bentley around a pole which hurt him with the mainstream audience. And now he did this which has totally turned off serious MMA fans.
I still think he will have a long and successful MMA career, he just has too much talent for it not to happen. But he will never again be a fan favorite. He will be the Floyd Mayweather of MMA.

I Think Jim Joyce is Square with the Universe Now

Umpire Jim Joyce is best known for royally fucking Armando Galarraga's "perfect game" but now he’s done something to more than make up for that mistake.
When Joyce arrived at Chase Field to umpire a game between the Diamondbacks and Marlins he saw a stadium food service worker having an apparent heart attack. Joyce quickly jumped into action, performing CPR and trying to revive her with the defibrillator.
Paramedics arrived on the scene had to revive her again. But they did and the woman is going to be ok.
Joyce worked home plate that night because it was his turn, even though his fellow umpires wanted him to take it easy at third base. He said he'd rather stay busy behind home plate rather than move to third and think about the incident for the entire game. I suppose his blown call, which he handled with extreme grace, has been nagging at him for two years. Now he has something else to think about it.

Song of the Week

"Tonight (Best You Ever Had") - John Legend featuring Ludacris

The rare R&B song I played for Mrs. Poop that she actually liked.

Why I Believe What I Believe

Most of you know me as a pretty logical guy, too smart to believe in nonsensical things such as horrorscopes, ghosts, psychics and anything else people can conjure up.
But there are some things I do believe in.
First of all, I believe in me. I believe what happens to me is up to me, because of what I do.
I also believe in luck, but I also believe that luck favors the prepared.
And through a life spent marveling at things that happen for no explicable reason, I've developed a healthy admiration for the force that put Mark Feinsand on the same plane as Master Bates two days after I e-mailed MB to ask him to reach out to Feinsand. And then got him to stumble upon my blog, after MB challenged this mysterious force to prove its existence. I call that mystical force "The Universe."
I first started to believe in the Universe after the lowest moment in my life. I've written about most of this before but never in this way, so bear with me.
After Mrs. Poop had a miscarriage we weren't sure how long it would be before they let us try again. When we were given the go-ahead we were ecstatic that she got knocked up again so quickly. But then disaster struck. We went for what was supposed to be a routine ultrasound and just like the first time, there was no heartbeat and they couldn't find the baby.
After two of the hardest days ever, we had an appointment on a Friday morning for an ultrasound to confirm the miscarriage. Then on Thursday, Mrs. Poop was scapegoated at work for a problem that had nothing to do with her. They threatened to reassign her to another area of the hospital (it never happened, so don't worry), and then a few hours later we were scheduled to get final confirmation of another miscarriage.
You probably can't even imagine how she felt, losing her second baby, and her job over the span of a couple of days.
But a funny thing happened on the way to rock bottom.
We heard a heartbeat. The baby we now know as Chase was there the whole time, just chilling in Mrs. Poop's uterus, his heart beating, a sound so wonderful, it brought tears to my eyes.
Later that day the universe sent Mrs. Poop an e-mail (using me as its conduit) which said "Sorry about your job. But you can have your baby back. Love, The Universe."
I know that we are all very lucky in the way things turned out because I wouldn't trade Chase for any child in the world. And I will gladly worship whatever mysterious force brought him to us.

I'm a Douche

Coach John Wooden always warned me, "be quick but don't hurry." When I rush I make mistakes. Eager to get on the road home from Toronto, I was loading the car, dropped the keys into the back and pressed the door close button. I really thought that once you pressed the remote to open a door, you also unlocked it, but that is true only for all the other doors, not the back. Thankfully, when I ran back into the hotel I saw my aunt who gave me her CAA (AAA only with a C) card. I called, the guy was there within 30 minutes. He put what looked like a blood pressure cuff into the door slot. He squeezed the pump, it inflated the cloth part, giving him enough room to insert a long stick with a hook on the end to push the lock open. It was that easy. So the locking of the car keys only cost us about an hour, and some headaches, but I'm still a douche.

What Do You Give Me For? John Goodman and Nadzeya Ostapchuk

Nadzeya Ostapchuk was stripped for her gold medal for failing a drug test. Maybe her striking resemblance to John Goodman should have been a tipoff.

Story suggested by JLeary

Song of the Week

"Forever and Ever Amen" - Randy Travis

I've had this song in my head ever since I saw Randy Travis's mugshot.

I Found the Hottest Olympian

After watching 17 days of coverage (including scouting for talent during the Opening Ceremonies) I believe I have found the hottest female Olympian. And I feel I kind of it to myself and the male Poopheads after yesterday's poll.

Her name is Jaqueline Carvalho but she goes by Jaque. She plays for the Brazilian women's volleyball team. And she is actually married to Murilo from the men's team. The announcers were gushing over what an attractive couple they make.

Man or Lady?

I am now about to introduce you to a game the Poop family has been playing for years. You pull up to Customs at the U.S./Canada border and before you can see you poll the car, "man or lady?" You have to guess which gender the agent will be. Let's do the same thing with the shot putter from Belarus. Nadzeya Ostapchuk stripped of the gold medal after failing a doping test.

The Post You've All Been Waiting For

Diesel in Maine in 2007:



Diesel in Maine in 2008:


Diesel in Maine in 2009:


Diesel in Maine in 2010:


Diesel in Maine in 2011:

Diesel in Maine in 2012

The Worst Thing to Happen in Badminton Since the Naming of the Shuttlecock

A major scandal erupting in badminton when several teams were disqualified for blatantly throwing matches.



Pretty funny to see it acted out this flagrantly. I can't say I blame the competitors. They were just trying to get what they felt was a better draw for themselves in the medal round. And the Chinese team was possibly trying to avoid the other Chinese team in hopes of setting up a gold medal match against them.

The pool play idea (round robin) has merit because it allows competitors to play more than once, eliminating the luck factor. It’s better than a single elimination, but it’s not perfect. I can understand why some teams would want to throw a match if it meant a more favorable matchup in the elimination rounds. And I’m not really sure how to arrange a system where that will never happen. So I guess this situation was handled correctly. Disqualify blatant match fixers and hope it serves as a threat to deter others who may want to try the same thing.

But in all the dramatic angst about this story I haven’t heard one beneficial suggestion on how to improve the system for the future.

Note: NBC took down the video and I can't find a suitable replacement.

Song of the Week

"Passionate Kisses" - Mary Chapin Carpenter
"Is it too much to demand
I want a full house and a rock and roll band
Pens that won't run out of ink
And cool quiet and time to think
Shouldn't I have this
Shouldn't I have this
Shouldn't I have all of this, and
Passionate kisses"

I hate it when my pen runs out of ink.

3000 Words

Cool picture I took while driving up the West Side Highway into a coming, and evidently a passing, storm.

A kayaker on Cape Cod paddles just feet in front of a shark.

Pretty impressive but I question the practicality of making a beer pong table out of sand.

I'm Gonna Get One for the Car and Two for the Bathrooms

Disney is now selling air fresheners that will remind you of its theme parks. There's the scent of Mickey's waffle, the candy apple, the Mickey Mouse premium ice cream bar, and even the turkey legs.

Song of the Week

"Head to Toe" - Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam
Worked with a girl named Lisa a couple weeks ago and this song has been in my head ever since. A true 80s classic. It's a real shame that Paula Abdul has had a long and successful career and Lisa Lisa hasn't.

What Do You Give Me For? Graham Elliot & Chas Bono

What do you give me for Graham Elliot from MasterChef and Chas Bono?

She Can Handle a Flagpole

After Paul McCartney's mumbling and perhaps drunken rendition of "Hey Jude" the most talked about event at the Opening Ceremonies was the Norwegian team's entrance. Because they were led by flag bearer Mira Veras (Veraas) Larsen. She is a sprint canoeist, and she is married to one of Norway's other great canoeists. And they left their wedding in a canoe, instead of a car with beer cans tied to it.

Hot Racist Kicked Off Olympic Team

Greek triple jumper Voula Papachristou was kicked off the Olympic team for this racist tweet:

"With so many Africans in Greece, the West Nile mosquitoes will be getting homemade food!!!"

It's a shame about her being a miserable racist because she is really freakin hot.

Song of the Week

"Full Moon" - Brandy
I was a little puzzled about what to do with 2002, but then I remembered how much I liked this song.

Red-Shirting

I have known for quite a while that CBS News was a hopelessly biased news organization. But I hoped in non-political coverage it would be a little more fair. I was wrong.



This casts parents who red-shirt as even villains who are trying to push their children into success in sports at the expense of other kids.

In our school district the cutoff date is October 1. So our August babies will always be among the youngest in their class.

We briefly talked about red-shirting Chase when we sent him to preschool a couple weeks after his second birthday, while some kids were just a couple months short of turning 3. Chase has done well in preschool and his teachers saw no need to keep him back. So he'll go to kindergarten in the fall as scheduled.

We were also contemplating it with Julian, who seemed in greater need of maturity, but lately he has had an explosion of language, and coupled with his enormous size, red-shirting likely won't be necessary in his case either.

But what if we felt it was? That should be a parents decision. I resent the implication that red-shirting is cheating, or somehow harming the other kids. And even if it were, why should what's marginally better for some other child supersede what you feel is much better for your own?

I also resent the implication that this is just for fathers who want their sons to be sports stars. What's so wrong with wanting your child not to be one of the smallest kids, to avoid bullying? Or for him to at least be good enough at sports to build his confidence, to make him be the first kid picked not the last, to make him feel an important part of the group instead of a benchwarmer. I think all parents want those things for their kids. Regardless of what that old fossil Morley Safer thinks.

Am I Supposed to Be Sad About This?

When I saw this e-card I immediately thought of one person: Jared G. He was exactly the person described here. He played football, he was nominally cool, girls thought he was cute and he thought he was hot shit. One time, on the bus back from a trip to Quebec, I was trying to sleep and he was fucking with me. Putting his hands in my face, grazing my nose, so I jumped up, slapped his hands away and told him to cut the shit. He punched me in the face and broke my glasses. While we never had another incident and I seldom was around him, I always felt like he thought he was better than me because he had gotten the best of me that day, and because he was cooler in high school.

Last week Jared G. killed himself. He shot himself in his car in the Village Greens Shopping Center in Arden Heights. He was married with a young child. After college at CSI, Jared opened up a beer distributor on Manor Rd (or bought the existing one) with at least one of his other high school football buddies who also lacked skills translatable to a job in the real world. Evidently that venture failed because in the article about his death the Advance says he was driving a cement truck.

They say living well is the best revenge so I guess it would be hard to deny I got revenge on Jared. Me working where I work and him driving a cement truck is the real world equivalent of me being on the football team and him running track.

I wouldn't say I am happy he's dead, nor that I smiled when I heard that he died, but I don't feel any sadness for him either. I am sad that his young child has to grow up without a father, but other than that nothing. Obviously his life didn't turn out the way he hoped when he was walking around the Susan Wagner hallways in his cool football jacket with the white leather sleeves. Mine did. I don't want to sound angry about an incident from 17 or 18 years ago, because I seldom if ever thought about him, until that e-card reminded me. But it does give me a weird sense of satisfaction. Sort of like Walt, at the end of Season 4, "I won."

This is not the first time I've been insensitive to someone who committed suicide. Read the comments attached to this post to find out what a jerk I am.

Song of the Week

"End of the Road" - Boyz II Men
20 years ago this song was #1. Amazing.

Lead By Example

When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw you hang my first painting on the refrigerator,
and I wanted to paint another one.

When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw you feed a stray cat,
and I thought it was good to be kind to animals.

When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw you make my favorite cake for me,
and I knew that little things are special.

When you thought I wasn't looking,
I felt you kiss me goodnight,
and I felt loved.

When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw tears come from your eyes,
and I learned it's alright to cry.

When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw that you cared,
and I wanted to be everything that I could be.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I was and I saw.
Thank you for all the things you did,
when you thought I wasn't looking.

-Author Unknown