What are you looking at, 12:18 pm

City Team Ministries, Chester Pa.

Hundreds of brand-new bikes for Chester- area kids, ready to be tagged
and delivered as part of the adopt-a-family Christmas effort. I'm volunteering today.

My job is to match up these bikes with needy kids who have asked Santa
for one. I grab a helmet, tag the bike and move it to the other side
of the room.

My buddy Jeff is pondering why we're all here. I found a clue for him
this morning in a basement in Chester...

From the 'Why it Hurts to be a Skins Fan' Dept.

It is easy to build a team with seven-win talent in the NFL. Vinny Cerrato and the Washington Redskins are perfect examples of that.


It's obviously harder to build a team with 12-win talent. I know that. But it is also harder to endure a three- or four-win season, and that is what the Skins need right now.


* They need to lose the rest of their games
* There needs to be no more than 20,000 people in the stands next week against Philly


I'm rambling, I know, but it's because I'm frustrated. Here's what I'm saying:


Seven-win talent means you'll be in the playoff hunt until week 13 or 14, the fans will be engaged, and you can justify adding players like Jason Taylor (who has given us nothing this year) because it seems like you're always one or two pieces away from making noise in the playoffs.


What is harder (and what Daniel Snyder will never do), is to eat all of the salary cap deferring you've been doing for the last five years, cut all the high-priced verteans and be truly shitty so that you can build with youth (like the Texans, 49ers - two teams with worse records that I would trade rosters with in a second).


The Danny's afraid, however, that the people will stop coming (see Lions, Detroit).


But that's what winning organizations do. They understand that you have to go through the pain of being truly awful in order to be truly great. Look at every 10-win team in the league right now, and you can remember when they were a 10-loss team.


So, I end up spending my Sundays on the couch in my basement, repeatedly duped by the possibility that this year will be different. I've figured it out now, though, and my eyes are wide open.

All that's left is for me to do is formulate a justification for becoming a Ravens fan. Hey, their quarterback is a Delaware alum, like me. Does that work?

What are you looking at, 7:23 pm

The Hockessin Memorial Hall, caroling and dance program.

I'm Not Sure Why....

...but this clip is really getting to me right now.

I know as we get to the end of 2008, there will be a ton of retrospectives on the television, radio and elsewhere. Everyone is going to offer their 2 cents on what made this year unique and memorable.

(One certain highlight of 2008 is the launch of Classic Old School Gear - Custom Jerseys. Made to Order - that's right).

This clip makes me think about the power generated when millions of people just say "enough."

I'm sure many of you have seen this before (it's the 19th-most famous scene in film history, or something like that). If you haven't, stick with the scene (it takes about a minute to set up), and tell me how the end of it makes you feel, especially consdering what's been going on in our world lately.

What are you looking at, 4:16 pm

The view out of my office window, with the Delaware River, the Barry
Bridge, and waterfront Chester, Pa. in sight.

What are you looking at, 12:56 pm

Kevin playing in the HAC play area after gymnastics practice.

An American Girl

Yesterday was Maya's birthday, and today the Mrs. and she are headed to the Big Apple to visit the American Girl store on 5th Avenue.

My hopes are that they are safe, happy and frugal (not necessarily in that order).

Everybody Won

It's interesting today. At my job, I've had a number of people stop my desk and offer me congratulations on last night's election.

 

"Congratulations."

 

So, maybe they're saying it because I did some work on behalf of the campaign. A couple nights of data entry, some phone calls and office duty on election day, but that's obviously not it. Besides, I try not to talk politics in the office, so most wouldn't even know.

 

"Congratulations, Alain. I'm sure last night was really great for you."

 

It's odd. It's as if what happened last night was just a victory for Democrats. Or African Americans. Or Americans born in Africa. Or Americans born in Africa to a white Muslim mother and a Black father.

 

That's clearly not it. And to think that is to totally miss the point. Everybody won last night. Even those who lost.

 

You know what happened last night? The politics of division died. The pursuiit of the 51 percent "f-you" majority expired. The concept that a good idea is a good idea, whether it has a D or an R attached to it, took root. (Even if the idea is from the Blue Enigma Party, which ran here in Delaware - though I'm not familiar with their platform).

 

And most importantly, the belief that "You can be whatever you want to be, if you work hard and believe in yourself" no longer has the twinge of emptiness in once held for some people in this country.

 

It also means no more excuses. Nobody's holding you down. So stop bitching and get to work.

 

And the last thing (a reallly cool thing): it's going to cause people who used to ignore each other for no goood reason to engage.

 

First, you'll make eye contact in the hallway, or at the grocery store, or on the street.

Tomorrow, you'll say hello.

Next week, you'll stop and say 'Boy, did you catch that ball game last night?'

 

And that's how it will begin. That's the small way we'll start "perfecting our union." We're not as different as our differences sugggest.

 

Everybody won. I believe that in my heart. And if you don't believe it now, just wait and see.

 

By the way, if you came to this post from my throwback jersey site, please disregard the man on the soapbox, and check out that awesome Phillies jersey at the bottom of the page.

Do - Si - D'Oh!

As I alluded, last night was the annual Hootenanny at Meaghan's girlfriend's farm on the Eastern Shore. I've attended enough of these events to actually know my way around a barn.

We loaded up on pulled pig, mac and cheese, fried chicken and oysters (I passed on the last one). But all that was just prologue. I got my Virginia Reel on (not pictured) and acuitted myself nicely overall. Whether swing (pitcured), honor, promenade or the venerable do-si-do, my partner and I mopped up.

And, I managed to do it all while flying my uni-geek flag (note the vest), a tough thing to pull off smack in the middle of Ravens Country.

Now, I'm working on getting my in-laws to join me for a break-dancing exhibition. Wish me luck with that...

In the Lion's Den

Eagles actually. Not a place for a Skins fan. Pray for me.

Throwback of the Week - Cash Money Honey

Here's what I love about this shirt:

• I truly miss all of the "road baby blue" jerseys that team used to wear in the late 60s and into the 70s. It created memorable color combinations like this one. This is what i will always envision when I think of the Fightin's.

• The Fat P. Should say Phat P. I think your view of what is cool in the world tends to stop at the age of 18. Fat P was the logo at point for me. Enough said.
  

• I also happen to be coo-coo for patches, if you hadn't noticed. This one's a beauty, with the 76 incorporated into the Liberty Bell.
  

BTW, Dave Cash was an undrafted, unheralded second baseman who took the field with what was believed to be the first all-brown lineup in MLB history. Read about him here.

Here Goes...

If you've read here (or know otherwise), I've got this thing with sports jerseys and other memorabilia. The whole Carl Anderson's Lockerroom thing, you know. (If you don't, you can read about it here, or see an example of my collection here).

So I've taken to starting a jersey design effort in my spare time (of which I really have none). Classic Old School is the name. Custom Jerseys, Made to Order is the tagline. It's been mostly word-of-mouth and word-of-ebay until now.


But now, I've merged onto the highway of eCommerce (that reads so much cornier on the screen than it did in my head). I'm advertising on my favorite - and the definitive - uniform blog, UniWatch. 


That's my ad on the right hand side above the Google box. And actually, that logo is made from a picture of me in the 9th grade.


So far, so good. It's really amazing to see how many people have as niche-like an interest as I do. 


Now it's not a scalable mega-business. That never was the point. It's just really cool to do something that I'm so passionate about - as a job.

A Late Entrant to the Race

I save money from not having to endure a grueling primary.


I fully intended to choose Nipsey Russel as my running mate, until it was brought to my attention that he died several years ago. Other than that, we'd be unbeatable.


As such, I want the guy who works at Costington's in the Simpsons, who always says "Yeeesssssss!" (his name is Franko Nelson, I understand...). I'm figuring that way, he'll agree with all of my policy directives.






Somebody pranked me with this today. Whoever it was, "You won this round!"


Actually pretty slick, I must say.

Fight for the Blue and Gold

Hens vs. Terps today at 3:45. Be true to your school.

Go Delaware!

In My Lifetime

I never imagined.

Words fail me right now.

Five Ways to Tell if You Were Born in the 70s (#2)

Back after a hiatus. Kind of like when Archie Bunker's Place went away for "retooling". Actually bad example, because that came back even crappier...

How many do you recall?

* Console TVs - We had a nice one in our living room. Integrated speakers, lovely faux-wood paneling (to prevent fall-apart), and a built-in stereo - which had both a record player and an 8-track. Avant garde no doubt.

And true to DL Hughley's stand-up, when it finally died, we kept in the room, and just sat a newer tv on top of it.

Back story - it had a remote, but when that went on the fritz, I filled in admirably as a "human remote." This consisted of sitting near the tv, to the side (never in front of it, unless I was keenly intent on an a**-whipping), while my Pop had me do a full run of the channels - all 11 of them.

* Coca Cola Rugby Shirts - Sweet. I'm from the Benetton generation, and nothing said we're all children of the world more than wearing corporate pablum on your chest. And I don't even like Coke (gives me the wind something awful).

* Intellivision - Proof positive that I can apply myself when the stakes are high. I earned an Intellivision (and a copy of NFL Football - animated stickmen at a jaw-dropping 3-5 frames per second) by averaging 95 percent on my mid-term exams in the seventh grade.

* NJTL - The National Junior Tennis League. Pleased to know it's still in existence. I spent my tween summers playing tennis for the Ramsey Rec Center. It kept me and my brother out of trouble while Mom was at work, and I actually got pretty good at it, believe it or not.

* Run DMC - I remember walking through the quad during break during freshman year, and my buddy Orson had a tape made by these two guys from St. John's University. I'd never heard anything like it. The beats, the stuff they talked about. Granted, Grand Master Flash had gotten socially relevant years earlier with "The Message," but Run DMC made hip-hop accessible in a way other MCs had not.

Per their instructions, I pulled the shoestrings out of my Adidas shelltops, Walked This Way, and wore one of these.

Yeah, I know. Strong.

Happy Birthday Mommy

Nothing like child-painted pottery to assuage your concerns about
watching the odometer roll over.

They are definitely the children of their mother (as my pop likes to
say). Their love of reading, art, reality television all comes from
Meaghan.

I on the other hand can only claim responsibility for their sense of
humor, vibrant personalities and peerless athletic ability.

So it's clearly a draw...

Things I learned from my mother (Birthday Edition)

How to sense how other people are reacting to what I'm saying or doing

How to say 'eggplant' two different ways in Arabic

How to get along with anyone (as long as they're not jerks - sometimes even when they are jerks)

How to carry a pencil when running through the house (for the kids at home, it's with the point facing down)

How to treat people

That I could easily make it through an entire summer with three ingredients - couscous, cinnamon and sugar

That people can do amazing things when circumstances force them to

That everyone else drives way too fast

Not to leave a hamster unattended with a cat in the house

No matter what else comes and goes, you always have family.


Happy Birthday Mom. If I show up at your house with a knife and fork in my shirt pocket inquiring about lasagna, you know what to do...

Back Again

Part of the reason for the lack of posts over the past week or so lies about 100 miles south of Hockessin. Yes, we just completed another week at the beach, this time with Meaghan's family.

The weather was fair to middlin'. We had some sun, some clouds, some flies and some grasshoppers (I think flies and grasshoppers are the first two plagues that hit Pharaoh, right?). But the food, the family, and the time off from the job all were very welcome (and enjoyed).

Besides, I've been looking for a reason to use this awesome version of "Somewhere over the Rainbow," which you have probably heard, even if you think you haven't.

Meaghan's Links 8/2

Been bugging the Mrs. that she should have a blog of her own. She certainly has more relevant things to say than I do, IMO. 

I'm sensing that's not going to happen, but I did get her OK to post a couple of the articles she recommends to me through Google Reader.

So, here's the debut of Meaghan's Links:

The Walkman Makes a Comeback - Probably a nice candidate for a 'Five Ways' post. I can still remember my Walkman getting stolen out of my locker in the 7th grade. I would've kicked someone's a** if I could fight then. I couldn't.

The Spread of Walmart. Just plain scary.

Held Suspect. A long, sobering read, but worth your time.

Enjoy.

Five Ways to Tell if You Were Born in the 70s (#1)

You can't fool me.

You think you're old school, but you're not really old school, and I can prove it.If you can remember four of these five things, I might let you slide.

• Burger Chef - This was the burger joint of my youth. Nicer than McDonald's, not as good as Red Barn (mentioned here), but Red Barn served a wider variety of food. Burger Chef and his sidekick Jeff also gave away kick-ass toys with their fun meals.

• The Green Machine - Made a Big Wheel look like a Baby Bjorn with wheels. The Green Machine was hardcore. Two levers to steer the back wheels. Transportation to the emergency room sold separately.

• ABC Saturday nights - Spend all day playing with your friends, and get in by 9 to watch the Love Boat, followed up by Fantasy Island. The Plane! The Plane! (I mean, Tatoo must have worked at that resort for several years, yet he was always excited when the plane showed up - like he'd never seen a plane before)

• Wearing your shoes out of the shoe store - I don't think people do this any more. I remember my mom buying me a pair of Puma Clydes. Without hesitation, I put my old pro-keds in the Puma box and wore those new joints home.

• Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince, "Live at Union Square" - Clearly a hip-hop touchstone. It's eerie to listen to a 17-year old Will Smith warm up the crowd. He couldn't have had any idea how large he'd become.

How'd you do?

Wrap it Up

Crying, inconsolable children. The clear sign that a dynamite vacation has come to an end.

Maya and Kevin were both extremely bummed that our Fenwick Island trip ended on Saturday. It took an emergency trip to the Candy Kitchen in Bethany to keep the wheels on the bus, so to speak.

If you've ever been on the Delmarva Peninsula, you know that the Kitchen always has the medicine. They're sprinkled all up and down Coastal Highway. (There are three in Bethany, including two on the same block).

We got the kids calmed down, but my day was just beginning. I thought I'd take a stroll to the Apple store to see what was cooking (heard they were launching some sort of 'communication device' this weekend.

Five hours later, I walked out with my phone, and all I had to do was buy my daughter a fart machine and a trick card deck from Spencer Gifts to reward her patience. Sounds like a deal to me.

Enjoy the video. The Prince song I used is one of my favorites. (I feel a 'purple post' coming on this week...)

B-Day

My son is 6. He is wreaking havoc with the r/c 4x4 he got for his
birthday. (yes I was the one who bought it, but that's not the point).

Out weather luck ran out as the clouds rolled in, but I managed to get
a little time in the 62-degree water (no, not a typo) to work on my
bodysurfing.

Most impressive? We went to Five Guys in Bethany and only split a
regular order of fries. This is no small feat.

Wish You Were Here...

...then I could split the cost of the beach house with you.

Where funnelcaking happens...

Yes. It's a sport.

Here Comes the Sun

...for a little while, at least. The water is "refreshingly cool," and we were treated to a surfing exhibition by the local boogie-boarders. And (amazingly), the kids slowed down enough to hold still for some Papa time. Also, Kevin dug up a ghost crab (no pic, unfortunately), and yelled "crab! crab!" at the top of his lungs as the poor fellow made his way (sideways of course) back into the ocean.

In it up to our....

We're here, and so are the clouds! After an uneventul drive down, we're in Fenwick Island, Del. for our annual family vacation. (It's actually the vacation before the vacation, since Meaghan's folks get a place down here in three weeks that makes our place look like a very well-appointed cardboard box). The place is really nice and half a block from the water, and we were able to get down to the beach for a little while before a thunderstorm rolled in. The rest of the family is due down in waves over the next couple of days, so hopefully we'll bear the brunt of Mother Nature's wrath before everyone else gets here.

And fortunately, the Peanut Butter Milkshakes taste great no matter what's going on in the sky.

Hoop Dreams Redux

Season's over, time for a retrospective. Nothing like a little Kurtis Blow in the background as you chart your hoops progress.

Oh Beautiful....

Happy 4th everyone. Independence day in Hockessin means a couple of things:

First, the Hockessin Neighborhood Relays. Each development puts together a team of kids, 6-14, and competes in three events: Softball Toss, Relay Races and Broad Jump. Our neighborhood doesn't have a lot of kids, so we generally don't do very well, but the kids have a great time.

Then there's a trip to Perkins for lunch, which is oddly packed on July 4th. The parade is in the afternoon down Old Lancaster Avenue, and the fireworks at Dusk. Because we live a the top of the hill, we can see the fireworks in both Swift Park (at the bottom of the hill) and in Kennett Square, Pa. (at the golf course) without leaving our front yard.

Whatever your tradition, enjoy the day, and take it easy on the hot dogs (have you ever seen how those things get made? I'm just sayin'...) UPDATE: I've been informed that the Deerfield community won 6TH PLACE in the broad jump! This is a big deal for a neighborhood with a total of like seven kids in it. Sappy video with Ray Charles music coming in a couple of hours.... UPDATE #2 - As promised...

Throwback of the Week - Chi-Town

One of my favorites. I got this 1968 >Luis Aparicio jersey last summer at the M&N store in Philadelphia. The color is >dead-on, right down to the buttons, and the small script >player name and year in the lower right hand corner is a throwback to the way baseball jerseys used to be labeled by the clubhouse equipment folks. I even love the Illinois Sesquicentennial >patch (that's 150 years, if you're wondering).

Hoop Dreams

I've written a little about how my kids are starting to be drawn to the game of basketball. It's heartwarming, especially considering the fact that I haven't dragged, coerced or otherwise forced them to embrace the game.

My history goes from grade school (not much pt), to junior high (that's an eight foot rim, btw) and then high school. It really ended after college, though I still mistakenly believe I can play.

It's like this: I'm slow, my jump shot is erratic, I couldn't defend a toddler (I mean I'd hold him under 10 points, and he might get frustrated, but he'd be able to get his shot off whenever he wanted). And I'm probably good for 6-8 minutes a game, due to my limited stamina. Other than that, my game is as tight as it has ever been.

Maya and Kevin are just getting started though. They looked forward to being able to stay up and watch part of the NBA Finals, which start way too late for kids. I mean, if the NBA ends up missing out on a generation of kids, it's going to be because they're all asleep by the time the games come on.

So Saturday I was in my element, watching the kids play (and have a great time) and actually do pretty well, in my opinion (which is probably biased). Then, this morning, I get word from big brother that his boy is wreckin' shop down in his basement (check out the shimmy after the jump).

Watch out for these Nana-Sinkam kids. They're carrying the torch...

KevinGrevey

So I made mention recently of the KevinGrevey project. Here's the lowdown (also, you notice that techies and other nerdly-types generally begin sentences with the word "so?" I'm just sayin'...)

I started a project that was initially to be a Christmas gift for the Mrs. A couple of her favorite songs I covered using instrumental tracks and Garage Band. (click at your own risk. It's pretty bad, but seemed like a good idea at the time). But then Rock Band came out.

With that, Maya and Kevin got into the act. Next thing you know, we've recorded two additional tracks for the album, as well as a video and a live performance.

So, the album is called "3rd Finger Down." No original tracks since we're not original (in fact, we're decidedly derivative). The title comes from the finger symbol, which is a dedication to the late Sean Taylor, Maya's favorite 'Skin.

If you hold your middle finger down with your thumb, the remaining digits make a "2-1," which was Sean's jersey number (which we're all wearing on the album cover). It's also an obtuse reference to a lyric from Prince's Emancipation album, but that's way off-topic.

Anyway, we're clearly as dysfunctional as any rock band ought to be. Our lead singer is petulant, often loses interest midway through a song, and is missing his front two teeth (though they are growing in). Our drummer/bassist can be a little moody, and stubbornly claims to have never overslept. While our lead guitarist can't actually play the guitar.

Other than that, we're straight fire.

Made it Ma!

That was quite an interview the Big Ticket gave last night after the Celtics smushed (that's the technical term) the Lakers in a decisive game 6. If you didn't see it, you need to just watch it and draw your own conclusions. ("I have been usurped" - what is this, Hamlet?")

I'm figuring that moment was a couple of notches up from the Virginia Independent School State Championship, so I won't profess to know what level of decorum the aftermath of an NBA title calls for.

Throwback of the Week - Brooksie

It may not be of the week. It may be of the two weeks. 

Today's entry is a 1971 Baltimore Orioles orange alternate #5 (Brooks Robinson) by Mitchell and Ness. I actually got this shirt from the Orioles store and not from the Philly location.

This jersey was part of the ill-fated "all orange" alternate that the O's tried in the early 70s. They went over like a fart in church. Even in the brightly colored polyester heyday, there was only so much orange people could take. They weren't the only ones who tried the monochrome look - and failed.

This jersey became a staple of my on-stage attire while fronting a band called "Soul Expression." We were the house band at the Meritage martini bar in West Chester, Pa. (which has since closed, but that wasn't because of us).  All I needed was one of these jerseys, a bucket hat and some shades to overcome my enormous stage fright.

Soul Expression was the precursor to my current project, KevinGrevey. Keep an eye out. We're going to do big things.

Anyway, this jersey is now in my brother's collection. I have since upgraded to a '76 Jim Palmer #22, with the sweet NOB nameplate. 

Things I learned from my Father

• Honor your parents
  
• Take care of your family ('family' in this case is not just limited to blood relatives. If I had nickel for every 'uncle' and 'cousin' I have back home, I'd have a lot of nickels)
• It's really cool being called 'Papa' when all the other kids call theirs 'Daddy'
• Kentucky Fried Chicken is great, but Red Barn Pappy Parker's Fried Chicken was better
• Don't wait around for things to be handed to you
• When grown-ups come to the house, you come over, say hello and shake hands
• Gabardine suits will be coming back - in a big way (if they do, he's set)
• Always let your guests have more
• Don't stand on the bathroom sink trying to kill a fly, because if you do you might get hurt. And if you don't get hurt, you might get spanked.
• Always make peace after an argument - we did it by pressing thumbs together
• When you join the Roy Rogers Buckaroo Club (pictured above), you get a free single patty hamburger on your birthday
• I think he taught me a couple of Chinese phrases. But I'm not sure it was Chinese
• You can never get tired of corned beef and scrambled eggs, or Cocoa Puffs, or Sara Lee Apple Pie, for that matter
• and most important, you can always come back home again

Thanks, Dad. 

Happy Father's Day to you, and my older brother Patrick (he's the less handsome one on the left in the more recent picture).

My Man AE

We can’t solve problems by using the same kind
of thinking we used when we created them. - Albert Einstein

Can you think of anyone who may benefit from this kind of advice?

The Apple and its Proximity to its Originating Tree

So I'm in the twilight of my basketball career, right? But that's OK, because my children have taken to the game, and now I can sit in the gym and watch them grow closer and closer to the game that did so much for me.

What is several magnitudes cooler is when I see hints of my game in their game. To wit my recent "post game interview" with my son Kevin (below). 

Now, I was never known for my defensive abilities (and I would rather shoot than pass), but I promise that I have not exerted influence on the child in any way.

Jackpot!

When I was growing (and falling in love the game of basketball), one my favorite things to do was read "The Complete Handbook of Pro Basketball," by Zander Hollander. Two main reasons for this: 1) It was the best way for me to work toward my goal of being to name the starting fives for all 23 NBA teams (yes there were 23 teams back then... let me know when you're done laughing); and 2) Hollander's writing style was hilarious and formed the basis for sizable chunk of my sense of humor.

He pulled no punches when offering opinions on players in the capsules that he wrote, especially the bench-warmers. One that sticks out in my memory:

On Dale Ellis,  early in his career with the Dallas Mavericks: "Dale has proven in the past season that he will take a) no guff; and b) any shot"

The book also had every player's salary, which made it easy to compare stats with pay and find out who was really "stealing money."

I titled this "jackpot" because, after searching for a while, I was able to find a couple copies of the books ('83, '86 and '88) on Amazon. In 6 to 14 days (shipping time varies), I will be immersed in mid-80s NBA-lore, reading about Fred Roberts, Chuck Nevitt and the venerable Geoff Crompton.

Hello.

First, about the title. I'm not Carl Anderson, and I'm not sure a real Carl Anderson ever existed.

Carl Anderson's Lockerroom was a sporting goods store in suburban Washington, DC (Alexandria, Va. more specifically) where I grew up. They were the only store around that sold sports jerseys. This was in the days before replica jerseys were available at every big box retailer and department store.

So here was the pattern: I would beg my mom to take me there, she'd become apoplectic upon seeing how much money they were asking, and then - true to the Eddie Murphy "Houseburger" standup routine - assure me that she could make just as nice a jersey with a polyester tank-top from K-Mart and an iron-on number set.

Carl Anderson's grew to symbolize the barrier between me - a budding sports jersey junkie - and the tight, uncomfortable brightly-colored uniforms my athletic heroes wore.

Later in life, and interesting thing happened. The throwback jersey craze dashed through like a three-year flash fire, taking me from clairvoyant trailblazer (since I obsessed over this stuff long before it was trendy) to inappropriately juvenile trend-follower (since I obsess over this stuff long after it was trendy).

Funny how even when you don't change, you change.

So, what am I doing here? Can't answer that completely just yet, on account of I'm still figuring that out. So I guess I'll ruminate about those things that continue to interest me, post a pic or two, and we'll see what happens. 

FYI, I'm the one in the back in the picture (behind big brother) that's a picture of me when I was younger. Reminds me of Mitch Hedberg's classic: "Every picture of you... is a picture of you when you were younger."

And if you're actually reading this, one question...

How in the hell did you find this place?