Category: borracho

Time To Update The Rules

So you know this whole schoolyard game called roshambo, also known as rock-paper-scissors?

Yeah. I played it on the schoolyard. Years ago there was a lively night in Las Cruces where a drunk cowboy accused my best friend of cheating at rock-paper-scissors. She wasn’t cheating, he was just so drunk that his reflexes were slow, and she could see what was coming.

Plus, he kept throwing rock. Nothing else. Just rock. Sorta hard to sort out that strategy.

But that’s history. Let’s get current.

Recently in my internet wanderings, I read someone’s blog post discussing how maybe rock and paper and scissors aren’t the best choices in this game.

I wish I could recall where I read this so I could give credit. It was a quick piece, but for some reason the points stayed with me.

Ok, so basic rules, as we all know:

Rock beats scissors since rock smashes scissors. Good, ok, I’m on board.

Scissors beats paper since scissors cuts paper. Ok, yup.

Paper beats rock, because paper covers rock.

: cue the sound of squealing brakes :

What now? Paper covers rock and thus renders it ineffective?

Not so sure about that. I’m onboard with broken scissors and cut paper, but the logic doesn’t follow to paper covered rock.

I’m pretty gall damn sure that if I cover a rock with a piece of paper then huck that rock offa someone’s dome, it’s STILL going to cause damage. Paper has done *nothing* to render the rock useless or ineffective.

All I know is that in the heat of the battle I’m taking rock or scissors with me because no sissy piece of paper is going to save my hide! I need something with some heft!

This game has been flawed for YEARS!

So I propose some alternates. How about rock-scissors-machete?

Rock beats scissors since rock can smash the scissors.

Machete beats rock because a super sharp machete can either deflect the rock or maybe cut it?

Then scissors beats machete? Ok, this idea is starting to break down. Maybe scissors can cut the handle covering off machete thus leaving it very slippery?

No? Ok.

Let’s try again.

Rock-scissors-plastic explosives?

Rock smashes scissors.

Scissors cuts up plastic explosives, thus making it less powerful.

Plastic explosives blows the bejeebus out of rock.

See. That works. And it makes a lot more logical sense. We can even keep the hand gestures the same. A flat slab of plastic explosives could look kinda like paper. It really works!

Wow, I’m brilliant. A certified GENIUS! (or simply certified).





Image from Wikimedia and used under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.


This week’s Theme Thursday was posted a day early, so I dove in. This week’s theme is “paper.”


In Defense of Frank Burns

Lately, I have been subjected to a series of long and longwinded meetings.

When my latent child brain is subject to boredom, fascinating things happen.

So, when someone in a boring meeting made a comment that reminded me of an episode of M*A*S*H, it got me thinking about the characters which led me to…

Maybe over the years, we haven’t given Frank Burns a fair shake.

Stay with me here. I have a reasoned argument to present.

Changing the point of view on this to second person to make it more impactful, here is my defense of Frank Burns and why we shouldn’t hate, but have empathy.

Here we go:

Take the characters and situation and place them in the real world. Imagine if you will:

1) You work a job that is both dangerous and complex, and you are responsible for human lives. Being a doctor is actually very important to you. That said, your two coworkers (who you are also forced to live with) are not only arrogant and disrespectful, they are also complete alcoholics.

And yet, despite being drunk a fair percentage of the time, including while at work, they are viewed as the fair haired boys. Your boss overlooks their obvious addiction and goes so far as to tell you to get over it when you bring their questionable behavior to his attention. And you outrank those two buffoons!

Deep down you know that you, sober as a judge, will never be as good a surgeon as they are while drunk on homemade gin. That knowledge chips away at your self-esteem every single day.

2) You date one of the hottest chicks in camp, which is a good thing. But as I’m fond of telling my guy friends, “dating a very beautiful woman comes with challenges.”

I mean, she IS smoking hot. Fer chrissakes, they call her “hot lips”…the trouble is, there’s been plenty of guys who have sampled those hot lips. Your va-va-voom girlfriend is a notorious flirt and will openly discuss her partying with generals and colonels around the globe, and you’re expected to just take it with a smile.

She expects you to be a good military man and constantly compares you to her legendary father. Then she lets your roommates slide on their non-military behavior because, she reasons, they are so good at what they do.

And you become acutely aware that this chick is WAY out of your league. A little neurosis sets in as you try to hang on to the hottest girl you’ll ever lay a hand on in your entire life.

3) You get zero support at home. Ok, yes, there’s that cheating with Hot Lips issue which means you are not without some blame. And yet, a nice word in the mail from the spouse would be nice. You’d like to think your own wife would be in your corner, but she’s not.

Neither are your parents. And you don’t have any friends. It’s a lonely old world stuck in a grimy tent with two hotshot lunkheads mocking your inadequacies on a daily basis.

4) People call you Ferret Face. To your face. It’s not your fault you were the big loser in the genetic Olympics and wound up with a weak chin.

5) Your hot girlfriend pressures you all the time about getting married. This, despite the fact that you told her from the start you weren’t looking to leave your wife. It’s a constant nagging pressure.

Then she goes off on R&R one day and comes back engaged so some big, tall, athletic bohunk with a strong chin and suddenly your only friend in the world is now off limits.

And this causes you to slip off your nut. You really do love the girl, but maintaining the girl has been more than a weak-chinned man can take.

6) If you can’t have love or respect, then it sure would be great to be promoted to Lt. Colonel. People would be forced to respect a Lt. Colonel. A Medal of Honor would be nice too. That would really shut them up.

7) You are probably an undiagnosed case of Aspergers, or at the very least are prone to vicious bouts of OCD. But you get zero sympathy. Meanwhile, the chronic addicts are lauded and celebrated.

It’s a pretty solid case. The more I think on it, the more I feel a little bad for hating Frank all of those years. Perhaps time has been kind to ol’ Frank.

You know, no matter what Hollywood would have us believe, in life, it’s never as easy as “that guy is the good guy” and “that guy is the bad guy.” We’re all the bad guy. And the good guy.

And Frank Burns is misunderstood.






Photo found several places on the net but unable to find attribution. Will include attribution or remove at the request of the owner.


With The Passage of Time

While toiling away at my desk job every day, I like to keep the day going by listening to the radio in the background.

Generally, I like to stream the oldies country station out of Albuquerque, channel 104.7. It is very comforting to hear familiar music mixed in with ads for local ABQ businesses. It’s also very perplexing for my coworkers, which is an added benefit.

This afternoon while crunching spreadsheets and lobbing emails over the wall, the circa 1969 song “Okie from Muskogee” came on the radio.

Now, as you know, I do love a Merle Haggard song.

For some reason today, instead of just mindlessly singing along, I listened in on the words.

It’s a pretty outdated song by many accounts, yet in some ways still feels relevant.

Take this, for example:

“We don’t let our hair grow long and shaggy/
Like the hippies out in San Francisco do.”

Well, for one thing, long and shaggy hair is commonplace now. It’s actually mainstream.

For another, there’s not any hippies in SF these days. I don’t think the free-love folks from the sixties would even recognize the place anymore. Funny how scads of money tends to move the needle toward conservative, no matter where you are.

That said, that’s still my favorite line in the song. I sang it at the top of my lungs when I saw Merle in concert this summer. The absurdity of singing a line deriding San Francisco while being near San Francisco was just too delicious.

Then there’s this part that has always cracked me up:

“We still wave Old Glory down at the courthouse/
And white lightnin’s still the biggest thrill of all.”

So he’s singing about how being a square is a good thing. About having good clean fun. About waving the flag and being upright and just.

Oh and he’s also singing about drinking an illegal alcohol substance.

Marijuana? No. Moonshine? Just fine.

Am I the only one who finds that just a little…oh I don’t know…ironic?

Plus, I can guarangoddamntee you that Mr. Haggard has sampled of the green stuff. More than once. More than once today.

Merle has said he wrote “Okie from Muskogee” as a protest to the Vietnam protestors. He found them a little hard to take after he’d been released from San Quentin.

Oh wait. So the flag waving good clean fun guy was in prison?

Five different times, actually. Doesn’t that seem…uh…also ironic?

Which makes me remember that the whole song, while conservative and flag waving and a bit chiding in tone is really, actually, all done tongue in cheek.

It’s a bit of a ruse, and a well-done ruse. A Grammy winning poke at society.

And that’s where the title of this post comes into play. With the passage of time, The Hag starts to look a little less like a musical outlaw and a lot more like a musical genius.

Plus he helped me get through a really rough day. Thanks Hag.




Since You Asked Nicely

Today during my internet wanderings, I spent some time with my friends over at CNN where an article titled “7 digital mistakes to avoid in 2011” caught my eye.

The story prefaces itself by asking you nicely not to do the seven things listed.

So ok. If asked nicely, I’ll consider it.

Let’s check out my report card on the Thou Shalt Not list:

1. Send an unspeakably rude e-mail to one of my employees or co-workers.

Ok, yes. I’ve done this. I’ve gone to rehab. When I feel the vitriol spewing from my fingers as they fly around the keyboard, I usually finish the email, then hit “save as draft” and let it sit a while.

Also, when writing a tacky email, I always delete the name from the address field on the email so I don’t accidentally send the unedited and unfinished email (done it! Lived to tell the tale).

So on item 1, I’m all good. Next!

2. Chase a messy breakup with sad-clown Facebook statuses and hours of sob-wracked ex stalking.

Ew. No. I hardly use Facebook, so no. Ok, I *have*…in the past…been known to mildly cyber stalk an ex. Mostly to see what they are up to these days, but those years are done.

I did have an ex contact me a few years back. We’d ended amicably and I was fairly happy to hear from an old friend. Then he pulled a Brett Favre and I got skeeved. I now avoid online contact with exes. Just better that way.

Next!

3. Waste everyone’s time with inane tweets.

Yeah, I could be guilty of this. But then again, so can anyone who participates in Twitter. I recently read an article where a celeb compared tweets to mental farts shared with the world.

Fair enough!

Let’s call this one, guilty as charged.

Next!

4. Keep my wedding photo as my Facebook profile pic for five months or more.

No worries there.

Next!

5. Leave offensive, sexist, childish or straight-up stupid comments.

Offensive? No.

Sexist? Nah.

Childish? Maaaayyybe.

Straight-up stupid? Certainly not! I’m sure my comments are always brilliant, insightful and add value to situation!

*ahem*

Next!

6. Drunk-text.

Yeeeah. I’ve done it. Was once a big offender. Just ask The Good Man, recipient of far too many drunk texts. However, now that he’s usually around when I’m having a couple sips, I don’t need to drunk text him anymore.

I am recovered (mostly).

And finally:

7. Peck away at my smartphone during dinner.

Ok. I’m guilty. I own it. There you go, my New Year’s resolution. It might be the one I can stick to because, as the article says, “…let’s face it, those whiskey binges and late-night Cheetos you swore off (of) on 1/1/11 aren’t going anywhere.”

True, true. Whiskey binges and late-night Cheetos are a thing of beauty.