DadCentric

Stephen Baldwin Takes Early Lead in Worst Dad of 2010 Race

I read an article on Strollerderby about Stephen Baldwin, of Alec Baldwin fame, in which he, hypothetically speaking, said that he'd rather watch his young daughter be shot in cold blood than have her deny the existence of Jesus.

Jesus, Stephen, really?

Apparently Baldwin was on a British show called Celebrity Big Brother (see, Alec) when he described the following scenario where he and his family could, hypothetically, be on a city bus (what? it could happen) and then, as is often the case when dealing with public transportation, they would be faced with a machine gun and existentialism.

Shine a Light

Grammar school memory: it's Oklahoma, a tiny Air Force town with the unlikely name of Enid, the late 70's, December. The winters are unforgiving, especially during the holiday season. Rather, the Christmas Season - this was, after all, a school made up of white Christian kids, where each day began with The Lord's Prayer and the Pledge of Allegiance, in that order. The hallways and classrooms were festooned with manger scenes and Christmas trees, in that order. I wasn't much into the whole Jesus thing, then as now - I, and I suspect most of my classmates, worshipped Santa. The reason for the season, presents. But there was a special anxiety, along with the usual Naughty Or Nice-related ones. My mom's Jewish, and when you're the only kid in your class who can count his name among the Chosen (well, per Jewish law, anyway - my agnostic views had already taken shape, and then as now I wasn't going to cast my lot with any single religion; gotta keep your options open, in case one of 'em actually turns out to be correct) and many of your classmates share the same religious tolerance as their parents (the same tolerance shown to gay and black people - none at all), you keep your mouth shut and sing Hark, The Herald Angels Sing as loud as the rest of 'em. 

An Awfully Big Adventure

We got the call this morning. Then, a conversation I'd been dreading.

"Lucas...remember when we told you that Nana was very sick?"

"Yeah."

"Well...last night, she died."

"Oh." He suddenly looked very tired and a little frightened. A whisper: "I'm sad." He hugged us, first Beth, then me.

"It's ok to be sad. Mommy and I, we're very sad. We all loved her so much. And when I went on my trip last week and saw her she told me to tell you that she loved you very much too."

He looked up. "When will she be alive again?"

"Oh, honey." Beth and I looked at each other. "She won't be alive again. But some people...some people believe that after you die, you come back as something else. Others believe that when you die you go to a place called Heaven and you live there, forever. We don't really know, but we do know that she lived such a wonderful life, saw so many amazing places and did so many amazing things, and had so many people that loved her." 

She wrapped him up in her arms, I rested my hand on his back, and we sat like that for a while. Through the open window came the sigh of an ocean breeze. 

The Best Birth Control Website Ever

Parents, if you're having trouble convincing your kids that using birth control is a MUST, we recommend directing them to www.whythefuckdoyouhaveakid.com. It's a relatively new site, and we're more than happy to spread the word about what can happen when teens (and stupid people in general) get pregnant. We understand that Pope Benedict himself has endorsed the site, saying (and we quote), "these people are doing God's work, unlike those heretics who make condoms; man, I'd go all Torquemada on their asses if I could". The More You Know!

Religion, As Explained To Our Four-Year-Old

"Mommy, Daddy...is it ok to say 'Oh my gosh'?"

"Yep. Or 'Oh my goodness'. That works just as well. Better, even."

"Oh. How about 'Oh my God'?"

"Well...you see, that might upset some people. It's not really a nice thing to say."

"Oh. What's God?"

(Long, long, long, long, long pause.)

"Well. Hmm. God. Well, some people believe that God is what made...everything. And different people believe in God in different ways. There are Jewish people and Catholic people and Christians and lots of other religions."

"Religions?"

"Yeah - a religion is...it's a way that people believe in God. Some people believe in...one God, like Jewish people. Other people believe in God, but they also believe in Jesus...that's why you don't say 'Oh, Jesus'. Because that's disrespectful."

"Oh. Did you know that 'Jesus' and 'cheese' rhyme?"

Or Maybe It Was Elvis, They Kind of Look the Same

First there was George Harrison on a tortilla:

Then there was Stevie Nicks on a grilled cheese sandwich:

Things took a turn for the sacred when Lego Jesus approached, waist up, in the form of a Cheeto:

Now my kids have found their ticket to financial freedom in a local toilet bowl. Hello eBay, I give you Jar Jar Binks in a piss stain (not the movie):

I take cash and PayPal.  No checks.

A Small Tragedy

It was suggested, by my dear wife, that we give Lucas something special for his third birthday. The gift of life. No, not a new pancreas. A living thing. A fish, in this case. He loves SeaWorld, and this could be his little own aquatic entertainment park, a park with the added benefit of having in its sole, tiny tank an animal that won't slowly go mad over the course of years spent in captivity.

"A fish", I said, "is a bad idea. What happens if - when - it dies a week later?"

We have a pet, as you know - Mick, our beloved dog, our faithful canine companion, and the centerpiece of our eventual first conversation with the kid about Death. "Well, Lucas, Mick was an old boy, and now he's up in Heaven with the other doggies, barking at the sun and chasing birdies through the clouds...what? Do I believe in Heaven? Er...well...oh, look, the Doodlebops are on!" Not something I'm looking forward to. As George Carlin once said, when you buy a pet, you know it's going to end badly. You've just purchased a small tragedy!

Hopefully, that chat is a ways away. (Barring that, hopefully the Koreans perfect pet cloning, and barring that, hopefully I can find the Pet Sematary. Sometimes dead is not better.) I'm just not ready to talk to a three-year-old about what it means to die. I have this horrific vision of him wandering into the bathroom just as I'm sending Cleo The Goldfish "down the pipe where the pee-pee goes". More to the point, he's eventually going to have someone close to him - a pet, or a person - pass away. I'd prefer that he learns about that later, rather than sooner, because the first time it happens, something inside of you passes away as well.

So Beth agreed  - no fish this year. He's really liking soccer these days, so I suggested a little soccer goal for the backyard. Good game, soccer. Nobody ever got killed playing soccer, right?

We Are The Eggmen

It's never wise to put all of your eggs in one basket.   Any chicken can tell you that. 

Let's say you do though, and perhaps you don't want to chance that said eggs wind up poached.  Let's say you really want them scrambled.  Maybe with cheese melted on them.  No problem.  Just pull up to the omelet bar that is a PGD (preimplantation genetic diagnosis) clinic with a fistful of dollars and a pocketful of sperm and you too can play Dr. Moreau.

According to CNN, it is not just the questionable procedure of creating "perfect" babies that is sparking debate, but the slightly more questionable procedure of creating "flawed" babies.  Basically, you might want your omelet a little burnt, because a)you like it that way, and b)you're paying for it.  Sure, that might go over okay at brunch, but I can't imagine justifying the deliberate handicapping of an embryo so that Johnny can have a disability just like mommy and daddy.

Embryo screening, which can run about $15,000 per pop, is usually used to detect any abnoralities in a fetus, which if found is often aborted.  That pisses off enough people in its own right.  However, the possiblity exists that doctors could choose to fertilize an embryo with defects, should the parent request such a thing.

The examples that some consider as acceptable for tinkering are duplicating dwarfism and deafness.  I understand a parent wanting their child to be like them, but why would they deny said child an opportunity to have a healthier or fuller life?

There are many within the communities of dwarfism and deafness, and obviously others, that feel they are not disabled.  I respect that.  Roll with what you're given.  I applaud it.  However, I can't understand someone that cannot hear wishing the same upon someone they love.

For example, it's one thing to have known and seen everything about John Lennon, but wouldn't it be better to hear him than not?  We've all seen Mr. Holland's Opus.  Music isn't limited to the hearing, but man, it sure takes it further.

The best quote from the CNN article is attributed to Cara Reynolds of New Jersey, who considered embryo screening before deciding to adopt a dwarf baby.

"You cannot tell me that I cannot have a child who's going to look like me," said an outraged Reynolds.  "It's just unbelievably presumptuous and they're playing God."

Hello kettle, it's the pot.  You're black.

How is altering the natural act of egg fertilization the way God wanted it?  Just roll the chicken dice like everyone else.

Coo-Coo-Kachoo.

Can You Hear Me Now? Good.

I'm sure you're all as frantic as I am about what to do about the safety of our families in light of recent revelations made to that crazy loon our brother in Christ, Pat Robertson, by the Man Upstairs.  Yes, we here on the left coast are apparently in line for something akin to a big macking tsunami if what was revealed to Pat during his most recent "prayer retreat" ends up being true.  The only thing I'm having a little difficulty with - and please, I'm not trying to discredit Mr. Robertson as he is truly a prophet of God - is the fact that he questions whether or not he may have "heard the Lord right" during all this.

Correct me if I'm wrong here, but, doesn't God kind of sound like James Earl Jones when he talks?  At least he did in The Ten Commandments.  I'm pretty sure it's one of those deep, loud, booming voices that carries pretty far at the very least.  My guess is that, if the Lord Almighty spoke to you, He would probably make it a point to 1) speak loud enough for you to hear and 2) enunciate. 

So, Pat...maybe you could hit Him up again and verify all this for us.  It's important stuff, you know.  The safety of my family is at stake here.  Besides, I'd like a confirmation before moving to Kansas.

True Blue

Anyone watch CSI last night?  Well I did.  Not the entire thing mind you.  TiVo and TiVo-like devices are a wonderful thing.  I was only able to catch the first 20 minutes or so, but something caught my attention.  The mother of this young girl, who, by the way, was a prodigy - all of 12 years old and a senior in high school - called her daughter an "indigo child."  And then went on to say how attuned to the world and people around her she was.  (This is about the time I ended up doing something else - I think I decided to catch 20 minutes or so of Wednesday night's Lost - yes, TiVo does contribute to my attention deficit (and please, no offense to those who are actually diagnosed ADD - I am easily distracted) - so I have no idea how this whole thing ended, but I was intrigued by the term "indigo child.")  So you know I had to look it up today.

Indigo children is a New Age term used to refer to a set of children having certain special psychological and spiritual attributes. The indigo child concept was first publicised by the book The Indigo Children, written by the husband and wife team of Lee Carroll and Jan Tober. Carroll insists that the concept was obtained via conversations with a spiritual entity known as "Kryon". The adjective "indigo" is used because it is claimed these children appear with an indigo-hued aura.

Well, slap my ass and call me Charlie.  These guys oughta get together with TomKat and Vinny Barbarino.  Now, I am not one to call anyone on their spiritual beliefs - you can believe in whatever you want to believe.  I'm Catholic, I carry my own oddities and guilt-ridden baggage.  So I looked past the whole "Kryon" and aura thing and wanted to find out what exactly sets "indigo children" apart from those with inferior hues.  Well, here are the attributes of an "indigo child":

• They come into the world with a feeling of royalty (and often act like it).
• They have a feeling of "deserving to be here," and are surprised when others don't share that.
• Self-worth is not a big issue; they often tell the parents "who they are."
• They have difficulty with absolute authority (authority without explanation or choice).
• They simply will not do certain things; for example, waiting in line is difficult for them.
• They get frustrated with systems that are ritually oriented and don't require creative thought.
• They often see better ways of doing things, both at home and in school, which makes them seem like "system busters" (nonconforming to any system).
• They seem antisocial unless they are with their own kind. If there are no others of like consciousness around them, they often turn inward, feeling like no other human understands them. School is often extremely difficult for them socially.
• They will not respond to "guilt" discipline ("Wait till your father gets home and finds out what you did").
• They are not shy in letting it be known what they need.

Hmmmm - is it just me or are these the exact same qualities one would attribute to a brat?  If I saw a child with this kind of personality, I think I would be quietly reassuring myself, "Thank God that's not my child."  But, that's just me.