The institutional mouthpiece of Kjel.org

The CEO has been slow with the content lately, mainly because of work. You’ve perhaps heard of the recent financial turmoil that has befallen our great nation? Well, it is causing some high levels of stress in my office, and frankly with me too on a personal level. People in certain jobs (ie college administrator, teacher, itinerant handyman) might not get too rattled; the CEO on the other hand is rattled.

By Friday night all the CEO wanted to do was have some peace and quiet, but instead the wife and I headed out to the Old Barn. We had babysitters (the CFO’s parents) and felt like we had to go do something. I was the least motivated to go out that I have been in a long time but once we got there (and I got a few beers in me) things were fine.

By Saturday afternoon my tolerance for screaming kids was absolutely exhausted. Lucky for me the Chief Educator and Sniper were doing a little construction project over at the Edumacator’s place and neither of them cry too much. I went over to, uh, help. I helped the Educator to watch TV by periodically going outside and screaming at the Sniper: Knock off that goddamned racket! We’re trying to watch the game in here! That asshole kept up with the pounding and the sawing anyway. I had to go out and badger him several times.You look pretty sharp in those kneepads. Oh, a caulk joke! Hilarious! Now get back to work! Break time is over! I thought I was being helpful.

Caulk. Kneepads. Low hourly rates. That paragraph above could have gone in an entirely different direction, one where the jokes practically write themselves. Too easy.

The Sniper didn’t realize that he had authorized me to act as his union delegate when I went back inside to watch TV. The Educator was only too happy when the union offered to exchange the dental plan for certain contents of the Educator’s fridge. The Sniper better hope his kids don’t need glasses either: during the extensive negotiations it was agreed that the union would take the vision plan off the table if ownership agreed that the union delegate could have some mustard and mayo for his sandwich. I drive a hard bargain. Now I need to go remind the Sniper that his dues are late. I don’t want to have to send the goon squad after him again.

A new feature will be coming soon to this website, one that should help me out a bit if I am not feeling inclined or simply don’t have the time to write much. In the course of moving I came across a box of old pictures, from back in the film era. The pictures mainly look to be from the mid to late nineties. There are some excellent ones. If you were around the CEO back then be afraid. Be very afraid. As soon as I figure out how to use the scanner here at my office the dark secrets of the past will be revealed. Some of the pictures will be one-offs, but occasionally I’ll do a series. The first such series will be entitled “People doing stupid things at the Edumacator’s house.” I’m looking in your direction, Lieutenant Dan . . . stay tuned.

The CEO is no economist, and I have no idea whether or not a taxpayer bailout of some sort is the correct course of action. The more I read about the proposed bailout though, the more I am reminded as to why good old Ron Reagan was the best president this country has had in a long time. First, Forbes on the current bailout plan:

The committee’s top Republican, Alabama Sen. Richard Shelby, says he’s concerned about its cost and whether it will even work. In fact, some of the most basic details, including the $700 billion figure Treasury would use to buy up bad debt, are fuzzy. “It’s not based on any particular data point,” a Treasury spokeswoman told Forbes.com Tuesday. “We just wanted to choose a really large number.”

And now from Ronnie:

The ten most dangerous words in the English language are “Hi, I’m from the government, and I’m here to help.”

I heard a rumor last night that there might be an excuse for me to use my sawzall and/or sledgehammer at the Chief Educator’s place this weekend. Chief?

My entire lower back is covered in bruises caused by a combination of these two things:

1. There has been a lot of playing rough in the last 48 hours, even by our rowdy standards. The Jr VP doesn’t believe that he can actually harm me, so in his mind pretty much nothing is off limits when it comes to abusing Daddy. His new signature move is one he calls the Flying Monkey: he will run at and then jump on you, screaching like a monkey the whole time. Since I am already on the ground at the time (usually trying to shield the AK from the Flying Monkey), this one hurts. It’s very possible that last night he reinjured a rib I cracked at the coast a few months back. The shooting pains would seem to indicate that possibility.

2. The Jr VP came into my room at quarter to six this morning and crawled into bed with me. It was nice. For about 5 minutes. At 5:50 he was ready to get up and start the day. I was not and told him that I was going back to sleep and that he should too. He didn’t like that answer. For about an hour he laid there and harassed me while I tried to sleep. Part of the harassment was the occasional kick or punch in the back. Thanks a lot son.

This is what happens when the CFO leaves for a few days. I am damn glad she gets home tonight. A few more nights like these and I am going to end up in a wheelchair.

The 2008 Seattle Mariners are not good and it is doubtful to me that they will make the playoffs:

Royals rout M’s 12-0, complete four-game sweep
KANSAS CITY, Mo. — Zack Greinke combined with two pitchers on a three-hitter, Mike Aviles hit a three-run homer and the Kansas City Royals routed Seattle 12-0 on Thursday to complete their first four-game sweep of the Mariners in 19 years.

The 2008 Cougs on the other hand . . . also suck.

The Jr. VP learned a new phrase this weeked. Overheard at the zoo on Sunday: “Daddy are you wearing underpants? I’m not — I’M GOING COMMANDO!!!! Hahahahahahaha!!!!” And he was.

The WSU-Baylor game has been moved to Friday evening. Something about an impending hurricane I hear. Anyway, if you are part of the Kjel.org gaming community please make sure you take this fact into account. Gracias.

The Jr. VP sits on my lap before bed time and we watch TV and snuggle and joke and generally have a good time. We do it most nights; it is nice. We play games that sometimes make Mommy mad, like last night when we agreed that if he ever gets lost at a store he will tell the clerk that his name is Joey Jo-Jo Shabadoo and that he’s looking for his daddy, King Awesome. We laughed and laughed at the CFO’s response to that one, and then it was hugging time. There is nothing better in the world than hearing the lad say I love you Daddy, although I love you Mommy is an extremely close second.

Now please read this, by an infinitely better writer than the CEO will ever be. I read it in 2002 before either of the boys joined Kjel.org and it struck me then, but perhaps for different reasons. Now? Oh man.

Every year I think that this is going to be the September 11 when the sadness finally keeps its distance. The year that the rage doesn’t boil over quite as hot. The year that the dread doesn’t peek out from its ugly little hiding spot. That could have been this year. But then a perfect laughing little three year old boy sat in my lap and made some jokes and then asked me about what we were doing tomorrow. Fuck. I can’t help thinking about things that could have been and might still be.

I still feel the same feelings, but perhaps even stronger than I did 7 years ago. Dammit. Fucking terrorists.

The CFO worked all day Saturday. The boys had themselves a big day out:

1. Appliance shopping with a one and a three year old was surprisingly easy. One played with the other (sample dialogue: “Watch this Daddy! Baby in a dryer!“) while I employed Jedi mind trick price negotiation tactics on the very, very old salesman. The force was strong in that one, but even so the new dishwasher arrives Thursday.

2. Grocery store cart racing is always fun — until it isn’t. The Jr. VP is at a stage where something can be the most fun thing in the world before a switch is flipped and it becomes terrifying. We flipped that switch several times while tearing-ass around the Thriftway with the lad hanging on to the front of the cart for his dear life. He screamed bloody murder a few times but no one looked at us twice, let alone ask us to shut up and/or leave. I wonder what you have to do to get kicked out of that grocery store? I know for a fact that if you show up drunk, kick a few twelve packs down the aisle, all while screaming in Spanish, they still politely serve you. No really, I am certain of it.

3. We got lunch at The Cheeseburger Store. This is how the lad refers to any fast food place selling burgers.

4. We took our lunch to the “old park”, the one close to the old HQ. Kids ate and played; Daddies ate and watched. And played. And drank. I have discovered the perfect park beer: Caldera IPA.

Unless someone is close to enough to actually read the label, there could be anything in that yellow can.

5. Then it was home for naps and football. If this last weekend was any sort of a guide, the CEO is in for a long season this year. I’ve come to accept that basically, if I like a sports team that team will not win. You’d think I’d at least learn to use that knowledge to improve my gambling results, but no such luck yet.

Not that anyone asked me, but the solution to the Seahawks’ problem is right there, already on the team: Hasselbeck to Bumpus, early and often. Superbowl bacon surprise here I come.

The Fall Gambling Season is upon us yet again. Will those scholar-athletes of the gridiron make the CEO any money this year? Might they get him back to the break even point at least? The only way to know is to play. Email the CEO if you want in. It’ll be the easiest money you’ve ever made. Difficult to actually collect though . . .

The CEO generally hates politics and politicians, and you can be certain I didn’t watch much of either party’s convention. From the tiny bits I did see though one thing really popped out at me: when the folks in Denver would get worked up they would chant Obama! Obama! When the folks in Minneapolis did the same they would chant USA! USA!

Infer from that difference what you will.

When the Jr VP asks you to play rough and you say “no”, it is very important to make sure that he doesn’t then conclude Hmm, if Daddy doesn’t want to play rough I bet the baby does!

A certain AK was not happy last night. He’d never had a bloody nose before and I think it frightened and confused him a bit. I was just happy it happened on the hardwood and not on the carpet.

No offense to the Chief Edumacator, but if I was a parent in Bellevue right now I would be royally pissed off:

BELLEVUE, Wash. - No school again Wednesday for 16,000 Bellevue School District students as teachers strike for a second day. Talks Monday and Tuesday failed to yield an agreement; the Bellevue teachers union and the school district return to the bargaining table Wednesday afternoon. The nearly 1,200 teachers union members are striking over issues of compensation, curriculum and benefits. While salaries vary depending on experience, the average Bellevue teacher earns $58,000. The district has offered a 1.5% raise the first year and a 1% raise the second. It’s important to note, this is on top of the state’s cost of living adjustment which in 2009 will be 5.1 percent.

If I was a high school student? During the teacher strike of 1992 my friends and I all went camping in Cle Elum for a few days during our unscheduled vacation. And we all somehow managed to make it home alive. Awesome.

Not awesome: cousin Chuckles was all geared up to start the first grade on Tuesday. His mom was geared up for it too, but no dice. Thanks Bellevue teacher’s union.