My next book

A Game of Jones

The series begins with Tom Jones being asked to be the chief advisor (known as the Hand of the King) to King James Earl Jones. Tom and his wife Catherine Zeta receive a letter from Catherine's sister, Shirley that gives them reason to believe that the rival House of Jones - to which the King's wife January belongs - was the cause of the previous Hand's death. Tom must travel south to help the king and find out who killed the previous Hand of the King, Tommy Lee Jones, while trying to protect his family from the other Jones. As he tries to uncover the reasons behind Tommy Lee's death he uncovers the dark secrets about the other Jones that Tommy Lee himself died trying to expose.

Meanwhile, across the Narrow Sea in the continent of Essos, the exiled, arrogant Ed "Too Tall" Jones, son of the former king whose throne was usurped, believes he still has the rightful claim to the throne. He marries off his younger sister, Grace Jones, whom he has psychologically and physically abused for years, to the leader of the Dothraki warrior tribe, Quincy Jones, in an exchange for an army to return to Westeros and take the throne. However, Grace's growing love for Quncy and newfound mental strength as the Khaleesi of the tribe mean Too Tall's plans go unexpectedly and powerfully awry.

And beyond the wall, Tom's bastard son Davy joins the Night's Watch, an ancient brotherhood sworn to watch over the massive Wall that separates the Seven Kingdoms from the dangerous unknown beyond. But an ancient force, long believed dead, threatens the land.

A vitriolic rubbish update

Reportedly, Steve Ballmer submitted the winning bid for the L.A. Clippers of $2 billion...because he can.  He's the guy that ran Microsoft for 13 years, while it's stock went from $60 to $30 and stagnated there.  He couldn't even manage to keep his hometown Supersonics in Seattle, having moved to Oklahoma City.  Seriously, who moves to OK City by choice?

You know who should go to Oklahoma?  Donald Stirling.  That racist get's $2 billion more. That just doesn't seem just.  I mean he bought the team for $12 million.  Sure, they struggled fruitlessly for years, causing undue frustration and aggravation. Try being a Cubs fan Stirling.  Try being a decent human being.  The NBA should have stripped the ownership and sold off the team themselves.  Hopefully, he'll get the heck taxed out of him on the sale.

I guess old Ballmer felt me breathing down his neck.  I know Oprah got spooked, withdrawing her bid.  Alas, I was only able to submit a bid of $1.9 billion, based on book sales to date.  So don't blame me, dear reader, if the Clippers turn into the Zune of the NBA.  What's a Zune?  Exactly.  So run out today.  Buy Trader Joe - a novel, available on Amazon, now.  And maybe the Ricketts' family will be ready to unload the Cubs.

Game of Chicken

I was going to do a "List Monday" ranking my favorite chicken dishes...but why do a list, when you can do a bucket, i mean, BRACKET?  Winner, winner chicken dinner.  Behold:

Paperback Writer

Now available in tasty paperback!  Hurry while supplies last.  Won't stay ranked #85,832 in the Amazon book store for long (yet ranked much higher in the online pet supplies store).  Get your's today.  All sales final.

Bill Murray on love

Bill "Frickin'" Murray crashed a bachelor party the other day.  This is the advice he offered:  "If you have someone that you think is the one ... take that person and travel around the world. Buy a plane ticket for the two of you to travel all around the world and go to places that are hard to go to and hard to get out of. And ... when you land at JFK and you're still in love with that person, get married."  If I have learned only one thing in life, it's always listen to Bill Murray.  That's the fact, Jack!  

This is how I know my wife loves me.  She can not stand eggplant, and yet she whipped up this fabulous eggplant parmesan dinner.  Delizioso!  And the wife too!!

Vitriolic blog rant on the state of pop rubbish

The wrong person "won" on American Idle (the populous must have lethargically assumed that the deserving crooner would get sufficient ballots).  Not only could Jena Irene out sing that Rock Star parody Caleb What's-his-name, but she could play piano and re-work a classic tune to "make it her own."  Anyone can smash a mic stand.

In Survivor, the co-finalist chose the wrong person to accompany him to the final tribal council.  The martial arts instructor chose the wily cop, who outplayed him the entire game, to compete against because he was the strongest competitor and victory over the best would be the most honorable.  He chose poorly.  Nothing honorable about losing out on a million bucks.  Sometimes the big move is to look out for you and yours.

And Mad Men is on a year long mid-season hiatus.  I mean, come on!

I know that these are beyond first world problems.  They're actually only frustrations in the overtaxed world in my head.  It's actually a delightful world, where I am King and the sky is green.

In the real world, Kimye's royal wedding tour get's more media coverage than a crazy dude who shoots up a college.  University's are supposed to be a haven - a protected enclave for higher learning and a refuge for one's coming of age.  I know it manifests the chaotic randomness and preciousness of existence, but I got a kid just 4 years away from flying the nest.

Should've been Jena Irene!!!!

I don't have the spare neurons to worry about that stuff.  I mean I have to keep all the Games of Thrones characters straight and deal with an e.r.a. league-leading pitcher who just received his first win a Cubs uniform in 275 days.  That's a lot of days.  Almost as many as their are GOT characters.

Forget Solange and Jay-Z's altercation.  We should be focusing on stricter gun control laws (although the Lannisters might disagree).  Ridding the world of racism.  And solar frickin' roadways (they're awesome - youtube it!).

And now that I am a professional author, having sold my magnum opus at least 7 times (Trader Joe - a young man's journey to option trading nirvana - available now on Amazon!), I have decided to do something about it.  With the cash  rolling in and time on my hands, I will be submitting my bid to purchase the Los Angeles Clippers.  The sooner that ass clown Stirling is gone, the better.  I wouldn't mind if he took Mark Cuban with him.  And Kimye (where's a good Red Wedding when you need one? - not that I espouse violence).  Now, I just need to sell enough books to outbid Oprah (has she written a book lately?).  I'll let you know how it goes.  Or, I'll just watch America's Got Talent...So, buy the book and make this a better world!

So, this happened...

...I wrote a book.  Trader Joe:  A young man's trials and tribulations as he tries to become a successful stock options market maker in late 1990's Chicago.  After four years of starts and stops, run-on sentences and writer's block, I plowed through and completed my opus - the next great American novel.  Shout out to my parents for some helpful inspiration, marketing, and editing...

More importantly, I sold a book.  Five to be exact.  As soon as I sell the movie rights (are you listening Tom Cruise?), I can begin on the sequel.

Get your Kindle edition today at the low, low price on Amazon.  Paperback should be available in a few days.  

Memorial Day

Here are the draft registration cards of 2 of my great grandfathers:

A tale of two beaches

Memorial Day weekend at dog beach and up North at Laguna.  Threw the Kong in the water, but the Chubby one decided not to retrieve.  The Kong went out to sea.  Where were the skimmer dudes when I needed them?

This post is rated R

Woke up to a gloomy Saturday morn.  That didn't stop the Josh from heading to the beach.  Me and the Wifey headed over to Shwack for some brekkie and walked the pups around DP harbor.

We then decided to take Jilly to her first rated R movie - Chef.  I expressed some reservations, but the Wifey cited that the girl child has heard swear words before.  She said, "Quick Jilly, say 5 curse words..."

And Jilly replied:

The Wifey and Sugar

1. fuck
2. shit
3. bitch
4. crap
5. whore

So proud.  I must say that I wasn't expecting that 5th one.  Oh, the movie was pretty good, too.  That shit was molten!

OMG it's totally 80's day at school

Fiction by Jillian

Once upon a time there was a man who was famous for biography about a dog who amazingly wrote a logical book of biology.  “I always wanted to get an autograph from him,” The man thought out loud. The author walked outside and saw posters covering the perimeter of a building that holds symphonies. The poster read, “Magical Dog who wrote the book signing today only at The History of Homophones, Homographs, and Phonics; museum & gift-shop.” The man ran off and crossed the diameter of the circular parking lot where his car was. He drove off quickly, the dial of his speedometer was flat at the bottom right. He arrived quickly at the museum where the dog was. “Hello!” He panted as the dog gave him a paw-print in his book. “I always loved your book!” The man exclaimed. “Well if you like this one, the next one is gonna have dialog!” The Magical Dog barked. And then they hugged and a beautiful rainbow was made the end. 

Fiction by Josh

“2112”

                                        (Based on the Rush album, “2112”)

The year is 2102. We are here on our final days of Earth. The planet that we have lived on for thousands of years, we now must leave. Compared to the dinosaurs, we have only been around for a small amount of time, and have already destroyed our home. Why couldn't we have been more like the dinosaurs? They were so unintelligent and clueless that they did nothing to harm our home. Well, it is time to leave. We were not prepared for this. Scientists were constantly searching everyday for a suitable home. Astronomers are losing hope in science itself. No other planet fit our Goldilocks effect. We didn't have enough time. Global climate change has become too extreme. Even our fallout shelters in Antarctica have become uninhabitable. We need more time. The scientists have chosen the planet Mars. Droids were sent several years ago to establish our colony. They built these massive domes made of clear plastic. They named this colony Syrinx. We won't all fit. There just wasn't enough time. Each country has selected random citizens to live in our new home. I was one of those who were selected.

December 14, 2102

My name is Larry Beard. I live in a small house in Santa Cruz, California. Well, that’s where I used to live. I am aboard the U.S.S. Exodus, rocketing through space at a velocity of 127,000 miles per hour. This shuttle was built for 250,000 people, 5,000 animals, and various plants. The journey to Mars can be as fast as a week. However, with our large shuttle, it will take us 10 years. They don’t want me writing this. All evidence of Earth must be destroyed and erased. Our future generations will not learn that Earth has existed. Why? Any information of Earth could lead to total collapse of our society. All items and technologies that could’ve lead to the downfall of Earth have been destroyed. There is a private room aboard this shuttle for the government officials to debate. They are still deciding how they want to govern our new civilization. Any past governments have proved to be faulty. There will be no democracy, nor will there be anarchy. This is all I know so far.

July 4, 2107

It’s been five years since my last journal entry. Things have been going pretty smooth. I have learned the secrets of the government. They call themselves the Priests of Syrinx. Droids on Mars have built these massive libraries known as the Temples. Here, they stow away any item or invention that could threaten the government. The only technology available to the masses is a list of simple machines. It seems so silly that with our level of technology on Earth, we find ourselves using screws, ramps and such in order to do work.  In just a short time, we will arrive on the new Home.

February 12, 2112

As we begin our week-long descent to the surface of Mars, I have been caught. My journals have been confiscated. The Priests have decided to throw me over. I get down to my knees and beg to just spend a couple hours on my new Home before being executed.

February 16, 2112

They have decided to let me live for the next 4 days. Now, we are just kilometers away from the surface. (The Priests would even persecute me for continuing to use the metric system since it has been replaced by the galactic system).

February 19, 2112

There was no time to document these past few days. All I can say is that I am ashamed of my race. They are brainwashed. The mindless masses walk around like a herd of goats everyday. They all wear the Red Star on their arm and pledge allegiance to the Solar Federation 3 times a day. Since our colony is too small to efficiently fit our entire population, the government has established laws stating that only certain people can be out and about at certain times of day. The population density is outrageous. The tree seeds we have brought have not yet been planted. Houses are built of metals from the old periodic table. This is what I have seen these past 3 days. Tomorrow, the Priests will come for me. They will crucify me on the statue of the Red Star of our Solar Federation. Every citizen will be there to watch. They will watch the killing of a man who tried to preserve the past; a man who tried keep our culture, science, and way of life alive. They will set an example out of me. For any man who brings the slightest threat to the government will face the wrath. 

The morning of February 20, 2112

Just think of what my life might be

In a world like I have seen!

I don't think I can carry on

Carry on this cold and empty life.

~Geddy Lee, Rush, "2112"

I have escaped the city of Syrinx. I took my airtight suit and ran away. I found a hole in the dome and escaped the colony. All last night, I ran across kilometers of uncharted Martian desert, thirsting and starving, until I found this place. A waterfall pours water into a small lake. The waterfall covers a small cave. They didn't think water existed on Mars. This is impossible. I tell myself that water doesn't exist on Mars. I was too thirsty to care. I drank the fluid, which did not taste like water. I was in big trouble. Even if I made it back to the colony, they would have me executed immediately. With the slightest chance they spare me and let me live, I would once again become exiled from society. The poisonous liquid begins to reach my organs. I decide to bury my writings in this cave, and write signs on the wall. My only hope is that some brave man will reach this cave and awaken the future generations. As the life begins to fade away from my eyes, I begin to think. Ashamed of my society, I was. However, I realized that nothing has changed since Earth. I have found that Earthlings are just as brainwashed and controlled as we are. They wake up, work all day, go to sleep, and repeat the next day. This goes on everyday as humans constantly contribute to the greater good of the world. When it comes to my old country of America, school students would pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States, as if to assure the government of their loyalty. Teachers will force students to pledge, and by pledging, students promise not to rebel. There was a man once, so many years ago. His name was Jesus Christ. Now, as a naturalist, I never personally believed in him. In the stories however, he helped awaken his people by spreading love and compassion to everyone around him. The story ends when he is crucified on the Cross. I can compare myself to this man, fictional or not. They made an example out of him like they want to make an example out of me. The life is leaving my body. Goodbye.

Yiddish words for sex

I got nothing but salacious titles for blog posts. Enjoy this picture of my office colleagues:

No soup for you

Jillian to her mother:  Just bring me my lemon rice soup woman!

At least it's not Ramen. 

Woke up in China this morning....

...but I didn't know if I was in Beijing, Shanghai, or Smogfu.  And where was the American style breakfast buffet?  Well, I did have leftover sushi for brekkie, as we were out of milk.  Seriously, I need a face mask.  Qing!

The fires range on.  After taking a little cruise over the ocean (damn onshore winds), the smog that ate the OC came for a little visit.  And it's breathtaking, literally.  Josh complained that the school was smokey (and not the monster from Lost), so I picked the motts up early.  They lived happily ever after, ensconced in conditioned air.

Porch view

It's Yappy Hour Again...

A joke by Jillian:

What's Cubby's favorite condiment?  Bijon mustard.  Bwahaha....

I'm on fire!

"There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of beer at a cocktail lounge." - Raymond Chandler, Red Wind

The San Diego hills are on fire.

Carlsbad esta en fuego.

Camp Pendleton is ablaze with ignited brush.

The I-5 burns near San O from an overturned big rig.

My mouth is atingle from that Louisiana hot sauce I put on my mushroom and swiss omelet.

Southern California combusts around me as the temperatures crest triple digits.  I think I'll go swim a few laps...and then, maybe, a full glass of beer (and keep an eye on my wife).

First world problems

It was so hot in the oc today, I had to put my umbrella up at the beach. 

Jilly had to give a really long speech as Sam Adams today and did I mention Josh got a haircut

Happy Mother's Day

My wife's a hoarder...

...and very shellfish. Here's some of our haul from today's visit to dog beach. That was after we drove an extra 44 miles for a donut. Maple bourbon - totally worth it. And then brunch at a hip new place, Public House in Encinitas.  Later hung out with the dude at 10th st and grabbed a slice at Larocco's.  Tummy had a good day. Hey, at least I did walk the 1,000 steps of death.

Nueve de Mayo

2 headed monster

No, that's not the Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde version of my teenage son. Nor is he Siamese, though he does like the Smashing Pumpkins.  Josh got a haircut today.  And it was a buzz cut.  Had to bribe him by offering to take him to Jack's and chipping in on his new wet suit shirt and sneakers.  Totally worth it to get rid of the bird's nest that was on his head.  Besides, now if he doesn't listen, he's all ready for military school.

Dusted off the novel that I have been working on.  Thought I was making good progress.  So for kicks, I did a word count.  25,602.  Not bad.  Out of curiosity, I googled what an average novel (or publisher requires for a manuscript) and it's about 80,000 words.  Not good.  What if I type "I" 50,000 more times.  Ay yay I....

Tevye needs a nap

A hammock beneath a leaning pine tree. Sounds crazy, no? But in our little village of San Clemente (what a name for a shtetl!), you might say every one of us needs a hammock beneath a leaning pine tree, trying to scratch out a pleasant, simple nap without breaking his neck under a crushing branch or even getting bonked in the eye by a falling pine cone. It isn’t easy. You may ask, why do we nap there if it’s so dangerous? We nap because San Clemente is our home. . . . and that's where the hammock is.  Why do we keep napping?  That I can tell you in a few words...cause I frickin' wake up at 5 in the morning!

Because of our early risings, we’ve napped here for many, many years. Here in San Clemente we have naps for everything. . . for getting up too early, for going to sleep too late, because it's sunny out 360 days a year... You may ask how did this napping tradition start. I’ll tell you – I don’t know (but it was probably the Papa). But it’s a tradition . . . Because of our traditions, everyone knows who he is and when he's supposed to take a nap.  Now Gay schluffen.

May the fifth...

...of vodka...would be nice...right about now.  We survived Star Wars Day unscathed, but couldn't make it past Cinco de Mayo without a fiesta.  The Wifey whipped up a fancy taco buffet, cranked the mariachi music and entertained six rug rats who came over for la comida and a piñata!  Mas Dos Equis por favor.  Muy Bien!

Crunchy Granola, sweet!

Just to wrap up the weekend:  Friday night the wife and I grabbed some Sushi, while Josh and his mango's had a small slumber party that turned into an impromptu real party.  4 dudes and 3 ladies hung at the nearby park, watched Breakfast Club and might have even twerked.  Oh yeah, we made some home made granola to snack on.  Saturday was clean the garage, take the bunk bed to the Carlsbad Craig's list killers', grab a sub sandwich and a drink at Big Helyn's Saloon.  And today, the girls went to Knotsbury Farm and met Snoopy.  The boys hung at the beach.  One of us had a major meltdown tantrum when he had to leave earlier than the rest of the mangos...and it wasn't me.  Somebody's grounded!

A conversation between Cubby and Sugar

Characters:

Cubby as Young Pup (YP)

Sugar as New Girl (NG)

Scene:

Standing on a street corner

NG:  Why are we standing on this street corner anyway?  We're not some do-wop duo.

YP:  Obviously, we're posing for a picture.

NG:  Than why aren't you looking at the camera?

YP:  I like to pretend I'm part cat and do whatever I want.

NG:  Well, you're big enough to be a puma

YP:  At least I'm not co-dependent, following the humans every move like you.

NG:  I like the humans...

YP:  yeah, but do you have to fawn over them?  You're not some mindless Bichon.

NG:  Thats low! And curly!  Take it back...

YP:  Fine.  Why you wearing that bow in your fur anyway?

NG:  It's not fur, it's hair.  And I like to look pretty for the humans.

YP:  ...said the Bichon

NG:  Hey!  Frise for you to say...

YP:  Sorry...

NG:  How's your paw doing anyway?

YP:  Oh, I faked that.

NG:  What!?

YP:  When the humans give you medicine, they wrap it in food.  And now that they've put me on a diet and stopped giving us treats, a dog has to get creative.

NG:  Well, if you never made them go to the vet, they wouldn't have put you on a diet...

YP:  Uh!  You're smarter than you look New Girl.  But you're no Zooey Deschanel...

NG:  Who?  Never mind.  But how come if you're on the diet, I'm not getting treats either?

YP:  Sympathy diet.  Besides you have to maintain your girlish figure.  What if the humans want to pimp you out for four more litters?

NG:  That's not going to happen.  Medically impossible.  Treats were my second favorite part of the day!

YP:  What was your first?  Stealing the toys out of my mouth?  That's annoying by the way.  Don't forget I'm a puma!

NG:  Nope.  My favorite is climbing on top of the Momma Human for some quality cuddle time.  Or a ride in the car.  I love a ride in the car.  Can't wait for a ride in the car.

YP:  You're crazy!  What?  Didn't they have cars in Texas?  My favorite is pretending I'm a puma out on the tundra stalking my prey and stealing the pizza crusts out of the garbage.  

NG:  Yeah, I'm the crazy one!

Meh Friday, part 2

An arm and a leg...

A dog and his bones

Well, not actually a leg...but rather a paw.  Last night, to avoid the "heat of ridiculous proportions," we partook in the rare mid-week trek to dog beach.  The beasts enjoyed their respite, frolicking famously where the surf meets the turf.  But by the time we got home, the Chubster was limping slightly.

When we awoke this morning, he was in full limp and barely able to walk.  So, off to the vet we went.  The topical examination showed nothing.  And of course the nonsensically expensive x-ray came back spooky and clean.   He's on anti-inflamatories and ordered to rest.  And so is my wallet.

The vet also chastised me for 20 minutes on his gargantuan proportions....about the same number as the temperature.  We've switched his foods and he (and his cohort) are not to ingest any biscuits/treats/table scraps until he drops about 10 lbs.  Poor pups!  At least my doggie cookie bill will drop as well.