The improbability of Clifford the Big Red Dog’s size aside (and, oh yeah, the talking dogs), I’ve noticed some an interesting thing about the denizens of Birdwell Island:
- Dr. Din is apparently single
- Charley’s dad, Samuel is apparently single
- Cleo’s owner is apparently single
- Sheriff Lewis is apparently single
- Jetta’s mom is apparently single, and has two children!
- Birdwell Island’s librarian is apparently single
In fact, of the characters on the show, only Emily Elizabeth’s parents and the their neighbors, the Bleakmans, can be confirmed to be married. Although their teacher did get engaged…and moved off the island.
What is it about Birdwell Island that makes it so hard for its residents to get or stay married?
So I’m looking at the Radio Flyer #36 Classic Red 10″ Bicycle. Just, you know. Because I’m looking.
And I look over the list of “features.”
- Classic bicycle styling
- 10″ steel spoked wheels with real rubber tires
- Chain drive
- Sturdy steel construction
- Padded, adjustable seat
- Chrome handlebars and fenders
- Ringing chrome bell
- Training wheels
- No brakes
So that all looks pretty goo…wait a dang minute…no brakes!? What the?!?!
“No brakes” is a “feature”? I hope they mean “no brakes like you’ll find on a ten speed,” and not “No brakes like they just failed on our 72 Gremlin, but we’re broke and gonna drive it anyway, so look out for us!”
I think I’ll see what Schwinn has to offer. Something with, oh, I dunno…brakes, maybe?
Nice little “Barney Bomb” they leave for us unsuspecting parents. Bring the kid in from pre-school. Kid wants to watch “Clifford.” We’ve got it DVRed. Turn on the TV.
Awwwww kuh-RAP! It’s on PBS because we were watching Frontline last night (or Curious George this morning), and they are airing BARNEY.
My son, my executioner
My son, my executioner
I take you in my arms
Quiet and small and just astir
and whom my body warms
Sweet death, small son,
our instrument of immortality,
your cries and hunger document
our bodily decay.
We twenty two and twenty five,
who seemed to live forever,
observe enduring life in you
and start to die together.
That’s pretty much it in a nutshell.
Update: Ha! a friend of mine asks “Uh, everything OK?” When I think it’s because I haven’t had my IM client on in several days, he says “No I mean the about death poem on your daddyfu blog.”
So I sent him this snippet that I sent to a pal of mine earlier today, when we had a short discussion on mortality:
I’ll tell you, as bad as it is hearing about someone younger than you kicking it, having a kid sure puts a fine point on one’s mortality. Don’t bring up that to an e-mail list full of stay at home dads. They all think you’re dying or something. Like living isn’t terminal.
He chided me: “Living’s terminal, but when you have a blog about your kid and you post a death poem… dude… that’s not nice to other people that read it and have… empathy. 😛 Especially when you haven’t been on ICQ for like a week. 😛
I was looking for an update to the Twilight 1.0 theme, used hereon, so I checked out the author’s homepage, and ran across a post about massive snow silliness. Notre Dame? I’m guessing her city is South Bend?
My wife grew up in Mishawaka and we live in Austin, because we don’t want to subject our beautiful daughter to more than one snow event a year.
Silly us – we drove up to South Bend for Easter, and as we were on the Crawfordsville (my folks) to Mishawaka (her folks) leg, I asked our three year old daughter, Emma , what we were going to do at Grandma Theresa’s house.
Remembering Christmas a year and a half ago, she suggested we’d play in the snow.
“Oh,” I sagely opined, “I don’t think we’ll have snow at Easter.”
Mother nature sure showed me.
PD, after, apparently, a hard night of drinking Veuve Ciquot, is on a tear. I guess he thinks there are other, higher priorities. Specifically:
- Drunk drivers leaving downtown at 2 a.m.
- …idiots driving 50 mph on MOPAC and IH-35. (I think we should shoot to kill these people)
- Failure to use turn signals
- Speeders on surface streets in my neighborhood.
My personal opinion:
If folks can’t be responsible enough (Folks like this person, for example) to stop at red lights, I say take their picture, fine them, slow them down.
Before they kill someone.
Like my daughter.
(There is an alternative to posting cameras at red lights – put more of the existing police force at red lights, or hire more cops and station them at red lights. I suspect the cameras are more cost efficient.)
A personal note to the driver of this car:
Around 10:30 this morning, you flew through a red light at Amherst and Duval. If you’d been 3-5 seconds later, your front end would have been firmly implanted somewhere around my right rear quarter panel.
And you likely would have killed my 2 1/2 year old daughter, sitting, unawares, “safely” buckled into her car seat.
In case you missed it in driver’s ed:
Red = STOP