Citizen justice
I enjoy hearing about ordinary people who take the law into their own hands when the proper channels of law enforcement have fallen short or are unable to help.  It happens a lot with burglaries and store robberies.  Some stupid kid will pull a gun on a store manager or a seemingly easy target (like a senior citizen), only to get the gun taken away or a different one pointed back at them.  It's not that the cops couldn't help in this situation; it's just that there isn't enough time.  It's good to hear when people stand up for themselves and win. 

But it's also interesting to see a person essentially go above the law to accomplish a task, forced to do so because the law just can't help.  One example is the movie The Shooter, which I saw a few weeks ago.  The main character is framed for committing a crime, and the people who frame him are high-ranking law enforcement and government officials.  They bribe law enforcement and cover everything up, so the main character has no other options than to take matters into his own hands.  It's fun to watch stuff like that succeed. #lifestyle

Mustache revisited
I've already come to the conclusion that mustaches are no longer acceptable in today's culture, with the one exception being men who have had mustaches since mustaches were cool.  Other than that, there's no excuse for this facial atrocity. 

When I see a guy growing a mustache, I can think of the following possible rationalizations: 
  1. "My electric razor ran out of batteries right before I could shave above my upper lip."
  2. "I got punched in the face, and it left me with a big cut above my upper lip, preventing me from shaving there."
  3. "I lost a bet."
  4. "I've given up on life."
I really can't think of any other reason a person would grow a mustache. 

Part of my hatred comes from watching the mustache-growing process in action.  Knowing a person pre-mustache and post-mustache means you were around for the intra-mustache stage.  It's a hideous thing to witness.  For a few days, it looks like they missed a spot.  You figure they'll realize how ridiculous they look and shave it off right away.  After a week or two, you notice they haven't shaved yet, and it doesn't look like they'll be shaving anytime soon.  What's funny about the intra-mustache phase is that every distinct moment in the phase is excruciating to watch.  From the first moment they have stubble, to the final moment they have a half-inch long mustache, the thing growing on their face never looks good.  And it still doesn't look good at the end.  All you can do is sit there and wonder what's going through the mind of the mustache-grower, longing for an opportunity to get home to your own bathroom and shave again just for good measure. #lifestyle

Best shoes ever
The best shoes ever in the history of the universe are gray New Balance 477s.  They're comfortable, roomy, attractive, and cheap.  I went and bought a second pair for when the current pair dies.  That's a first for me.  New Balance shoes are kinda tricky because one size is usually too small and the next size up is usually too big.  But these shoes came in the appropriate half-size, so they fit perfectly.  They're actually a little big, but for me, that's perfect. #lifestyle

Joys of parenthood
An email from my sister Dana (mother of 2) contained this gem: 
John just did a monstrous poop and it leaked out of his diaper and got on his sheets.  He cried out from his room, and I went up, and he was standing there with his bear in his hands and he said that the bear had pee-pee on it . . . Ah, the joys of parenthood.  To top it all off, he always wants to see the poop in his pull-up (he wears a pull-up during quiet/nap time).  See what you have to look forward to?!  Children are weird!
Parenthood, here I come ... someday ... eventually! #lifestyle

Garbage collection issues (2)
I respect garbagemen (I feel I can use the masculine form because I've never seen or heard of a garbagewoman).  They have a relatively thankless job that would cause some minor problems and major inconveniences if it didn't exist.  We routinely accept the fact that if we put garbage out on the curb in the morning, it'll be gone by the time we get home from work at night.  What a concept.  I wish the vacuum cleaner or the steak dinner worked the same way. 

However, I have two complaints about garbage collection. 

1.  How hard can it possibly be to put the can back in the driveway? 



I feel like this should go without saying:  Leaving the can in the road causes problems.  First of all, it causes traffic problems.  People come close to getting in accidents because of trash cans left in the road.  There's a can on a road near my house that's about half a mile from the nearest house, and it's crushed and beaten.  That's what happens to an abandoned trash can.  Second, according to the laws of physics, the can will inevitably either (a) roll away to the farthest location physically possible or (b) roll to the center of the road, and even if it's on its side, will stay directly in the center of the road.  This can neither be argued nor avoided.  Oh wait, yes it can.  It can be avoided by putting the can back in the driveway.  Logic tells me that an empty trash can weighs much less than a full one, so throwing it back in the driveway should be infinitely easier than lugging it to the truck. 

2.  How do you get the lid off my garbage can? 



Seriously, I don't understand.  The can is equipped with a very sophisticated locking system that can really only be undone with careful maneuvering.  Yet somehow, the lid is always off my garbage can when I get home.  The last thing I want to do after a long day of work is come home to a disassembled garbage can that I need to reassemble.  The reassembly process is at least 5 steps long: 
  1. Gather can and lid that are mysteriously separated by 15 feet.
  2. Align one side of lid latch to appropriate side of can attachment point.
  3. Insert directionally specific attaching mechanism into latch opening.
  4. Stretch other side of lid over opposite side of can attachment point.
  5. Insert other directionally specific attaching mechanism into other latch opening.
Again, thank you garbagemen for the dirty and thankless job you do.  But seriously, stop leaving cans in the road and stop taking the lid off my can. #lifestyle

25
I think 25 is the last age worth turning.  Everything after that is downhill. 

When you turn 10, you finally reach double digits.  When you turn 13, you have a Bar Mitzvah (if you're Jewish, which I'm not).  When you turn 16/17, you get to drive.  When you turn 18, you get to buy cigars and operate a meat slicer, and you can be tried for crimes as an adult (yay!).  When you turn 21, you get to drink legally.  When you turn 25, you can rent a car and get lower car insurance rates. 

What's after that?  At 30, your metabolism shuts down and you gain weight uncontrollably.  At 40, you're ... well ... 40.  You have a mid-life crisis, you lose your hair, your waistline, your youth.  At 50, you're a senior citizen.  At 60, I suppose retiring and collecting social security benefits are good, but I hardly think they outweigh the downsides of being in your 60s.  At 70, you buy a Chrysler, paint your walls puke green, wear pants up to your chin, and move to a warm climate.  Everything above 70 is essentially the same; whether you're 85 or 185, it doesn't make much of a difference. 

I say this half-jokingly and in good humor, mainly because I recently turned 25, and partly because everyone I know is over 25, so I expect a ton of backlash from this post. #lifestyle

Merrell
I was looking for some new shoes recently, and after trying on 15 or 20 pairs, I was prepared to settle for the least worst.  For some reason, shoes are always either too big, too small, fit weird, or feel like I'm wearing wooden clogs filled with stones.  But then I tried on some Merrells, and like every time I try on Merrells, I was completely and utterly impressed.  I don't know what the deal is, but even when they're the wrong size, Merrells feel like the perfect shoe.  It feels like these shoes were specifically made for me.  It's like the universe stands still, and Mr. Merrell says, "Here Dave.  I designed and manufactured these shoes specifically for your feet.  Eat, drink, and be merry.  And wear my shoes, bro."  I'm not sure why these shoes are different, but I don't understand why the likes of Nike, Reebok, and Adidas don't make shoes that feel this great. #lifestyle

Levi's
Levi's jeans have the strangest attribute of any article of clothing I've ever known:  The size is printed on the outside, just above the back right pocket, allowing all the world to know the exact size of the wearer.  Thankfully this is only the case (as far as I know) with men's pants, because women would surely never buy or do anything that publicly announced any personal details about their size, weight, or age.  But I still think it's pretty weird.  I don't normally go around checking out the back of mens' waistlines, but I can't help myself from noticing when someone's wearing Levi's.  And since my height and weight have remained largely unchanged for about 7 or 8 years now, I know exactly what size pants I wear, so I know exactly how much fatter or skinnier these people are when compared to me. #lifestyle

Baby pictures
Let's face it, all babies look exactly the same.  I'm not talking about infants or toddlers or whatever else they're called when they reach whatever age.  I'm talking about newborn babies.  The kind that are wrinkly, hairless, and usually somewhat chunky.  Besides gender, race, and size, all babies look exactly the same.  So like this guy from the LA Times, I'm kindly asking everyone to stop sending me baby pictures.  (via Obscure Store) #lifestyle

Girly guy shoes
Every once in a while, I'll be walking down the hall and I'll hear footsteps behind me.  Instead of turning around to identify the person, I'll jump to conclusions based on my super-keen senses.  You can usually tell a lot about a person based on the sound of their footsteps.  You can tell how rushed or important they are based on the speed.  You can tell how tall or short they are based on how quickly the footsteps are traveling towards you.  And you can usually easily tell gender because guys' shoes sound different from girls' shoes.  Usually.  It's in those rare instances when I think a woman is following me only to turn around and see a dude, that I take a full step closer to a meltdown.  With some guy shoes, it's a sign of luxury to sound feminine.  Most executives have shoes that make them sound a little girly.  But executives usually have a recognizable gait or some sort of personal peculiarity that identifies their gender, such as talking on the phone or grunting as they walk.  Other guy shoes are just girly for no reason.  And some men (in this case, the 70s clothes guy) have such a dainty way of walking that they definitely shouldn't be wearing shoes that make them sound even more girly.  I'm not sure who to blame in cases like this.  Shoe stores are usually carpeted, so there's no way to know what the shoes sound like on hard floors.  But it's pretty easy to figure out.  If the bottom of the shoe is hard and shiny, you'll sound like a woman.  Guys:  Don't buy those shoes. #lifestyle