Pet Cobra

John McCain is A Man of Character

Just ask his friends.

Ok, maybe he's hanging out with a bad crowd. But still, he's a man of principle. I mean, here is a man who has fought to reform campaign financing and who would never stoop to some of the shady tactics candidates use to secure money. Right?

Er...well...straight talk! McCain is a Maverick, and would never pander to various factions. He talks the talk and walks the wa...

Well, maybe he's paying too much attention to all of those lobbyists on his campaign staff. But c'mon! The guy was a war hero! At least we can count on him to stand up to those who believe in the rule of law when it comes to torturing prisoners...after all, the guy went through Hell in the Hanoi Hilton and surely he wouldn't condone the same types of  "interrogation methods" that he himself was subjected to...

Oh well. I've already railed against candidates who tout their "experience". Experience just means more time spent swimming around in the cesspool; stay in long enough and eventually the stink gets into your skin and your soul, and it ain't comin' off.  Me, I'm voting for The Rookie.

The Surf Report for Tuesday, Feb. 19: My Kookness is Now Complete -I Wore The Hood

By my estimation, it's been 3 months since I last paddled out. A baby daughter and a life-sucking job will do that to you. So it was with some trepidation that I loaded up the PCM this morning and headed down to my favorite spot, Undisclosed Location.

The tide was high and just beginning to recede, but it was still swampy. And cold. Really cold. I wore my O'Neill hooded vest (the vest itself is made out of a really fine polarfleece-like material, and I will tell you that it absolutely works like a charm - all the warmth of a 4/3 without the added bulk). I wasn't going to actually put the hood up, but I was the only guy out, so the hell with it.

I was in the water for maybe 45 minutes, most of it spent paddling. At one point a dolphin cruised past me. The waves were sectiony, three feet at most. (I was thinking that it might have been fun to be on a quad fish.) I surfed like a guy who hasn't surfed in three months. A guy who also hadn't bothered to slap on some cold water wax - the warm water coat turned rock hard, and on at least one occasion my hands skidded right off the deck while popping up. Thank God for heavy Volan, else there'd be a nice forehead-shaped pressure ding on the deck. (That part about the quad fish? Never mind.) Still, I got into a bit of a groove and managed to get a few nice rides. Nothing fancy, no noseriding attempts, just some mellow cruising on a chilly morning. All was right with the world.

The Gift That Keeps on Giving

I have figured it out, this whole Valentine's Day thing. You will recall that I am the head chef here at Chateau Avant, but recently my concoctions have veered toward the, well, pedestrian (let's just say that Campbell's Cream of Mushroom Soup and I, we've become fast friends). So when Beth suggested, earlier in the week, that we celebrate V-Day by putting the kids to bed early and preparing a good meal, I was all over that.

The menu:

A salad of organic mixed greens and hydroponically(!) grown watercress, tossed with sunflower seeds and a pear/champagne vinagrette.

Salmon fillet poached in white wine, shallots, thyme and parsley, with a watercress and capers mayonnaise, accompanied by fresh chou de Bruxelles(that's "Brussels sprouts" for you Philistines out there) sauteed in olive oil and garlic then tossed with balsamic vinegar and grated fresh parmesan.

Dessert was homemade panna cotta with raspberries. The wine was a 2004 Schramsberg Blanc de Blancs.

Yeah, it was good. We drank the bottle and finished up our Continental-themed evening with an abstract foreign film, the Bergman-esque meditation on the price of glory, "Hot Rod"

The Secret of "The Secret"

9:15, on a Wednesday night. I am banging out the weekly newsletter to be sent to all of Parentricity's subscribers (don't let anyone tell you that sending an email to 8,000+ people doesn't give you delusions of grandeur. It does. Jason Uber Alles!); Beth is on the couch watching a DVR'ed episode of Oprah. Oprah is hosting a trio of women who have written bizarre self-help books that center around the concept of The Power of Positive Thinking; that is, if you want something, all you have to do is think about it 24-7, and lo! It shall be yours.

"Like that book 'The Secret'", I thought aloud. "What a bunch of horseshit. You know how I know?"

I could hear Beth's eyes rolling.

"Stedman", I said. "Think Stedman owns a copy of 'The Secret'? Do you think that he reads it every night and concentrates, thinks hard about Oprah, trying to will her to marry him without a pre-nup so that he can one day dump her ass and get half her money? Do you see a ring on Oprah's finger? 'The Secret' therefore is a crock."

No response. Clearly I had debunked the whole "Secret" myth. And now I will think about this blog post, really hard, and I will visualize myself as the Man Who Revealed The Secret As A Sham, and I shall be hailed as a genius and reap untold rewards.