<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1936655219301801652</id><updated>2011-11-27T20:10:11.701-05:00</updated><category term='romance'/><category term='tech'/><category term='business'/><category term='Mtv'/><category term='top five'/><category term='list'/><category term='movies'/><category term='The 80&apos;s'/><category term='Doctors'/><category term='radiation'/><category term='cell phone'/><category term='Christmas'/><category term='Music'/><category term='Photo'/><category term='cheap'/><category term='Diets'/><category term='Black Bear'/><category term='rate'/><category term='computers'/><category term='Cold'/><category term='Adventure'/><category term='Wildlife'/><category term='Florida'/><category term='French'/><category term='Coffee'/><category term='Downtown'/><category term='Sighting'/><category term='action'/><category term='San Francisco'/><category term='Food'/><category term='Fashion'/><category term='Ronald Reagan'/><category term='laws'/><category term='love'/><category term='work'/><category term='hero'/><category term='India'/><category term='Mayor'/><category term='laptop'/><category term='money'/><title type='text'>Mind Darts</title><subtitle type='html'>This is a place where you'll find my opinion on a variety of different subjects. Sometimes you may agree with me, at other times... not so much. But you'll hopefully always be entertained.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>James Brooks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11057593671880568378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1936655219301801652.post-6777228775316625339</id><published>2010-02-06T23:12:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-14T14:47:57.241-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Late Fee Lament</title><content type='html'>Blockbuster video had a "Manager's Special" the other night. The deal went like this: You rent three movies and you get a bunch of candy, some popcorn, a back rub, and one acre of prime Manhattan real estate...or something like that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't exactly remember the details - but suffice it to say - I was like a fish on a hook. They had me at "Special". Besides, it didn't matter how many extras they gave away, they new that they would ultimately get an average of $8,000,000 in late fees -- per customer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, they're gambling that the average customer won't be able to meet the deadline. That's right. There's almost no way I can watch all three movies in the approximate 30 hours I have until THE LATE FEE DEADLINE arrives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I thought I would be smart and beat the odds this time by coming up with a fool proof plan. Last night my daughter and I watched the first movie together then today I returned that one when I went out to run errands. Mission accomplished. Movie number one, safe in the vault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, I watched movie number two all by my myself (yes I'm married, and no, my wife hardly ever watches the stupid movies I rent. She probably has good reason for this, but that's another story). &lt;br /&gt;One problem. Right after the movie finished, I casually glanced up at the clock which read: 10:46pm. Oh no! That can't be right, because the deadline for return is 11:00pm. The video store is at least ten minutes away and I don't even have shoes on. So I leap from my chair, slip my feet halfway into some sneakers. You know how, when you don't even untie them, and you just kinda crush the heal support with your foot and where them like slippers? It's kind of like a male "walk of shame".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I buzz by the bedroom and tell my wife what I'm doing to which she replies something that sounded like, "Whatever psycho." Encouraged by my spouses support, I scurry out the door and head to Blockbuster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, isn't it funny how we seem to notice just how many red lights we catch when we're in the biggest of hurries. Honestly, there must have been fifteen or so lights, and it seemed like everyone waited for me to get within 50 feet of them to turn red. Be that as it may, after side swiping a Pontiac Lemans, and nearly running over someone who was CLEARLY jaywalking, I screamed into the parking lot "Starsky and Hutch" style. I sprang from my vehicle, and hobbled as fast as possible in my socks (Hey, I was cutting it close here, no time to lace up my kicks),to the drop off slot and safely deposited movie number two with four minutes to spare. Ye ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I turned back toward my vehicle, there was another man approaching the box. I looked down to see his shoes untied. I said, "I see I'm not the only one trying to beat the clock tonight. I didn't even have time to slip my shoes on." &lt;br /&gt;"I didn't have time to tie mine." He replied (Told you).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess I'll be able to pay the mortgage on time this month. Blockbuster you tried your best but you'd better get up a little earlier than that if you wanna make an easy buck at ole James' expense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes sir, the ole "Rent Three Movies" trick didn't get the best of...wait a second...&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Three&lt;/span&gt; movies? That means I still have &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;one&lt;/span&gt; at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!! Curse you Harry Potter!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1936655219301801652-6777228775316625339?l=minddarts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/feeds/6777228775316625339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2010/02/late-fee-blues.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/6777228775316625339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/6777228775316625339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2010/02/late-fee-blues.html' title='Late Fee Lament'/><author><name>James Brooks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11057593671880568378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1936655219301801652.post-1669496679348290832</id><published>2010-02-04T20:07:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T08:51:11.081-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Darts</title><content type='html'>Soooo the I.R.S. is buying shotguns. You can read about it &lt;a href="https://www.fbo.gov/index?s=opportunity&amp;amp;mode=form&amp;amp;id=8d3b076bd4de14bbda5aba699e80621d&amp;amp;tab=core&amp;amp;_cview=1&amp;amp;cck=1&amp;amp;au=&amp;amp;ck="&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I guess it wasn't enough for them to be able to confiscate all of your material possessions, crush your hopes and dreams, and leave you penniless, praying that someone, out of the kindness of their heart will give you some cat food to eat -- they now can take your life as well. I think I'll save them the man hours and just self report to the gulags.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With this being American Idol's, er, Simon Cowell's last season, I'm just wondering who would want to watch the show without being able to see Simon insult 16 year old girls. I mean, A.I. without Simon is like listening to Huey Lewis and the news...without Huey!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or "The Wizard of Oz" minus Dorothy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like paying to see the Jackson 4 without Michael( actually, I think you can do that now).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read recently where "Avatar" just became the highest grossing film of all time (domestically). While I'll admit I haven't seen it yet,I've heard it's a fun movie to watch.&lt;br /&gt;No worries though, I get enough 3D action at home while dodging things that  family members throw at me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Headline: "Man Gets Kicked off of Airplane. Blames His Actions on Pot Brownies"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when the I.R.S. comes to my house with shotguns to collect, I'll just tell them, "Honestly, I was on my way to pay my taxes but then I ate a couple of pot brownies , then I had a powerful urge to go buy some M&amp;M's and Doritos, which made me totally forget to pay my taxes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was born way too soon. The things I could of gotten away with if I had these modern day excuses in my arsenal.&lt;br /&gt;"Mom, I didn't break your lamp. It was Steve, my heroine dealer."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now that's a good boy. Thanks for telling Mommy the truth."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1936655219301801652-1669496679348290832?l=minddarts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/feeds/1669496679348290832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2010/02/random-darts.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/1669496679348290832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/1669496679348290832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2010/02/random-darts.html' title='Random Darts'/><author><name>James Brooks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11057593671880568378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1936655219301801652.post-4838096587597352456</id><published>2010-02-01T20:59:00.011-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T15:53:23.677-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This One’s for the Girls</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cx7XzPSzSZg/S2jOFKWX0QI/AAAAAAAAADA/oEz_6PlSJsE/s1600-h/football+fan"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cx7XzPSzSZg/S2jOFKWX0QI/AAAAAAAAADA/oEz_6PlSJsE/s320/football+fan" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433819538495361282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ladies,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever wondered why guys love football so much? Sure you have -- and that’s why I’m gonna take the time to lay it all out for you. By the time we're done here, you’ll be able to tell the difference between a zone blitz and a prevent defense.&lt;br /&gt;Guy’s however, just kinda know this stuff. It’s like how you girls seem to know, well, everything else. Of course there are exceptions to the rule. There are some women who actually love football. They can tell you the name of every player on a team's roster, the point spread, and who's on the injured reserve list for this week's big game. Scientists have studied women like this over the ages and they've come up with a very scientific name for them, they call them "Perfect". As I said, this species is very rare. So unless you're one of them, please read on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, football is man’s last frontier. His sacred, right of passage into true manly, manliness. Passed down from generation to generation, this phenomenon is everywhere. It's America's new favorite past time, and men are genetically predisposed to drool at the very mention of it. Football is man's intellectual stimulus. It's something we can easily understand. For instance, observe this exchange from the movie, "The Waterboy":&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; [after Bobby demonstrates his tackling ability]&lt;br /&gt;Coach Klein: &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Bobby, can you do that for me every game?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bobby Boucher: &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Coach, not only will I do it for you, I... I... I... yes, yes, I'll do it for you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shakespeare just cringed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well that’s all well and good, but what about you? Where do you fit in to all of this? After all, if you could just understand the game a little better -- think of all the quality time you and your hubby could spend together between the months of September and January. Just imagine both of you, wearing matching snuggies in your team's colors, enduring sub-zero temperatures cheering yourselves hoarse, and after the game, you head back to the house, where your man will grill up some bratwurst sausages and you guys eat until you fall asleep. Romantic isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let’s start with some basic F.A.Q's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question - Why is it called football?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer - In other parts of the world, they also have a game called football. Across the pond, it’s called that because the ball is maneuvered primarily by the feet, and players (other than the goalie) will be penalized for touching the ball with their hands. In America, we can touch, throw, or carry the ball with our hands, and we call our game football because...well because we’re America, that’s why! I really have no idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question - Why do all the players wear those tight outfits&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer - So it’s harder for the opposing team to grab hold of them. Also to keep you girls watching I guess. Geeze,you women have a one track mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question - What does first down and ten mean, and what the heck is a down anyway?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer - A down is simply another name for a play. When a team has the ball, they get four plays (or tries) to gain ten yards. If they don’t gain ten yards in the allotted amount of plays then they must turn the ball back over to the other team. Like when you borrow an outfit from a friend,you wash it, press it and promptly return it.   Yeah, it's just like that...well, minus all the bone crushing hits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question - Why all the bone crushing hits?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer - Imagine going to a sale at Macy's and everything is 70% off the already marked down price and you lay eyes the designer purse that you've wanted for months but could never justify spending that kind of dough on a handbag, but now it's in your grasp. It's all about to come together for you. Then you notice some she-devil already has her grubby little hands on it. Oh the nerve! Well &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; woman is like the player with the ball and &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt; are the one about to hit them so hard as to dislodge the purse/ball from her hands. [Whistle] "15 yard penalty. Roughing the shopper!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question - Why is the football sometimes called “the pigskin?” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer - When football was first played, they would use a pig bladder for a ball. That and, have you ever eaten’ pork rinds while watching football? Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question - Why do they sometimes call the playing field, the “gridiron”?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer - the lines on the field kind of resemble the lines on a gridiron. I’ll bet you already knew that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question - Why do guys jump and down and scream like little girls when their team does something good?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer - Ask God. I can only take you so far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ll bet you’re feeling more football literate already aren’t you? Imagine the conversations you and your husband can have now: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You: “Honey do you think the Colts will be able to overcome the loss of their best defensive end this week? I think maybe they will have to alter their blitz packages, or maybe even run a little 3-4 while bringing their linebackers on some zone schemes. What do you think dear?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hubby: ( Speaking through tears) I love you! How may I serve you oh goddess of the gridiron?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay now that you've learned some of the basics, let’s lay down a few of ground rules.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Never, EVER ask questions during the last 30 seconds of a close game. This will almost certainly result in the man acting like a toddler would after you take away his favorite toy and tell him it’s nap time. Please spare yourself this scenario. It ain’t pretty... not that I would know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.Never insult his favorite team. Even when you two are having a heated argument.This is considered the worst kind of betrayal. To a man, this is akin to you dousing him in petrol and light him ablaze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.Excuse his ridiculous behavior when his team loses. I know this is difficult for some of you relate to, but try to stoop to us guy's level for a moment. Perhaps the best way for you to understand why we act like this is for you to imagine you’re back in high school, and the boy you were hoping would invite you to the prom asks your best friend instead!!!(Ooh that Jenny,she thinks she's so perfect!) You’d be devastated wouldn’t you? Absolutely, and you should be. See? It’s the same way a man feels after his team flops. Except the man won’t pretend to be happy for his best friend and simultaneously tease her until she develops an eating disorder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when fall rolls around this year, you won't have to dread it, for you are now equipped with enough knowledge to at least fake your way through a game. Your husband will love you all the more for it. Here's how you'll be able to use this to your advantage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You: Wow that game was awesome. Now would you mind painting the house?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hubby: Why do you insult me my Queen? You make it sound like a chore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If that example didn't motivate you to try and get the hang of this football thing, then maybe this monologue will: (Or watch the &lt;a href=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gpAfZO-mRNU &gt;video&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Al Pacino's Inch By Inch speech from Any Given Sunday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I edited out the naughty bits)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I don't know what to say really.&lt;br /&gt;Three minutes&lt;br /&gt;to the biggest battle of our professional lives&lt;br /&gt;all comes down to today.&lt;br /&gt;Either&lt;br /&gt;we heal&lt;br /&gt;as a team&lt;br /&gt;or we are going to crumble.&lt;br /&gt;Inch by inch&lt;br /&gt;play by play&lt;br /&gt;till we're finished.&lt;br /&gt;We are in hell right now, gentlemen&lt;br /&gt;believe me&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;we can stay here&lt;br /&gt;and get the **** kicked out of us&lt;br /&gt;or&lt;br /&gt;we can fight our way&lt;br /&gt;back into the light.&lt;br /&gt;We can climb out of hell.&lt;br /&gt;One inch, at a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I can't do it for you.&lt;br /&gt;I'm too old.&lt;br /&gt;I look around and I see these young faces&lt;br /&gt;and I think&lt;br /&gt;I mean&lt;br /&gt;I made every wrong choice a middle age man could make.&lt;br /&gt;I uh....&lt;br /&gt;I p***ed away all my money&lt;br /&gt;believe it or not.&lt;br /&gt;I chased off&lt;br /&gt;anyone who has ever loved me.&lt;br /&gt;And lately,&lt;br /&gt;I can't even stand the face I see in the mirror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know when you get old in life&lt;br /&gt;things get taken from you.&lt;br /&gt;That's, that's part of life.&lt;br /&gt;But,&lt;br /&gt;you only learn that when you start losing stuff.&lt;br /&gt;You find out that life is just a game of inches.&lt;br /&gt;So is football.&lt;br /&gt;Because in either game&lt;br /&gt;life or football&lt;br /&gt;the margin for error is so small.&lt;br /&gt;I mean&lt;br /&gt;one half step too late or to early&lt;br /&gt;you don't quite make it.&lt;br /&gt;One half second too slow or too fast&lt;br /&gt;and you don't quite catch it.&lt;br /&gt;The inches we need are everywhere around us.&lt;br /&gt;They are in ever break of the game&lt;br /&gt;every minute, every second.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On this team, we fight for that inch&lt;br /&gt;On this team, we tear ourselves, and everyone around us&lt;br /&gt;to pieces for that inch.&lt;br /&gt;We CLAW with our finger nails for that inch.&lt;br /&gt;Cause we know&lt;br /&gt;when we add up all those inches&lt;br /&gt;that's going to make the difference&lt;br /&gt;between WINNING and LOSING&lt;br /&gt;between LIVING and DYING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll tell you this&lt;br /&gt;in any fight&lt;br /&gt;it is the guy who is willing to die&lt;br /&gt;who is going to win that inch.&lt;br /&gt;And I know&lt;br /&gt;if I am going to have any life anymore&lt;br /&gt;it is because, I am still willing to fight, and die for that inch&lt;br /&gt;because that is what LIVING is.&lt;br /&gt;The six inches in front of your face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I can't make you do it.&lt;br /&gt;You gotta look at the guy next to you.&lt;br /&gt;Look into his eyes.&lt;br /&gt;Now I think you are going to see a guy who will go that inch with you.&lt;br /&gt;You are going to see a guy&lt;br /&gt;who will sacrifice himself for this team&lt;br /&gt;because he knows when it comes down to it,&lt;br /&gt;you are gonna do the same thing for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's a team, gentlemen&lt;br /&gt;and either we heal now, as a team,&lt;br /&gt;or we will die as individuals.&lt;br /&gt;That's football guys.&lt;br /&gt;That's all it is.&lt;br /&gt;Now, whattaya gonna do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Ladies, that's football in a nut shell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t forget to come back next week where we’ll discuss: Why don’t men ever completely grow up? (Or you can save some time and just re-read the above article)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1936655219301801652-4838096587597352456?l=minddarts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/feeds/4838096587597352456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2010/02/this-ones-for-girls.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/4838096587597352456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/4838096587597352456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2010/02/this-ones-for-girls.html' title='This One’s for the Girls'/><author><name>James Brooks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11057593671880568378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cx7XzPSzSZg/S2jOFKWX0QI/AAAAAAAAADA/oEz_6PlSJsE/s72-c/football+fan' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1936655219301801652.post-8841066334263518783</id><published>2010-01-28T09:03:00.012-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T08:36:42.661-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The 80&apos;s'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ronald Reagan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mtv'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fashion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><title type='text'>Ah the Eighties</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.empireonline.com/images/features/why-john-hughes-rocked-the-80s/1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 400px;" src="http://www.empireonline.com/images/features/why-john-hughes-rocked-the-80s/1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday when I got home from work, my daughter, Tiffany, said to me "Hey Dad, tomorrow at school, it's 80's day. How does this outfit look? Do I look 80's?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well now, I must tell you that while my kids have done many things over the years that have made me a proud papa; this one moistened my tear ducts. Because of all the things I've claimed to be expert in,(and there's a lot of them) the 80's is at the very top of my list. This was a decade that introduced me to football, Run DMC, Ac/DC, and a girl named Cindy. Actually, every boy in my neighborhood was introduced to Cindy. Not only was she pretty and um...mature for her age but she had every boy around thinking she loved him. How pretty you ask? So pretty that on one occasion, one of us pretended to sprain an ankle so he could put an arm around her and have her help me, I mean &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;him &lt;/span&gt;walk home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That all came to an end once young Cindy learned how to file a restraining order. You know what they say, "If you love someone set them free, if not, you could end up on house arrest for 12 to 18 months depending on your behavior...or so I've heard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have many fond memories from this, my favorite of decades. Like this one: November, 1980. It's the eve of the presidential election and I'm watching the results pour in, state by state.&lt;br /&gt;Being only 12, I wasn't political. Heck, I didn't know left from right, didn't understand taxing or spending and I didn't care to. What I &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;did&lt;/span&gt; knew was--that my once proud country was down in the dumps. The cold war was at it's peak, and America didn't have a leader that would stand up to the Russia, the evil empire, as Ronald Reagan would later dub them.&lt;br /&gt;To make matters worse, local people would say, "If the Soviets ever launch a nuclear missile, the first place they'll hit is Jacksonville, Florida because we have three naval bases." &lt;br /&gt;Comforting. &lt;br /&gt;"This is great.", I would tell myself, "I must have won some sort of geographical lottery." How lucky can a kid be right? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recall being ecstatic as network after network called the election in Reagan's favor. I had remembered seeing the campaign ads in the months leading up to that night. They showcased things like missiles being launched, and they spoke of how this current Governor of California was was tough on defense. I liked that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the same time. Iran had been holding 53 Americans hostage for over a year and gave no indication of releasing them anytime soon if ever. Iran's leader the Ayatollah Khomeini, was as evil as they come and back here in the good ole U.S.A., you could buy everything from dartboards to toilet paper with his likeness on it. Flea markets all over the nation were prospering from this patriotic run on terrorist imprinted toys and toiletries.&lt;br /&gt;The hostages were released on January 20, 1981, right after Reagan was sworn into office. Earlier that year, Jimmy Carter had sent out two military helicopters to rescue the hostages. Both choppers crashed in the dessert sands, leaving for soldiers dead. This only reinforced my belief that America needed a protector. Someone who would lead through strength and not be pushed around. Other world leaders would think twice about taking on the United States lest they get a Toby Keith style boot up their a**. And now we had that leader, and I, like many other Americans, breathed a sigh of relief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now brimming with confidence and a new found sense of security, knowing that my house wouldn't be microwaved anytime soon, I started out on my journey into what would become my favorite era so far, the wild, wonderful, everything goes, 80's. I remember watching Mtv after school(I can still see the astronaut planting the Mtv flag on the moon) and seeing Dexys Midnight Runners dancing in the streets singing "Come On Eileen." You know, back when they played music videos on &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;MUSIC TELEVISION!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still remember when rap music was fun and wasn't filled with hateful vitriolic lyrics.&lt;br /&gt;I can vivdly see Doug Flutie, quarterback for the Boston College football team, dropping back and heaving the ball 60 yards into the endzone, and his friend and teammate Gerard Pheland hauling in the pass behind two stunned Miami Hurricane defenders. Whenever you watch a football game and hear the term Hail Mary from the announcers, this is the play they are thinking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The movies of the 80's were great as well. Sure, when you watch them now, they may seem a little cheesy, but not then. No way no how! Just look at this line up: "Terminator" 1&amp;2. "Rocky" 1-4. "Rambo" 1&amp;3, "Raiders of the Lost Arc","Ferris Bueller's Day Off", "The Breakfast Club", are you kidding me? I could go on, but I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were a lot of great memories I have from that time in my life but the 80's was about so much more than movies, music, and merriment, it was about the world being a better place than the decades before. It was about having no more gas lines, everybody was working(everyone who wanted to anyway),and prosperity reigned supreme. So much so in fact, that prosperity is what ended the cold war as we knew it. America simply out-spent the Russians. They couldn't keep up and ultimately collapsed in around themselves. Then in 1989, the last year of that marvelous decade, the Berlin Wall fell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now my little girl is standing in front of me so excited that she gets to dress like Molly Ringwald. To her it's all about the style and music of that era, which is fine. But to me, it's much more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can still hear Ronald Reagan uttering those historic words...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"General Secretary Gorbachev, if you seek peace, if you seek prosperity for the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe, if you seek liberalization: Come here to this gate! Mr. Gorbachev, open this gate! Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!"   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...remember?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1936655219301801652-8841066334263518783?l=minddarts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/feeds/8841066334263518783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2010/01/ah-eighties.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/8841066334263518783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/8841066334263518783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2010/01/ah-eighties.html' title='Ah the Eighties'/><author><name>James Brooks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11057593671880568378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1936655219301801652.post-8999651542109747753</id><published>2010-01-15T22:06:00.014-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-24T22:42:11.852-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Diets'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Food'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Doctors'/><title type='text'>Of  Doctor Visits, Diets, and Drama</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cx7XzPSzSZg/S10TC6AsavI/AAAAAAAAACY/M_0xORtVYUI/s1600-h/Doctor+bills"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cx7XzPSzSZg/S10TC6AsavI/AAAAAAAAACY/M_0xORtVYUI/s320/Doctor+bills" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430517666331519730" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;James sits in the waiting room patiently sifting through the mass of useless magazines on the table in front of him.&lt;br /&gt;After browsing through a "large print" version of Reader's Digest and finding nothing of interest, he spots an issue of People magazine which is showcasing a popular country singer on the front cover. Mildly intrigued, he turns to the story only to find out that it's about the entertainer and his wife having just had their second child. Wow. That's riveting, but I think I'll stick with my subscription to "Sock Drawer Illustrated".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case you haven't figured it out yet, James is me. And this is what my life is like  these days. Doctor's appointments, one after another. X-rays, needles, poking, prodding, coughing, and a stack o-of do-o-ctor bills (Sang to the tune of "12 Days of Christmas.").&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reason for my exciting new lifestyle you may ask? Well I'll give you a hint, it's only five millimeters, has jagged edges, and it was conceived in the depths of hell. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right, a kidney stone, or in my case, kidney stone(s). You see, these little guys have one job,and that is to travel through your body and terrorize you all along the way. I've named the one that's been giving me fits. Heck,we've become so familiar with one another I guess you could say we're almost pals. I call him M***** ******!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like everyone else, I have known some people that I wasn't crazy about in my lifetime, but I would never, EVER wish these things on even my mortal enemy! No matter how nefarious a character they may be. Well, maybe except for Al Qaeda members. Hey,that gives me an idea. Whenever the good guys capture one of those dudes, they should plant a remote control stone,with spikes on it,in the bad guy's kidney. So then whenever some vital intel is needed, just grab the remote and send little spike on a journey through their urinal tract. Is that sadistic on my part? If so, I got that way from spending all of this time around doctors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now where was I?...&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So most of the Doctors I've dealt with have been pleasant, and seemed to perform their duties well enough. It's just that... well...I'm sick of them. Sick of sitting and waiting.Sick of wondering when all this will finally be over. And as I type this on my Blackberry phone, I'm waiting. AGAIN. Waiting to be possibly violated by some guy with a rubber glove and giant hands, or some lady at the desk who'll probably be informing me shortly, that while I was waiting, my insurance provider abruptly went out of business and will not be covering today's visit. Next she will probably tell me how I am now personally responsible for footing the entire bill. I imagine myself asking her what my options are to which she most assuredly will reply,"You can have a peppermint or a lifesaver out of our candy jar...but only one or the other.That's the only &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;option&lt;/span&gt; you have. Now Mr. Brooks,will that be cash, credit, or first born?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting back to my point...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up until  a few months ago, I wouldn't have been caught dead at the doctor's office (well that's an awful analogy now isn't it?). It's bad enough that one doctor has already told me not to eat bread,potatoes,pasta, or chocolate- CHOCOLATE!!!- now this one is telling me not eat nuts or peanut butter, and that I have to drink one and a half gallons of water per day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Surely you jest." I say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wasn't jesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After pleading with him for a tasty alternative to fill in the gaps, he smiles from ear to ear and enthusiastically quips, "Carrot sticks!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I almost committed assault. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he tells me that another wonderful benefit to my new tasteless, boring diet is that I can also munch on celery sticks. Obviously excited I ask,"With peanut butter on them?" Now &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;he&lt;/span&gt; was pondering whether or not to commit assault. &lt;br /&gt;After finishing up my paper work and delivering some final instructions he stood to shake my hand. I grasped his hand, looked him in the eye and thanked him for his services. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our parting conversation went something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doctor-&lt;/span&gt; You're doing really great James. Be sure to drink lots of water and eat those carrots sticks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Me-&lt;/span&gt; I hate you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Doctor-&lt;/span&gt; Um,look at the time. Well I better get to my next patient. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll bet I'm his favorite patient. After all, he did tell me to come back again in six months.&lt;br /&gt;Oh would you look at the time. I'd better get going. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those carrots sticks aren't gonna buy themselves you know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1936655219301801652-8999651542109747753?l=minddarts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/feeds/8999651542109747753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2010/01/of-doctors-diets-and-drama.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/8999651542109747753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/8999651542109747753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2010/01/of-doctors-diets-and-drama.html' title='Of  Doctor Visits, Diets, and Drama'/><author><name>James Brooks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11057593671880568378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cx7XzPSzSZg/S10TC6AsavI/AAAAAAAAACY/M_0xORtVYUI/s72-c/Doctor+bills' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1936655219301801652.post-6399616237975193164</id><published>2010-01-05T20:30:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T17:35:00.660-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adventure'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='French'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Downtown'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cold'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Coffee'/><title type='text'>My Big Fat Starbucks Adventure</title><content type='html'>Here in Ocala, Florida, we're not used to what happened to us this week. We froze our butts off. That's right, it was so cold, the politicians had their hands in their OWN pockets... hey-o!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I've never been much of a coffee drinker, but this morning I made an exception. I drove over to the new Starbucks on the town square. I really like our little downtown area. The recent Improvements along with the pride of the vendors have combined to make this a really nice place to go for dining and shopping without having to fight all of the traffic and hustle and bustle of the newer, more recently developed areas. The natives call this place Brick City. Named after all of the all-red brick buildings that used to dominate this original hub of town until the great fire burned many of them to the ground. Most were rebuilt, but with different exteriors than the originals. But the nickname, Brick City survived, fully intact, and that's alright by me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After finally finding a parking space (Apparently this weather gave a lot of people the same idea), I crossed the street and headed towards the coffee shop. I passed by a new sushi place, looks top notch, and Gause and Son's Jewelers always looks terrific, as it has for many years as the anchor of downtown. The first thing I noticed upon entering this caffeine craver's paradise  was how this national chain store was able to spend the money necessary to fill out this cavernous space in this old brick building and actually give it kind of a cozy feel. Previous occupants had attempted this but it always seemed as if the space just swallowed everything else around you and made you feel like you were the only person in the building and you would need a compass to find your way out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there was something else I noticed. The people. Everyone sort acted the same. Almost "Stepford Wife" in their mannerisms. Every one looked as if they shopped at the same store, spoke as if they read the same books, and of course, knew EXACTLY how to order their coffee. I would like to take a moment to address this. I am admittedly jealous of people that know how to speak the Starbucks lingo. As I said, I'm not much of a coffee drinker so, me ordering from Starbucks is akin to John Wayne walking into Victoria's Secret and describing to the sales girl what kind of "little number" he's looking to pick up for his wife. In other words- It aint pretty. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm standing in line, nervous about what I'm going to say when it's my turn, and the little guy behind the counter taking(or should I say giving) the customers orders isn't helping to ease my nerves at all. He kind of half-shouts at the lady in front of me "What are you gonna have!", and she immediately recites something that sounded french to me, to which he replies, "NEXT!" &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Oh no, it's my turn&lt;/span&gt;, I say to myself, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;what am I going to say?&lt;/span&gt;- I mean, I just want a cup of coffee right? I'm cold, all I want to do is warm up a little... that's all. But this guy, this tyrant, this Starbucks "Coffee Nazi" has me all worked up. So I step forward and say something like, "Uh...I'll have a skinny, super charged, peppermint, java express with cream". He looks at me and dryly says, "What size?" Huh? "WHAT SIZE?!" Oh uh, medium I guess. "What's your name"? James...my name is James I proclaimed - proud that I knew the answer so quickly.  &lt;br /&gt;A couple of seconds later the girl behind the counter called my name, I picked up my order and was in warm, caffeine  bliss shortly after.  As I approached the exit I caught the eye of a gentleman who was wearing a stylish, tan leather jacket. He looked to be in his mid 40's and appeared to have all the answers. He gave me a look that said "You're in the club now pal". I looked back as if to say, "I have a cool jacket too I'm just not wearing mine right now". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it is with new found confidence that I leave the warmth of the building and enter into this bold new latte' universe, caffeine infused and well equipped to handle anything that life hurls my way. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Now maybe I'm ready to jump onto the sushi bandwagon&lt;/span&gt; I say to myself as I once again pass the fashionable new squid joint. Nah,one culture shock to my system is enough for today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1936655219301801652-6399616237975193164?l=minddarts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/feeds/6399616237975193164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2010/01/here-in-ocala-florida-were-not-used-to.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/6399616237975193164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/6399616237975193164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2010/01/here-in-ocala-florida-were-not-used-to.html' title='My Big Fat Starbucks Adventure'/><author><name>James Brooks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11057593671880568378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1936655219301801652.post-8031179118816354881</id><published>2010-01-05T20:12:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-07T19:54:43.729-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Year or ... 2010 is my year to win.  My Resolutions For This Year</title><content type='html'>I never have been much for cliches. They say you should try to avoid them when writing. I say you should avoid them in every situation lest you become “that guy.”&lt;br /&gt;You know the one, the guy who greets you with “What’s up dog?”, or when you ask him to confirm the date you get this jewel: “All day until midnight.” Sans the one I already put in the title above, I’ll aim to stay cliche free as I list my resolutions for the new year.&lt;br /&gt; Here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;1.I will not gain back all the weight that I worked hard to lose in 2009. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   From July through December I altered my diet to not include pasta, bread,or starches. I also ran until my eyes started bleeding sweat. The manager at the gym told they were gonna bill for having all my “sweat tears” steam cleaned off of the treadmills. I’ve yet to see a bill, however, so that could have just been a rumor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;2.I will be kinder and more compassionate to my fellow man. (and the chicks too)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Have you ever been driving down the road and you accidentally cut someone off and by chance their car goes careening out of control, bounces off of a school bus and plunges headlong into the duck pond? Then the driver gets out of the car, starts waiving their fist at you and yelling something about hearing from their lawyer, and screaming out “I can’t swim” and you’re thinking, “I’m gonna give this jerk a piece of my mind. Well, that was a long time ago and I’m still a little steamed but you know what? I’m gonna let that one go this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt; 3.I will finish what I start&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    You can walk into my garage at anytime and you’ll find several bags marked “Lowes” or “Home Depot,” filled with unused items. These bags are usually the sign of unfinished projects. Some projects actually DO get finished so I’m not a complete wash in this area, however, I’m no Ty Pennington to be sure. Hey that gives me an idea for a new project...hmm.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;4.I will be thankful for what I have&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Men are wired funny. You know when you see some petite woman driving down the road in this huge, 30 foot long S.U.V., chances are it was her husband that wanted her to have it and she would probably be perfectly happy in some Honda Accord or something. Yeah my wife’s 5’3” and drives a Chevrolet Tahoe. So what’s your point?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this year I’m gonna stop looking at what others have, I really am. Life’s too short to be walking around with a scorecard. My babies are getting older everyday and I don’t want to miss a minute of it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You feeling me dog? You feeling me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1936655219301801652-8031179118816354881?l=minddarts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/feeds/8031179118816354881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2010/01/happy-new-year-or-2010-is-my-year-to.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/8031179118816354881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/8031179118816354881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2010/01/happy-new-year-or-2010-is-my-year-to.html' title='Happy New Year or ... 2010 is my year to win.  My Resolutions For This Year'/><author><name>James Brooks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11057593671880568378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1936655219301801652.post-8434667313823060299</id><published>2009-12-21T12:18:00.013-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-30T22:14:37.660-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sighting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Black Bear'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wildlife'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Florida'/><title type='text'>Black Bear Sighting</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cx7XzPSzSZg/SzFIDyceh4I/AAAAAAAAACI/qy0kNxq9VMQ/s1600-h/IMG00165-20091221-1133.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cx7XzPSzSZg/SzFIDyceh4I/AAAAAAAAACI/qy0kNxq9VMQ/s320/IMG00165-20091221-1133.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418191056621438850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I had to go WAY out into the country to do an inspection for a prospective home buyer. The name of the town is Ocklawaha, and I was in the part that has no cell phone service, no traffic lights, and a good percentage of the roads are still dirt. Put it this way: I was so far out that I would have to go &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;in&lt;/span&gt; town to hunt deer.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the person that had sent me out there told me to be careful because the door had been kicked in previously and someone had stole all of the appliances. He also said that he'd seen many bear tracks around the perimeter of the home, so I should be on the lookout for anything coming out of the woods that wasn't two-legged. The moment he mentioned bear, I forgot everything he said prior to that. The possibility of some burglar attacking me didn't faze me. Not when there was a chance of running into..well you know...the "B" word. Oh yeah, I saw those old "Faces of Death" videos where the bear turns that dude into his own personal plate of linguine, so believe me... I was on high alert. &lt;br /&gt;Upon my arrival -my &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;judo chop&lt;/span&gt; locked and loaded - I walked the outside of the home and immediately notice several bear tracks in the dirt. I took a picture of them for proof. They looked like they belonged to a BIG bear, but the more I thought about it, I guess &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;all&lt;/span&gt; bear tracks are at least &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;pretty&lt;/span&gt; big. So after I finished up, and prepared to leave unscathed and unmauled by the beast, I set out for my next appointment. While driving, I passed a side street and noticed something unusual in my peripheral. I turned to see a good sized Florida back bear sitting 15 feet from my vehicle staring at me. I immediately put my truck in reverse in hopes that I could take a picture of it.Suddenly emboldened with adrenalin, I rolled my window down and headed back towards the bear. This made me a little weary because I kept imagining it charging my truck. "If he did," I told my self "I would simply put the truck in drive and take off." The best he could do is ram my truck and worse case scenario is I would have a cool story to tell my insurance agent. As far as what I really should do if I come in contact with a bear,The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission says this: &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Talk to the bear in a normal, calm voice, in as much of a monotone as you can master. You can say anything you want, as there is no evidence that bears can understand English.(Um, Really?)“&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Hey bear, hey bear, we’re here and we’re getting out of your way now,”&lt;/span&gt; is easy enough to remember! If you are in a group, only one person should be the “bear talker” as several people talking will likely sound contentious to a bear, no matter what you’re saying. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I don't know about you but, if I'm about to expire, I don't necessarily want my last words on the earth to be,&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;"Hey bear, hey bear, we’re here and we’re getting out of your way now.”&lt;/span&gt; Maybe something more meaningful as in, "Listen son, you're gonna be the man of the house now, so promise me you'll take care of your mama and your sister...and don't forget to feed Old Yeller." &lt;br /&gt;But alas, as I got close, it ran off into the woods. I snapped a photo of it running away, but cell phone cameras unfortunately don't always take the best pictures. So all I got was a fuzzy photo of a dark, shadowy image. Kind of like the photos you see that are supposed to be "proof" that bigfoot is real. Maybe soon I'll be on the shores of Lake George and I'll snap a pic of Ol' Nessie.&lt;br /&gt;None the less, as Monday mornings go, at least this one was bearable. &lt;br /&gt;Sorry, I couldn't resist.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1936655219301801652-8434667313823060299?l=minddarts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/feeds/8434667313823060299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2009/12/black-bear-sighting.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/8434667313823060299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/8434667313823060299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2009/12/black-bear-sighting.html' title='Black Bear Sighting'/><author><name>James Brooks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11057593671880568378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cx7XzPSzSZg/SzFIDyceh4I/AAAAAAAAACI/qy0kNxq9VMQ/s72-c/IMG00165-20091221-1133.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1936655219301801652.post-4458992734064849408</id><published>2009-12-18T22:54:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T15:49:01.515-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='top five'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='list'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>My Top Five Christmas Movies</title><content type='html'>1.&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;It's a Wonderful Life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   What would Bedford Falls be like if George Bailey was never born? Once more, what would the Christmas season be like without this masterpiece? I shiver at the thought!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;A Christmas Story&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   This cult classic was actually kind of a dud at the box office in 1983 but has made up serious ground since then. For many, this movie is as much a part of Christmas nowadays as going into the frozen forest and chopping down this years tree and…well you know what I mean. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Elf&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Buddy the elf goes to Manhattan to find his biological dad and he's surprised to find that his dad treats him like a giant weirdo who dresses like an elf…probably because he's a giant weirdo who dress like an elf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Home Alone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Slapstick reigns supreme in this 1990 classic. Charlie Chaplan would be proud of young Macaulay Culkin (Kevin), as he burns, beats, and baffles the bad guys at every turn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  The Griswold family returns for this wild, and warped  Christmas affair. From the moment cousin Eddy (Randy Quaid) and the rest of the family arrives, it's non stop mayhem and merriment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1936655219301801652-4458992734064849408?l=minddarts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/feeds/4458992734064849408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-top-five-christmas-movies.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/4458992734064849408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/4458992734064849408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-top-five-christmas-movies.html' title='My Top Five Christmas Movies'/><author><name>James Brooks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11057593671880568378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1936655219301801652.post-8354220407978900560</id><published>2009-12-16T20:42:00.012-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T09:12:20.437-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hero'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='action'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='romance'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rate'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='list'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>BEST MOVIES EVAR!  MY TOP TEN</title><content type='html'>This is a list of &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;my&lt;/span&gt; favorite movies.And while I &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;could&lt;/span&gt; put certain movies on this list that would make me look worldly and sophisticated-a nearly impossible feat-  I’m only listing the one’s that I know  front to back and have watched numerous times. Keep in mind, I am pretty much a caveman, and the more action and violence, the better I like the movie. But even &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; have a softer side, as you will see from one or two of my picks. Still,romantic comedies would be a lot better if they incorporated a few sword fights now and then, but I digress. Without further ado... the list. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Braveheart&lt;/span&gt; - While a bit violent for some, this epic film has something for everyone; love, action, sacrifice, grief, encouragement. It has it all. And it’s based on a true story to boot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Schindler’s List&lt;/span&gt; - This movie takes an in depth look into the holocaust and at German business man Arthur Schindler, who, through pure desire for profit, almost accidentally, turns into one of the true heroes of the  20th century. In my opinion, this is Steven Spielberg’s finest work to date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;The Godfather Part II&lt;/span&gt; - This sequel picks up where the first movie left off and actually improves on Part I. The scenes based in the early 1900’s are some of my favorite in all of film.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;The Godfather&lt;/span&gt; - Well as I said above, this movie was very well done. From it’s star studded cast to all of it's legendary scenes, this movie is one for the ages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;The Wizard Of Oz&lt;/span&gt; - Filmed in full color and released in 1939, this film was cutting edge for it’s day. While losing nearly every major award to Gone With The Wind that year, this is the movie that has stood the test of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;It’s A Wonderful Life&lt;/span&gt; - Love it. Watch it every year. Anyone who’s ever tried to be successful and experienced frustration and setbacks only to triumph through perseverance can identify with George Bailey, an American icon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Star Wars&lt;/span&gt; - This movie totally consumed my friends and I for years. The 70’s weren’t exactly known for being hi-tech but this sci-fi adventure was the exception.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Lord Of The Rings: The Fellowship Of The Ring&lt;/span&gt; - Great story line, memorable characters, groundbreaking special effects, and dominated all of the major awards with good reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Titanic&lt;/span&gt; - Okay here’s my entry from the “Romance” genre. This film was so big and so popular that people started suffering from Titanic fatigue. It then became more accepted to mock this film than admit you liked it. None the less, it’s impact was every bit as huge as the vessel it was named after.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;10. Glitter&lt;/span&gt;...Just kidding.&lt;br /&gt;     &lt;br /&gt;10. &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;A Few Good Men&lt;/span&gt; - With no action or  romance to speak of, this movie was all about story lines and dialogue. With great acting from big stars like Nicholas, and Cruise, this movie has some of the most memorable moments and lines ever. Remember? “You can’t handle the truth!”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1936655219301801652-8354220407978900560?l=minddarts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/feeds/8354220407978900560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2009/12/best-movies-evah-my-top-ten.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/8354220407978900560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/8354220407978900560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2009/12/best-movies-evah-my-top-ten.html' title='BEST MOVIES EVAR!  MY TOP TEN'/><author><name>James Brooks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11057593671880568378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1936655219301801652.post-5777652955261761780</id><published>2009-12-16T13:08:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T17:29:56.120-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cheap'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='computers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='laptop'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='India'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tech'/><title type='text'>India Unveils World’s Cheapest $10 Laptop</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=http://www.techpark.net/2009/02/04/india-unveils-world’s-cheapest-10-laptop/&gt;India Unveils World’s Cheapest $10 Laptop&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted using &lt;a href="http://sharethis.com"&gt;ShareThis&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me see...should I get the extended warranty?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1936655219301801652-5777652955261761780?l=minddarts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/feeds/5777652955261761780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2009/12/india-unveils-worlds-cheapest-10-laptop.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/5777652955261761780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/5777652955261761780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2009/12/india-unveils-worlds-cheapest-10-laptop.html' title='India Unveils World’s Cheapest $10 Laptop'/><author><name>James Brooks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11057593671880568378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1936655219301801652.post-5560279192432593839</id><published>2009-12-15T22:13:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T18:29:43.962-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='San Francisco'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mayor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cell phone'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='laws'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='radiation'/><title type='text'>San Francisco Mayor Backs Radiation Labels For Cell Phones</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cx7XzPSzSZg/SyhZ8r196rI/AAAAAAAAAAU/EfkAV8JTgXU/s1600-h/Cell+Phone"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 313px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cx7XzPSzSZg/SyhZ8r196rI/AAAAAAAAAAU/EfkAV8JTgXU/s320/Cell+Phone" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415677451009125042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;So mayor Gavin Newsom is behind&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;a&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;proposed&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;new law that would require cell phone manufacturers to label each phone with radiation information. The labeling must be at least as large as the price display. Are you kidding me? There's no scientific consensus on whether or not cell phone radiation does any harm, but that's not enough to stop big brother from protecting us from ourselves. Being the mindless sheep that we are.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;What's next? Maybe they'll pass legislation saying the stuff that we exhale- carbon dioxide- is harming the environment and we'll have to buy these imaginary "carbon credits" to offset our crime of breathing out. Oh wait, maybe I shouldn't give them any more ideas. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; My job, on most days, requires the use of a ladder so I can access attics to perform my inspections. Every time I set up my ladder I see numerous warning labels like, "Don't stand on here" or "This is not a step" and "Falling from this ladder would probably really hurt so you might want to avoid that." Okay, so I added the last one myself, but it's not that much of a stretch.&lt;br /&gt;If I order a cup of coffee at the drive-thru, do they really have to warn me that coffee is hot? Yes. Because if they don't, and I spill that coffee on me and get burned then guess what? I'm getting paid! What ever happened to accidents or just plain ol' bad luck? Why does every misfortune of mine have to be someone else's fault? Let's take sports for example: "Hey coach, how come you're not starting my son at quarterback? I think he deserves it more than that other other kid." Because your son sucks that's why. Sure he may be a good student and he studies the bible every day, but he's got a noodle for an arm and you can time his 40 yard dash with a calender. And you know what? That's okay. It's no one's fault, that's just the way it is. I mean, where did this sense of entitlement come from? &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;So&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I reserve my right to fall off of my ladder dang it. Let me spill hot coffee on my self if I want. It shouldn't have to cost someone else millions of dollars because I was being careless or dumb.Well I guess I should wrap this up because my cell phone's ringing and it might be  momma. Now where's that speaker button... don't wanna hold these things to close to our face now do we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1936655219301801652-5560279192432593839?l=minddarts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/feeds/5560279192432593839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2009/12/san-francisco-mayor-backs-radiation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/5560279192432593839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/5560279192432593839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2009/12/san-francisco-mayor-backs-radiation.html' title='San Francisco Mayor Backs Radiation Labels For Cell Phones'/><author><name>James Brooks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11057593671880568378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cx7XzPSzSZg/SyhZ8r196rI/AAAAAAAAAAU/EfkAV8JTgXU/s72-c/Cell+Phone' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1936655219301801652.post-1258890470131890306</id><published>2009-12-15T20:20:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T22:34:47.265-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='business'/><title type='text'>The love of money</title><content type='html'>Today while I was working, I was thinking about ways to make more money, while I was making money!. I wondered,"How can my small company gain market share?" I was thinking how nice it would be to have lots of disposable income, be able to vacation in Europe, drive the kind of car I’ve always wanted.&lt;br /&gt;   I wonder, how many people go through the day thinking these exact same thoughts? Almost everyone who’s carrying the label “Provider”, that’s who. No wonder it’s hard to make a lot of money - because everyone else is trying to make it too! Where does this obsession come from? Is it primal -as in- If I don’t hunt food, my family will starve? Maybe it’s the “Keeping Up With The Jones’” syndrome. Think about it, that neighbor- you know-the one who drives the Escalade with the nice rims and all the gold trim. Every time you take out the trash, you see that car. And if you look closer you’ll see his butler taking out &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;his&lt;/span&gt;. Then later that morning he passes by your house on the way to work and you smile and wave while saying under your breathe,”Yeah hey, how you doin’? Don’t hit a telephone pole or anything.”&lt;br /&gt;Now,    I know this isn’t exactly how it works but in my mind I picture this pie graph, and I see my minuscule little sliver with a bunch of other slivers around it. Those “other” slivers are all of the people who have the same thoughts about money as me. You people!&lt;br /&gt;  Well then, I would like to ask all of you a favor: Stop thinking so much about making money. Because when you do, you're making it harder for me to make mine. Let me put it this way, the next time your being innovative, or you’re really hustling to top last months goal, stop and think for a second, “How am I affecting James’ ability to make money? Am I stealing a piece of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;his&lt;/span&gt; pie to feed my own greedy agenda?” Life isn't just about you... you know?&lt;br /&gt; Okay so maybe I'm getting a little carried away with whole money thing. You see what it does to us? Look away, I'm hideous!&lt;br /&gt; So I guess there's nothing wrong with you trying to carve out your own little piece of the pie too.&lt;br /&gt;Just make sure and save a slice for yours truly. Capiche?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1936655219301801652-1258890470131890306?l=minddarts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/feeds/1258890470131890306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2009/12/love-of-money-today-while-i-was-working.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/1258890470131890306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1936655219301801652/posts/default/1258890470131890306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://minddarts.blogspot.com/2009/12/love-of-money-today-while-i-was-working.html' title='The love of money'/><author><name>James Brooks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11057593671880568378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
