Have we fallen this far?!

This picture was taken at one of those diaper pit stops in a men’s restroom. Men aren’t as good mom’s as moms. But are we so bad that we must be admonished not to leave the baby unattended. Are they contemplating us strapping them in and then hitting the stall? If there is one thing we can do is hold it. If wars could only be fought on the ability by the participants to refrain from relieving themselves. Sure they would be messy but messy in a way that could be cleaned up in a day instead of messy in a way that causes generational harm and landmines going off decades later.  Gives a whole new meaning to the words belly buster.  You hear all the time about you don’t have to take a test for a baby but you do for a drivers license. You also have to take a test to be a bartender most places, which for me, is like taking a test for breathing. Or maybe a test on French cuisine if your from Quebec. Or a test on rejecting men if you are a woman. Whatever. You get my point.  But isn’t ‘don’t leave your baby in a strange bathroom’ so effing obvious we should want to smoke out those people who will mess this up. WHY ARE WE HELPING THESE PEOPLE?  Here’s an idea. If you leave your baby in a bathroom to go bet on Jai Lai you don’t get to have a baby anymore.  There are millions of people who would kill for the chance to treat that baby with love you fucking asshole. Let’s take the baby, say thanks for growing it, and give it to people who can figure it out.  The obvious exception is leaving your baby in the car so you can go in the bar. My mother did this to me and I turned out fiiiiiiiiiiine. I’m Colt Haggerty and I’m looking for instructions on how to take off these Capri pants I bought by accident.

Have we fallen this far?

http://www.nydailynews.com/entertainment/gossip/brad-pitt-throws-beer-matthew-mcconaughey-new-orleans-article-1.1797709

The next time any of you people who participate in the consumption of culture and find yourselves commenting on the state of anything please read the above article.  Apparently two grown men playing catch with a beer above a street merits an article.  Does it really matter that they are famous?  Look I get fashion articles designed to make us feel poor and ugly. That is really beer advertising designed as commentary. We drink to feel rich and pretty. I understand.  But is there a need to put stuff out there that I can do effortlessly?  I wouldn’t begrudge this scenario if it was at least beer pong as that requires skills I don’t have.  Catch we can all handle and if we can’t an afternoon at the park can bring us up to speed. I can’t identify the beer in the picture but it looks like a Coors light or an equivalent which makes this even more horrible.  Beyond horrible. Millions of dollars should buy you at least an upgrade to Heineken or something.  Not great but better than the silver bullet.  Also that smile. Like Brad Pitt feels that the only reason he can do that is because he is famous. Wrong again!  Or maybe it is his one moment of peace he can find away from, not the Paparazzi who he could care less about, but his 40 kids and really really kooky wife. This I understand but that’s not the headline. What’s next I wonder….Robert Downey junior and Matt Damon Indian leg wrestle in Milwaukee?   Julia Roberts buys a lunchable in a midday food emergency?  Planking part II? I just wonder at what point we totally lose the ability to care for ourselves as a culture?  Soon the power plants are going to break and we are just going to look at each other and say ‘what happened last night on game of thrones?’ (Or what I like to call the show ‘death at a wedding.’)  The one solace I take is that when the darkness comes I won’t have to watch other men play catch with beer.  I’m Colt Haggerty and I’m emailing Ben Affleck for an update on True Blood. Big fan.

This weird trick….

Controlling other people’s actions, or ‘marketing’, is an ingenious but sometimes mysterious bedfellow.  Case in point, the Internet meme of suggesting that there is always some weird trick to fixing some common problem.  Apparently this works on getting people to at least check things out. Somehow this is kryptonite to thoughts of ‘too good to be true!’ Couple this with ‘a housewife discovered’ it and you apparently have advertising gold.  So much so that I heard a radio ad use this technique a few days ago.  I think the housewife things works because it makes perfect sense. Think on this.  Take the number of stay at home moms in the United States. Now multiply that number by 1.5 screaming children.  Now I want you to imagine this scenario as a laboratory for human ingenuity.  Smart, capable mothers thinking about inventions to bring in money so they can change their situation if they so desire. Maybe hire some nanny help. Maybe use it as the trump card with the disrespecting ‘I make the money’ husband. Maybe just hire the neighbor Vincent ‘lefty’ Spagnolli to have a ‘discussion with a purpose’ with said husband. Perhaps a chef. Whatever they want because they deserve it.  If anything can solve stained teeth or those nagging belly pounds the collective focused attention of our hard working mothers can.  Im not a mom but im fairly certain these people experience intense moments of invention motivation.  In fact, I think we should offload most of our international relations problems to this group.  Who needs the State Department?  We need the mommy department. If you can deal with unpredictable ambulatory screaming twins you can deal with a rogue third world country that doesn’t even have running water. Easy.  I’m Colt Haggerty and I have this weird trick that when I drink fifteen beers I fall down.

Fat, the new skinny.

Change is inevitable.  Entropy attacks everything.  The luster of classic hits like ‘The Cars That Go Boom’ and ‘Wrecking Ball’ fades with enough time and common sense.  The acid of age eats away at everything except, strangely enough, corn. So it is with that caveat I embark upon an observation about our collective weight.  Sadly even Google does not know what that is but I’m speaking in the plural metaphorical sense.  The cultural view on what is acceptable for oneself and how to present it to others. I am convinced that the hat doffing, suit wearing, hard drinking men and women of yesteryear never got to what was acceptable to carry around because they felt no amount of our bodies should be shown off. Have you seen early attempts at swimsuits? Once we threw these modest mores into the pop music poubelle we had to start guessing what to start throwing around.  Some would say that our food and binge drinking is the result of the obesity epidemic. I disagree. It is simpler than that.  It is our current fascination with wearing pajamas as daily wear. Lycra thin pants make the thinnest among us seem normally plump.  What do you think those things do to average people?  It is our laziness for daily wear, not our laziness in the gym, that is responsible for the explosion of bellies and legs around us.  You think I’m wrong?  Look at the snowmobile suit like attire of the pilgrims. Skinny Indians plus ‘unknown’ pilgrims equals a No fat party because a no fat party don’t stop.  Do you know how fat you can get destroying an indigenous people? Me neither but I’m betting pretty fat.  I’m Colt Hagerty and today I am wearing hazmat gear and an Indian headdress. Who needs diets. Not me. Not me.

Answer or Ignore.

I’ve always wondered when we crossed the line to the tyranny of the one.  This does not refer to our matrix controlled world being dominated by a slacker hacker suddenly imbued with demigod like powers.  No this refers to the general idea that every persons whim must be validated by at least a ‘hmmmmmm….that’s interesting. ‘  Gone are the days where we can say ‘that’s the dumbest thing I have ever heard. You sir, are a piker.’  I don’t know what a piker is but I heard it in a British movie and it sounded like a cool way to insult someone.  Now not all movies speech patterns should be mimicked Gimli son of Gloin but that one seems okay to me.  I digress. Back to my feigned indignance. So now we seem to be in a situation that even a no comment about something can be problematic.  Look I’m obviously not including the ‘do I look fat in these jeans’ type of thing. A no comment there will boomerang back to you days later when you inquire ‘hey baby do you want to dance the awkward dance of no return?’ (Or whatever euphemism you have invented for ‘getting busy for fun’ or procreation or whatever). Then you will receive a bemused ‘no comment.’ You will act surprised but you shouldn’t be. I’m talking about anything that isn’t common sense like ‘Do you prefer cheese or bacon on your burger?’ A no comment there brands you a vegetarian, or worse, a vegan, not that there is anything wrong with that. Look I have friends that are vegetarians. Some of them don’t even know they are vegetarians yet only to discover it in later years. That’s cool with me but maybe I just am undecided that day on how I feel about bacon or cheese. May I just watched the movie Babe where the pig herds the sheep and I am debating if my crying at the end requires a new dietary restriction. It’s just unfair the precision that is now required of our off the cuff musings. Even the comment box at the DMV should be viewed with suspicion. Some of you may be thinking I’m overreacting but if you do, think on this…..When you pair your android phone with blue tooth and someone calls you it says ‘answer or ignore.’  Those are my options? If I choose not to pick up I’m ignoring your ass?  By calling me you gain the social advantage so I’m ‘ignoring’ you. It’s not ‘I’m sorry but my explosive bathroom emergency is not a comment on my feelings about you.’ My inadequate planning that has resulted in my being unavailable to everyone at every moment makes me a social pariah. Look. I accomplish that plenty on my own but what about the three of you that are actually respectful of others?  You guys get the shaft and not in a good way. I’m Colt Haggerty and I wish my phone just said ‘answer?’ wistfully.

The complexity of our economy can create offensive situations if you let it.

As can long winded titles, but, I digress.  Ok. So today I am walking in to get my morning coffee before I go to help my twin brother move (more on this later) and I encounter something I have never encountered before.  Now if you know me, or have read any of my posts, you know that this is almost impossible given my vast breadth of experiences, both in and out of body.  It is always exciting to have a new story to tell in this drab old world and today was no different.  I saunter up to my coffee place (always remember that my sauntering converts to ‘hastily crawling’ for the normal man.  It’s a metric conversion thing.) and there is a Doberman Pinscher guarding the door. Now, unlike squirrels, I cannot read dog’s thoughts.  Nor am I good at determining their intentions.  Thus the infamous ‘Thanksgiving Incident’ with my in-laws pack of rabid ‘outside only’ dogs that I tried to turn into ‘holiday only inside’ dogs.  So this dog was looking at me and my default assumption is ‘Giant dog about to eat me.’  Now it’s literally standing in front of the door.  It is on a leash which leads me to believe that it’s owner is inside, but then I notice there is a small square rug next to it.  This new fact tilts me to the idea that the ‘dog has been hired to keep customers out and traveled here on it’s magic carpet.’  As I debate these two possibilities the dog’s owner comes out and scolds it for moving to the door.  Now that my safety seems insured my righteous anger  immediately rises up.  People, I know that you can loiter at the coffee shop and that is encouraged. However, I do not think anyone’s intention was that you create a nesting environment for your dog so you have enough time to contemplate and solve the complexities of the universe.  If you have too much free time do not decide to make your local bean shop a second vacation home that you can claim on your taxes.  One, I am fairly sure this will not stand up to an audit.  Well mostly sure.  I do claim my Star Wars action figures as ‘dependents.’  My only fear is that the IRS will label them figurines. Then watch out, I am screwed.  Two, why don’t you do what the rest of us do and waste away the day on Facebook creating a fake life while feeling bad that others are better at portraying a fake life than you are.  ‘OMG!!!  Look at how perfect our son makes a mud pie in the yard while somehow not getting a speck of mud on his Tommy Hilfiger shirt and $200 moccasins.’  Show me the mud spattered father you bastards!!!!  Our 24 hour economy has gotten so good that Amazon rolls out video of their plan for flying drones that will deliver our packages and we don’t think that’s over the top.  We are like, that will be so cool for like five minute until we start to complain that they can’t immediately teleport our items we don’t need to us immediately.  Just because you can do it doesn’t mean you should.  Violating this rule has resulted in about a third of our population.  That’s another 100 million mouths to feed people!!!  Let’s all take a step back, go on our Facebook pages, and pet our dogs at our feet in our homes.  I’m Colt Haggerty and I can’t wait until corporations invent a way for me to think of their products and then I can create them at home without any middle man and it will be called a 3D printer. Wait a second………

Shoes on the carpet.

There are first world problems that really aren’t problems no matter how much wealth surrounds you.  An inability to get the newest ‘collector’ edition of anything. The nearest Orange Julius branch near your house closing is another example.  Anything involving Doritos.  You get the point.  So when my wife pleasantly points out to me her preference that I not wear my shoes on the carpet there is a general understanding that this is not a ‘problem’ in the truest sense of the word. The panda has only started the taming process. Our two year wedding anniversary is in a couple weeks. I believe the appropriate gift for your second wedding anniversary is ‘No shoes on the carpet’ but I could be way, way, off.  Now after 40 or 50 years of marriage this behavior could result in my experiencing some kind of piano falling on my head ‘accident’ due to the build up of events where I yell ‘shoes on the carpet’. Currently this joke is playful but over time I can see how it would morph to mocking and then to pure unadulterated annoyance to my wife.  The type of annoyance normally accompanied by violence.  Like someone telling me Belgium is know for chocolate instead of its fine beers.  Or telling me I am know for my poetry instead of my ability to solve trivia problems while intoxicated.  I long for the day where we all start to identify the real problems around us. Such as why I can’t successfully drink during the week anymore.  I’m Colt Haggerty and I can’t wait for my ‘collectors edition dolphin liver’ to arrive in the mail so I can plug it in and solve this not able to drink during the week problem.

The Jelly Lottery

It’s been awhile since I have posted.  The main reason is that I have been spending the winnings from the Jelly Lottery.  Not familiar with the big JL?  It’s a simple game that occurs millions of times a day.  Literally.  I want you to picture in your mind your local grease-spoon breakfast place.  The one you go to after a monstrous night of drinks and bad decisions, where the fat filled food begins the process of you feeling more like a human and less like the animalistic monster you were feeding last night.  You get whatever combination of food products added to your eggs to make you feel as if you are an individual because of your omelette choice.  Your server, who is also hung-over, asks you what bread choice would you like with a …..”Sourdough, Wheat, or English Muffin?”  Let’s put aside for a moment that no one gives us the ‘white’ toast option anymore because it is somehow less healthy but then they throw in the English muffin as a choice which, and I’m no scientist, appears to be far worse for you and a food product from England, not known for its international cuisine.  I digress.  So I always select the English Muffin as a protest to the no white toast option and I wait.  I have officially entered the Jelly Lottery.   You see nobody asks you what kind of Jelly you want, or in the alternative if you were brought up in a upper middle class household,  what kind of Jam you want, or in the alternative alternative, if you were brought up in a wealthy home, what kind of preserves do you like?  We are simply slaves to the whims of our server.  Do they feel like its a blueberry and strawberrry day?  Then that’s what you are getting.  God forbid they decide you look like a raspberry guy because then you are spending the rest of your meal picking seeds out of your teeth because the makers of raspberry jelly want to seem authentic.  It is a spin on the wheel of sugar confection that nobody knows where it is going to land.  I should really call it a Jelly Raffle as that seems more in line with the results.  That is until I ate at a national chain, ordered my EM and what do they bring but a basket with every conceivable type of jelly, including honey just in case I am a hibernating bear.  Winner!!!! So that is were I have been, bartering the spoils of that breakfast with less fortunate folk who have been forced to accept whatever is brought to them.  Negotiating from a position of power I parlayed my basket of jellies into a red stapler, glue gun, duct tape, and a velvet painting of Elvis.  Basically enough tools to start my world takeover.  I’m Colt Haggerty and I wish muffins were multi-lingual.

Bar Game Training Wheels

Don’t be fooled. The bar scene is a dangerous place. It seems innocuous enough. People out and about that appear to be drinking socially and interacting with each other politely. But to the initiated it is a jungle. Like all jungles it has rules. Now these rules can be broken at will and often are due to alcohol impairment. Sometimes though there comes along an idea so outside the norm, or at least my norm which admittedly is all that matters to me, that an addendum to what can be expected is necessary. Think, for example, about when cell phones became ubiquitous. The game changed. We started to have instant access to each other. Whoever thought this was a good idea needs to be found and prosecuted for madness. I can barely muster enough rationalization to keep my inner voices semi-attentively engaged, let alone actual people at a moments notice. When technology changed the game, so did the social norms. Rapidly. You would think the bar game would be difficult to redefine and you would be right. The inertia of alcohol and awkward courtship has been gathering urging speed since the first caveman invented the foyer. So it has to be something cosmic and yesterday I witnessed it. A picture of a soon to be extinct lemur from a National Geographic magazine shook the pub culture terra firma. You see breaking the ice traditionally has been a poorly executed male game. We men have agonized over the right mix of beer and prepared witticisms that will allow us to avoid instant rejection. Now being married I have given this game up but I still watch how others play it for amusement. I stopped playing pick up basketball because my knees bark like an enraged labradoodle but I still like it on tv. Same concept. So my professional eye took notice when I observed a lady galavanting around this bar I was having a drink with my buddy at. Height, weight, looks, all pegged right down the middle. Normal in all respects excepting her ingenious icebreaking technique. She would take this picture of a wide eyed primate up to groups of men. Any Johnny come lately can risk rejection by one person but it takes a certain level of confidence to be the point person into a group of strangers. This lady was fearless. She would calmly show this picture and then explain how close to extinction this animal was. The men could not reject her for at least two reasons. One, men are rarely pursued and even rarer are they expected to comment on the consequences of animal husbandry for primates while intoxicated. Two, if they immediately told this lady to take a hike they would have rejected her and that babylike lemur. In effect, that picture was triggering the baby protection gene AND the social conscious gene. Nobody wants to seem like an absolute monster on the outside, no matter what their thoughts are on the inside. Something to do with peacock feathers or something. Anyway, this lady drank for free all night and left with the pick of the available litter. Impressive. Most impressive. I’m Colt Haggerty and these aren’t the droids you are looking for.

Steam room antics.

I love the steam room. I sweat out the poisons from the night before and prepare my temple for whatever tonight’s shenanigans will bring.  Throw in some fake eucalyptus smell and I am experiencing something only Russian czars got to do 500 years ago. Every muscle relaxes and the mind calms.  At least that is what is supposed to happen.  That is the understood goal of the steam room that is so obvious that even illiterate children from (insert country that does not offend you personally here) know this to be true even if they have never seen steam due to lack of power.  But some times somebody has got to buck the system.  Got to be an outlier because they confuse being a jackoff with being individualistic. When you wear a towel into the steam room can you please keep it on. I do not want to have to guess what your noises mean. I’ve played all sorts of sports and a man’s naked body does not offend me BUT if your towel is on you can make all sort of relaxation noises and I’m confident they are relaxation noises. Take that bad boy off and it forces me to decide is today the day I become bisexual. This is not a bad thing but internal sexual debates are not relaxing. I promise you if I went down the path of exploring what men have to offer I would go the whole way just to make sure but that is not why I go to the gym. Football games are the only time I practice ‘ball awareness.’ From what I understand we are supposed to use the Internet to discover and define our sexual ranges. Then there is the guy who flings water on himself in such a way that I am being peppered with swarthy man sweat infused water. Again this is not relaxing. Scientifically, it has been proven that water and sweat that are ejected from chest hair actually gets rid of wrinkles faster than botox but I’m there to relax not have a medical procedure.  I am the first guy to reject social norms. The first guy!  But this is a special circumstance. Can’t we all agree that once temperatures get above  110 some extra care is required?  Middle East I’m talking to you!  I’m Colt Haggerty and I walk to the mailbox naked because it never gets above the requisite temperature that locks in social norms in Southern California.