Cops. Come and try to snatch my crops!

EVTime Who you tryin’ to get crazy with ese? Don’t you know I’m loco?

Well it looks like Mr. Peabody has turned the way-back machine dials to 1993 this morning.

War was over
I was home from the Marines
Pearl Jam gave us Vs
Nirvana gave us In Utero and then suicide the following April
Cypress Hill broke us off some with Black Sunday

I catch myself in conversation and sometimes others catch me when referring to someone as old being like forty-five or fifty years of age. Then I, or someone else will go, “Old? Um, you realize we’re forty-something?” Opps! Then I immediately revise my statements to “Oh I mean old like really old, not our kind of old” in a pitiful attempt to not be old myself. Only walking away thinking to myself “Jesus, they’re right I am getting old too…..SHIT.”

Getting old isn’t so bad. Its just a number. You’re only as old as you feel you are. (insert any number of failing to make oneself feel better cliche type sayings here) I feel good. My health is good. My mind is good yeah well my mind is still there.

However sometimes I sit and think to myself. Is this where I am supposed to be? Was this all part of the plans I envisioned for myself? The only problem is, I can’t say with certainty what “the plan” really was for me. You have all the normal life’s goals of course. Do good, be happy, make money, support yourself, but past all that what was “my” plan?

I am at the old or young age of forty-two still unsure what my plan for life really is. Can I invent something that will save the world, or destroy it? Sure I could, but what is it? Can I paint or create the next artistic master piece? Sure I could, but what is it? Can I inspire millions of people, or just one person? Sure I could, but who?

There are so many variables that plot out and or influence either directly or indirectly in our lives to figure out ones place in the world. What do you believe in? What do you have faith in? Do you chase the plan down, does it come to you like a vision while scratching your ass in line at the grocery store? Do you just carry on believing it will find you? I have no clue. I guess I am still in the camp of not knowing what I want to be when I grow up. I am still waiting to see.

I am waiting to see. I have my eyes open. That wasn’t always the case though and at times I still need to remind myself to slow down and look around. Society pushes us in directions which we mistakenly think is normal and “the way we should go”. I used to believe and subscribe to this idea. Go to school, get a job, make lots of money, get married, have lots of kids, go in debt, curse the kids, curse the wife, lose the job, die. I used to believe all this too. Now, not so much. I watched my peers, family, friends do these things and I even did some of these things.

No, now I plot and follow a much simpler course. Do good, be happy, be me and wait and see. Oh, and of course second guess myself at every turn on this wait and see path wondering what it is I am supposed to see. If there is one thing worse then living by simple and sound advice its hoping the shit was right and it all works out. I am ready, willing and able for life, and I know theres more for me, but what? I am in no rush honestly although my age tells a voice in my head “well what the fuck lets get this thing on”.

In the end I cant complain. I am already rich and I am happy. I’m rich simply based on the friends and family I have and the work I do. I am happy with me. I got here honestly and while the road here took many turns, hills and valleys in the end I know I wound up here on my own and with clarity. I know I missed some opportunities on this path, and at times regretted them, but I know now, what I thought I wanted or needed really wasn’t for me. My eyes were closed in those times. Now my eyes are open and I wait and see.

Let ‘er rip, tater chip!

Merry Christmas


Merry Christmas. Shitters Full!

Right now, kids all over the place are getting up giggling and laughing about what santa has brought them. Parents are laying in bed after being up all night wrapping and assembling chinese toys with directions printed by some half idiot moron with pieces missing. In the end memories are made. Might as well make them enjoyable and pleasant, because in twenty or forty years, no matter how the times were for you, someone else will recall exactly how you made them feel today. It doesn’t take much to be ingrained into a small new mind that you were there and did the best you could with a smile, or be a miserable asshole for all eternity. So be a champion dammit.

To friends, family and fellow faithful blog readers, Merry Christmas! I am glad you are here and find something redeeming, funny, educational, or maybe just controversial. I have ideas for next year, and plenty more to come. Its been an interesting six months here at Whats Up Brock and for all you early adopters, I thank and appreciate you.

Go open presents, watch someone smile, eat too much, drink enough, and remember if you’re going to vomit on yourself if you indulge too much holiday cheer, do it while wearing the ugly christmas sweater from Aunt Carol. I want pictures and the first I get wins a gold star from petty cash.

Be safe, enjoy the day, don’t stab anyone, and remember if you love someone tell them. If you don’t love someone you’re forced to be around today, what you say to them may not be important to you and or make you feel better but there are no take-backs when you tell someone to F-off no matter how much you regret it later.

Merry Danny Kaye tapdancing Jesus H. Christ Christmas!

Let ‘er rip, tater chip.

Thoughts Arrive Like Butterflies

We have survived another week. Lets get the almost TGIF out of the way.

As I find myself in the rush to the Christmas holidays, I debated whether or not to even call it “Christmas” here on the blog. While I don’t intentionally want to alienate those non-Christians that may from time to time read my blog, I thought better to remain true to myself and call it what I have called it all my life. Not that I would go out of my way to insult someone else’s belief, but I don’t need to hide mine or otherwise feel ashamed by it in the name of protecting someone else’s sensibilities over a simple name of a holiday. You can call it the Holiday season, Kwanza, Hanukkah, Ramadan, or Ooogilly Googilly Goat Fuck Day for all I care. Most people that know me, know I don’t play the politically correct game, but thats not to say I don’t or wont respect others beliefs. Just here, you’re in my fucking house, and in this house, its called fucking Christmas. You fucking get all that?

The lights are going up in the neighborhood on a few houses. I know my brother has put up some lights on his house too, but I haven’t been over to see them. Single and living alone, I don’t really get too hung up on putting up a tree or decorating the house for Christmas. I am beginning to rethink those choices as I get older and softer. Don’t get me wrong, I am not running out for a tree and strapping on heels and an apron to start decorating the house to show tunes. I may however install a seasonal wreath on the front door, or maybe hang some Mistletoe in the house somewhere rather then off my belt and hit the local juke joint. A poinsettia maybe but I think they are poisonous to dogs, so the hell with that.

I sometimes miss all the family Christmas traditions or creating new ones each year. Not enough to go out and hook up with the first broad that will say yes, mind you, but sometimes not doing anything for the holidays around the house, while convenient and zero hassle, I have noticed places a rather numb feeling on me during this time of year. I think I’ll change this thinking a bit, and try and get my hum bug ass into the season a little more. What’s the worst that can happen? Well I could climb an observation tower with high powered rifles and bring Christmas cheer to all kinds of people while etching my name in the history books, but really, that not in keeping with the reason for the season, is it?

This year, I’ll do a little something around here for Christmas. Exactly what that may be, I have no clue yet, but its still not officially December yet. I am still shitting turkey and cranberry sauce. I am not late and I am not stressing.

Christmas is such a stressful time for folks and I honestly don’t know why. It’s the end of the year, things are winding down. We’re supposed to be hanging with family, chilling out, maybe taking some time off work for the holidays. I see so many people running around worried about buying this or that. Getting ready to go here or there. Worrying about the most insane things and for what? What is the end game in all this? So that your kids can run out the door and brag to their friends about a new video game or pair of shoes?


This is probably a prime example of why I’m single and childless, I don’t know, but I don’t play those games. Exchange some gifts, you betcha. Give your kids the things you never had. Absolutely. Surprise them with something they never would have thought of getting, hell yea. I am however against any such present or gifts that have no intrinsic value other then, his/her friend got one of these or those and going into serious debt for the gifts that will more then likely be lost or broken in the next day, week, month, year. We wonder why the stores all go crazy for Christmas shit in October? Look I am not some shining example of the true Christmas spirit or Mother Teresa sanctity of giving, but at least I try and remember the reason for giving. To that end, its the reason why I only give kids wooden spoons, hammers and nails for Christmas. The true building blocks of life I say. Socks, ties, shoes, hell no! Here kid with this hammer and nails a maybe a saw, you go outside and build your life. The world is your oyster!

Give a kid a fish, and he can put it in the trunk of only one middle school teacher’s car over the summer. You teach a kid to fish with dynamite and a gill net, and that kid can fill the whole goddamn school gymnasium with dead mullet. Jesus teaches us that. Serious. Its like in Thessalonians. Second chapter I believe. Check it yourself.

In any event, this year I propose to get into the season a little here at the homestead. I also implore you to not stress over the Christmas holidays and enjoy and love your family for better or worse. This is the time of year to love your neighbor, peace on earth, and say a great big fuck you to Walmart and give your kids the life long gifts of building supplies and cooking tools. They will thank you in later years. I promise.

Let ‘er rip, tater chip!

For my friend Talisa. Not ashamed of loving her God, or the fact that her friend yours truly is trying to get her to take him to her church to find out about the freaky love offerings because I hear that some hot chicks go to these things.

Friday how I love thee!

It’s another glorious Friday. End of the work week and the Jets play the Dolphins this weekend. The new iPhone 5 is on the shelves, a coffee is next to my hand and there’s a loyal happy dog at my feet. Not bad. Well other then a winning powerball ticket, Kyra Sedgwick for a wife and my own Island nation life is pretty good. (or darn tootin’ for all you Minnesota folk)

Can I ask a question? Thanks. I knew I could.

For any and all new mothers, parents, people with kids, people who know people with kids, people whom have seen little kids, lately I have noticed small babies with what looks like little mitts or glove like things on their hands. What the hell is this all about? What is the purpose of these mittens? These aren’t eskimo kids laying in the snow either. I am talking about normal babies, at home, day care, mall, gas stations, crack dens, brothels, Vegas casino count rooms, designated smoking areas at government taxing agencies. I have noticed small babies and these mittens all over the place.

I admit being single with no children, (well any that I am aware of in this country or access to any support agency that has any legal jurisdiction over my life) that I don’t keep up on the newborn hand care fashion. I looked back at some of my baby pictures to see if I had to wear mittens or gloves, nope none there. So I ask, is this some kind of new eco-moon-bat type movement for new babies to keep them from scratching their asses or picking their noses until some new age or stage of life? What the hell? Someone help me out here and rock the comment section with some knowledge for the out of the know middle aged guy.

This got me to thinking about all the new trends in child rearing as compared to my generation. Look I realize and completely understand that since the birth of time, every generation of people always looks forward or backward with disdain for the next generation as to what one group had to do to get by with in regards to how they were raised. Its natural and normal as we evolve and advance as a race.

However I contend that a lot of the new things we do with children today that we didn’t do when we were kids or our parents were kids is not to the betterment of children or society in general. I think it actually to the detriment of the children and society. I think there is a number of factors in place that have brought about these changes. Economics, society, education are to name a few.

Let me give some examples.

I haven’t seen a child learn to or continue to ride a bicycle without a full DOT class crash helmet on since I am guessing 1990. What the hell is this all about? Did children in 1990 in mass numbers all of a sudden start learning to ride bicycles and through no fault of their own start flinging themselves head first into the pavement, parked cars, fence posts, or other such blunt objects and become brain dead vegetables? What happened? I learned to ride a bike without a helmet. So did my brothers, friends, family, and pretty much everyone I knew. To my knowledge we all survived without major trauma. Now you teach a kid to ride a bicycle without a dork pot on his/her head and family services or some such will show up to beat you with a lead pipe and brand you unfit. What the hell? Do kids make ramps out of trash cans and stolen plywood from construction sites to jump over other kids laying in the street with their bicycles any more?

Sports, Little League, Pop Warner, Soccer, Bowling or any organized competitive function. All the children no matter what are winners. Say what? Yes, I have seen it with my own eyes. There are no more losers. All the children are winners. Christ, there are season ending banquets going on all over the country with trophies being awarded to teams and individuals all they way down to last place. Seriously? I shit you not! Where’s the competition? Where is the spirit of work hard, work your ass off, work as a team and win! Win first place. Win every time. Not only win, but with grace and sportsmanship, win and win big. Make the losing team choke on a blow out. Send them back home thinking their mothers and fathers all failed them and had retards for babies and to never show back up on the cities baseball field, football field, bowling alley, hand ball court, soccer field without permission or risk a beating over by the water pipes.

My father used to come to my Little League games at Sportsman’s park and from the stands ridicule me for striking out. Yelling from the bleachers, “What happened Brock, you should have swung on the 2-1 pitch and drilled that pitching sissy down his throat!” You know what? At first as a kid I was mad and upset that I didn’t do good and make my father proud, then I took more batting practice, and then drilled some hits down pitchers throats and won some games. Golf Gallery, PSL’s finest in 1978. Every game we won, free pizza and soda in the Fort suckers!

Soccer, same thing. Rinse lather repeat. We won and won big. Second place was for suckers and chumps.

Are parents even allowed to speak the word “loser” within a thousand feet of a public athletic facility?

When I was in school and during recess no matter what the activity, softball, baseball, dodge ball, duck duck goose, there was going to be two team captains, and kids were going to be picked for teams. Rule of the land was, if you got picked last it was because you were fat, sucked, dumb, slow, retarded. You lived with it. You didn’t cry. You sucked it  up and you played anyway. Maybe you did good, maybe you did bad, but you where there. You were there a few years later in high school too with your own car, some sweet high school ass, or not, but you were there and learned to adapt and integrate.

Bullying? Bullying has become all of a sudden this nationwide epidemic? Bullshit. Bullying has been going on for generations. The only difference now is all these emo kids that are being raised lazy and think that being winners is a given and automatic are finding out in the real world things don’t work that way and aren’t capable of coping. One post on one of these kids Facebook page calling him a pussy and he’s running to the closet to hang himself with his favorite pink Britney Spears belt his sissified parents convinced him it was ok to wear for show and tell.

In my day, which honestly wasn’t too far back, someone called you out, pushed you, shoved you, took your lunch money, you solved that problem in one of a few ways in which none included telling your parents or a teacher. You solved that shit on your own. You either stood up for yourself and whipped the bully’s ass, or if you couldn’t, then you learned to use your head to diffuse he situation with humor. If none of that worked you fell back on your friendships and personal networking skills to scheme an elaborate plan to have a bunch of friends kick the bully’s ass or set him up for a suspectd crime or auto accident. In any case you overcame and adapted to adverse life situations then you moved forward.

I guess this turned into a rant. I’m sorry. I think about these things from time to time.

To my dog loving readers. Friday fun tip #1. When giving your dog a bath, instead of paying for all those specialty dog shampoos that honestly are nothing special, wash the dog with some of that leftover Axe Body-wash liquid soap crap.

You know you have two or three bottles of that junk in the shower. You know who you are. You read the sexy Madison Ave advertisement in FHM, Mens Health, Esquire magazine with the good looking six pack abs model douche with the hot semi-naked woman licking his neck. Then you saw the crap in the supermarket next to the deodorant and toothpaste. You bought it, thinking it would make you smell like a million bucks and magically get you laid. You used it twice and now there is a soap scum ring growing around it in the shower caddy by the shaving cream and old Bic razor you use to clean up your nut hairs.

Use it for the dog. It lathers up great its not irritable and actually the perfume works good on the pooch. Now I have a clean dog who smells great. The bitches are showing up and loving all over him. Go figure.

Thats it. Have a good and safe weekend. Be kind to each other. Smile and remember to treat your waitress good. She really may be only doing that job while putting herself through college getting her medical or law degree. It could happen. 😉