I don’t wish Jared Fogle any specific harm. He seems like a nice guy, and I can’t fault him for beating the low-fat corpse of Subway’s dead horse for as long as he can. It’s also not his fault that he and I have the same first name and similar visage, and that when people […]
It’s quiet here, lately. Partly because I’m busy, mostly because my fatherhood is being spent elsewhere. This site is a bit of a luxury, as reflection is. Time to ponder and mull and digest, after the fact. But what if the fact is during, now? A long time coming? The freedom to ponder requires resolution, […]
I and some friends saw Transformers last night. And as I recognized Bumblebee, mirrorball dangling from his review mirror, and, later, in the midst of his frenzied skirmish with Barricade, I thought*: It’s a shame Ian’s only four years old. * …and then said, to my friend, Rich. But adding that bit would’ve thrown my […]
What do you do when you cancel satellite TV after realizing you’re paying $55 per month to watch Dirty Jobs and Scrubs? You build a sandcastle with your son. (You also spend the weekend trying to install a rooftop antenna. Does anyone know when Mars aligns with Pluto Neptune? PBS is a little fuzzy.)
We watched Supernanny last night, which, for parents, is a bit like C.O.P.S.. As Kathleen Madigan says, ‘At least I’m not a drug-dealer in curlers running down the street at four a.m.’ Last night’s episode featured a stay-at-home mother of three—soon to be four—whose children were slowly tenderizing her with their fists. A large problem, […]
I don’t write Total Depravity to make money. Which is a good thing, ’cause I don’t….The purpose of this site is, and will remain, as a way for me to chronicle my fatherhood and Ian’s most embarrassing moments. And to streamline his therapy.
All About Fatherhood, however, is a horse of a different kettle of fish.
I haven’t finished the book, but I’m fairly certain that the suffering of this man will serve no purpose other than itself. His death will, finally, become a character’s memory and regret, and will further nothing except the sense that life is pain.
…she’s simply unwilling to wallow in the pathetic and sordid depths in which boys thrive, becoming too involved, taking things too far, and ignoring the little voice that says maybe a little sunshine and social interaction wouldn’t be the worst idea.
It’s like a hot bubble bath or warm cup of tea. Like slipping between newly-washed sheets or those foot massage chairs in amusement parks.
…I’m compelled to write something, say something, about your third birthday. I like odd numbers; three is my favorite.