Brady’s Blog

looks like claire (our 2 year old) has inherited my taste for spicy food..
i was eating this spicy shrimp ramen soup stuff i found at the asian market..

she wanted a bite so i reluctantly gave her a small piece of one noodle..
she ate it, coughed, and begged for more..
she put quite a dent in it before she started looking for a drink..
tough chick..

i think i’ll start her on cigars tomorrow night..

let’s get back to some boy-cracker-is-dumb stories..

it was summer.. 1989 i guess.. which means i was still 18..

i was working for lester whitney, a custom harvester out of greensburg, kansas who also happened to be my mother’s father..

he must have been 70 years old the summer i worked for him and i don’t think there was a single day i did half the work he did.. he would absolutely wear you to the bone if you even tried to keep up with him..

and if you didn’t keep up with him.. if you weren’t awake when he came to the motel or trailer to pick you up in the morning, he’d yank you out of bed by your big toe with a pair of pliers he kept on his belt.. a gesture that was about 40% joking around and 60% very painful on toes..

despite the foot pain, it was truly a great summer and i’ve never had a more satisfying job..

we started with a field of wheat, we cut it, put it in trucks, and hauled it to town..
so incredibly simple.. and we knew when we were done..

when a strip of field was cut, we cut the next strip..
when a field was cut, we cut the next field..
when a town was out of wheat, we went to the next town..
when there were no more towns we went home..

we covered over 800 miles of country on a gallop using that pattern and never missed a lick..

now i’ll jump through hoops to setup a remote connection to a server on our tech table so i don’t have to walk 15 feet to work on it..

and i haven’t truly completed anything in 6 years - nothing is ever “finished”.. if i setup a new network or server, it’s not “done” - it’s going to have to be maintained and backed up, and expanded.. i never get to just take the grain to town, get my receipt and drive away..

so anyway, what did cracker do on this journey through the heartland that was so dumb?

well.. a lot of things, actually.. but here’s one that stands out..

we were loading up to go from somewhere in oklahoma to somewhere in oklahoma (great place to depart from, terrible place to be headed to)

we had to trailer the big combines, load pickups in the back of the bigger rigs, and load the combine headers into the backs of the smaller grain trucks..

basically, this is accomplished by mounting a big steel hook and chain on the front of the combine and using that to pick the header (that’s the big long thing in the front of the combine that cuts the grain) up and into the back of the truck - from the side, lifting it over the side of and down into the truck bed..

on this particular occasion, grandpa had the header lifted and poised above the side of the truck and was about to perform the delicate task of lowering the header down into the bed, when a farmer came to talk to him about something and interrupted the process..

so.. you guessed it.. in typical cracker “how hard can it be?” fashion, i stomped my way up into the cab of the combine and started to load the header myself..

i eased it forward a little to get just the right placement over the truck, started to lower the header, and for some reason absolutely and completely panicked..

i think the header must have swung a little which made me think i needed to back up which made me go forward really hard which slammed the combine into the side of the truck which slammed me even harder into the joystick which really slammed the combine into the truck, picking the truck completely off the ground on that side and pretty much demolishing the side of the truck bed.. at the same time doing no great good for the header itself..

lester, standing only a few feet away, was quick to notice all this (could have been the 10 tons of metal in a blender sound that caught his attention) and was none too pleased..

he threw his hat down in disgust and started to really rip into me - lester was known as a smiling, joking, happy man - this was not the case for a couple of minutes in that oklahoma wheat field..

i was already bawling like a baby which slowed his anger some and probably saved my life now that i think about it..

opal, his wife, pointed out later that evening that lester himself had snagged a trailered combine on a telephone pole the year before which did nothing at all to make me feel better and in fact made me a bit fearful for her life and mine momentarily..

but we made it through the rest of the summer some how, and i loaded combine headers after that - he made sure i was assigned that task many times over the course of the remaining harvest..

i always told myself this was his gentle way of teaching me an important lesson and helping me gain confidence..

i think it’s also possible he was hoping i’d mess up again so he could just kill me and get it over with..

homer and i don’t like to give up..
but i think this server may have brought us to our appomattox courthouse..

raid failure.. not booting.. unable to repair.. iffy data on tapes.. and all a result of “the guy” who set it up before we were ever in the picture..

so.. how does this work?

i’m thinking we send a letter to the customer under a flag of truce that just says:

“dear sir,

out of a desire to avoid any more useless effusion of blood, we hereby decline to continue repair operations on your server.

forever your grateful servants,

homer and cracker”

or we just leave it on their doorstep with a not that says:

“good luck”

i’ve alluded to this story a couple of times but have not really told it..

i was working at chili’s.. again.. after losing the race against clutch failure on my way to phoenix and begging back the job i had just quit a few days prior..

we had a table of regulars that liked to show up at 9:59 on weeknights (knowing full well that we closed at 10) just so they could have the place to themselves..

so these jokers roll in at closing time - i think it was actually past 10 but the manager let them in anyway..

i had a poker game lined up to start at 10:30 and had pretty much shut the joint down as far as the front of the house stuff was concerned..

the kitchen staff had already cleaned up everything on their side as well so they were equally happy to hear the regulars were in - these people always ordered something from just about every station in the kitchen - burgers from the grill, an awesome blossom to complete foul the fryer, salads, etc.. so the back of the house was likely to be even more put out than i..

normally they ordered cokes - diet cokes as i recall - and they drank about 8 gallons each.. i would usually just bring them a couple of pitchers even though we weren’t supposed to do that, just so i wouldn’t have to run back and forth so much..

even knowing this, i waited until all drinks were ordered and delivered before i emptied the big tank of iced tea in the back.. it was always one of the last tasks because sometimes the kitchen staff would want to take some with them and it only takes a second to dump it and rinse it anyway..
nobody ordered tea.. so i dumped it..

about 5 minutes later, one of the dudes decides he wants to switch drinks:

regular: “sir?”

cracker: “yes? what’s up?”

regular: “uh.. i think i would rather have tea.. can i switch to tea?”

cracker: “oh.. sorry.. we’re out…”

regular: (incredulous) “i’m sorry… what did you say?”

cracker: “i said ‘oh.. sorry.. we’re out’..”

regular: “out… of tea? you’re out of tea?”

cracker: “yeah.. we’re out..”

regular: “i think i’d like to talk to a manager..”

cracker: “now that we have.. i’ll send him right out..”

i went and got the manager..
first i started a fresh pot of tea on the way to his office figuring he would need it when he took over the table for me..

i really didn’t think i’d be fired for such an incident.. i thought maybe i’d be sent home and maybe have a couple of shifts yanked as a suspension or whatever but.. well.. it didn’t work out that way.. i got canned..

i haven’t been fired from very many jobs..

i hope the next time i get fired it’s for something really exciting like embezzling 5 million dollars.. or shooting one of the ibm goobers next door..

of course, i don’t know how to embezzle.. and i don’t really deal with money..

so..

shotgun or rifle..

hmm..

this is a shot of one of the contractors helping us build our new church..

and he’s not even a plumber..

just a very generous electrician..

i’m getting just a smidge tired of people trying to make a funny about my bluetooth headset..

here’s a list of all the really hilarious things people have said to me:

number one - “hey, you know you have something growing out of your ear?!?! har har har har..”

number two through 185 - something very much like and perfectly to the effect of number one..

i understand.. i’m asking for it by wearing a flashing electronic device on my ear all day..
not everyone has one.. it’s kind of novel.. so.. people are going to ask me about it.. or mention it.. i get it..

but, ya know.. it’s not like i’m wearing a jet-pack.. it’s just a wireless headset..
i’ve seen high school kids and old ladies wearing them.. lots of people have them.. not everyone.. but lots of people..

so if i’m standing there using the urinal, and you’re washing your hands at the sink behind me, don’t ask me “so.. that thing on your ear, can you dial through that using voice commands or what?” because i’m just going to ignore you.. i would probably ignore you no matter what you said in that situation but asking me about my headset moves you to the front of the get ignored queue..

the other one i love is when people feel the need to ask questions about my headset for the benefit of those around them.. basically, they have to say something to make their peers (or often less than peers) aware of their hipster, tech-savvy status.. this happens a lot with doctors and executives.. they attempt to impress the underlings by saying something like “now.. that bluetooth headset you have there, do you like that model? because MYYYYYY bluetooth headset is reeeeeally great..”

speaking of doctors, how in the world did some of these jokers make it through college, let alone med school?

i know certain individuals who are legally allowed to perform surgery on people, yet have to be told 3 and 4 times how to turn on a laptop.. like.. literally.. have to be told how to push the power button.. and then reminded where the button is..

i just don’t see how that’s possible.. but hey.. maybe i have it all wrong.. maybe it’s the medical stuff that’s really easy.. maybe doctors get together and make fun of people like me.. say things like “oh come on man.. i mean.. he can setup a wireless network from nothing in ten minutes with 128 bit blah blah blah.. but he can’t even perform a simple cervical laminectomy?.. give me a break!!”

i don’t know why thanksgiving is on a thursday, but for some reason, it fits..
it makes sense..
you couldn’t give proper thanks on a friday.. or a tuesday..
on a thursday you can settle down and relax and eat 8 pounds of turkey and 4 pounds of pie and just say “thank you”..

me?

i’m thankful for my wife.. my family.. my health.. my job..

i’m thankful for life - the way it works with all the good and bad.. the seasons.. the anger and fear.. the beauty and love..

i’m thankful that no bad day ever lasts forever and no good day is ever truly gone..

i’m thankful i don’t have to be a great friend to have great friends..

and i’m thankful i don’t have to write goofy stuff like that all the time..

i’ve talked about smoking some in this space..

i guess i’m still kind of fascinated by the whole thing..

i just love the fact that somebody at some point had to say:
“ya know what i think i’ll do? i’ll think i’ll take some of that plant growing over there, light it on fire, and breath in the smoke.. i think maybe that’s going to be really enjoyable..”

when i was a smoker, i was always amused when people would say to me:
“cracker.. every cigarette you smoke is taking 7 minutes off the end of your life”
my standard reply was “well.. that’s 7 minutes i wouldn’t want to spend jonesin’ for a smoke..”

i’ve always been vehemently against bans on cigarettes in restaurants, etc.. i think it’s an affront to freedom and an insult to everyone’s intelligence.. yet i love being able to go to restaurants and not fight smoke.. and if you think about it.. it’s kind of amazing they ever let people smoke inside in the first place.. i mean.. even when you could smoke inside, you couldn’t just bring in some paper or some twigs and light them on fire.. it had to be tobacco or something very close to it..

strange when you think about it that way..

i will also say this.. i don’t condone smoking.. it’ll kill ya and not in a good way.. but i still think it looks awful cool.. i don’t care what anybody says.. james dean with a cigarette hanging from his trap is a lot cooler than james dean without it..
i don’t why that is.. it just is..

in fact, while there are hundreds of reasons to smoke once you’ve started, i’d say there’s only really two reasons to take that first drag..
1. you think it looks cool (or at least think someone else thinks it does)
2. you’re not supposed to do it

i bet that’s how it got started..
that first dude said something to his mom like:
“mom, i think i’d look cool holding a smoldering bunch of that brown plant in front of my face, sucking in the smoke..”

and mom said “don’t you dare..”

and that was all it took..

we moved to texas when i was in high school.. a junior i guess..
i had a theatre class in what used to be the auto-shop class.. i guess they had decided it was more important to be able to act like a mechanic than actually become one..

anyway, this room had a big garage door that was locked from the outside but was easy enough to open from the inside.. and it was way on the back of the building so you couldn’t really see it from the rest of the school or from the road.. we sometimes opened it a little in the spring to let in some fresh air..

i was in theatre class the day we had a bomb threat - they had everyone exit the building to a ’safe’ area about 50 yards out.. on the back of the building but on the opposite side of the building from the theatre class..

instead of filing out with everyone else, i strolled out the front door, got in my toyota celica supra and pulled around to the theatre class.. i had just unlocked it from the inside because when the bomb threat happened i tried to go out that way and was told to stay with the group..

i stopped the car outside, got out, opened the garage door, got back in, and drove the car right into the classroom - pushing desks and chairs as i went..
once in, i shut the engine off, closed the garage door, turned the radio all the way up and walked casually out the back door to catch up with the class..

when we came back in from not being blown up, we opened the door to walk in the classroom, and there was cracker’s car - with the violent femmes wailing “please please please do not goooo-oh..” everyone knew it was my car (because everyone knows everyone’s car in high school) so there was really no denying it..

i fully expected to be suspended.. when my teacher came in she was pretty mad.. she just looked at me.. and turned around and left..

she came back in a few minutes with a camera.. i had pulled the car out by then.. and was sitting quietly like nothing ever happened..

jeanine: (i don’t remember her last name now - i always called teachers by there first names - got written up for insubordination a lot but once they got tired of disciplining me for it, the cooler teachers kinda liked it..) “uh.. cracker.. where’s your car?”

cracker: “well jeanine.. it’s here somewhere.. you need a ride?”

jeanine: “no.. it’s just - i could have sworn i saw it in my classroom a minute ago.. and there’s tire marks on the floor..”

cracker: “oh that car.. yeah.. it’s outside.. i was protecting it from the bomb..”

jeanine: “oh.. ok.. how so?”

cracker: “well.. if someone was gonna bomb this school.. they’d probably do it with a car bomb.. set it off in the parking lot.. get everybody while they’re coming in or loading up to go home from school..”

jeanine: “sounds like you’ve thought this through pretty well..”

cracker: “it’s crossed my mind.. anyway.. better safe than sorry..”

jeanine: “i could have you kicked out of school.. you know that right?”

cracker: “yeah.. and you coulda had me kicked out for lighting up that cigar in your class.. or the time i used the radio to make the substitute think she was needed in the office and the whole class was gone when she came back.. or the time i–”

jeanine: “i get the point.. now will you please pull that car back in here so i can take a picture for the yearbook.. they’re gonna kill me if i don’t get a shot of this..”

so.. we pulled my car in and threw in my buddy’s brand new rx7 for good measure.. took some of the fun out of it for me since it was now a sanctioned act but i guess i still got some rebel credit for it..

lord knows i needed it..

tlb and i were in l.a. a couple of months ago..
we had just been having a conversation regarding plastic surgery, etc..
we were in agreement that the whole thing is stupid and people should just be who they are and blah blah blah..

then we saw the nose..

the great nose of venice beach..

the nose was carrying around with it a decent-sized latino-looking dude who was driving a pickup truck..

i know it is customary for one to say “i can’t describe it”, and then proceed to make every attempt to do just that.. not this time.. i can’t describe this nose..

i will say this..

plastic surgery is a-ok by me..