Click it or explode

NASA released today its presumably final report on the Columbia disaster of 2003. They found several astronauts weren't wearing their seat belts when the accident happened. Is that the biggest passing of the buck ever? Hello, the freaking space shuttle exploded?

It's the people, stupid

My job affords me opportunities that most people don't get. Some are perks - not as many as you think – Brighton doesn't perk-colate like you might think. I did get a yellow and black Western Union backpack a few years ago that I swear I'm going to remember to take home.
More importantly, I get the chance to meet interesting people. With my move into a management position, I fear those chances are going to dwindle, which only make me savor those chances more.
This morning, I got to talk with Isidor Dominguez. You might have seen her house on the front of the Dec. 24 Brighton Blade in a ball of flames. She doesn't want your pity or self-pity either, insisting there are people worse off than her. That's hard to believe when your house burns down five days before Christmas. She says she is heartened by the generosity of the people of Brighton who have stepped up and helped and especially the unidentified man who stopped and pulled her away from the burning house. I'm always amazed by people's strength in the face of such adversity. I wish her well.

Well, hopefully I'll be a little more regular (no fiber jokes here, please. This a kids show) now that the holiday season is over. I hope Christmas was wunnerful for you as it was for me. All I had to do was put aside the ugly incident of cutting myself with my new Swiss Army barbecue grill knife on Christmas Eve. It was just a small cut made while I professed to my parents how much faith they had in me to buy me such a large knife ... there goes next year's chainsaw. Christmas was just as it should be – lots of great time spent with family, plenty of Mountain Dew and the unending battle to unwrap my daughter's toys from complex Chinese-packaging.
The end of Christmas can only mean one thing ... credit card bills. OK, not what I was going for. I was thinking more along the lines of New Year's resolutions. I have a ton. I always do. Most of them I don't share because it makes failure so much easier to handle. I'm excited about a new year at the paper, my first full one as managing editor. We have such a tremendous group here. They work so hard. I'm anxious to tighten up these once rock-hards abs, hopefully with the help our new Wii fit. I always like the sense of renewal a New Year brings – a chance to wipe the slate clean and not drink anymore ... or any less. I'd love to hear your New Year's resolutions. I promise to personally point out how each one is fallible – just one of the services we offer.

It's good

I feel like a kid this time of year. I love Christmas and the feeling of hope and renewal I get from this time of year. And I know, for many of you, this year hasn't been that great – layoffs and budget woes. But on Christmas Day, it feels like, at least for a little while, everything is good. I just want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and, if I don't get the chance, a very happy New Year.

Lovely weather for a traffic jam together

Thoughts and reflections for a Wednesday morning while I ponder the things I won’t be saying in this year’s Christmas letter.
• I don’t mind the occasional Christmas jingle but is holiday music any more annoying than when you’re stuck in traffic?
• I was compelled last week to find that man heading to Philadelphia and cram his homemade pumpkin pie down his throat.
• I won’t mention in the Christmas letter that I got Tasered at Chuck E. Cheese for stealing a child’s tokens.
•We had my oldest daughter’s birthday party Saturday.
• Great time but, from now on, I think I’m going to charge a battery admission
• Bring two Double A batteries or stand outside.
• I’m pretty sure we now have stock in Duracell.
• There also won’t be any mention in the Christmas letter of me falling off the neighbor’s roof trying to steal Christmas lights.
• Hey, the economy’s tough. What’s a guy to do?
• Don’t like artic cold front as a descriptor for our recent weather?
• Try brutally cold.
• When I was shoveling Sunday morning, a cloud punched me in the face and took my wallet.
• A new study says we shouldn’t be so hard on sleepy teenagers. Instead, blame it on the early school start time and their circadian rhythms.
• Or the fact that they’re up till 3 a.m. posting web photos of themselves cavorting in a Kentucky Fried Chicken dish sink.
• You think I’m kidding.
• Google it.
• I also will exclude from my Christmas letter that my boss recognized me for superior procrastination.
• No, wait.
• After that brutal cold front roughed me up Sunday, I was thinking about other ways to stop global warming.
• Wear more parkas.
Have a good week. Enjoy the holiday music.

Those dreaded, naughty words

Thoughts and reflections for a Wednesday morning while waiting for a good deal on a flat-screen television.
• I got out of my car at the grocery store the other night and a mother was berating her child. “That is a terrible word. That is the worst word you could ever say. You are getting your mouth washed out with soap.”
• I think he said “bailout.”
• It never ceases to amaze me the numbers of reporters local television stations send out to tell you it’s snowing.
• Part of me agrees with going where the news is.
• But the other part says we should stop pandering to color-blind people.
• Auto executives tried to make amends for their corporate jet gaffe by attending congressional hearings last week via hybrid cars.
• A day late and a dollar short.
• I would have preferred to see them take a jalopy to Washington together, singing, “Chitty, Chitty, Bang, Bang.”
• Other words that kid might have used?
• 401K
• If you saw the Tom Brokaw interview with President-elect Obama Sunday morning, Brokaw suggested that we tag an additional tax on gasoline to fund research on alternative energies.
• Obama wisely worked around the question. You don’t want your approval rating in the dumper before you even get in the White House.
• In fairness to Brokaw, he’s working on a new book, “The Brokest Generation.”
• My daughter found great joy the other night lining up her small, plastic Nativity set on the tracks of the train circling our Christmas tree.
• The trick is to get everybody off the tracks before the train gets there.
• We lost one cow.
• Other words that kid might have used?
• Turkey leftovers
• Reading the Rocky Mountain News as a child stoked my interest in journalism. Naturally, I’m sad to see its future in doubt.
• Not as
worried as I am about that many coffee addicts being out of jobs.
• Expect Starbucks to jack up their prices in preparation.

No, these really are my priorities

Wouldn't it be easier to just bail them out?

WASHINGTON - Taking aim at a BCS system he said "consistently misfires," a member of Congress planned to introduce legislation Wednesday that would force college football to adopt a playoff to determine the national champion.

Rep. Joe Barton of Texas, the ranking Republican on the House Energy and Commerce Committee, didn't specify what sort of playoff he wants -- only that the BCS should go.

No, Brokaw, no

I touch on this briefly in my column this week but Tom Brokaw suggested to Barack Obama during an interview on "Meet the Depressed" that since gas prices have now gone back down, we should put a tax on gas, bring it back up to around $4 and use the excess revenue to pay for alternative energy research.
Obama wisely pointed out that gas prices aren't the only problem facing American families - ie: layoffs, hour cutbacks and foreclosures.
There is a main flaw with Brokaw's argument, other than I now think he is a complete maniac. So, we shoot back up the price of gas again with this tax? What happens in summer when the oil companies bump up their prices again (as they coincidentally always do during the summer travel season. We could logically be paying $8, $9, $10 for a gallon of gas.
Please, Mr. Obama, don't put Brokaw in the energy cabinet.

P.S. If you haven't signed up to be a follower yet, I don't know what's wrong with you. I really don't ask that much, do I?

Thank goodness

I know this is a common gripe of mine but thank God for the Denver media taking the extra effort this morning to let me know it was snowing. I'm just thankful I caught the news or I may have barreled out of my garage in the convertible and drove 90 MPH to work with little regard for the bad conditions. I could have been seriously injured without being reminded that the roads were bad. Needless to say, I was prepared.

Arming yourself for Black Friday

Thoughts and reflections for a Wednesday morning while pondering why select-a-size toilet paper never caught on.
• I’m all for Black Friday madness but when did people start bringing guns to toy stores? Taking Tickle Me Elmo at gunpoint doesn’t really capture the spirit of the season for me.
• A San Antonio man who rammed his truck into a woman’s vehicle on a highway last week told police he crashed into her while going more than 100 mph because God told him “she needed to be taken off the road.”
• That’s defensive driving.
• Do you think God could intervene and get me a closer parking spot at the mall?
• Select-a-size underwear wasn’t that big of a hit, either.
• They’re saying “brain-fingerprinting” could replace metal detectors as the security method of choice. Apparently, it looks for behavioral intent.
• Does this mean I have to jump around like a chicken?
• I’ll take off my shoes.
• It could be a real insult if they conduct a brain fingerprint and don’t find anything.
• Select-a-size fruitcake never made it to the shelves.
• There are two Denver radio stations that have been playing Christmas music since June.
• Apparently, the only caveat is they play that horrible song by Paul McCartney at least 12 times a day. Respectively.
• I got so confused watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. It was like a combination of the Tony Awards and the Today Show all wrapped up in one miserable ball.
• Where were the floats?
• And there was more lip-synching than a Britney Spears concert.
• A University of Utah study finds that drivers who talked on cell phones missed their designated stops about half the time and frequently drifted out of their lanes.
• This explains why they’re on the cell phone.
• They’re lost.
• Select-a-size socks weren’t that great.
• My toes always hang out.
• It was so nice of the government to announce we’re in a recession and have been for a year.
• Was it really necessary to share that information now?
• Do you people just like watching the Wall Street numbers plummet?
• An Denver-bound airliner with a shattered windshield landed safely at Kansas City’s airport Monday.
• You can’t escape gravel trucks anywhere.

Snownado

Hey, it's 11:10 a.m., Wednesday morning and the city of Brighton is testing its tornado warning sirens. How do we know it's a test? As a colleague pointed out, the city would never sound the sirens in the event of a real tornado!

No thanks

Didn't the Macy's Parade used to be about floats? I feel like I'm watching a combo of The Today Show and the Tony Awards.

With thanks or something

A list of thanks - not necessarily in order of importance

• I'm thankful for my two precious girls. It's a treat to watch them change and grow.

• I'm thankful for my wonderful wife. She never ceases to amaze me.

• I'm thankful that Rosie O'Donnell gets her own Thanksgiving prime time special. Thanksgiving was always meant as a chance for turkeys to get their day.

• I'm grateful the Broncos don't show up every third game, just in time to dampen the inane Super Bowl rubbish.

• I'm thankful for my news team here at the paper. They're fun, they're hardworking and they do a good job. Throw in the production team too. They make us look good.

• I'm grateful for having the best boss in the world – especially because of the big raise I'm going to get now for saying that.


• I'm thankful for 9News single-handedly taking credit a couple weeks ago for catching the individual who shot the Aurora code enforcement officer. Good job, guys. Next
stop: world hunger.

• I'm thankful that we get somebody new as president just so everybody can stop complaining about the old one.

• I'm thankful for NBC's The Office. I set my week around it.

• I'm thankful for my brother – serving in Iraq this Thanksgiving. I'll have a turkey leg for you, bro.

Neglect not

Where has thou gone, Knowmers? Do you feel neglected. Well, we've been busy between rock bands and drug busts and missing people. I've also been busy preparing my jet pack so I can fly over the Royal Gorge. On second thought, that sounds like a really bad idea. Especially with a turkey dinner so close at hand.

Deflocking Christmas

There’s a new flap over Christmas decorations each year.
Last year, Denver tried to keep religious floats out of the Parade of Lights. Big controversy. It all ended ugly with Mayor John Hickenlooper admitting, “He didn’t know Jesus but he hoped he could count on a DNC contribution for him.”
This year, it’s the city of Golden where the local rabbi suggested he wanted to put a menorah by the city’s 800-foot tall Christmas tree in honor of Hanukah.
Harmless, right? Nothing ever bad happens putting a giant candle by a Christmas tree. But city leaders, always worried about setting a precedent, thought it would open a Pandora’s box. The Kwanzaaians, not to be confused with the Kiwanis, would want to put up their own Mishumaa Saba. The Lutherans would want to put their coffee and donut table right in the middle of Main Street. And if you know Lutherans, they can mill around for hours and would really plug up traffic. The Scientologists would deposit Tom Cruise in front of the local Cineplex with a wreath on his neck. And the atheists would gobble up all the city’s open space for an accurate depiction of, well, nothing. Breathtaking.
So the city of Golden said no. And the rabbi countered that Christmas lights are religious in nature because if you look really close at the bulb, you can see the Virgin Mary. The rabbi also argued that all the trees should be deflocked because any flocking whatsoever, outside the sanctity of marriage, is forbidden.
City councilors determined that the lights stay up and the menorah stays down. They also agreed that the Santa Claus on Washington Avenue could stay because of its perch atop the historic welcome arch. Though I’m pretty sure Santa is a direct descendant of the Gimmegimme cult, founded by young kids in front of storefronts in the mid- to late-1950s.
The logical resolution would be to dump everything on Santa. He could grasp a menorah, draped in a Bendera, holding a bag full of nothing and a donut hanging out of his mouth. This idea was suggested but Santa called it offensive since he is actually an Amalgamite, which sounds like a rock but is actually a group of old, fat men who spend 364 days a year making lists.
But Golden city councilors only want secular displays. That’s just terribly ironic because, whether you celebrate Christmas or not, its roots are really not secular. So the challenge becomes being fair to all the other holidays that fall around it like Hanukah and Kwanzaa. That would be too much. So, in order to exclude them, we just say Christmas just isn’t a religious holiday. Which means at some point down the line it won’t even be Christmas anymore, it will be X-mas, Holiday Day, or Fruitcakeivus.
Here’s a better idea. I’d rather have someone focus on the display of some displaced Wisconsinite in my neighborhood. It’s the likenesses of Brett Favre, Forrest Gregg, Mike Holmgren and Vince Lombardi cooing over an infant Cheesus.
If that isn’t non-secular, I don’t know what is.

Call the Wah-bulance

If I had a dollar for every time a TV news cameraman whined, cried and stomped his feet when I got in their way at a public event ... well, I wouldn't be doing this. I'd be in Tahiti or something. Insufferable, completely insufferable.

Too hilarious to make up

Beer truck driver accused of driving drunk

Police won't rest until they find out where that damn beer came from!

I'm Barack Obama and so are you

I was flipping through the channels Sunday when my 2-year-old-daughter screamed out, “Rock Obama.”
It was actually former Denver Bronco Shannon Sharpe.
Could have been worse. It could have been George Jefferson.
Or Webster.
We haven’t really gotten into explaining our differences as humans to my daughter yet. For our own sake, she’s probably reaching that age. I don’t want to be meeting President Obama every time we go to the grocery store or a movie or Chuck E. Cheese.
I won’t make this a political column. Obama is our new president. Some of you think that’s good. If you’re proud conservatives like my parents, then you think it’s really bad.
Everybody is entitled to an opinion and, regardless of the naysayer, I’m pretty sure that won’t change. But watching last week’s election coverage, I couldn’t help but put it into a historical context. Because whether you think Obama is the great (un-white) hope or a talking head with no substance, he will be the first African-American to govern our country.
I find myself putting events into context for what they mean for my daughters. Of course, that’s what politicians ask you to do. “Think of your children. Think of your children’s children. Think of your children’s children’s pet rabbit and Joe the Plumber’s kids too.”
But for their sake, I like to see ceilings shattered. I’ll admit I wouldn’t have been very happy if Hillary Clinton was our next president, but for the social importance of that move, I would have taken a step back and been proud. If Sarah Palin runs and wins in 2012, then will I see that as a landmark?
You betcha. And even if my daughters have a one in one zillion chance of ever being African-American (scientists have already proven), I think of the different world they will grow up in.
In school, we were always told “Anybody could be president.” But that wasn’t necessarily true. I, for instance, lacked the Ivy League genes and garish bone structure to run for the president. The girl next to me in kindergarten ate paste, so we knew she wasn’t going to be president. She did become a teen beauty queen.
But when a teacher tells her class today that her students could be president, she might be telling the truth.
Shannon Sharpe as president.
Well, you never know.

This is no way to watch sports

There is a place for an avid sports fan before a crucial October baseball game.
It is in the recliner in front of the television with a beer, pretzels and a remote control. ‘
Or down on your knees, scrubbing vomit out of your carpet.
Welcome to life as a parent where the wretched acidic underbelly of responsibility waits for no man or sporting event.
My 2-year-old daughter works on a “three strikes and it’s coming out” policy when it comes to getting physically ill. Twice, she will tell you that she thinks she has to and twice you will dash with her in arm to the kitchen sink like a heroic soldier with a live grenade.
Think of her as a volcano. She might let out some puffs to let you know of an impending eruption but when it comes you are never prepared. The ground begins to rumble, steam protrudes from her eyes and my wife picks up this spewing Mount Vesuvius in a futile attempt to make it back to that sink.
I frantically load my other daughter, our dog and some of our irreplaceable valuables into the car and try to flee. I usually get halfway down the block when my wife summons me back.
My wife is the most terrific mom in the world. But my wife does not do children's internal distress. This is different from my mom. As a child, I would often get tummy flu one to two times a week, sometimes one to two times a night. My mom became a bed changing pit crew. One time, I clocked her getting new sheets on my bed and new clothes on me in 8.9 seconds before the lights were out and we were both back in bed.
My wife never made such promises. In fact, it was a given from the onset of parent that, come hell or high (well you know) that cleaning up after our ill children was going to be my gig.
And, not to brag, but I’ve become pretty good at it. On an average, I can have a room gutted and remodeled (new carpet, new drywall, a fresh coat of paint) in about two days.
I have an affinity for the sick kid. So, the other night when the same daughter came down with a cold and nasty cough, it was Daddy holding her in the recliner at 12:30 a.m., watching a movie. Maybe it is penance for all the times I got my mom out of bed or she drove me to the emergency room with a ear ache in the middle of the night, that I have a special spot in my heart for the vomitteer.
But it sure doesn’t leave much time to watch sports.

Election Night

9:55 p.m.
Brighton, Aurora, Thornton School Districts all defeated on bonds and mills. The state of the economy sent a strong message tonight.

9:50 p.m.
27J has suffered an apparent humbling defeat at the polls. Mary Hodge has won. Dave Rose has lost to Kevin Priola. Look for more details soon at the web site.

9:27 p.m.
John McCain is a true American – classy even in light of a tough defeat.

9:23 p.m.
Broken record – we're waiting for Adams results.

9:05 p.m.
Barack Obama is the next President of the United States.

9:00 p.m.
Maybe putting times on my posts would be helpful. We haven't heard anything from Adams County yet. This isn't unusual. They take their time.

Time to change the political system. Let's give states the president they vote for.

If we don't get something from Adams, 27J supporters are going to have breakfast at Lonestar.

Special thanks to my sister for providing her political analysis. Still awaiting numbers from Puerto Rico.

Is Anderson Cooper really in hologram form on CNN? "Spock, we must do something."

Anxiously awaiting some Adams County numbers. They usually get going about 8:30 p.m.

Close vote in Florida. Oh no.

I want to hear from you people tonight. What are you thinking?

Mark Schlereth signing autographs at the King Soopers at 136th and Colorado in Thornton tomorrow. Don't want to miss it.

Call Gene Sears, he has primary results in his hot little hand. Yes, we're a little eager for data.

Andrew Romanoff is talking about magical moments. Somebody just got their first kiss!

McDonald's hardwood is having a sale. Yes, that's the amount of local results we have right now. Anybody want a crossiant-wich.

Betsy Markey is off the lie detector and hammering Musgrave.

Is Ron Ames out there tonight. Ron, your thoughts on the proceedings so far?

Stop calling about Sears for Mayor. There won't be any official announcements until after this election.

Ann Curry is in front of a green screen. A freakin green screen? Is this Forrest Gump?

Hello to all the 27J people gathering at Lonestar Steakhouse. The steaks are on Superintendent Blunck tonight.

Adam Schraeger is on 9News. That means this has become "Your Election."

Has everyone got their Colorado Pass for skiing yet? Yes, kids, it will snow some day.

NBC is projecting I will lose my fantasy hockey matchup this week. It's only Tuesday, this is irresponsibly early.

Brighton Blade reporter Gene Sears has announced he will run for Brighton Mayor in '09. Stunning.

No matter who wins, Masdagascar 2 will be in theaters Friday. My daughter has
her ticket.

Answer the question, Betsy Markey. (I'm just kidding)

Colorado is voting Obama, according to NBC. It's 7:05!

Seriously, what is Tom Brokaw doing there?

Barack Obama wins Wisconsin. SOC – Save Our Cheese!

Bob Kendrick is quitting 9News. I think he's just mailing it in tonight. Still I think the boxer shorts and wife beater is tacky.

Is anyone really watching the ballots being counted live in Douglas County. Wait, I fell asleep, did someone answer?

Betsy Markey is still on the lie detector.

Is Tom Janich in a race tonight?

I love this commercial where the old guy is just blown away by the cell phone. When he re-enlists will tell him about DVD players.

Chuck Todd will write Bush 100 times on the chalkboard before he goes home. No more teasing girls!

Chuck Todd, get out your pen. And Annie get your gun. I'm sorry did he just refer to an iron triangle of survival?

I know it's coming fast. I'll slow down once I find something to do.

Did they say someone wants to mount McCain and didn't Tom Brokaw retire?

According to the NBC graphic, the Democrats have seized the mezzanine of the Senate. Still plenty of seats left in the orchestra. Go to ticketmaster.com.

I'm ready for some local races? Are you? Time to see if Millionaire Betsy Markey is still hooked up to the lie detector.

Chuck Todd of NBC (Tim Russert reincarnated) said we're starting to get some clues." Looks like Palin in the study with the wrench.

God bless, Gary, Ind.

Isn't this giant United States map on NBC just wild. I want to see somebody fall on the ice rink carrying out Texas. Obama projected for Minnesota – oh wait, save by the goalie. Do you believe in Red States? Yes!

Is anyone already in withdrawal over the missing campaign commercials? Mark Udall, I miss you. I'm just kidding.

Hi, welcome to my Election Night blog. This will be fun. I'm going to be updating all night with random thoughts. NBC, our channel of choice tonight because it's the only one that comes in at the office, just declared, in the midst of a Biggest Loser commercial, America will undergo a dramatic transformation. Enjoy your new boobies, Kansas. It's magic time.

Change we need

Barack Obama would have been proud. At 5:30 a.m., we changed my daughter's poopy diaper. Once we got the new diaper on, she pooped again and she finished with a trifecta of fresh poopy diapers. This is an omen. This could be the change he's talking about.

A couple more minutes to brag, please

A 62-year-old man in Michigan bowled a 300 game and then dropped dead of a heart attack.
"He looked fine, reached across the table and gave me a high-five and he fell over," a friend said.
His friends say they think the pressure of a perfect game was too much for his heart.
I think it's cliche to say "he died doing what he loved" especially when someone is talking about a shark attack victim. But isn't this the ideal way to go?

Don't spoil it for me

Yes, my columns have been delinquent in the Blade between babies (child birth) and babies (election season). Hope you can catch up here.
Behold the power to pause live television.
If you ever need a God-complex, stop Katie Couric in mid-sentence.
For many years, television controlled us. Got to be home to see “I Love Lucy,” need to wait all summer to find out who shot J.R. or can’t go to the bathroom until this four-overtime playoff football game is over.
The ability to record television shows with a VCR cut into television’s power somewhat. But there was still a sense that we needed to ask our television for permission to leave the house, sort of like a 16-year-old girl asking her parents if she could go on a date.
But, with the advent of being able to pause live television via a digital video recorder, we gained supremacy over our televisions. If we want the people on CSI to stop solving a crime while we take out the trash, then they have no choice.
This ability is great for someone with a life full of starts and stops like myself. With two young children and a wife who normally finds me most valuable during the third period of a pivotal hockey game, I need to be able to take breaks at the drop of a hat.
And I have. Many times. This is the problem. I’m way behind.
“How much?” you ask.
Try six months, 20 days and 14 hours. That puts me in early March. Clearly it creates social problems for me. I have to cover my ears every time somebody talks about the election. After all, in my world, Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton are still slugging it out even after Super Tuesday. People look at me weird when I suggest New York Gov. Elliot Spitzer might find himself on a presidential party ticket in 2012.
Business transactions are awkward. My stockbroker laughed me out of his office the other day when I told him “The heck with diversification, let’s put all my money in Lehman Bros.”
I’m still coming to grips with Brett Favre retiring from football. I just wish him luck with finding a new career.
The only thing that keeps me going is what is still ahead.
• The Avalanche should be close to clinching the Stanley Cup by Christmas. Bringing back Peter Forsberg was genius.
• Don’t bother me next March. First, it’s the Bejing Olympic,s and then we’ll see how Denver handles the Democratic National Convention. Yep, I should know who the next president is by next summer.
• Either way, it will be quite an inauguration come August.
I have only one request, Keep the queso at the Super Bowl party warm. I might be a bit late.

I've got a better idea

Oh, I'm so hard on those Denver TV news stations and those pretty people they call reporters but this is funny. CBS-4 decided it would be great to actually have an Aurora couple (undecided on their votes for the local U.S. Senate Race) have Mark Udall and Bob Schaffer over for dinner. The only thing CBS-4 could have done to make this more entertaining was have them there at the same time and made it crab night. Could you imagine those two jousting with their little crab pliers. Schaffer showed up with flowers and Udall showed up in a McCain Halloween mask (I'm just kidding).
It's a terrific idea and with both these candidates having spent millions on nasty advertising, I'm sure they're starved. Can you imagine Udall complaining that the baked potato is tough (I'm just kidding).
But if any candidates are coming to my house to sway me, they'd better be ready to change some diapers, mow the lawn and pay my energy bill.

You're done here, Obama

Apparently, Barack Obama made a surprise visit to Brighton yesterday without so much as a call to the Brighton Blade. Unbelievable, you'll never work in this town again, Obama. On the other hand, Jessica Simpson will be in town on Halloween. We'll take her.

Puke, gag!

As a local reporter, there is nothing more grating than our local government's fascination with larger media. Here in Brighton, city officials quiver when 9News parachutes in from the news chopper or the Denver Post deigns to recognize our community and in Fort Lupton, we bow at the presence of the Holy Tribune. It makes me a little defensive when our city leaders and citizens gush over out-of-town media, it's kind of like your prom date spending the whole evening with another girl. And when they make us look like backwater buffoons, it makes me wonder what all the gushing is about. In a story the other night about Vestas,a 9news reporter, with a backdrop of an equally gushing Jan Pawlowski stomping on an ant hill, referred to Brighton as "the sleepy town that time forgot." Such poetry, such B.S. How long since that has been true, was that ever true? And do we really want it as a moniker? Then the reporter pointed out the site of the new library had been vacant since the old theater burned down 50 years ago. Yeah, except for that lumber yard that we bulldozed.
I guessing having the spotlight of the Denver media, even with erroneous information, is still worth it.

But why

I'm really sick of people criticizing MetroWest as a liberal bastion. I had a woman scold me a couple weeks ago with threats of Brighton Blade owners past for putting an article about Obama in the paper. My answer: If John McCain gets within a 20 mile-radius of Brighton, we'll go visit him too. We had Mary Hodge's opponent blasting her as a "party-line pushover" on the front of the paper a couple weeks ago. Then, I go to Gene Sears' blog and read a comment, "The most biased paper in the world is metrowest. The new owners will clean house."
Put up or shut up time, kids. What makes us so biased.
And if I don't get any comments. I'm assuming it's an unsubstaniated argument.

Powell for Obama

Colin Powell's endorsement of Barack Obama has riled the GOP. But, as a fellow African-American, how damaging do you think it would have it been to Obama's campaign to not get that endorsement?

You're not approved

It's time to get rid of candidates tagging on to the end of their political advertisements "I'm such and such and I approved this message." The point of requiring that was to make candidates more responsible for their words. It has failed. Candidates have found a way around it and now it's just a funny office catchphrase like when I get a soda out of the pop machine and say, "I'm Kevin Denke and I approved this Mountain Dew." I will say my favorite is the Markey/Musgrave mudslinging. Cue Marylin Musgrave tortuing a second grader in a Greeley back alley and then cut to Betsy Markey happily filling out postcards in her office. What is it about Musgrave that brings out the worst in all of us? Are you listening, Angie Paccione?

Dog eat dog

Just a note, we're proud parents of a new baby girl (Oct. 8) Thanks for all your thoughts.

The other night I came back through my front door from taking out the trash to find my dog making wet, sloppy love to my trash can.

So I chucked our small, plastic recycling container a good 15 feet in the vicinity of the dog, not to hurt him but to get him to stop licking the trash can. I got the desired effect and the dog dashed around the dining room table towards the living room. I followed him in hot pursuit so I could put him outside. My dog, knowing this, ducked into his kennel.

Like a police officer demanding for a criminal to drop a weapon, I hollared once for him to exit the cage. When he didn’t, I picked up the cage because I knew he would instinctively jump out.

He then dashed toward his pillow on the opposite side of the room. I dove after him and, when he saw me coming, he performed a quick end around past me and headed back safely to his kennel.

Gathering my thoughts and composure, I closed the kennel door, picked it up with my 30-pound dog inside, and carried it outside.

There was a time when my dog didn’t drive me crazy. It was before I had kids. Until then, I had no idea there was such a thing as progressive knowledge.

My dog’s traits – like wiping his butt on the carpet, eating his own feces and old, snotty tissues – were charming, even morbidly endearing.

But when my daughter came, I realized these things were not common. She never wiped her butt on the carpet and, despite being compelled to stick everything in her mouth, was never particularly drawn to poop and tissues.

And I’ve also noticed my daughter has gotten smarter as time has gone on. She’ll get a finger stuck in the door, it will hurt and she won’t do that again. My dog, on the other hand, will continue to stick his head under a roaring barbecue grill and risk singeing his hair on the back of his head, all for some errant grease drippings.

And, the frustrating thing, is, unlike my daughter (who tried this once and decided she didn’t like the taste and messiness of grease drippings), my dog will continue to do this any chance he gets, no matter how I yell at him.

My dog is as smart as he will get. Perhaps it’s annoying because he remains a few steps ahead of me. I’m sure my neighbors have (more than once) caught the sight of me chasing my dog around the backyard in my boxers. I’m not saying it’s a bad sight. This physique comes from six years of deskwork and a lifetime of pizza eating.

Still, its unnerving when I risk freezing to death to clean up my dog’s poop before he eats it, get back in the warmth of my house and look outside to find him pooping again.

Through our group therapy sessions, I’m learning to let my dog be himself. I’m learning about what makes him tick. It’s been a revelation. I can’t change my dog. So I must change.

And you know what I’ve found.

This rubbing your butt on the carpet isn’t half-bad.

See you soon.

I'm going to be out of the office for the next couple weeks as my wife and I welcome our second child so I won't be blogging everyday. But check back every now and then. In spite of my sleep deprivation, I'll probably find my way on here once or twice.

We keep kicking him and nothing

Even as a Medianite, I'm not afraid to poke fun at our business now and then. There are phrases that occasionally we like to use that on the surface really don't make any sense. I came across one this morning that I've even been guilty of:
DENVER – It appears at least one person is dead.
"He is hanging outside the car window, several people have gone over and shook him – still nothing. Yes, indeed, it would appear he is dead."
Are we reporting news or setting up a scary scene in a horror movies.
"Watch your back, Officer McGrady, he might still be alive."
Dead or not dead, folks. Make a decision.
Or else we could say, "he appears to not be living."

The milkman cometh

We ran out of room in this week's Brighton Blade. Here is my column – a web exclusive.

This is the third time around for this joke and I’ll retire it after this. But I came home a few weeks ago and found my wife with the milkman.
Literally.
There in my own driveway, the local milk deliveryman was pitching his products, notably milk, to my wife.
She was relieved when I pulled up because I was supposed to be the heavy who said “No” and shooed him away. I was all prepared with some story of lactose intolerance or the tragic milking incident that blinded my uncle.
Isn’t it funny how differently we respond to people on a given day?
I’m tempted sometimes to scatter the local religious knockers, salesmen and magazine-peddling youth from my doorstep with a water hose.
But, on this day, I was in a good mood. That made me an easy mark for a sales pitch.
By the end of the conversation, we had a blue cooler on our front porch, a free half gallon of milk, a free half-gallon of orange juice and a lifetime contract that we will never buy another grocery store milk carton or so much as look at another cow.
I think I was sucked in by a certain pulling back to my youth.
I remembered the Thursday mornings when we would pull the milk jugs from the wooden box on the front porch. Then we’d take it down to ice cellar for safekeeping.
OK, OK, we never had an ice cellar.
But, it seems to me, that having milk delivered to your home is a rite of passage.
My parents had milk delivered to their home until I think they got some bad butter and that was the end of it. And my wife says her family even had milk delivered to their home for a while.
In that way, I feel like I’m carrying on a proud tradition. My daughter gets excited about helping me bring the milk in and maybe it will be a requirement she’ll make of her family someday.
It’s almost like living on a dairy … a dairy where the cows milk themselves, bottle it and put it on your front porch.
I also feel like I’m supporting a fading tradition. Everything is going technological. We don’t write letters anymore, we send e-mail. I assume someday we’ll get our milk via hard drive.
So, when there’s a chance to step back and have things a bit old fashioned, I’m all for it.
And it doesn’t taste bad either.

Good question

A Kiwanis club member asked a good question last week at the end of House District 30 candidate Dave Rose's speech to the club. Staying consistent, Rose put a big emphasis on experience. He pointed out, the state house was no place for political training. So one astute Kiwanis member wondered aloud (with Rose being a Democrat), "If experience is so important in this race, why not in the White House?
Answers?
We'll take the ninth caller at 303-659-2522.

New blogger/columnist

Wanted to take a minute to introduce you to our newest columnist/blogger, Krista Clinton. Krista is a new Brighton resident and a mom of three and will start writing about her new life on a regular basis in the Brighton Blade in October. I'm excited to have her sharing her life with our readers and I think it will be a fresh voice in the paper, too. Right now, she needs your help coming up with a column name so visit her blog at Krista. For those of you have to come to enjoy Ron Ames, he will still be in the Blade on a regular basis too.

Living Fearless

My wife and I experience different emotions when our 2-year-old daughter ascends the park playground near our house.
My wife is filled with nervous trepidation. Each step, each turn is a chance for my daughter to fall, to injure herself. Especially because she is more apt to focus on where she’s going than where’s she is at – a risky proposition 8 feet off the ground.
I feel exhilaration when I see my daughter bumping elbows with the bigger kids, navigating the sharp turns of a slide or dangling precariously from the monkey bars.
Fearlessness.
That’s what gets to me.
My daughter never has any inclination of how close she stands to the precipice of a nasty tumble. But my wife and I’ll admit to this as well – is always one step ahead, watching her dangle that wayward foot into the vast nothingness and foreseeing disaster.
Because there is no danger for my daughter until, of course, she does get hurt. Then, it’s a bandage on the knee or elbow and it’s off again, ready to take on the world.
We’ll pull her aside and remind her she has to remember where she is and think about what she’s doing. That, after all, is the top job of any parent.
And all these warnings – looking before you cross the street, not eating unwrapped candy on Halloween and not petting dogs you don’t know – will eventually settle in with my daughter and some day she’ll become … well … me.
Not just me. She’ll become, more specifically, an adult.
She’ll worry about gas prices, paying the mortgage and the energy bills. She’ll watch the news at night and worry about what kind of world we live in and she’ll cringe when her own child tears around those same playgrounds.
And then I’ll look at that young woman – carrying the burdens of this scary world and the day-to-day dangers we face – and I’ll wonder what happened.
It makes me wonder when I lost that sense of fearlessness, that sense of invisibility, if you will. It sure wasn’t when I hit my head falling off the jungle gym as a 5-year-old. I got stitches and kept going. And it wasn’t Sept. 11. I already knew the world was a heartbreaking place before that day.
But, somewhere in between, my sense of wonder with the everyday normalcy of life was tempered with the harsh reality of the dangers that always lay ahead.
I hope my daughter hangs on to that feeling of fearlessness as long as she can. And, while I always want her to be safe, I hope this harsh world never knocks it out of her.

Fever

Good afternoon, knowmers. I don't want to spend every Monday harping on the Broncos but the Orange Fever rushing through the veins of Denverites is palpable. I purchased a couple Super Bowl tix this morning. Just kidding, I did, however, finally get on the website to buy 2007 Rockies World Series tickets so keep your fingers crossed there.
Isn't the weather just balmy? I think winter will sneak up on us like a thieve in the night. I'm circling Oct. 15 (my birthday) when the cold weather usually rears its ugly head.

Parental attention in about a half hour

In a new education initiative, Denver Public Schools is including parents to spend 5,280 minutes in a school year with their children – that's about 30 minutes a day.
But, please, parents, no more, no less.
We'd hate for you to be bothered.

Consumed

As some of you may know, because word gets around fast in these parts, I've recently taken on a new role at the paper. What does it mean? It means Monday and Tuesday I'm absolutely consumed by the newspaper production process – I hardly get time to go to any of my favorite web sites or even check in with my favorite bloggers. No, no, this isn't goodbye – just an acknowledgment that you haven't been getting my best stuff – a lot of last-second thoughts just so you know I'm still here. Cut me a break, I'm maintaining a weekly column, making sure we have a weekly staff editorial and putting something on the blog. How much of me do you think there is? But I love my blog and all of you that make this a regular visit. We'll keep it going and, once the dust settles, we'll get back to business as usual. Stick with me. And if you know of anything you want to see better, added or changed in the paper – let me know. I can't hide behind "I'll check with my editor" anymore. It kinda comes with the job.
On a personal note, I want to let you know that these papers mean a lot to me. I'm coming up on my sixth year here. It's not chump change anymore. The better part of a decade is something special, especially for a straight-out-of-college kid who came here young, naive and lacking cynicism. But the people of this community give me my passion. I work everyday for you, trying to cover your community. It hasn't been easy lately with a small newsroom and plenty of changes. But it only makes me more proud of what our staff does everyday.
Talk to you soon.

Christmas in September

Sorry to rain on your parade, Bronco fans, but yesterday was a joke - a freaking joke. What good is instant replay if you're not going to use it to correct bad calls. And sure, the consensus of Broncos fans is "you win some, you lose some." That, by the way, is the biggest crock I've ever heard. Flip the call around, Denver fans would have burnt this city to the ground. So, don't give me that garbage. And that, ladies and gentleman, is my biggest gripe with Broncos fans, this arrogant pomposity of, "Well it helped us out, no biggie." See ya in the playoffs, cheaters!

9/11

A debt owed

I think many of us have been patiently waiting to know who killed Adams County deputy district attorney Sean
May a couple weeks ago.
As a reporter, I’ve been hoping police will hold that press conference where they say they arrested the person who did this or at least know why. Yeah, even reporters, dismissed as cynical muckrakers, root for the good guys too.
But as the search and investigation continues, it begins tougher to not read between the lines of what police can’t or will not say. Each day, it seems to become moreclear this act was far more sinister than some random act of violence.
And if there can be a worse feeling than knowing a good man, good husband, soon-to-be father and excellent attorney was taken so violently, it‘s grappling with the thought that some individual out there wanted it that way.
Our society loves our heroes. There’s a reason super-hero flicks dominate the summer-box office. It’s not just the thought of some Hollywood actor in a leather-clad bat suit. We like our heroes brave, fearless and invincible, whether they’re charging up a flight of stairs, facing down a gun-wielding baddie in a street or convincing a jury to put someone behind bars for the rest of their lives.
So there is a sick feeling in my stomach now. It’s not unlike the one I felt seven years ago this same week. I feel vulnerable, I feel scared, like our world’s just a little less safe.
You don’t have to be a comic book junkie to know the hero isn’t supposed to die – that’s Hollywood 101.
But sometimes they do. Sometimes, the people entrusted to protect us do become victims.
It makes you worry about the rest of us. If people like Sean May aren’t safe, the kind of people we look to make sure ours laws are enforced, then what chance do the rest of us have?
That’s why I was heartened by the words of Adams
County District Attorney Don Quick last week when he said
May’s death, intentional or not, would not stop them from doing their jobs. He added if it was an attempt to intimidate them, it already failed.
I hope we’re all just as brave.

True inspiration

I woke up this morning with a stiff neck,I knocked a book off the shelf, the shower head fell on me (twice), a bottle of bathroom cleaner hit me in the head and my home Internet isn't working. If can salvage this day, there is hope for anyone.

No, really, you're kidding?

Last night, Fox debuted a new reality show where individuals can earn prizes by successfully climbing through a variety of shapes of holes in walls. This is the end of the world ... I know it.

What do we want? Fresh voices. When do we want it? Not now

I think the big irony surrounding this year's political races from the state level to the federal government is a call for change. Fresh voices, no more politics as usual. But, I think when the November dust settles, we'll have more of the same. If, for no other reason, than we want something new but we're not willing to overturn the apple cart for change. (Sorry Barack) I think there is a general sentiment there are so many issues facing our country right now, that we can't just turn it over to anybody. I'm not saying I agree with it. Gotta have the experience.

Cutting to the chase

It shouldn’t be that hard to find a good barber.
It never was when I was younger.
My dad would take me to the military base, I’d plop down in the chair and a disgruntled drill sergeant would cut my hair.
Five minutes, tops.
But, since leaving home, the search for a good barber or stylist (as men with sensitive hair call them) has been a twisted, frustrating road. And most of the time it ends with a “Dear John, letter” and shed tears amid the shorn locks.
I thought I really found a home with the last place I went.
It’s one of these spots that’s supposed to cater to guys – large pictures of athletes, televisions tuned to ESPN, reasonably attractive women running their hands through your hair … essentially everything our Founding Fathers dreamed of when they devised the Constitution.
But the dream was quickly shattered.
See, I’m not big on the small talk. I mean, how much can you actually talk about the weather? I’m also not a big fan of gabbing to someone while they’re holding a pair of scissors to my neck.
Maybe you can identify with this. When someone is mugging you in a dark alley, you prefer to handle the transaction quickly and not chat about the kids.
The time in a barber’s chair is also a good chance to pray I don’t get a ‘80s style Flock of Seagulls do.
But I shouldn’t have had to worry about this. The guy-friendly hair salon made it very clear I could come in and watch sports. That was the appeal.
I come in, sit down and this woman is gabbing in my ear. Again, at a normal salon this is not a problem, because the gabbing is included in the price.
Still, my one-word answers were off-putting for the stylist.
She said, “You’re quiet, you must be tired,”
Now, I’m obligated to talk over being rude.
“I just really wanted to watch sports, lady. You said I could.”
I wasn’t mad at the stylist. I was more disillusioned. I thought I was coming here to hang out with some chick who likes sports and wanted to cut my hair.
But the sports were a front for talking like when the wife buys you a new pool table but then adds on, “it’ll be a chance to spend more time together.”
Now, I’m not able to watch sports but I have to talk about my feelings, too.
Give me a trashcan to empty and a garage to clean, and I might as well be at home.
The last straw came with my final haircut, which really wasn’t a haircut at all.
Sometime, between sitting me down in the chair and taking my $20, the woman completely forgot to my cut my hair.
I ‘d like to think she was too wrapped up in the Brett Favre press conference. But I know it’s a lie.
We did have a nice talk though.

Not forgotten

I haven't forgotten you, dedicated Knowmers. I'm just waiting in my storm shelter for Hurricane Gustav to make Colorado landfall. I understand the eye is somewhere over Wichita. I'll keep you posted.