Ronald McFreakin Donald or making the best of a bad situation

I hate fast food. OK, wait, I didn't mean that. I swear I just heard a vat of hot fries cry. I hate my addiction to fast food. Yeah, that's better. I can only assume it's lot a like smoking. You know it's bad for you but it feels so darn good that you do it anyway. So, like smoking, you need to find some sort of justification for it ie: you go light up near a forest fire (the "hey, there's a lot of smoke here anyway" defense.) Or, in my case, I get off my rapidly expanding cheeseburger butt and actually walk into the restaurant rather than going through the drive-thru. In actually going in, I feel like I'm actually exercisng and can avoid the guilt of downing a Flame-broiled Double-Nickel Triple Stack Mushroom, Bacon Cheese Woppy Burger with a super-duper fries and a milkshake. (insert burp here) I know, I know I'm pathetic and I promise I'm going to quit ... tomorrow.

Can I get a refund?

News from Hot Springs, Ark. where a dozen riders on a roller coaster spent half an hour hanging upside down -- 150 feet above the ground -- after a power outage shut down the attraction. It took about 30 minutes for the city fire department to rescue the riders using a ladder truck Saturday evening, according to a park spokeswoman. Spectators cheered when the riders were brought to the ground from the highest point of a loop on the X-Coaster, but one passenger threw up after reaching safety.
I wonder what you think about hanging upside down for that long besides the obligatory "this really sucks" and "ouch" when your cell phone falls out of your pocket and bangs you in the head.

Loyal blog readers (all two of you)

I looked down today and saw I had surpassed 1,200 hits on my blog visit counter. This is a milestone. Let me just give you some quick math to help you understand what it means. It means: that subtract about 600 hits for me checking to see how many hits I have and to check if I've gotten Camden Farmer's attention yet, 300 hits from wife checking to make sure I'm not putting some erroneous information about her up there, 100 hits from my Mom who is probably grossed out by the barf photo and wondering how two normal people could raise somebody so warped (Hi, Mom), 50 hits from Smith who just can't wait to see what I say next or maybe he can. And 50 hits from my two respective bosses – reaffirming that maybe this blog thing wasn't such a good idea.
Those are the obligatories.
That leaves about 100 people who have ventured to my blog out of the goodness of their heart. They include one so-called MilkyMommi who I made laugh about the dangers of prescription medication commercials – I'm glad, a certain fire chief who tried to recruit me to Fort Lupton and at least one person, yesterday, who believes I'm a conspiracy theorist because I believe all the details about Union Pacific aren't out there. Wait, till I blog about the phony moon landing.
And to the rest of you, stick around, it's only going to get better. I mean, it has to ... right?

Train debate on fast track to hyperbole

If you read the assorted opinions in this week's Standard Blade and Fort Lupton Press regarding the imminent relocation of a intermodal rail yard to this area, it's not hard to reach a conclusion of doom and gloom. Of course, the respective letter writers don't hurt this argument with threats of carcinogens, runaway trains and hazardous waste spills. True, the property owners and surrounding residents have reason to be concerned about this rail yard. Heck, I only work here and I have reason to be concerned – the thought of increased truck traffic alone makes me shudder. So you can imagine how people who will have this in their backyard feel. And they're desperate. So like the folks sending up all the fireworks in a flurry as the rain approaches, they're throwing everything out there. If you read those letters this week, you'll find that you're probably better off sucking on the tailpipe of your running car than to be within a 1,000 miles of a train. And their opinions take my focus off the rail yard and make me wonder – if trains are this bad then shouldn't we have taken up this fight a long time ago. I mean, honestly, if train engineers are really stealing first-born babies in the dark of night, if people have a 500 percent increased risk of cancer if they even hear a train whistle and if these trains are a veritable demolition derby then why are we worrying about where they're going to park. I say, we as a community, strap ourselves down to the train track and stop these cancer-carrying wagons now.
But you might be surprised at who I blame for the hyperbole growing from the opposition – Union Pacific. Because, you see, we fear what we don't know. UP is comfortable to sit back, let rumors run wild, throw out a scant detail here and there and, essentially, let people panic. So residents, like an attention-starved 2-year-old who knows negative attention is better than no attention at all – are throwing out a bevy of facts. Some very well could be true, some of them – God help us – I hope they're not.

Who's Camden Farmer?

I pose the question in my subject line because the aforementioned Camden Farmer is cutting a impressive swath across the community of Brighton. This week alone in the Brighton Standard Blade, you will see Camden hanging out at a benefit concert at Valley Bank and Trust (left) and read about him pushing the need for a disc golf course in Brighton. And just a couple months ago, Camden was talking to one of our reporters about the increased need for security at the Brighton Recreation Center following some thefts. Music buff, disc golf fan, community activist? Who's Camden Farmer?

Take that, Comcast

Today is a blessed day in my household. Today, we escape the evil clutches of Comcast and are warmly embraced by the soft, gentle hands of another. Today is the day we get satellite TV. Tell you the truth, I didn't even see this coming up until late last week when Comcast decided it was time to put the scroogie to us. They started taking away channels under the guise of not being able to offer them anymore because they were digital. They were not major channels, CSPAN -2 and TV Guide Channel. But, hey, it's our $50 bucks. It was a ploy, a cunning ploy, much like the Major League Baseball umpires who went on strike a few years back. But, just like many of those umpires, Comcast got fired. Faced with the choice of digital cable or changing services and, after weighing prices, we decided to make the switch. But don't cry for Comcast, cheer for me. I get the NFL Network and 249 other channels. Yea! Now the challenge, finding other things to do, like go outside and play with the baby so we're not glued to the TV. Oh, the bitter irony!

Pretty fly for a white guy

Hello there and welcome back from your weekend. I know, I know – always the bearer of bad news. Had the pleasure of going on my first fly fising expedition yesterday (or any kind of fishing expedition). This was courtesy of my FBIL (future brother-in law) who is blessed with both a love of fly fishing and God-given patience that didn't make him strangle me with fishing line when I lost his wooly bugger. So what was my big catch? Well, I know fisherman are prone to tall tales, but I'm proud to say I hooked a 180-pound Caucasian journalist (he was a feisty devil and it took forever to get that hook out of his T-shirt). I also managed to snag a large boulder but, alas, it got away. How great would that have looked on my wall? Almost as good as a co-worker's suggestion I mount my T-shirt in the den. Nevertheless a great experience that I'm anxious to try again but perhaps with lesser expectations. As my FBIL aptly put it, "They don't call it catching. They call it fishing" Couldn't have said it better myself!