The Franklin Chronicles

The Detrimental Effects of The Franklin Chronicles on The Youth

2012-02-02T15:46:08Z

My English teacher wife, thrust a piece of paper accusingly in my face. “Read this!” My eleven-year old son stood next to her beaming.

“What is it?”

“It’s the beginning paragraph of your son’s Persuasive Research Paper.”

“Oh.”, I said, pretending I knew what any of those words meant.

To begin, smoking is bad for your health. It can kill you! For some smart people, I could just say that and they would quit, but some people are too ignorant to stop so now I'm forced to throw a bunch of statistics at you.

I laughed. “This is FANTASTIC!” My son beamed even brighter.

“No it’s not. This is supposed to be a serious, persuasive paper, not The Franklin-Damn-Chronicles!” “I know!”, I said, “It’s BETTER than The Franklin Chronicles. So far, I’m persuaded.”

“Well,” Morgan interjected softly, “Mrs. Burries did say it should have a voice.” “Yes, it should have a voice, but not that kind of… You know what, this is YOUR son and this is YOUR fault. Fix it!”

She walked out of the room exasperated, mumbling under her breath.

When the coast was clear, and it was safe, Morgan and I hi-fived.

(Note to self: consider changing site name to "Franklin Damn Chronicles".)

Revenge of the Mommy Bloggers (Part 4 of 4)

2011-10-22T10:30:56Z

“Holy Crap! Did you see that?!!”, Audwin The Black Belt said panting, heavily. “Gah... Guh...”, is all I could manage. I was doubled over, out of breath. “I mean, they had pitchforks man! Torches with pitchforks. And they actually burned you in effigy! I didn’t think people actually did that anymore. You really pissed off those Mommybloggers.”

“I know, right! Who buys pitchforks any more? Crazy.”, I said, starting to catch my breath.

“I think you’re missing the point...”, said Audwin.

“Anyway don’t you have a black belt in Karate? Why didn’t you use any of your moves on that horde of Mommybloggers that was trying to kill us?”

“First of all, I did. It was called ‘getting the hell out of dodge’. When outnumbered and outgunned, the wise warrior, knows when to bid a hasty retreat. Me and you against 150 angry women, armed with machetes, pitchforks and torches are not good odds.”

“One of them had a cannon too.”

“Really? I didn’t see that.”

“Yes.”

“Well, my point still stands. I think the lesson here is, posing as a Mommyblogger in order to earn a quick buck, is a bit exploitive, not to mention dangerous. Those Mommies are organized and vengeful.”

“Well let that be a lesson to you, since you’re the one who told me to pose as a Mommyblogger.”

“No I didn’t! I told you to... You know what that’s not important. I think the important thing is that we’ve learned that maybe you should focus on something that you’re good at.”

I stared back at him blankly.

“Helloooo?...”, he said searching for a response.

“I heard you. I’m just not sure how much money I can make by napping.”

Mommybloggin' (Part 3 of 4)

2011-10-11T10:12:13Z

My bewbs hurt.
At this point though, I’m not sure if it’s from PMS or from staying up all night, bewb-feeding my twin babies. Uffff!
Bewbs! Am I right?!
Speaking of the twins (the babies, not my twins, hahaha... that’s a little bewb humor), It really annoys me when people come and ask if one is a boy and one is the girl. Hell-ooo! They’re names are Avocado and October, so it’s obvi which is which!
That really gets my frilly little panties in a twist.
Anywho, I’m feeling way too bloated for yoga tonight. The thought of getting into downward-facing dog is unthinkable. I think I’ll just put Avo and Octo in the stroller and take Mr. Squiggles for an extra long walk in the park.
Mommyhood engage!

Audwin blinked at the paper a few times. “Look man...”, he began cautiously. “You know you’re my boy, right?” “Yep.”, I said, making shadow puppets on the wall. “Well I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but don’t you feel like this is kinda... selling out?”

“Pffft! Selling out?!! Absotively! That’s the point. You’re the one who told me that if I’m ever going to fulfill my ambition of touring the world, wearing a suit made of iPads, I need to start a Mommyblog.”

“I never said...”

“And you were right. it was the best idea ever! Now all I have to do is sit back and wait for all that sweet, sweet, Mommyblogging cash to roll in.”

“First of all, I never told you to start a Mommyblog. And to be quite honest, I think you’re perpetrating a fraud. What I told you to do was make a plan, stick to it and... Are you even listening to what I’m saying?”

“Yes... No...

How many iPads do you think I’ll need for my iPad pants?”

Toys

2011-10-06T16:48:58Z

“It’s a toy.”, My father said flatly.

We were peering through the window of a small, Mom and Pop computer store. The Macintosh had recently been introduced and was on display. “Let’s go in and look at it.”, I insisted. Up close, it was unlike any computer I had ever seen. Rather than trying to recall arcane commands to type into a command line, it had a thing called a ‘mouse’. You simply clicked on menus and dragged windows around and it did what you wanted. It was almost effortless. It was phenomenal! I wanted it. Badly. I was hoping my father would feel the same way and realize he needed this machine for his accounting business.

“Computers are supposed to be difficult. That's what keeps all the dummies away.” My father used DOS. He believed in the command line. For him it was the bright, fluorescent, dividing line that kept the less skilled at bay. Most importantly it kept them from messing up his stuff. He did not see the need.

The following year, I began at the University of Illinois. Computer labs were on the ground floor of nearly every dorm and they were filled with Macs! My major was computer science though, so most of my time was spent on drab Unix boxes, staring at that soulless, blinking, command line.

Despite my great appreciation for programming, I had no talent for it. I had a tough time just getting my programs to compile, much less run. Rather than sifting through reams of green-bar paper, in search of an errant semi-colon, I found myself spending hours on the Mac, creating posters for my fraternity. I would nudge type and pictures around the page for hours, until they were just so.

This did nothing for my computer science grades. It seems my professors had no appreciation for my beautiful, fraternity posters.

“There’s a major called ‘graphic design’ that I’d like to try.”, I was on the phone with my father. For me, graphic design meant that I could do what I spent most of my time doing, while actually earning a degree. Even though I had waited until nearly the end of my third year, my father was understanding. To my surprise, both of my parents had quietly been expecting it. “We were just wondering what took you so long.”

Audwin began, “I need to get a new computer and...” “Get a Mac.”, I interrupted.

“Yes, yes but I’m looking for something that will...”

“Get a Mac.”

“...Look man, most of us don’t have careers in design so we need computers that are...”

“Get a Mac.”

“...You know, as much as you hype Apple, I really hope Steve Jobs is paying you well.”

“He is not. But you should get one if for no other reason, than to avoid hearing me say, ‘you shoulda got a Mac’ whenever you ask me what’s wrong with your computer.”

He got a Mac. As did nearly all of my close friends and family.

Including eventually, my father.

My friend Heather, posted this on her facebook wall:

no one wants to go to the mac store and have the genius say, "yep. its dead." grieving now for Sterling Langston Kwame Ireland. my beautiful macbook pro who drowned on saturday. they are trying to retrieve his data now.

Steve Jobs passed later that evening. I can’t begin to understand the connection between the death of a laptop and the death of the man largely responsible for its creation. I do however, understand the bond between a Macintosh and it’s owner. Much like our childhood toys, they are imbued with something, making them more than mere objects. We cherish them. We argue with them and sometimes we give them names like, Sterling Langston Kwame Ireland.

And when they are gone, we are sad.

Existing (Part 2 of 4)

2011-10-04T12:05:44Z

“Alright so there’s good news and bad news.”, said Audwin the Black Belt. We had spent several days trying to come up with a money-making scheme for my blog. My plan was to make a cool mill’ over a weekend and then retire, traveling the world in my suit made of iPads. Audwin said that the only problem with my “plan” is that it had no basis in reality, and that if it was actually viable, everyone would be doing it.

Details.

“The good news is, you’re a decent writer.” “Thanks.”, I said.

“The bad news is, you don’t exist.”

“Wait... Is this your coded way of telling me that I now have invisible-ghostly powers? Suhweet!!!”

“No, it’s my way of telling you that according to the internet, Black fathers are virtually nonexistent. You told me about a blog that you thought was similar to yours, dooce.com, right?”

“Heather Armstrong. Yeah, she’s pretty fresh.”

“Ok, let’s take a look at her site.”, He tapped on his laptop.

“You know, this would be a lot better on iPad pants.”, I murmured. Audwin ignored me.

“See all those ads?”

“Yeah.”

“Well that’s because there’s a high demand for White, mommy, bloggers.”

“Ok...”

“Let’s do a google search for Mommy bloggers... You see that? They’re all over the place. Now let’s do a search for Black, Daddy, bloggers... You see that?”

“There’s only one, Father Dad.”

“Yep.”

“And he’s not me.”

“Like I said It’s going to be difficult for you to make money from a market that pretty much doesn’t exist.”

“So, you’re telling me that I should try to make money fighting crime using my invisible powers.”

“No.”

“Of course not... That would be ridiculous. So you’re telling me that if I write about being a White Mommy, I’ll be phat paid?”

“No, that’s not what I...”

“Done!”

“Wait?... What’s done?”

“I’ll just write about being a White Mommy. That shouldn’t be too hard, I’ll talk about babies, dogs and yoga. Next problem!”

“You can’t...”

“Next!”

“I really don’t think that’s how it works...”

The Plan (Part 1 of 4)

2011-09-26T14:38:00Z

“You’re going to need a plan.”, said Audwin the Black Belt. “A plan?”, I asked, both incredulous and annoyed. “Yes. A Plan. “Ughhhhh! Blarf!”, I complained, “I hate planning.” “Yes, I know”, he said, “But there’s no way around it man.” “Isn’t there some kind of pill I could take or a button I could press instead?” “No.”, he said, “Not only that, you’re going to need patience and you’re going to need diligence. You’re going to have to keep at it, even when you don’t want to.” “Fahrvfegnuggen!”, I said, and with that I fainted dead to the ground. Audwin glanced at his watch and folded his arms. “Are you sure all of this is absolutely necessary?”, I asked from my dead faint. “Look man, I've been running a business for a while now and you’re the one who asked me how to make a living from your blog so...” “Wrong! I asked you how I could make a cool mill’ from my blog.” “Well for arguments sake, let’s just say they are the same thing.”

"Clearly they are not." I mumbled from my dead faint.

“Let me put it to you like this; you're a big fan of Steve Jobs, right?” “Yes”, I said pronely. “Well do you think he built Apple up to where it is by pressing a button?” “As a matter of fact he did.”, I said sitting up on my elbows. “In 1976 Steve Jobs used the 'Build Macintosh' app on his iPad, generating the first Macintosh computer. Years later, he used the Macintosh to make the iPad. Fact!”

“Saying, 'fact' after a bunch of nonsense does not make it a 'fact'. It's still nonsense. Anyway, how would he have gotten the iPad in the first place?”

“Time machine.”, I said. “Well unfortunately for you, you’re going to have to do it the old fashioned way.” “See!”, I complained, “That’s the problem with this country! Not enough ways for instant gratification.” “Is that really the problem with this country?”, he asked arching an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“Are you done now?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, then let’s take out a pencil and paper and get to work on your plan.”

“Grakking slobberwarts!!!”, I yelled before fainting dead away again.

Homework and Dinosaurs

2011-09-21T23:19:16Z

"I can't do iiiiit!", Taylor whined. "Yes you can.", Her mother said. "You are a fully capable young lady. Now let's go." "Noooo. I caaaaan't!!!", Her mother glared at her.

"You know what's tripped-out?" I interjected. “Dinosaurs!” Taylor’s chin was in her hand and she shifted her gaze skeptically toward me. “Yeah, dinosaurs were humongous! some of them were as big as this house!” “I’m thirteen Papa. I know what dinosaurs were like.”, Taylor drolled.

“Well then you know that some of them were even bigger than this house. Some were almost as long as the block we live on!!!”, Taylor sighed. Heavily.

Bored-edly.

I continued, “They were so big, that when they walked, the ground would shake. Boom! Boom! BOOM!” With that, I stomped my feet and shook the table.” Taylor blinked, completely underwhelmed. On the other hand, Morgan my ten year old son joined in excitedly, stomping and shaking things with me. “BOOM!!! BOOM!!!”

“And you know what a lot of them would eat? OTHER DINOSAURS!!! Can you imagine that? Something as big as this house, eating something nearly as big as this block?!!” Taylor looked at her mother for help. Her mother shrugged.

“Yep. Dinosaurs stomped around this planet harder and longer than any human ever did. They were around for over one hundred and fifty MILLION years. At most, humans have only been here for a couple hundred-thousand years. Compared to dinosaurs, our existence is a tiny, little blip.”

Morgan continued stomping and shaking things.

“But you know what’s even more tripped-out than any of this?” “What?” Taylor asked, now slightly more than uninterested.

I looked around shiftily and cupped my hand next to my mouth as if I were about to reveal a big secret. Then I whispered a little too loudly for it to be an actual secret, “They were completely real.”

Morgan paused briefly, “What?!! Dinosaurs were real?!!”, he said in sarcastic wonderment. Then he resumed his shaking and rumbling.

“I know Papa!”, Taylor said, “I know dinosaurs were real! But what does any of that have to do with this stupid math homework?!!”

“Well.”, I said, “My point is simply this; if there’s room in reality for something as fantastic as dinosaurs as big as houses, stomping around the earth for millions of years, then clearly there’s more than enough room in reality for a little girl who can understand math homework.”

“Maybe. But dinosaurs never had to learn math.”, Taylor mumbled.

Caesar

2011-08-11T11:51:00Z

Me: Look out, your phone is hanging out of your pocket.

Tricia: Thank you. It's only going to be there for a second.

Me: Yeah well that's what Julius Caesar said right before they delivered the Trojan horse.

Tricia: That's not even close to anything resembling reality. Did you even read Julius Caesar?

Me: ...Yes

Tricia: The play by Shakespeare?

Me: Oh that. No I didn't read that.

Tricia: What did you think I was... Nevermind. I don't even want to know.

Dick Van Dyke Show Lyrics

2011-06-23T11:06:54Z

Did you know that there are lyrics to the Dick Van Dyke Show opening song? What's that you say? You are too young to remember the Dick Van Dyke Show?

Get off my blog right now!

The rest of you may keep reading and sing along in your heads.

So you think that you've got trouble,
Well trouble's a bubble,
So tell old Mr. Trouble to get lost.

Why not hold your head up high and
Stop crying,
Start trying,
And don't forget to keep your fingers crossed.

When you find the joy of living is loving and giving,
you'll be there when the winning dice are tossed.

A smile is just a frown that's turned upside down,
so smile and that frown will defrost.
And don't forget to keep your fingers crossed.

(Wah, Boom!)

Written by Morey Amsterdam

Pure Romance

2011-06-01T03:21:56Z

Me: I have a little poem that I'd like to dedicate to you.

Tricia: Oh Lord. I'm going to start praying now.

Me: I'm about to express my true feelings and you mock them?!!

Tricia: You're right. I'm sorry. Go ahead.

Me: This is called, "Three Hundred Eternities"

Tricia: OK

Me: Every second spent away from you is an eternity. Imagine my agony when we are separated a mere 5 minutes.

Tricia: (groan)

Me: What? That was dope. I'm dropping pure romance bombs son!

Tricia: You can't watch BET anymore. You're way too impressionable.