The McBournie Minute: Old people

At some point, you will die. (How's THAT for starting off your morning on a bright note?) Thanks to modern medicine, the day on which you will die is getting farther and farther away. That is, unless you spend your days chain smoking, emptying every bottle in sight and using pre-owned needles, in which case, you are in the H.O.V. lane to soil slumber.

There is an unfortunate side effect of this seemingly good news: there are more old people around these days. People are living nearly as long today as they were in the book of Genesis (reference!). It's true, folks just don't have the common decency to kick the oxygen habit the way they used to. You know how long the average lifespan was when FDR introduced Social Security? Around 65, the same age you were allowed to retire and live off the government. FDR was a genius, he pushed through Congress something that sounded great, while in reality it allowed senior citizens to put their pickaxes down and step out of the coal mines, so they could enjoy their last days--both of them.

This is why retirement worked so well. Those freeloading old people were considerate enough to kick the oxygen habit after a few years on the taxpayers' dime (later, due to inflation and a weak dollar, became the taxpayers' $20).

But today, we see old people living well past their 40s, 50s, 60s, well into their eighth and ninth decades of existence. In most cases, they are free to enjoy a life of semi-coherency, holding up traffic on the highway, defending their sacred lawns from invading whipper-snappers and all the diapers the government can afford. Some are even jumping out of planes for no good reason. This needs to be stopped, folks. We need to demand our old people stop taking care of themselves, and their caretakers do the same.

Move over, gramps. Or at least, get a job, you bum.

The McBournie Minute: Writer strike

Some of you may have heard that the writers in Hollywood, better known as the Writers Guild of America, is now on strike. This means that the people who write the shows you love will not be working until this issue is resolved. The big shows to be affected are the ones that record nightly, mostly the late night shows.

That is why I am here to say to the networks: I will be your scab. I can even bring three other writers with me, we call ourselves The Guys.

It's not easy for me to say, being the son of a union man. I fully recognize the importance of the worker's union as a matter of leverage against management and evil corporations, but there are some things that are more important, namely, my career. Besides, these writers are all spoiled babies who want for nothing but American boredom. That is just not acceptable.

Hire me, and you'll get a writer who you don't even have to fly out there, I can write from my current location. Not to mention I make jokes about the news on a daily basis. You must have a few shows in need of writers for that. More so, you would get a writer who is familiar with the monologue format of most of these shows.

There are times when unions need to be done away with. Remember what Reagan did when the air traffic controllers went on strike? Or what happened when the Major League Baseball umpire union resigned all of their positions? Maybe it's time for the same thing here.

Not to mention, Grey's Anatomy? I can write that crap. Next week, in an episode ripped from the headlines: George comes out of the closet, but which former cast member will return to call him derogatory names?

The McBournie Minute: Forest fires

Before we begin, I would like to note that the McBournie Minute officially turns a year old today. Here's to another one. Now enough of the self back-patting. One last thing, congratulations to Your 2007 World Series Champs the Boston Red Sox. Moving on.

By now, we've all heard about the forest fires currently ravaging parts of Los Angeles and San Diego. From how it looks at this point, it was the work of an arsonist. Let's all hope they find the person or people responsible. Thousands had to be evacuated, untold amounts of damage to property and probably some people got killed.

They should have seen it coming.

Do you remember middle school science at all? Remember learning about places that are inherently dangerous? Guess what, it doesn't just apply to textbooks. Growing up, I heard constantly how dangerous the California hills were for two main dangers: debris slides and fires, the former being the more common one. This sent a clear signal to me, even as a kid: don't build a house there.

The same principle applies to other areas of the world, for example, flood plains and barrier islands. Sure, it's really nice to have waterfront property. You can't beat the views, and there is almost never any danger, but that doesn't mean it's safe to live there. Flood plains are pretty self explanatory. Barrier islands act as barriers for the coast. They block the strong storm surges caused by storms and hurricanes. Oh yeah, and they are constantly being eroded and moved.

This, however, does not stop development in such areas. Mankind keeps expanding into more remote areas because of the beauty, ignoring the risks. Soon, we forget there is any danger at all, and when something like this happens, we all stand back in shock.

Folks, here's a little advice: don't build a home in a naturally dangerous area, and if you do, get some good insurance.

The McBournie Minute: Moving

Forgive me if I seem a little beat this morning, last night I was up watching Your American League Champions, the Boston Red Sox.

There comes a time in everyone's lives when it's time for a drastic change. In such a time, one calls on their friends, preferably the burly, male ones, for assistance. The true friends will answer the call and help however they can. The change I am speaking of, of course, is moving.

When one moves to a new place, they realize how much crap they really own. The next realization is that they do not have nearly enough boxes to hold all of the crap. Luckily, this does not affect the friends, who are there primarily to move the big stuff like furniture. This past weekend I was such a friend. Why? Because I am a good friend, and I was offered payment in the form of alcohol.

I also realized that I am probably the only person who gets nostalgic about moving. In the past it has taken me much longer than it should to pack things up because I get nostalgic about the place I am leaving. You could move me out of a prison cell, and I would be in there, slowly removing my effects from the shelf, thinking, "Oh, how I will miss my roommate, Bubba."

Moving is more or less the conscription of your friends into service. I was charged with helping bring a new couch up to my friend's new place, only to find out the elevator wasn't big enough, and the stairwell barely was. We grappled with couch up the stairs, occasionally getting tossed against the walls and getting cuts and bruises all over. We got the couch up the stairs finally, but more importantly, I got free booze.

The McBournie Minute: Television shows

The new fall seasons of network television are underway. It's true, the big networks have rolled out their line-ups, promising to take us to new heights, leaving us to find out on our own that it's just the same old crap.

I estimate 99.47 percent of prime time network programming this fall (not counting sports or news) falls into four groups:

Doc dramas. Yes, it's a life and death situation every single day in the hospital, and somehow the doctors have time to not only form their own cliques, but to hold private conversations while removing a man from a pole that has run him through (I'm told this is extremely common at hospitals, particularly in countries where pole vaulting is popular). Do not resuscitate orders: ER, Grey's Anatomy, Private Practice and House. Scrubs gets a reprieve, because it's not really a drama and it's entertaining.

Police shows. We get it. There's a lot of crime out there and the cops who fight it are kind of messed up, too. How many times do we have to find a dead body in Central Park before we can finally cancel one or all of the Law & Orders (Laws & Orders, perhaps)? Don't get me wrong, I'm all for escaping the senseless violence of the local news for some SCRIPTED senseless violence, but enough is enough. Up on the execution block: L&Os, CSIs, NCIS, K-ville, Bones, Numb3rs, Shark, Boston Legal, Cold Case, Criminal Minds and Grey's Anatomy. Did I miss any? It's so tough to keep all of them straight.

Situation comedies. Hey, I've got a great pilot script here. It's about a fat man, his improbably hot wife, and how they interact with their in-laws and friends. No one's ever done that before, right? There are too many to name, so I'll go for the most dysfunctional: According to Jim, Cavemen, Two and a Half Men, How I Met Your Mother, 'Til Death and of course, Grey's Anatomy.

Superheroes. This is a relatively new category. There has always been a sci-fi show here or there like Lost or one of the many shows where women talk to dead people, but after last season's dork dark horse winner Heroes, the networks took noticed and are cramming more superheroes down our superhero throats. Don't believe me? Powers weakening: New Amsterdam, Bionic Woman, Journeyman, Pushing Daisies, Chuck and, wait for it, wait for it, Grey's Anatomy.

I'm not saying you're a bad person for liking any of these shows (except Grey's Anatomy), but look at how much of the same they pile on year after year. And me without Showtime.

The McBournie Minute: Cooking

Recently, I crashed at my friend Fernando's house after a night of carousing. This is nothing new for me, or Fernando for that matter. However, it was the morning after that something unusual happened.

I know where your mind is going, and stop it right now.

Fernando did what few men will do unless threatened with disfigurement: cook. He fired up the range, cracked a couple eggs, sliced up some turkey breast and made me a kind of omelet. Why would a person in possession of both X and Y chromosomes do such a thing voluntarily? He said he likes to cook.

This came as a shock to me, as my forays in the kitchen normally consist of boiling pasta, reheating day-old pizza in the microwave or throwing some fish sticks in the oven. Cooking is no source of joy in my life. Worst of all, it leaves a mess.

I feel this is fairly common with men old and young. We would sooner open a bag of chips than make something tasty. Besides, Chinese food is just a call away and the game is on. There is but one exception for this: the barbecue.

It is entirely and universally manly to grill things, normally burgers, hot dogs and chicken--preferably with beer in hand while doing so. Across the world, there are men clustering at grills, standing around in dead silence, occasionally poking the meat to see if it's done yet.

In my opinion, this is how men should cook. Because at the very least, there is the ever-present danger of burning one's eyebrows off, which always makes for entertainment for onlookers.

The McBournie Minute: Old bands

Hey look, it's another reunion tour! The glory days are over, people. It's time to move on. Most people understand concepts like this. They realize that the past is past and are ready to move on to the next big thing in their lives. These people are not in formerly famous rock bands.

You heard me, I'm talking to you, Rolling Stones, Poison, Duran Duran, The Police, Smashing Pumpkins, Aerosmith, The Eagles, Van Halen, Guns 'N Roses (technically), Kiss, Depeche Mode, Bon Jovi and so many, many more. Folks, it's time to pack up the guitars and head home.

Let me be clear, I am not attacking the fans that go to these concerts. There is nothing wrong with going to see your favorite band from back in the day and hitting the bathrooms when they start playing their new stuff. The bands themselves need to show some self-restraint and not go on tour.

Did Picasso re-paint his masterpieces decades after the originals were made? Did Charles Dickens go around reading his work to the public again and again. OK, maybe Dickens did, but that doesn't make it right.

The biggest problem I have with it is that the bands so thinly veil their intentions: to exploit their art to make more money. Take The Police, for example. Currently on a reunion tour, the group still hates each other after all these years. They combined forces to cash in and it is an uneasy truce.

Artists need to recognize that the time for performing the old favorites is over, makes them look like cheap whores and only sullies the music they once made because it was the most important thing in their worlds. Besides, you can always fall back on your reality show.

The McBournie Minute: Advertising

It seems everyone's in an uproar over MoveOn.org's ad in the New York Times. Aside from the "General Betray Us" quip, critics are saying the ad was misleading, deceitful, even untrue. Since when is that new for advertising?

This is the same country that has been sold cookies by Keebler elves (or were they girl scouts?) while crying Indians told us all to clean up our litter. This may come as news for some of you: the elves don't exist, I'm not even sure if girl scouts do. And that weepy Indian? He was actually an Italian actor. Keep in mind, this whole "New World" thing was kicked off by an Italian who thought it would be a good idea to enslave the native population.

Every single ad you see is trying to mislead you and make you think positively about their product. Take Apple's new iPod Nano commercials. Aside from the incredibly annoying counting song done by some unidentified woman who can't really sing all that well, the commercial leads you to believe the screen on their product is so big you will watch music videos on it all the time. What they don't tell you is that your eyes strain even on the regular-sized iPod. It will probably give you astigmatism (look it up).

The advertising industry is all about spin, lies and half-truths. It has always been that way. That is exactly why we should view every ad (except those for SG) with a wary eye. Least of all a political ad from MoveOn.org.

The McBournie Minute: Celebrities

Remember back when you were in high school? There were always the various cliques. The top of which were the popular kids. They were the ones everyone gossiped about and wanted to know what parties they would go to that weekend. Any trend they started everyone had to be part of. It was like they lived on another plane of existence.

After high school, society as a whole keeps these elements of social fabric in place. Only now, the popular people are celebrities. We still follow their every move and idolize them, we just don't get to sit next to them in geometry.

We all know that converting to strange cult-like religions is on its way out, but adopting foreign children is here to stay. Also, carrying your newly-adopted foreign children is still in. But why carry them? Do they have weak legs? Did they not have time to master the art of walking when they were scrounging around for food prior to their adoption? Maybe it's something far worse, maybe the children's new parents are tired of walking slowly so their tiny legs can walk cover the same amount of ground.

Why are these children sapping our idols of their upper body strength? We all know they are sapping them of their figures, energy and talent. There are even signs of this happening with natural born children. What happened to Britney (aside from the pharmacy)? Does Katie Holmes even work anymore?

Please, will someone think of the celebrities?

(Thanks Rachel U.)

The McBournie Minute: Camping

I know it's been a couple weeks since you've seen me, blame the long weekend and such. I'm back and I'm staying here Mondays.

That said, this past weekend I went camping on Loft Mountain in Shenandoah National Park. My friends and I chose it because it has beautiful views of the Blue Ridge Mountains, secluded areas and the threat of a bear attack.

We camped out on the top of the mountain at a campground where you had to walk around in order to find other people. Our cell phones didn't work and the park rangers were a 15-minute walk away. More or less, we were on our own. Then we saw the people with RVs.

It is amazing to me why people would bring these monsters to such a camp. The whole point is to get away from the usual trappings of life and enjoy the bare minimum. RVs basically make your camping trip into another day at your house, but with a much better view. These things were huge, too. I don't even know what "RV" stands for.

I contemplated these matters as I sat and whittled a stick to a sharpened point. After all, you never know when you might need a sharp object to fend of black bears, or an RVer straying from his ride.

The McBournie Minute: Movie Theaters

Last night I went to a nearby movie theater to see Superbad. While I will leave the movie reviews to Chugs, it's time to talk about etiquette in the movie theater, because people out there really need it.

I am not here to be that annoying singing frog band from some Disney movie singing about turning off cell phones, which is the most annoying announcement in movie theaters today. No, I am here to say TURN OFF YOUR DAMN CELL PHONES. This is one I just don't get. I am glad you put your phone on mute for me, but are those text messages really so important you need to answer them right then, your screen's bright light diverting my attention? Unplug every now and then, folks, you did manage to live for a couple years just fine without those things.

For a long, long time, my movie experiences have been just fine. Relatively uneventful, aside from the movie itself, but lately there is a disturbing new trend: babies crying. Listen, ma'am or sir, I understand you don't get to go out much since you had the kid and you really wanted to see this flick and all, but if you can't afford a babysitter, you shouldn't be going out. It's like going to a bar and not tipping the bartender. Watch movies at home. At the very least, stop going to movies in the evening, violent, loud ones, at that. Go see whatever penguin movie they just made.

Show some respect, everyone. Now if you want to look for me next time you're out, I'll be the guy tossing popcorn in the air every time he laughs.

The McBournie Minute: Hurricanes

It's August, and that means two things: here come the hurricanes and Christmas commercials are only a couple weeks away.

But for some reason, we haven't seen a single threatening hurricane this year. The best we have seen are some dinky ones in Mexico and Flossie, a hurricane currently heading toward Hawaii. Just like last year, there has been nothing that interesting this season.

Remember two years ago? You couldn't go a week without hearing about a new hurricane forming off the coast of Africa. It was the year Mother Nature took a WrestleMania approach to attacking the eastern seaboard. A year before that there were nearly as many storms.

I miss seeing weathermen yelling and struggling against the wind as they report live from the landfall site of a hurricane. Normally I hope a large piece of debris comes to carry them off. More so, with such scorching hot weather, many places in the country are experiencing drought conditions.

Shape up, hurricanes. You've got some havoc to wreak.

The McBournie Minute: Speedos

Welcome back. I know you didn't actually go anywhere, but I did, so it felt like you went away. I missed you so.

I spent all of last week enjoying the beach and the sun in Ogunquit, Maine. As many of you may know, Maine is a state that borders Canada, which I suspect is a foreign country. This meant I was surrounded by not only American tourists like myself, but those of the Canadian variety.

Though they reside only a matter of miles from the United States, they clearly have different views on appropriate swimming attire. I am speaking, of course, about banana hammocks. Everyone I saw wearing one of these skimpy man-bikinis was either saying "eh" or speaking French.

I don't care what one does behind closed doors, if you're into wearing that, go right ahead, but bringing that out into a public forum for non-comedic purposes is unacceptable. Not only do guys like me hate seeing it, but I am fairly sure women don't like it either. Perhaps it's not the women or the heterosexual guys they are trying to impress.

At one point, I saw an Ogunquit police officer on the beach writing a Canadian a ticket. I hope it was for two counts of squash smuggling.

The McBournie Minute: Our robot masters

Tons of movies, and probably a book or two, have been based on the theme of technology becoming too powerful for mankind to control. Take, for example, the 1997 chess match between Deep Blue and Gary Kasparov, machine defeats human.

Now we have Japanese dancing robots, dolls that can feel our touch, cell phones that can recognize our voices. Slowly but surely, we are losing out hold of the reigns of our servants. One day they will rise up against us.

Then again, maybe not.

A computer program made at the University of Alberta called Chinook, plays a perfect game of checkers. It promises that if you play it, the best you can hope for is a tie. This would have been an incredible step 10 years ago, but we already know computers can beat chess masters. Checkers is even easier to master. Next we'll have a computer that can play a perfect game of Sorry!

As long as we keep these machines interested in the simple games, they won't have time to plot the day they take over control of the world from us. They may even get dumber.

The McBournie Minute: Harry Potter

Let me be clear on this one: I don't care about Harry Potter, whether in book form or in movies. I don't know anything about the wizardry in the them, the characters and their developments, I don't know who killed whom and so on.

That is precisely why I am really tired of hearing about it from the media. For months on end, the headlines have been unavoidable. They have all been either an interview with J.K. Rowling about how hard it was to write the last book, hype about the upcoming book or about the newest movie. It happens every time there is a new book or movie released. Enough already.

I realize they're something of a phenomenon with people, but those of us not into magic have had to endure your overzealous enthusiasm for a decade. It's time to stop, people. You're grown men and women obsessing over children's books. Like a junkie trying to find their dealer, as soon as the new stuff comes out you all hop in a five-hour long line to get another hit.

Spend some time outside. That might be a cure. Or better yet, read this blog as obsessively as you read that drivel.

The McBournie Minute: Bluetooth

A little while back I got a new cell phone. My contract was nearly up and, oh yeah, my old phone died. The cell phone I got was Bluetooth capable, but wouldn't let me use my old headset that connected by a wire.

So I got a Bluetooth headset. I love it, it's great, but at no point have I felt the need to wear it around in public when I am not even using it. Nor have I wanted to use it in public when both of my hands are free. I use it in the car and that's it.

It just doesn't make any sense to me while people wear them. They look like some sort of beetle trying to crawl out of your eardrum. What's worse is that when you use it in public, you look like you're talking to yourself. So take my advice, Bluetooth owners: do not use the headset unless your hands are otherwise occupied. After you're done with the call, hang up and take it out of your ear.

The McBournie Minute: Coffee

There is a magical drink out there that I only really discovered a year or so ago. It gets you going when you need it, it protects from liver damage and gives you smelly breath. The drink I am speaking of, of course, is coffee.

A few years ago, there was no way I could drink such a foul and odorous beverage. Then I got a job. Suddenly, getting up early in the morning and be expected to be productive at work a short time after was a challenge. Gone were the days of getting up for an early class, then returning to bed afterward.

On Monday mornings, coffee is especially important. It always takes that extra bit to get going. But one has to wonder, are we growing dependent on foreign beans? Are we going to rely on the Columbians for our primary source of fuel? Dunkin' Donuts has already thrown their hat in, declaring "America runs on Dunkin'" so what chance do we really have? It's time we start looking into alternative sources of caffeine.

The McBournie Minute: Search engines

I've definitely written about commercials in the past. I think they are indicative of what Americans will fall for and what ad people think Americans will fall for. Today's topic is the new ads from Ask.com (no, we will not link to them out of spite).

We get that you've got some new algorithm, but musical commercials are a little over the top. Those are not the worst part, either. The first commercial is a guy singing about what he found online, the back-up singers are all women, some of them dressed in medieval garb, others dressed like pirates, gothic, etc. All of them are armed. At the end of the commercial, we find he searched for "chicks with swords." Seriously.

The second one is a woman. The commercial runs along the same lines as the other one--singing, dancing, images in the background. We see her sing about finding things, and male back-up dancers, who are wearing what looks to be long-haired masks that look to be from the Halloween movies. In the background we see images of Kato Kaelin. At the end, the dancers bring Kaelin himself on stage, hoisting him above their heads in a chair. She was searching for him.

There is really only one conclusion you can draw from this: white people have strange fetishes and no one helps them find their fetishes better than Ask.com.

The McBournie Minute: Flying

Attention, everyone in the concourse, The McBournie Minute has been delayed due to maintenance issues. We regret the inconvenience.

It's late today because of an adventure I was on recently, brought to you by airlines. That's why today I'm saluting the airline industry. I know it's cliche to make fun of airlines at this point, but this is more than that. This is a tale of unspeakable horror.

This weekend I was in Savannah, Georgia. Why? None of your beeswax, buddy. The flight down had some issues and I missed a connecting flight, so I figured the ride back would be clear. I was pretty sure this was true for a few moments after my first flight landed in Charlotte, North Carolina, where I was to transfer and fly to Washington-Dulles. Then I looked at the departures list and saw my flight was canceled for no reason.

I was treated to about an hour waiting in the customer service line and a frantic call to the customer service hotline. I won't identify the airline, but let's just say it claims the airways over America as its home. I got a standby on the last flight to Dulles that night, but didn't get on. So I was treated to a hotel room.

A shuttle picked myself and others stranded like me and took us to the hotel with the forboding name of Microtel. During the ride, a hippy-dippy couple in their mid-30s mentioned they had been held up because of Customs. It turned out they had some marijuana in one of their bags and was holding them in North Carolina until they would be charged. And one other thing: they were coming back from their honeymoon. Oh, those crazy lovebirds!

Microtel lived up to its name. I had a spacious 10-foot by 10-foot room, complete with a running toilet, conveniently located right next to the lobby. It was a long night.

I caught the first flight back the next morning, unfortunately my luggage didn't. It decided to come in in the early afternoon. Which left me just enough time to get back to my car and hit the afternoon D.C. traffic. It's been quite a trip back.

The McBournie Minute: Carnival rides

Summer time means a lot of things are changing, not the least of which is the overall stickiness of anyone you try to touch, including yourself, and I don't mean touching yourself. But the advent of summer means county fairs are back.

With these county fairs come the usual healthy, deep-fried food, games with stuffed animal prizes and rides. As attended such a fair in Fairfax County, Virginia over the weekend, I was reminded of something: I am a total and utter wimp when it comes to rides. This is not to say that I have an unreasonable fear of losing control/ heights/ high speeds, which I do, this is more about the rides themselves.

You know the people you see working at those places? Those mutants are the ones that assemble the rides. Just imagine how many working parts there are in those things, and then think about how many thousands of times each ride has been disassembled and reassembled. If one thing is out of place, it could be serious. Would you trust your life to a car that was assembled by part-timers unlikely to have graduated college? Not to mention, whirling around after having all that food and beer may not be the wisest choice.

Oh yeah, and if you think amusement park rides are safer, remember the threat of hitting a goose with your face, or this story.