One of the great things about the technology is its ability to make the world converge in on itself. Every technological development makes the world a bit smaller.

Think about it. There are social networks where you can connect with 200+ of your closest friends and peer into their electronically enhanced lives. There you are, connected with a ‘friend’ from high school who you haven’t seen in 20 years and who used to slam your locker and knocks your books out of your arms in the hallway. Now they’re positing pictures of their dysfunctional family trip to the Grand Canyon in 2002. But there are the positives too. You can reconnect and with people whose lives have taken different paths and now cross yours again. So it effectively reunites.

And then there are blogs where the author has the audacity to force readers to subscribe to his or her ridiculousness ramblings of incoherent thoughts on some ridiculous or unnecessary topic. It’s a one-way forum for communicating information about one’s family or beliefs on topics without the risk of hearing the devil’s advocate position. But no one does that, do they? (sarcasm) Again, there are positives, blogs are a great way to add color to life and share or retell a story to others who may not be within earshot or zipcode.

But out of what I’ve mentioned above and even left out, email is the greatest. It has become your signature. “What’s your email address? I’ll email you.” Or when you visit an e-commerce site, you enter your email address to complete the transaction and you’re emailed the bill. The fallout is your email address is intercepted by some of the most wholesome people and businesses. I love the random emails I then get from ‘people.’ And in those messages, I love the horribly written text which is clearly not transcribed by someone with English as a first language.

The other day, I learned that an Iraqi business tycoon made a $17.5M deposit in a United Arab Emirates bank account in 2006. That Iraqi tycoon has recently passed away and the account manager for the deceased has feverishly been scouring the world for the tycoon’s next of kin. Unfortunately, the search and his efforts ‘have proved abortive’ (see below). So the account manager is in desperate need of an individual he can trust. He’s willing to back door the UAE bank system and transfer the funds to me due to the dissatisfaction with the exhaustive effort of the government confiscating funds from possible terrorist activities. All he needs is my trust and account information.

Without further adieu, here is the email I received from Mr. George Abraham:

----------------------------

Dearest,

This letter must come to you as a big surprise, but I believe it is only a day that people meet and become great friends/ business partners. I am, currently Head of Corporate Affairs Department with a reputable bank here in United Arab Emirates. I write you this proposal in good faith, believing that I can trust you with the information I am about to reveal to you.

I have an urgent and very confidential business proposition for you. On November 1st, 2006, an Iraqis business tycoon Mr. Mohammed Hussein made a (Fixed deposit) valued at US$17,500,000.00 (Seventeen Million Five hundred Thousand Dollars only) in my bank and I happen to be his account officer before I was moved to my present position recently. The maturity date for this deposit contract was last April 2010. Before this date, I have tried my possible best to locate a Next of Kin to late Mr. Mohammed, but all efforts proved abortive, because all his family died in the recent Iraq war that took peoples life and properties

With the recent change of government in the country and with their efforts to support the United Nations in checkmating terrorism aid in UAE and middle east, the Government have pass a new Financial Control Law which will give the Government authority to interrogate or confiscate any account fixed deposit or current with any bank of above $5 million Dollars to explain the source of the funds, making sure it is not for terrorism support. If I do not move this money out of the country immediately, by end of the fiscal year, the Government will definitely confiscate the money, because my bank cannot provide the account owner to explain the source of the money since he is late.

I decided to utilize this life time opportunity, instead of Government confiscating the fund, but I cannot directly claim the money without the help of a foreigner and that is why I am contacting you for an assistance. As the Account Officer to late Mr. Mohammed, coupled with my present position and status in the bank, I have the power to influence the release of the funds to any foreigner that comes up as the Next of Kin to the account, with the correct information concerning the account, which I shall give you. I am having the secret Code for the account, which only the account owner or his Next of Kin can know. I shall supply all necessary information we need for the claim and there is practically no risk involved, the transaction will be executed under a legitimate arrangement that will protect you from any breach of law, beside United Arab Emirate is porous and anything goes.

If you accept to work with me, I want you to state how you wish us to share the funds in percentage, so that both parties will be satisfied. I shall explain to you in details how we shall handle the transaction once I receive your response. Thanking you in advance and May God bless you. Please, treat with utmost confidentiality. I shall send you copy of the deposit slip issued to Mr. Mohammed when the deposit was made for your perusal. I wait your urgent response.

Regards,
Mr. George Abraham
georgeabraham@zipmail.com.br

----------------------------

This is totally legit despite the poor use of grammar and inappropriately used verb tenses. I have a couple of concerns though. First, by broadcasting the news of my great fortune left to me by Mr. Mohammed, there’s the concern that people will come out of the woodwork and want a loan and to be my friend, maybe even on a social network. Man, I don’t want my newfound wealth falling in to the wrong hands. I know I can trust Mr. George Abraham with my account numbers and he’ll surely deposit the sum of money into my account, but how can I be sure my wife and kids won’t coerce me into giving them money to buy video games and shoes? Second, Mr. George Abraham writes that I should treat this with ‘utmost confidentiality’. In my haste and anxiety to obtain my millions of inherited Iraqi dollars, I’ve disclosed my personally written letter to the world against better judgment. Now you all can easily masquerade as me using my identity to pass on your account numbers and steal my rightfully inherited money without me knowing.

I better act fast now that you all are aware of my new inheritance. Thank God for technology and that Mr. George Abraham was able to reach me via email.

In an effort to fall back into some sort of operating rhythm, it seems strangely important to drop a new review on “New Music Monday.” It’s been a few months since I’ve given my unbiased view of some new music. So we’re back in the saddle again. And coincidentally, one of my most anticipated albums for 2011 was released in January.

Where does this leave me for the rest of the year if this was my most anticipated? Who knows?

Two words. Social Distortion. An American idol when it comes to my-train-wreck-life-as-a-failure punk rock. Like their label mates, Bad Religion, Social D has been around 30 years and released its share of albums developing a cult following. But unlike the melodic hardcore harmonies and politically motivated songs of Bad Religion, Social D takes more of the inner-focused life-is-the-school-of-hard-knocks and it ain’t getting no better approach.


Social D hasn’t released a studio album since 2004. So waiting for the new album, “Hard Times and Nursery Rhymes,” was difficult. It was seven years in the making and each track has been meticulously crafted into vintage Social Distortion. Now if you’re an old school Social D fan, you may somewhat surprised by the music and lyrics. If you are new to the following, you will be initiated with a truly classic record by one of the greatest punk acts to emerge from Orange County.

Hardcore Social D fans do not worry. The sound is authentic but there’s a new wrinkle of exploration outside of the heavy bass laden anthems of the past. This go round, Mike Ness and his peeps have channeled a new level of inspiration. “Hard Times and Nursery Rhymes” is punk meets the blues meets gospel. It’s a unique blend. And not the angry aggressive punk most are accustomed to. Social D is punk but about durability and longevity. You can feel all of that here on this record.

The lyrics are less dark than previous Social D records. There’s a unique upbeat classic bluesy feel here all the way down to some female background vocals on tracks. If you thought Ness was getting soft, was grizzled beyond repair and out of fucks to give, think again, compadre. "Hard Times and Nursery Rhymes" was worth a seven-year wait, and the songs speak loudly enough for Social Distortion’s entire discography.

On to a cross section of the album’s sweet content:

California (Hustle and Flow) – This is probably the most uncharacteristic tune on the record. It’s dripping with the blues like syrup off a waffle at Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles. Blues chords and big girl background vocalists line this song. ‘Life gets hard and then it gets good, like I always knew it would.’ A strange upbeat lyric from the once-downer-woe-is-me Ness. The sound is something like that of the Black Crowes being soulfully southern goodness sprinkling in a little George Thorogood.

Bakersfield – This is a slow burner which echoes the tender sentiment of wanting to go to the way things were in a relationship. Trapped in Bakersfield, we get the opportunity to sympathize with an old road warrior reflecting on what went wrong. But with the challenges, he’s on his way home in hopes that they can relight that old flame. You can almost smell the cigarette smoke and taste the whiskey in the glass as our protagonist reflects.

Writing on the Wall – Sweet crunchy guitar strumming lead you in to the somber and disappointed Ness pining away about a failing relationship. While listening, you feel like you could be easily sitting in an old run down hotel in the American southwest. On the edge of the bed staring into the old crack mirror behind the TV, you can envision Ness, or us, replaying the train wreck of our relationships. Incredibly personal, we hear exactly how we felt in our own failures. Retrospect, not admitting it was over, and loneliness. We’ve all been there. It’s a song of unexpected regret. And while the content is not new, the musicality of the song with the piano is.

Still Alive – While many of the songs on “Hard Times and Nursery Rhymes” explore a mixture of sounds and more enlightening lyrics, this song is the closer for the album and harkens back to some of the old classic of Social D. This song is this album’s “Ball and Chain.” The driving guitar and urgently delivered lyrics of surviving no matter what despair is in your way is right here. Ness has seen it all but is still alive. The songs rips and you find yourself getting a pep talk about perseverance and resiliency.

Generation X. We’re a jumbled mess of kids trying to be adults and parents these days. And while I can’t speak for an entire diverse generation of souls trying to find their way in a dysfunctional world, I can speak for the small subset of my generation who has looked for a voice that shared our collective cry. Mike Ness is akin to our Johnny Cash. OK, that may be a little extreme. But for the small subset of Generation X that I represent, Ness has been our storyteller channeling our “Hard Times and Nursery Rhymes” for the 30 years. This is Johnny Cash meets the Clash.

“Hard Times and Nursery Rhymes” is uncharacteristically characteristic Social Distortion. Ness and his boys could have easily packed it in and accepted the patriarchal position in punk’s hall of honor; they reveal a willingness to push the comfort zone working with different harmonies, slower tempos, and upbeat concepts. As always, Mike Ness is undeniably ‘here to make a stand with a guitar in his hand.’

I don’t get sick that often but when I do; it seems to really tear me down to an immobile mass of snotty disgust. The weeks spanning Christmas and New Year’s were no different. Because I had a sinus infection on the order of some out of this world magnitude, I had to take a ton of different over the counter and prescription pills. Whether it was the Sudafed, Amoxicillin, or the Motrin PM, something was giving me strange sleeping habits.

My money was on the Motrin PM. The Sudafed jacks you up like you are goof balls. The Amoxicillin gives you the runs. So by process of elimination, that leaves the Motrin PM. I don’t know what’s in this little magical pill but I can tell you that it will lead you to some of the most vivid, intricate, and confusing threads of dreamy reality you’ll ever encounter.

Each night that I took the stuff, I was on a journey to some strange building, hallway, or far off location with a strange set of colorful surroundings, situations and people. More often than not, there’d be common people and comforts spread throughout the dreamscapes. But overall, the environments were foreign and indiscernible. There was one night in particular that was the most surreal.

The following description is provided to the best of my ability and memory. As with any dream, it seems they’re most vivid and recallable immediately after you wake. As time increases, your recall decreases. Days have passed since the dream and now I must fight through the difficulties of poor memory. But while the details and descriptions of the context of the dream may be brief or incoherent, the feelings from the vision are as accurate as ever.

Most dream settings are difficult to identify. There’s just a feeling of being ‘somewhere.’ In mine, it’s a sense of being in what could have been a lounge of an airport, apartment, or luxury home. The recall of this is blurry except for the feeling of lavish appointments and a social atmosphere. I do remember it being almost theater-like with cascading seating.

Why was I there? As I meandered through the hallway leading up to the room I described above, there was a feeling of anticipation I couldn’t justify. I was expecting ‘something.’ The feeling of the airport started coming back as I saw my parents for the first time in the dream. There was a vague recollection of expecting them home from a trip. Possibly the reason for the feeling I was at the airport.

In a stoic fashion, my father was sitting motionless and upright in his seat as I entered the room. He acknowledges my presence but said nothing other than small nod of welcome. Come to think of it, there was no sound in this dream other than the faint white noise of multiple voices in conversation like you would hear in a lounge. Atmospheric background noise. In a row of seating in front of my father, I see my mother lying across multiple seats as if to make herself comfortable after a long trip.

And in front of my mother in the very next row is my little brother sitting upright perched across several seats. He was just how I remember him. Similar to my father, our eyes connect. But I feel awkward. Why are we here? Am I too early? That feeling slips away as we both acknowledge each other through a simple grin. It then becomes a euphoric state of bliss upon the sight of his grin. Reassuring and welcoming, my uneasiness is replaced with a sense of urgency. I need to get to him.

Access to the rows of seating in this lounge-like theater is from the opposite side of the room. So I’m forced to rush around the perimeter of the room heightening the anticipation. A feeling like I only had a brief moment. Like their visit was only a layover before their next flight. On the other side of the room, my parents recognize my enthusiasm and wryly smile in approval. And at that point, I have a voice and I ask, “Is this real?” out loud.

But I’m the only one who speaks. All communication is done through eye contact and body language. I’m uneasy again, needing an answer, needing words, needing reassurance. It never comes. I get to his row and my brother stands up and walks toward me. I’m sure he sensed my anxiety. With each step as he approaches, I’m worried about the finite nature of the moment. Like anything, dream or reality, it must end well before you’re ready for its finish.

Other than the white noise of other conversations, there’s no speaking again. Standing in front of me, my vision of him is the timeless memory of him being 24 years old. But he’s wearing something strange, something I can’t identify or recognize. I just know it’s different. Almost telepathically, his voice is in my head telling me that it’s OK for me to be here, to relax, and that he IS here.

And in an omniscient moment, I see myself standing within arms reach of my brother. A small tear drips down my left cheek as the vision begins to soften and become increasingly hazy with each moment. This reminds me of how finite our existence is. We are born to this life to pass on. It’s the product lifecycle that each day we grow closer to something else. Our obsolescence begins at birth. And that’s OK. I’m reassured by my brother.

I go to wrap my arms around him to give him the hug goodbye I never got to give and to thank him for the reassurance. But my arms swing through him like he’s an apparition or ghost. The haziness increase like a smoke machine and I’m uneasy again. The rest of the dream is all over the place and barely memorable.

And in what could've been hours or an instant, it’s over and I’m awake wondering. Did I just see my little brother? In a constant search for signs of more, we overlook the obvious. It’s right there in front of us baked into our finite existence. We never leave each other. That's the good stuff.

Christmas and New Year’s holidays around our house this year were insane. There’s no absence of talking trucks, die cast cars, noise making toys, socks, cookies, candy, screaming, insomnia, and holiday cheer at our house. During my time off around the holidays I had the pleasure of contracting impacted sinuses and a wicked sinus infection which spanned Christmas morning through New Year’s and into the first full work week of the new year. Fittingly, I’m sitting writing this entry while sniffling, coughing, and fighting through antibiotics hoping that the symptoms will subside.

We were supposed to head back to our individual routines this week. Son #1 to school and me to work. He made it back to school but I was nowhere near ready to go back to work. Staying home with both kids trapped in the house could have resulted in an epic war between youth and father. But it didn’t. In fact, it has been quite the reminder of time stops for no one.


From what I’ve observed, the average day with Son #1 at school can be described in the following way. It’s generally calm with little happening. Son #2 occupies his time rummaging through toys and mumbling indiscernible words as he entertains himself. Their mother quietly sits in her typical spot on the couch with some morning show while she updates her Facebook status and moves on to reading another vampire-falls-in-love-with-a-human-but-betrays-her love story. But the stillness in the air and the peace that once existed now turns to near calamity as Son #2 realizes the bus is coming. And on that bus is his older brother. And like a whirling dervish, Tasmanian devil, or pinball, Son #2 and his energy ratchet up as he ricochets through the house in anticipation of if brother’s return home.

But let’s take a full step back here. The holistic picture of Son #1’s day is pretty amazing. And even though I felt like a big sack shit from being sick, I was so proud to be part of something so formative and empowering. He’s growing up so fast.


Since I couldn’t sleep due to some foreign bacteria creating havoc in my head and turning my sinuses in to bags of ready-mix, I was up early and had the opportunity to wake Son #1 up for school. I sat on the end of his bed trying to coax him into alertness. Just like his mother, he growled and burrowed further under his covers. Ultimately, he peaked out, realized my request, and was helpful in springing from bed and beginning his day. It was humbling to sit and wake him up for school. Such an ‘adult’ thing to do.

Next was getting dressed. Typically, this is a chore in my house. No one wants to get dressed. Ever. But Son #1 was fairly agreeable. He grabbed some clean jeans, socks, undershirt, and underwear. He asked if I’d help him pick out a shirt to wear. I was humbled by two things at this point. One, Son #1 is not a morning person and generally spits venom in the form of words and phrases. So his politeness was a welcome change. Two, he was asking my opinion on his attire for his school day. Flattered by his admiration of my fashion sense, I provided him several concepts and my reasoning for each.

On to prepare breakfast for Son #1 and #2. The popularity of Costco-equivalent of Eggo Waffles in our household has prompted me to seriously consider investment in to Costco stock. Our household single-handedly can influence Costco P&L statements by our purchase volume. Both boys ingested two of the toasted waffles along with a side of fresh fruit. Both had a glass of milk and their daily vitamin. Son #1 wraps things up by throwing his syrup-saturated plate in the sink, brushing his teeth, pulling on his shoes.


He still hasn’t attempted to tie his shoes. I probably make it too easy on him by just doing it and not giving him the opportunity. Once again, I loop, swoop and pull his laces tight and walk him to his mother’s car. He’s a fan of the bus, but only on the ride home. Therefore, his ‘driver’ takes him to school in morning. Jumping in, he reminds me that he will see me after school.

His day isn’t really all that long. And any silence that was in the house will soon disappear in a mere matter of hours. As his arrival rapidly approaches, like a sixth sense, Son #2 begins running laps around our first floor screaming ‘bus’ repeatedly. His heightened anticipation is infectious and you can’t help but get excited. Today, I got to do the honors of meeting him at the bus stop. I waited out in the garage shuffling and organizing until I heard the bus. With the sweet sound of a diesel engine, I knew he was close. So down to the corner I march as the bus approaches. You can see little heads on the bus as it pulls up. The doors open and there is an awkward pause. I imagine the handful of kids on the bus and the bus driver were expecting a little something else. Then the silence is broken with an excited “that’s my Dad!”

Hopping off of the bus, he reminds me that I never do this. And he’s right. Typically, my babysitting is done 30 miles north in my office. But today, with a sinus infection and absence from work, I was able to be there and watch him hop off the big yellow bus.


He’s growing up. He goes to school, comes home, and does home work. He’s still a little boy for a while longer. The timeless memory in my head still displays him as the small baby that I used to put to bed in our bed only to move him to his crib later. He still needs me. It’s just not in the way my static memory portrays him. He’s a growing and intelligent little man. It’s somewhat surreal in the way that there’s an ebb and flow to maturation of us both. There’s moments when he is attached to my leg, afraid and waiting for direction and confidence. Then, as if switch had been clicked, he is a discerning young man explaining how things are. For me, it’s about reading the tidal reports and understanding and accepting the changing roles. At times, he is my shadow and I have to explain precisely what I’m working on down to the most insignificant detail. And then the tide changes and I’m the backdrop of his life like old driftwood on the beach.

Witnessing Son #1 change is unnerving and empowering all at once. I’m so proud of him.

I live in a dichotomy of existence at times. 1. My personal life where I’m a father trying to teach two boys to question authority, steer clear of conformity and the status quo, and to play loud and hard and believe in themselves all while listening to me and obeying my fatherly advice. 2. My professional life where I’m employed by the largest manufactures of airworthy goods and services and subscribe to order, bureaucracy, and process control while wearing collared shirts and neck ties. Oh, to be conflicted. The point where profession meets punk is where I live. And it is a good to place to be.

And while I’m not of fan of control and processes, I recognize the need for enabling bureaucracies that create proactive work environments, innovative life changing products, and successful world class companies.

In my sweet embrace of the system and control, I’ve been very fortunate to be successful at my place of employment. But like any company of this size, there are bureaucracies which support the business in changing the world and there is the other "stuff" which just doesn’t make much sense at times. I’ve always personally struggled with the sheer volume of meetings I’ve been required to attend. In defense of the meeting, many we have are quite necessary as it takes a village and consensus to make a decision and take action on initiatives.


But we have a lot of meetings nonetheless. Some are effective while others, well, not so much. And from these meetings comes interesting dialogue. So I’m not writing this entry to disparage my employer. It’s taken care of me because of my hard work and afforded me a great life. Furthermore, I believe in the products we create. This entry is to share some of the humor we find as employees and servants to the enterprise. Without further adieu, I bring you the top 50 quotes heard at meetings during 2010:

1. It's important for us to be smarter than the parts we're trying to manage.
2. I learned about, like, communications and stuff.
3. No one is using it so there aren’t any complaints.
4. I don’t want to hire anyone who wants the job.
5. Reducing travel at our company feels like a no-smoking campaign at Phillip-Morris
6. Don’t take it personally unless it fits.
7. They aren’t old airplanes they are experienced.
8. No one ever wins a horse race yelling “Whoa.”
9. They send you out like sending sheep wandering in a mine-field.
10. For subjects like this I put my buddy by the light switch.
11. If my lips are moving I am thinking.
12. If anyone says they know the story they don’t.
13. We see the light at the end of the tunnel but sections of the tunnel keep getting added.
14. Engineers are like sharks when they smell schedule relief in the water.
15. You had me at level 5.
16. There is more than one way to peel a cat.
17. I definitely need a blueberry phone too.
18. I want my presence so small they'll call it nano-management.
19. Same monkey, different zoo.
20. I hope you appreciate all of the efforts we take to make your life more difficult.
21. See you next week if you're not lucky and I'm not careful.
22. He's never not there when I don't need him.
23. This is an insulated incident for wire design.
24. Every time you idiot proof something, someone builds a better idiot.
25. We may have shipped for no reason, but it was a good thing.
26. We don't have committed dates to slide the plan.
27. We will send Auburn body parts.
28. Consistency is important and it isn't always my strong suit.
29. I could ask for something different, but it would just be a contribution to the make a wish foundation.
30. Mostly within the bounds truth.
31. They were squirming like a bunch of shivers looking for a spine to crawl up.
32. I love coming here and watching those airplanes roll by. It’s very relaxing….like going to yoga.
33. The automated machine is really only automated when it works!
34. It should be a process not an adventure.
35. Blame the lawyers -- it helps and it is inherently believable.
36. I keep my sunshine on the inside.
37. We will try anything easy that doesn't work before we try anything hard that does work.
38. The kits are sent "overnight" - which actually means three days.
39. For some reason their data was not being calculated incorrectly.
40. It's like turkeys voting for Thanksgiving.
41. Too many life rings will drown you!
42. We need to get out of the mode of admiring the problem.
43. We're beating the same dead horse, but from a different angle.
44. Everett needs a defrag.
45. Apparently I'm remembering something that never happened.
46. We need two smart people working this... so far we have one.
47. We'll share the high level, so you can see some of the details.
48. We need to let the plan ferment, so it has some bite to it.
49. We have to burn it to make sure it is not flammable.
50. We are moving to a company server so we are training our team to work slower.

I can’t take credit for the list as it was compiled by a peers probably sharing the same penchant for the humor of dialogue and over-used meetings philosophy.