Anyone that knows me knows that I take my automotive obsessions quite seriously. Meticulous cleaning, detailing, and customization. I also have two young children who suffer from the inability to successfully navigate processed food products in to their mouths while partaking in vehicular transport. With the context laid, it’s no surprise that I wrestle with the awareness of one of our cars, which is the predominant mode of transportation for the kids, resembling a mobile processed food delivery device.

To be fair, the kids need to eat and more often than not you’re in motion to and from some nondescript retail or grocery store or soccer practice. Therefore, it’s easy to stop at the nearest cholesterol castle surrounded by a moat of saturated fat for a quick heartache happymeal. In a recent turn of events, Son #2 has been vehemently resisting crispy chicken in lieu of French fries. He’ll sort through the chicken and toss the undesirable fried poultry bits to the floor in a quest to uncover the golden potato treasures like a desperate archaeologist.

But Son #2 isn’t alone in his automotive inconsideration. Son #1, while he loves chicken with the crust and tots, he has a severe disregard for accuracy in consumption and even less for food stowage. And this entry is about him.


As with many things in life, you learn to fight the winnable battles unless you have a sadistic desire to constantly beat your skull against a brick wall. I’m learning that no matter how much I ‘suggest’ the need for cleanliness of the vehicle and the lack of the fried mystery meat product aroma and caffeinated brew stains, my meager voice goes unheard. As a matter of fact, my requests are creatively twisted into song or elaborate story by Son #1.

The other night after soccer practice, we needed to provide sustenance to the youth of the family and stopped at a ubiquitous comfort food capital for deep fried goodness. And as predictable as rain in Seattle, Son #2 removed the poultry products from his tray, tossed them to the floor, and went about ingesting his French fries. Likewise, Son #1, because he must dance while he eats, performed his best imitation of what a small tornado would look like inside of Carl’s Jr. if both were trapped in my wife’s backseat.

Knowing my aversion to food ‘tossage’ on floor mats, you can imagine my dismay in what was next. Eloquently and calmly, I explain to Son #1 that French fries do not belong on the floor of the car. In an equally eloquent and oh-so sincere response, I’m told that there are ‘only’ 30,000 French fries on the floor. And in fact, food objects such as French fries will make cars jump better. Son #1 continues to explain that the 30,000 fries will make my wife’s car jump 30,000 feet. A pretty bold claim, if you ask me. For the mathematically inclined, it seems there’s a linear relationship between the quantity of French fries residing on one’s floormats and the distance which that vehicle can be propelled through the air.

Son #1’s concept is fatally flawed in several areas. Let’s do some simple math here to dispel this claim:

One order of medium French fries at a leading fast food establishment is approximately 40 fries.

Therefore, 30,000 fries would equal 750 orders of fries (30,000/40 = 750).

Statistically, the average French fry is 4-inches in length. If we assume that each fry is on average 1/4-inches x 1/4-inches square, we find that the average volume of a single French fry is 1/4 cubic-inch 1/4*1/4*4 = 1/4).

So, the total volume of 750 orders of French fries with 40 fries per order is 7,500 cubic-inches (750*1/4*40 = 7,500).

This is 4.34 cubic-feet of French fries.

The average mid-sized sedan has approximately 100 cubic-feet of interior volume which is roughly a 60/40 split between front and rear areas. That means 40 cubic-feet of interior space is in the backseat.

Densely packed, the total quantity of fries would take up over 10% of the backseat volume. It’s safe to say that none of us would pack efficiently when it came to French fries. Therefore, we can safely say that this would be a loosely packed volume of 20%. No room for much else.

Despite being moderately intriguing to fill a mid sized car with fries, I find that this increased volume usage has nothing to do with the ability of a vehicle to propel itself into the air.

Let’s talk additional weight instead.

One medium order of fries weighs approximately 5.5 ounces. Taking our earlier calculation of 750 orders, we find that the total quantity of fried goodness weighs 4,125-oz which is about 258-lbs (750*5.5 = 4,125).

Automotive performance can be measure by many metrics. But when it comes to jumping a vehicle into the air, I can’t imagine one more important than the power-to-weight ratio.

The typical mid-sized sedan doesn’t possess a jaw-dropping power-to-weight ratio. I don’t think I can jump over Long Beach harbor in a Honda Accord. Already being at a power-to-weight disadvantage, adding an additional 258 pounds will only erode any slight performance the automobile had to begin with.

Let’s assume the average mid-sized car weighs 3,200-lbs. and has 250HP. That means the average mid-sized car has a power-to-weight ration of 0.08HP/lbs. (250/3,200 = 0.08). Not great.

Add 258-lbs. to that which is approximately 8% weight growth and you get a P/W ratio of 0.07HP/lbs. (250/(3200+258) = 0.07).

The lower the P/W ratio, the worse the performance. No mid-sized car is jumping farther with 8% weigh growth.

What about that distance of 30,000-feet?

30,000-feet is approximately 5.68-miles and I’m fairly certain that the record for jumping a car with even one fry is significantly shorter than this distance. In fact, Travis Pastrana set a world a year ago for jumping his Subaru 274-feet. Do I really need to do the math here?

I will. 30,000-feet is a 10,850% increase over a documented world record automobile jump.

While my theorems and attack at Son #1’s stunt credibility may not be thorough enough to win Nobel Prize for scientific discovery, I’m fairly certain based on applied mathematics here that 30,000 fried potato products would severely limit the airborne capabilities of a mid-sized passenger vehicle and it couldn’t jump 30,000-feet.

Deep-fried performance improvements: none. Stories: large. Fries: many. Got to love Son #1 for trying!

It’s “New Music Monday” again. I once used to be on top of my game knowing when new releases of my favorite artists were going to drop. It seems as time passes in the hour glass of life, I’ve become more preoccupied by other details and obligations like children and employment. However, my unwavering hunger for new music hasn’t faded. Once again, I missed a vital piece of information that an old favorite, an old friend if you will, released a new album. But again, as fate would have it, I was alerted to its existence only days after the release by the wonders of the internet and all of its glowing informational fruitfulness.


The godfather of emo music, Chris Carrabba, and those ‘three other guys’ of Dashboard Confessional have released their latest studio album “Alter the Ending.” I have adamantly denied the value of mainstream emo in previous posts. Now that ‘emo’ is the whiney, mascara wearing, ‘my parents-don’t-understand-me’ variant. Dashboard Confessional is alternative rock but is absolutely soul-bearing and the pouring of heart felt emotion. And because I am an emotional train wreck, this resonates with me. I was looking for something deeper and wrenching rather than my typical ‘I hate the Man’ music.

Get it here at Lala.com

In a digressional moment, I owe thanks to my cousin and his family for the iTunes gift card which afforded the purchase of “Alter the Ending.” I’m pretty anti-Apple, specifically iTunes and its Gestapo-like DRM. It’s like visiting the Matrix. But with a gift card, I was all about taking advantage of economically risk free music. Unfortunately, iTunes had “Alter the Ending” for $12.49 when it was only $9.49 at my secret love, Lala.com. This further supports my stance against the evils of iTunes.

Onward. If I’m counting correctly, this is the sixth studio release from Carrabba as the front of Dashboard Confessional. In honesty, the record is a little more overproduced than past releases. Now, that could have killed the record, because what makes Dashboard Confessional truly intimate is Carrabba’s songwriting, earnest voice, and minimal acoustic guitar work. This record is almost a polar opposite of that. Lots of echoes, string arrangements and layering. But all of the production suits many of the songs. Let it be known that true purists will blast this level of ‘poppiness’ and yearn for the old days of Dashboard Confessional. In that case, I would recommend buying the Deluxe version which is two discs. The first disc is all of the material in glorious Technicolor and full production sound. The second disc is all of the same tunes in naked acoustic pleasantries. That bares Dashboard Confessional down to the underground emo-heartbreak phenomenon they once were.

“Alter the Ending” is a very deep record emotionally. For me, it is what I needed right now. Less about the music and more about the message. Less about destruction of the institutional constructs of the ‘Man’ and more of about the dive into feelings about the world around me and the struggles inside me. Okay, so I may be a little biased but I will say that the songwriting on this album is truly intimate, and beautiful. Carrabba is a master at capturing hurt and joy in an audible format that you ‘get.’ Despite my favoritism of the band and my connections to the messages swirling around from listening to the album, this is truly a special record of beautiful tunes. Typically, Dashboard Confessional albums were more about darker feelings and retrospective but “Alter the Ending” is much more upbeat and the lyrics lift and are hopeful.

All of the songs are near-epic on this album but there are three marquee songs which make it purchase-worthy:

Belle of the Boulevard – When I first heard this song, I had the vision of sitting in my garage with my sons reflecting on life and passing on advice about persevering through disappointments but knowing they both aren’t listening and would rather draw with sidewalk chalk. The beauty of the song is in the message and how it is delivered. Uplifting and lyrically soaring. In brief, it’s pretty much about rubbing dirt on your emotional wounds and moving on.

Hell on the Throat – If I had to pick one song that typified the sound of early Dashboard Confessional, this song is it. It’s delicate and intimately sung over an acoustic guitar and piano. The tale is an analogy of the harshness of the cold of winter being equated to the long road of life and roadblocks along the journey. This is Dashboard Confessional at its best.

Everybody Learns from Disaster – The title of this song is fairly self explanatory. Lyrically, it wonders through lessons learned through the years of growing up in a highly metaphorical story. It is very vivid and you can almost see the story visually playing out in your mind as you listen. It harkens back to the those long warm summers while you were in high school and felt indestructible but are now old enough the appreciate the lessons.



“Alter the Ending” is a lyrical adventure. The songwriting and musicianship are top shelf but the true beauty of the work is in its message and its delivery. This is what makes Dashboard Confessional a great group. It’s their ability to channel emotional feelings in a way that the listener can relate. Most of the songs are very metaphorical requiring the listener to digest what is being said. The cerebral nature of the lyrics creates a visualization that adds to the ambiance and the experience. Music that makes you see a vignette of a short story of life is what you will hear on “Alter the Ending.”

On a positive note, I’m having a hard time feeling the effects of a downtrodden economy on my God-given ‘consumerial’ propensity to spend my hard-earned scratch on musical entertainment. That being said, I have a long list (read: spreadsheet) that continues to grow as I discover new music to add to our all ready expansive catalog. I seem to add music to the list faster than I can acquire it. Hence, the reason for the spreadsheet.

So I have decided to add a little bit of structure and form into my typically chaotic world of creativity. Now, I am pretty particular when it comes to music. Ask my wife about how I organize our catalog and she explain to you that my methods, while unorthodox, are completely unfounded and make no intuitional sense to anyone other than me. She is wrong. Read the past entries about our catalog and it totally makes sense. Anyway, back to the structure I mean to talk about.

I was talking to Son #1 the other night. I find his opinion on most of the stately issues around the house are pretty educated and spot on. I’d guess this is because he spends nearly every minute of his existence within the walls of his cage. We only let him out for feeding time and potty breaks. In the one-sided conversation, I brought up how Daddy has a plan for music in our house. He looked at me like, ‘What the hell is a plan, and why are you interrupting Yo Gabba Gabba.’ I explain to him that it’s important to have new music that we can enjoy and I am dubbing the last Monday of every month “New Music Monday” in our house. On that glorious day of existence, we will add new music to our catalog. He seemed unimpressed with my declaration and now was annoyed that I stood between him and the glowing digital screen of animated entertainment.

Yes. New music is released on Tuesdays from the industry. I know this and was reminded of this detail by my never-be-wrong loving partner. In my responsible young adult past, I used to refrain from attending pre-arranged educational settings (read: skip class) to be at Sam Goody, Musicland, or Budget Tapes to pick up that must-have album on its release date. Those places are gone these days. But we gots the internets now. So why not pick Tuesday? Well, it’s all about alliteration. New Music Monday not New Music Tuesday. It just doesn’t roll off the tongue. New Tunes Tuesday sounds like I should be watching the Disney Channel and pissing my pants over the Jonas Brothers. But more importantly, it is ‘new’ music being added to our catalog. This doesn’t mean it was just released and is the classic Merriam-Webster definition of ‘new.’ It could very well be this, but I am talking about ‘new’ to us.

Here is where I am going with this. If I’ve lost you in my rambling about Son #1, please let me steer you back on to the dilapidated track of my mind. On New Music Monday, I am going to procure new musical items for the catalog and plan delivering a creative yet compelling opinion of our latest addition for you, the reader. Why? One, I like to tell people what I think. Second, music is very important to MANY people in my life. I hope that I may be able to convey the slightest bit of inspiration to you and maybe influence you to try something new or consider something different when it comes to music. Besides, it’s pretty fun to talk about music anyway.

Don’t think of it as a review. I am not a professional musician or critic. I just know what I like and what resonates with me. At this point, you still must be confused where Son #1 fits into this decision. To be honest, I don’t really know. I just told him I was going to do this and he didn’t argue or whine about it. Knowing Son #1, this means that he doesn’t disapprove of it and by default, I consider this approval. So let’s go with that. So the plan is this: I completely intend on retaining my emotional right to continue to post my inner most thoughts and feelings on life’s impending disappointments. However, I am going to sprinkle in a little more editorial in the form of musical evaluation once a month.