the artful dodger reincarnate

i just read my last post about starbucks, and while i maintain my staunch opposition to starbucks and its emperial forces, i realize that it was a pretty lame post. i was starting to think i was losing my blogging touch (a gift i think i was born with... do you really think the ability to ramble on about nothing for hours on end can be taught?, when a friend at church today told me how much she enjoys reading the blog. i can only assume that by "reading my blog," she meant the stuff that i write on the blog, which means i am making a difference in at least one person's life (and, no, the person to whom i refer is not my wife, i have to pretty much beg her to read the blog or threaten to print all types of libelous lies about her in the blog if she doesn't read it). just so we're clear, aimee does read my blog and she does enjoy it. this comment was included purely for comic relief purposes.

i tell you this, my friends, for two reasons: first, as a self-promoting/self-congratulatory measure and, second, to let you know that my desire to be the greatest blogger to ever grace the face of the earth has found new life. as such, i challenge any and all bloggers who dare to a gentleman's duel, emphasis on gentle, (gentle women may also participate), in my tiny backyard a week from tonight. bring both your laptops and some dignity, but know that you'll only be leaving with one of them.

now, for the post: the artful dodger reincarnate. the artful dodger is a reference to some character in some dickens' novel that i have never read. i think it is the one called oliver something or other (i am too lazy to type in www.wikipedia.com to do some in-depth research... look at that, i just typed in www.wikipedia.com, what a liar). so, as you have surely surmised, i have no idea who the real artful dodger is (i think he was a pick-pocket, not that he was real at all: fiction) and it doesn't matter for purposes of this post because dickens never had a blog and even if he did, he probably wouldn't have been very good at it since i'm sure he can't type. plus, i'm sure he's very long-winded and is incapable of staying on point. in fact, dickens' ghost of novels' past, any of his heirs and/or legal representatives... you are all free to participate in my bloggers gentleman's duel if you feel so inclined. bring it.

back to the artful dodger before this post gets too longwinded or too off point. as a young lad in the cooper clan, i was sometimes referred to as houdini. we all know who houdini is, right? the mastermind illusionist who was slightly more talented than job bleuth. harry, as i like to call him, had a knack for getting out of things. at this point, some of you may be under the mistaken notion that i was known as houdini because i could get punched in the stomach by other kids, as hard as they could punch, while i tightened up my rock solid abs to the point where i barely even noticed the punch (houdini did this, too, in fact i heard this is how he died), but the truth is my family members, being the historical revisionists they are, have fabricated some tall tale about my ability to get out of house and yardwork more efficiently than harry could get out of a chinese water torture chamber as the reason for my "houdini" nickname.

i admit, there may be some truth behind me getting out of a few afternoons of family fun of weeding and digging holes to nowhere in the vegas summer sun, but this did not happen nearly as often as my beloved siblings would like to believe. however, it did happen at least once on an afternoon when i mentioned that i had a stomachache, was excused from working that afternoon and then seemed to quickly overcome what was ailing me just in time to take down five or six pieces of little caesar's pizza. from that point on, my dad affectionately referred to me as houdini and the rest of the family thought his label was just as clever as the shenanigans i would allegedly pull to get out of work... and the name stuck.

to this day, i still hear the accusatory cries of "houdini" as if i were leading some lethargic work-avoiding life (actually, there may be some truth to that given i just started a full-time salaried job for the first time in 3 years), but you'd think that 3 straight years of 2,100 billed hours at an accounting sweathouse firm would dispell some of houdini's notorious "legend." apparently not.

fine. i can't even be bothered by it. my work-ethic self-esteem is such that a few houdidni call-outs won't even phase me. but, if i am going to get a bad rap for avoiding things, i would prefer to be known as the artful dodger instead of houdini. to me, it sounds cooler. and if i am going to be known as the artful dodger, then my son, caleb, shall be known as the artful dodger reincarnate. if i was good at getting out of work in my younger years(which i am neither admitting, nor denying), then caleb is truly gifted (actually, he's not gifted as much as he is stubborn and determined). you see, caleb is a boy who does not like to get sweaty. he declines to help take out the trash, put away dishes, make his bed, put away books, and/or sometimes use the toilet when appropriate all in the name of not wanting to "get sweaty."

it's true, we are a very clean family that tries to maintain respectable habits of hygeine. however, i suspect his pleas to avoid perspiration have more to do with his lack of desire to exert effort than his wanting to remain sweat-free. as an example, i did some yardwork yesterday (which i had been desperately trying to avoid for the last few weeks, but the houdini illusionist acts don't work so well on aimee... i don't think she has an imagination) with some help from my sons. one of my sons was very helpful and useful to have around while the other one might as well have not been there at all. yet, he was there and i love him and he is only 4, but i fear a habit has been engrained within him at an early stage that will require years of bribery and shock therapy to get him to help with chores, yardwork, taking the trash out and foot massages. we'll get through it.

in all seriousness, caleb's just lucky we don't live in some asian nation were child labor is a perfectly acceptable institution. he'd be out on the streets getting all sweaty every minute of every day (at least during the summer). like i said, i love the kid and i would never want him to do something he's not confortable with, like getting all sweaty, so i try and sympathize. maybe he's one of those guys that gets the big sweat rings underneath his armpits while completely pitting out all his shirts. that's just uncomfortable for everyone. we all notice it, but no one can say anything and we're all embarassed for that guy.

there's no way i would want all the hispanic kids he goes to school with pointing and saying behind his back "aye, pero mire a este pibe... como perspira!" (caleb is the only kid who doesn't speak spanish in his class). no parent should ever have to see their child suffer through something as terrible as sweaty pits. and let's face it, he knows his body better than i do, so i guess i should give the artful dodger reincarnate the benefit of the doubt and buy into his "i don't want to get all sweaty" claim.

besides, as usual, this post is about 4 paragraphs longer than it should be to the point where i am getting all sweaty. but, i guess that's what's required of the world's greatest blogger.

remember: gentleman's duel, my house, next monday (opening prayer: jameson, spiritual message: aimee, activity: blogger duel to the death followed by refreshments). see you there.