It’s Thunder Over Louisville this weekend, and I have never been happier to live on the other end of town.

I’ve been to three of these collective insanity episodes. What a great idea. Let’s get a couple hundred thousand strangers together, throw in sun, liquor, and explosives, and then try to get them out of downtown Louisville at the same time all at the same time. Hopefully a race riot doesn’t break out in the middle of it. This year I think they’re trying to set a new record for obnoxious twits getting on camera flashing gang signs while some poor reporter tries to put a good spin on the whole thing.

Here’s how a day at Thunder goes:

You get up at 6 AM to throw some food down your neck and load the car. The kids are still sleepy, so they move in slow motion. By the time you back out of the driveway, you can feel the throbbing starting in your temporal lobe.

When you get either downtown or across the river to watch it from Indiana, you park about 2 miles away from the event. All of the things that you didn’t want to bring but were deemed necessary by your spouse are then strapped to your back and you trudge to the waterfront.

If you’re there with family or friends, it’s a fun afternoon. The two times we’ve done it with the Irish Woman’s family, the kids have really enjoyed playing with the cousins. The family will usually rent a few camper spaces in a lot over in Indiana, and it makes the day much better if you have a place to relax that’s not crowded and actually has a flush toilet.

If, on the other hand, you try to do this alone, you’re continually either allowing your kids to run off with strangers or you spend the day trying to not end up on an Amber Alert interview.

While you’re enjoying your afternoon, the air show is going on. Sometimes you look up and a neat military or civilian aircraft is going overhead. A lot of times you look up and a bunch of nutballs are flying way too fast, way too close, way too loud, and way too low.

Then you get hungry. You discover that all of the food you brought is gone, so you end up satisfying your hunger with a deep fried Snickers, a funnel cake, and steak on a stick. Wash all of that down with a $5 Pepsi.

Now you’re broke. And the nearest port-a-potty is half a mile away, which isn’t that bad because that’s how long the line for it is.

Then it gets dark. You’re shivering because your sunburn is bleeding off of the heat from your body. You and your kids and family watch 20 minutes of fireworks that are pretty impressive. Hopefully the wind is blowing away from you, or you get to inhale the smoke from all of those fireworks to add to your later case of black lung that you get just from living in IndiUcky.

Then you begin the death march back to your car. If you’re lucky, you don’t get mugged or lose a kid in the crowd. Extra points if your kids are so tired and worn out from running around all day that you end up carrying one or more of them, along with all of the things that your wife wanted taken along, but never got unpacked. Last time, I wondered if it would be better to just strap Little Bear and Girlie Bear to my backpack with bungie cords rather than have to pull them along.

Once you get to your car, you strap the semi-conscious kids and wife in, re-pack the car, and spend an hour getting out of the parking lot. On at least 3 occasions you will be scolded for your language by the wife.

You then spend 2 hours trying to get to the interstate to get home. If you parked in Indiana, welcome to a 4 hour ride home, since it makes no sense to let people just come over the river on the bridge that leads directly to Louisville. No, the powers that be will make you drive 25 miles west, then get on a bypass, then get on the interstate that leads you home.

If you parked in Kentucky, welcome to a road company remake of Road Warrior, in which you get to watch nuns cut people off and then threaten their lives. It still takes 4 hours to get home, but at least you have a show to enjoy on the way. The city always has some Rube Goldberg plan for getting people out of downtown without World War III breaking out, but I’m pretty sure they’re actually trying to reduce the population using car accidents, shootings, and starvation.

If you’re lucky, you arrive home in that sweet spot where you’ve caffeinated yourself enough after a 16 hour day that you make it home without falling asleep and killing your entire family, but you’re not so wired that you can’t fall asleep for 4 hours after you get home. Good luck on that balancing act.

Congratulations, you smell of old beer, sweat, and SPF 200 sunblock, and you’ve survived another Thunder over Louisville. OK, your kids will sleep all day Sunday, and you and the wife won’t speak to each other for a couple of days, but wasn’t it grand to spend quality time together?

No thanks. I’ll stay home tomorrow, maybe cook out, but definitely stay away from all things Thundery. If I’m feeling froggy, I might go to the range and make my own Thunder.

Apparently Phil over at Random Nuclear Strikes is fighting the creeping crud.

I’ve had that annoying balloon deflating sound in my head too, and it’s always a warning to go running for the nearest box of tissues.

I’m feeling marginally better today. Irish Woman self medicated this morning and stayed home from work.

Let’s hear it for partying the weekend away while on Sudafed!!!!

As most of you know, I’m not from the South. I’m from about as north as you can go without having to learn to drink Molsen. I didn’t really experience any kind of racism until we moved to California, where I learned that my mom was extremely prejudiced. Over the years, I’ve known some people who lingered in the past when it comes to how they judge people, but I never let those people become an important part of my life.

For the most part, I don’t see much racism here in Kentucky. There’s still not a lot of love between the “black community” and the “white community”, but I see hope for the future when I go to Junior Bear’s school and see white and black kids laughing and talking together.

Anyhoo, today I got smacked in the face with racism. I was sitting in my doctor’s waiting room, and was watching the news. They were talking about the recent rant that Jamie Foxx made about Miley Cyrus. After a while, the staff changed the channel to a talk show that featured Ben Affleck talking about his new movie.

The other patient waiting for her appointment, a woman about my age, remarked that she was glad to see a clean cut “American looking” guy like Affleck on the TV instead of more pictures and video of Jamie Foxx.

To say that I was shocked would be quite an understatement. I was so gobsmacked that I didn’t respond. How could someone as young as she was, in this day, think like that? If she’d been an older lady I’d have chalked it up to habits learned a long time ago, but I never expected to hear something like that from someone my age.

An “American Look” that apparently excludes people who look like Jamie Foxx? If I’d had time and courage to argue with her, I’d have said that there is no “American Look”. Instead, I sat and waited for my name to be called and got on with my day.

But it got me thinking.

Martin Luther King looked like an American. Bobby Jindal looks like an American. George Lopez looks like an American. Lucy Liu, David Patterson, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and even Jamie Foxx look like an American.

We are all Americans, and we all make up this motley assortment of rugged individualists. We fight, squabble, shout, and hurt. We comfort, befriend, and make peace ever day. We come from all corners of the globe, and if you’ve been to Santa Monica or Times Square, you might believe that we draw from beyond the globe.

I am going to have to learn to watch for this attitude in my kids as I bring them up in Kentucky. My parents were prejudiced, and I sometimes have to monitor myself to keep from falling into that trap. I want my children to understand that different doesn’t mean bad.

Well, my hard-living lifestyle of mini van driving and diaper changing finally caught up with me.

I’m sick as a dog.

I’ve had a head cold off and on since November, but I’ve been able to take care of it with OTC meds and lots of fluids.

I’ve been to the doctor for it a couple of times, which ends with me getting a shot of cortisone in my rump, some decongestants, and an antibiotic of some kind or another.

Irish Woman and I both woke up this morning feeling like dirt. She went to work, and I got the kids off to school and day care. My MD was able to get me in this morning, and of course, it’s my cold again. And I’ve given it to the Irish Woman.

I got another shot in my butt, some more antibiotics, and an appointment at an EENT. My doc thinks that I’ll probably have to have my tonsils out, and possibly get some work done on my nose. Apparently having a nose that’s been fractured several times can cause problems.

I’m going to go take some green death NyQuil and get some rest. Hopefully I’ll be back at it tomorrow.

Apparently the Brits are looking for another terrorist cell. This one is apparently planning to attack in London.

Here’s what caught my eye:

Evidence gleaned from the arrests was revealed to Cobra, Whitehall’s emergency committee of intelligence chiefs and ministers.

Apparently, our cousins across the pond are consorting with Cobra Commander and his minions. Luckily, we have GI Joe to help us.

Like others, I’m really looking forward to seeing the new Star Trek movie, which comes out on May 8.

This article in Big Hollywood gives me yet another reason to see this film, and take the kids with me so it makes even more money.

The director and cast of the new Star Trek film took their little movie to a war zone and screened it for the troops. That’s right, they didn’t go to a university, or a Star Trek convention, or to Cannes. They went to Kuwait.

People like this deserve every dime I plan on spending to see their film, and I encourage all of y’all to reward them too.

Well, Baby Bear has turned 1, and we had the customary gathering and feast for him on Saturday.

Much fun was had by all. Way too much food, lots of good friends, lots of toys that require batteries and anti-seizure medicine. Little Bear was cut loose by his mom for the party, and it was great to watch him play with his friends and brother and sister.

Since so many people were coming to the party, a very good friend graciously let us hold the party in her house. Irish Woman and I spent the better part of two days shopping and cooking for the event. Overall, we left her home in as good a condition as we found it. It’s almost as much work to prepare for and clean up after a party at someone else’s house as it is to have at your own.

Baby Bear got his own chocolate cake, as is customary. He dove in, literally. No need to encourage this kid. By the time he was done, he was covered from head to rump, and the high chair had to be taken out to the driveway and hosed down. When we took him to take a bath, he left a ring.

We definitely have to do something very nice for our friends.

Baby Bear’s big present from us was a Radial Flyer all-steel wagon. He can be pulled in it for the time being, and when he gets bigger, he can use it as his own cargo trailer.

I need to think up a new nickname for Baby Bear. He’s still a baby, but not for much longer. Once they get teeth and start walking, it’s not long before they get toddler status. I’ll have to do some thinking about that.

Apparently, the Obama Justice Department is trying to figure out what to do with the pirate who was captured this weekend. Apparently this wayward youth was part of the party who decided it would be a good idea to board an American flagged vessel and take the captain of said vessel hostage and thumb their collectives noses at the U.S. Navy.

There are three things being bandied about.

1. Try this guy in either New York or Washington in federal court.
2. Give this putz to the Kenyans, who have agreed to try and punish pirates from that area of the world.
3. Give him to whatever passes for a government in Somalia these days.

#3 is a non-starter. There hasn’t been a real government in Somalia since I was in high school. Giving this twerp to whoever calls themself El Jefe in that 3rd world craphole would only get him appointed to the local board of aldermen.

#2 isn’t much better. I know that Kenya has been friendly to us for a long time, and they have taken pirates off of our and our allies’ hands in the past, but I want this scum tried in a U.S. court.

So, that leaves #1. But I don’t think that our over-burdened civilian courts need to be bothered with this.

Here’s my plan:

1. Fly several 3 or 4 star admirals out to the USS Bainbridge, which is in the area and was in on the rescue of Captain Phillips. At least one of these should be a lawyer.
2. Provide this idiot with a small group of very competent lawyers from the Navy Judge Advocate General.
3. Hold a military courts martial on the deck of the Bainbridge, with the admirals acting as the judge and jury.
4. If he’s found not guilty, then we give him a days worth of bread and water, an inflatable dingy, and let him loose about 40 miles off the coast of Somalia. If he’s found guilty, he’s hung from a yardarm within site of his village. Extra points for tieing his body to mined buoy and leaving it there for the seagulls.

Yeah, it’s harsh, but oh well.

A sign you will not be having a good day:

H/T to the Fail Blog.

The kids and I discovered the new “Penguins of Madagascar” over vacation on Nickelodean.

It’s absolutely hilarious to watch, and all of us, the adult, the 16 year old, and the 10 year old all find it fun.

The animation is at least as good as in the Madagascar films, and the writing is excellent.

Another way to waste your time. Go, Enjoy!