Possible Campaign Slogans for 2012

Just having a little fun on a Friday. I'm thinking about possible slogans as the presidential campaign continues.

1. Obama: Change You Can Almost Believe In

2. Obama: Of Course I Was Born In America: How Else Could I Be So Good At Talking About Sports?

3. Santorum: What Was So Bad About 1950?

4. Santorum: The Separation Between Church And State Is Totally Overrated

5. Romney: I Can Make Change -- For A Lot Of Hundred Dollar Bills

6. Romney: Don't Tell Anyone I'm Actually Only A Little To The Right Of Obama

A Good Day in the Life

5:50 a.m. Time to wake up, little Mack is ready to start the day. Ten minutes later, Troy comes down the stairs. I convince him to go back to bed for a few more minutes. By 6:30, Tina's up to get ready for work. She makes pancakes for Troy and is out the door by 8:00. Mack is already tired because getting up at 5:50 doesn't agree with him, but he does it every morning anyway. I put him down for a nap by 8:30. Troy and I make scrambled eggs, eat, then read a few books and do a few puzzles together. A little after 9:00, some guy shows up about a few home improvement projects we need completed. I thought he was coming tomorrow. No problem, Troy likes when anyone comes over, so he starts chatting up the contractor about camping and umbrellas. I'm still in my pajamas. The guy probably thinks I'm a real jerk. After he leaves, Troy watches a little TV and plays Angry Birds on the Kindle.

Mack's up around 10:30. Hmmm, what to do with a 1-year-old and 4-year-old on a 30 degree day? Yesterday we went to the library, the day before to the supermarket, what's left? The play area at the mall? Well, we did that Sunday, but I'm out of ideas. I put together a diaper bag (meaning I toss a diaper, wipes, and bottle of milk into a plastic grocery store bag) and we take off for the mall. They play for a bit and enjoy themselves. I take a picture on my cell phone. Troy looks like he's slapping Mack, but he's actually being gentle with his little brother. When they finish up, we eat lunch at the food court--Subway, lunch of champions. After our quick eats, we stroll through the mall, then head home.

I play peek-a-boo with Mack while Troy watches TV. I wash dishes, play with Mack, turn off the TV, then make sure the boys play nice together. "Be careful" I say, first to Mack, then to Troy, and realize I constantly warn them to be careful. I wonder if this will influence them to avoid risks in their adult lives, or throw caution to the wind instead. By 2:00 it's time for Mack's afternoon nap, so I put him down, then finish washing dishes, and take a Tylenol to stop the headache that's approaching. Troy and I color some pictures together. I color inside the lines, so does he. Is conformity genetic?

Mack wakes up after an hour. I microwave some peas and carrots and put him in his high chair. He throws the peas off his tray, which Troy runs over with his Batmobile. Good job, everyone. We have to leave soon because Troy has a medical appointment (another story for another time). I get ready, meaning I throw on a baseball cap. In getting the boys ready, a comedy of errors ensues. If this were a reality TV show, you'd only see the next ten minutes, with me starring in the role of the stumbling bumbling father. I get us back on track and we head out the door to meet Tina, who's meeting us directly from work.

The appointment goes well. Tina is with Troy during the appointment, while I hang out with Mack in the waiting room. Sociable Mack charms everyone for the next twenty minutes. When the appointment's done, it's dinner time. We're a parking lot away from the Anchor Bar, where chicken wings were born. Tina and I haven't been there in at least five years, so we figure what the hell, why not? Dinner is unhealthy and uneventful. Check please! Mack is ready to roll, so I take off with him while Tina settles the bill. We all meet home and get the boys ready for bed. Around 7:00, Tina puts Mack to bed while I wash bottles (a 1-year-old goes through quite a few bottles of milk in a day). Next is snack time for Troy, and the three of us relax until his 8:00 bedtime.

While Tina takes Troy upstairs and covers the bedtime routine, I work on this blog. The day is coming to a close. It's been a good day, as measured by the lack of bumps and bruises. No tantrums, no drama--I could use more days like this one! When Tina comes back downstairs, we watch a little TV and I finish up this blog. The clock strikes 9:00, and we're exhausted. Time for bed.

THE END

Author's note: this is a work of non-fiction.

In Times Square, HOTT News Establishes A Presence

Walking through Times Square recently, I noticed a muscular man wearing only a purple Speedo. Times Square is pretty much a circus, so a man in a purple Speedo isn't far outside the frame. But he wasn't just another guy walking through the streets. He is going to be on-air talent for the soon to be HOTT News. The man plans to deliver a daily weather forecast in his purple Speedo. His on screen name? Purple Rain. Must be a homage to Prince, I assume.

Keep in mind that HOTT News has not actually gone to air yet. Tourists didn't seem to care that HOTT News isn't yet on television or that Purple Rain has never been on TV. Fans lined up for his autograph and excitedly took pictures with him as he delivered a three-day forecast through a megaphone. "Tomorrow we'll have plenty of sunshine, but on Tuesday you should expect strong winds, and by Wednesday, the sky will open up and bring....you guessed it...purple rain!" The crowd roared.

Purple Rain basked in the attention. He seemed comfortable in his Speedo and looked ready for prime time. "How do you stay in such great shape?" asked a middle-aged woman in the crowd. Without hesitation, he replied: "I have my own workout program. You'll see it someday on my DVD." It was like he had waited his entire life for the question.

It's True, I'm Not That Important

I like giving advice, and I like getting advice. Leading up to my sabbatical, I asked my colleagues for their advice with respect to being on campus. Should I disappear? Come around occasionally? It's not as if I'd be travelling to another country. Realistically, I knew I'd be local, so I'd be inclined to come to campus once in a while. The general advice I received was to stay away. The advice didn't have to do with negative attitudes about our institution. Rather, it was practical advice to maximize time away from campus. It was basic advice to actually take a rest from all campus activity. Walking with a colleague about a month before my sabbatical, he said: "Don't worry about not being here. You're not that important." And he was right. We're so used to being on committees, going to meetings, advising students, and most importantly, teaching, that we come to see ourselves at vital to the lifeline of the institution. In fact, we're not that important. Campus life goes on without us. I'm two months into my sabbatical, and only one student has e-mailed me to end my sabbatical. But even my one fan will survive without me!

I haven't entirely followed the advice to stay away. I actually like dropping in once a week or so to change up my work space. I can only write at my kitchen table for so long. It's nice to stop in, grab mail, chat with colleagues, say hi to students, do some work, and scamper back home. Last week I took my four-year-old for a campus stroll, something I normally don't have time to do. And it's nice talking with people without being in a hurry. Stop and smell the academy, I guess!

As my sabbatical continues, I plan to go to campus sporadically to grab lunch with friends, talk with students and colleagues, and do work in my office or at the library. In my experience so far, I haven't felt like staying away entirely. But my colleague was exactly right: I'm not that important. So I will continue to do what's worked for me: mostly stay at home, write and read at my kitchen table, and enjoy a mix of productivity and relaxation.

Love on the Side of the Road

Driving to my parents' house in Niagara Falls, New York, once the honeymoon capital of the world, I saw a filthy truck with an even filthier stuffed animal affixed to it. A man sat in the driver's seat with the window rolled down, on the side of the road. He was selling flowers. Is this what love has come to? Love on the side of the road? Man, I wish I made country music for a living, because that's a basis for a hit song if I ever knew one. I almost stopped to ask his permission to take a picture of him and his temporary small business that sells love in a truck, but I decided not to bother him. The guy was just trying to make a buck. I bet he'll have some customers. Yesterday, the guy behind me at the grocery store slammed a cheap vase with a few flowers in it onto the conveyor belt, along with a card. He seemed pretty pissed about the whole thing. Maybe he was just trying to play it cool.

Meanwhile, my four-year-old is getting socialized to buy into Valentine's Day. He had to make cards for all his classmates at preschool, all the boys and girls. Times have changed. Back in my day it was feast or famine, either you were the type of kid to get a lot of valentines or none, so you could find a bunch of cards waiting for you or end up like Charlie Brown. My little guy had fun making valentines for everyone in his class. With help from socialization agents--school, family, friends, and media--I'm sure he'll be a Valentine's Day pro someday. I just hope he doesn't buy love on the side of the road.

The End

Black History Month

There is so much amazing African-American history. African-American history is American history. I was inspired and influenced by my history courses as an undergraduate and graduate student. Walking through my local grocery store this morning, I was stopped dead in my tracks by this display.

This is a peculiar effort to acknowledge Black History Month. How about some BOOKS? How about some HISTORY? What's worse, this attempt at recognizing Black History Month or ignoring it altogether? A shabby display of magazines is not history. African-American history should be celebrated, not degraded.

In Cable News Wars, HOTT News Sees An Opening

HOTT News is the brainchild of Steve Rose, a young man who describes himself as a "rich kid from Malibu." He is busy courting investors as he develops a twenty-four hour news channel. He does not consider himself an expert in cable news. At 24-years-old, he depends on a wise source to understand the history of cable news: his father. "My dad tells me that CNN used to be relevant, which is hard for me to believe," says Rose, finishing a game on Xbox. Rose doesn't care much for news, except to the extent that it can make him money. Rose is rich by virtue of inheritance. Other than the Jaguar he drives, he does not possess a lot of material goods. He is determined not to squander his riches. Even with slight understanding of the cable news industry, he sees opportunity: "Look at Current TV. Actually, don't. It'll hurt your eyes. What's going on over there doesn't make sense. 'Let's go left of MSNBC.' How is that a successful strategy?"

Rose flips through the channels as we talk, staying on MTV for a while, then ESPN, and lands on Fox News. "Everything about Fox News has already been said, so I won't repeat it. I'll only say that the clock is running out. Sooner or later, their viewers will get it. And then they'll change the channel." So where will the viewers turn? Rose hopes it will be HOTT News.

Rose has a vision of a channel in which news is delivered in unconventional ways. "The anchors and reporters will be, shall we say, hot. Very hot." But won't that compromise the integrity of the content, I ask him. "Integrity? You live in America, right? Where do you see integrity? Integrity has left the building. Enter hotness." Confused, I probe for a clearer description of what viewers can expect if HOTT News comes to fruition. "Look, it's not going to be a case of opinion masquerading as news, or news hiding behind a thin veil of supposed objectivity. This is not your parents' cable news station. This is MTV meets ESPN meets the old CNN." That doesn't make any sense to me, so I ask again what he means. Frustrated, he offers a blunt answer: "Hot people delivering news and opinion. But finally, you'll know which is which. That's it." Is he concerned about what demographic he will attract, or what segments of the population he will leave out? "Absolutely not," he says with confidence. "Everybody likes hottness shaken and stirred." Still confused, I thank him for his time, and leave the interview very concerned about the future of cable news.