The following letter was crafted by one Zippy Mc Gee. Consumers, all of us, should follow in Zippy’s footsteps. He stood up for himself and his hard earned buck. Enjoy the read. Power to the peeps’.
“What a difference, a little difference could make.”
June 25, 2009
To Whom It May Concern at Nixon Inc.:
This is it, Nixon. I’m breaking up with you and your watches. I’ve been disappointed for the last time by your poorly designed watchbands. I’ve purchased four watches from you altogether over the years, both in stores and online. On three of those watches the band has broken and rendered the watch useless and un-wearable. The current model that has disappointed me is the “In The Zone – The Private”. The rubber has broken (shocking!) and the canvas is about to tear…so shed a tear for another fallen Nixon watch.
I will not entertain the thought of repairing a watchband that I know will break again, inevitably. Plus I feel that if you spend close to $100 on a watch, it should last for a long time. The only watchband that has not broken is one that has a metal link band.
So that’s it Nixon. We’re through. I wanted to support you and I wanted to believe in your watches, because some of them are actually cool. But I cannot and will not support a product that has let me down now three times.
I’m the type of friend who likes to offer his opinion when friends are not necessarily interested in it. Know what I mean? So I’ll be sure to tell my friends what crappy watches you make. Know what time it is? Time to not buy another Nixon.
In just two short days Bridget and I will depart for France and England with a tour of high school choir students. Owen will keep things going in my absence, but I have plans to write some international pieces when I return. Jacob will be in good hands with my overjoyed parents - as he gets a week of pampering I am sure to not have had as a child. We will miss him, but he is too young for this trip.
1. I don’t like living in Seattle, NJ. Rain. Rain. Go away?
2. The Dennis Leary television show Rescue Me is well done. Funny. Bitter. Obnoxious. Tough. Irish.
3. Season 5 of Entourage is on DVD. Stella and I will be putting in some serious leisure time catching up.
We’ll watch the entire season in a marathon two week session while listening to the rain fall(?).
4. The movie The Hangover deserves all of the hype – a modern classic, hysterically funny road movie.
As one can see I have been, or will be doing a lot of television viewing…
5. Summer Reading:
What is The What by Dave Eggers Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll The Plot Against America by Philip Roth Physics of The Impossible by Michio Kaku
*Random pages of whatever I attempt to read to a very active Dalton
As one can see I have been, or will be doing a lot of reading, or attempting to…
6. I will be painting the exterior of the house this summer, a side here, a side there. There is no deadline, just have it finished by September.
As one can see I have been, or will be doing a lot of painting…
7. Start writing
8. ‘Luck is needed to accomplish all of the things mentioned, minus the rainfall.
9. Dalton has other plans
10. A couple of well deserved weekends down at the ‘Jersey Shore with family and friends (beer, baggo,
surfing, good tunes, and smiles)
As one can see I will get some of these things accomplished, probably none of them. Dalton has other plans. They’re probably much more fun, and less labor intensive. I wonder if he can predict the weather, or has any clout with the powers that be.
I recently read this article about Obama’s view of what a father is and should be. Click here to read it for yourself. As we approach Father’s Day remember it is probably still one of the most important jobs in America - especially when the economy is bad.
Happy Father’s Day to all you dads and dads to be!
Resist. Multiply. Spend half the money and twice the time with your child(ren).
Today I went back to my former school - one in which I spent two years before Jacob was born and I began my journey into parenting as a stay-at-home papa. I had not visited this whole entire school year for any number of reasons. The number one reason probably was that I was not going to go back to the school. Instead I was starting fresh in my former former school (yes, I know I wrote that twice). So I guess you could say I was a little bit over being around elementary school teachers.
At any rate, I decided last week that there were a few people who I wanted to visit with Jacob. I sent an email and made my plans to venture in and basically say “goodbye” to those that I valued and valued me. Most people there I had lost touch with - probably because I was a guy in a school with almost 100 percent women, and probably because being a stay-at-home dad is not really the most popular decision a guy makes. Whatever the reasons, I was out of touch and out of time (I can see Hall and Oates getting their lawyers ready as I write that last line - YIKES).
So I made my decision to return to the school that I was not really going to return to in September. See you in whenever….
Of course, two days before I made my trek back, a hard knot started to form in my forehead, above my eye brow with no place to be hidden, as a result. I looked in the mirror to see what was brewing and sure enough it was an enormous, hideous, disgusting ZIT! Oh crap, I thought. Just what I need on my head before I go and see all these people. Thanks. Thanks for nothing.
What I did next, I know I should not have done, but I had to do it. You know how it is. It is not like you are free from guilt here, either. You’ve all played around with the ZIT as it begins to form. You’ve all done a little digging, a little squeezing, and a little pinching. Don’t try to deny it. I did the same thing that all of you have done way before me. I played doctor. I thought I was doing myself a service, but in reality I made things a hell of a lot worse.
I tried to pop it. I tried to squeeze the huge, monster-sized, pea-shaped disaster that had formed above my eye brow with no place to be hidden on my almost clear face. I took both thumbs and I really layed into that s-o-b. It did nothing. It did not move and squirt out anything except a thick, yellowish liquid. My head ached, and the ZIT stared back at me - now red and very pissed off. I could feel its heartbeat in my brain and I began to panic. I took tweezers and an pin and poked it. Nothing changed. Well almost nothing. The ZIT changed. It grew angry and more annoyed at my prodding fingers. It turned purple with a yellow center. I swear it looked like something out of the movie “Something About Mary”. Gross. Yuck. Ack.
I came downstairs from my lab (the bathroom) with a piece of tissue stuck to the wound. Jacob asked me, “What’s that, daddy?” I told him it was a boo-boo and Bridget just shook her head. “Why did you play with it? You knew this would happen.”
She was right. I knew and I did it anyway. I thought this one would be different. This one would yield to my hands and break open as I applied a little pressure. WRONG. No change here - except from bad to worse.
Thank god for a clean shower - spraying hot water on an open sore. Thank god for neosporin. Thank god for two days of not picking at it before entering my former school.
The day finally came and my ZIT was really gone for all intents and purposes. Of course, in its wake, was a scab the size of a dime. At least I had replaced it with something more disgusting.
When will I ever learn? Zit happens and we should leave it at that.
Resist. Multiply. Pop ‘um if you’ve got ‘um - or not. Enjoy this clip:
Recently I had our front storm door fixed. Apparently the glass within it is very heavy and the door itself is not a high grade of metal to sustain its weight. This was all done before I owned the door (house included in that expense) and I really did not have much to do with its issues.
At any rate, the hinges became bent, the screws became unstable, and the door closing device broke completely. The storm door was a problem, and one in which I could not fix myself.
My father and wife both urged me to replace the door, but I am of the frame of mind that you don’t throw something away without investigating a possible fix that can delay the inevitable. I would much prefer to spend a few bucks than all of them. Call me old fashioned. Old Fashioned Dean - that has a nice ring to it.
Anyway, I decided to call my local handy man. Let’s call him Handy Bob (instead of Handy Manny). This guy is an eighty something year old man who is a terrific person, as well as a great “fixer”. He came the very next day from when I called him and he spent two hours moving the hinges and basically saving me time, money, and aggravation. I used him to replace steps that were broken at our party a few weeks ago, too.
Why am I writing about this whole event? Well for one thing I realize it is not terribly interesting, but I also wanted to make a simple point that I think might be lost on people of my generation or on our society as a whole.
Put simply: we tend to throw out things that don’t work in today’s society. We often don’t take the time to repair broken items. Sure sometimes it is cost effective to do this, but sometimes it is not. Today it cost me 50 dollars (plus a twenty dollar tip - one that I wanted to give for Handy Bob’s quick help) to fix a door that was a little down on its luck. Remember the line from the movie Sea Biscuit? - “You don’t throw away a whole life just ’cause it’s banged up a little.” The same is true of a door or anything for that matter. The quick thing to do is to replace it, but it is not always the right thing to do. Sometimes right is harder, but worth it in the end. I was happy to replace the door if it needed to be, but luckily it could be fixed. Life is like that, too. However, it usually doesn’t take two hours to fix a life.
Enough said.
Resist. Multiply. Don’t throw away a door just ’cause it’s banged up a little.
I discovered a copy of an awesome book entitled, “Rhinoceros Tap” in our home bookshelf tonight. It is a great story to read to your toddler because there is a fun CD that comes with it. There are 15 songs that go along with the story and I found it especially entertaining for me and for Jacob. He was dancing and bopping his head to the music. I highly recommend it.
The book also has a second section with sheet music and the full lyrics - so talented people like Bridget can play the piano and sing the songs to Jacob the Dancing Warrior.
So this morning I gave Jacob a bath. This has become a daily necessity since he gets so sweaty the day before while playing in the warm soon-to-be summer sun. Today he struck me as particularly smart when he said, “Look, Daddy, I swim like a fish!” Sure enough, he was laying on his stomach, kicking his legs like a little swimmer.
Then he proceeded to drink the dirty bath water in the tub and all thoughts of genius were erased. Yikes!
Nevertheless, Jacob continues to amaze me with how expressive his language is getting. I read somewhere recently that the more we encourage him to speak, the more we actually speak to him and explain the world around him, and the more we introduce new words to him, the more he will gain language and understanding of his surroundings. It is an awesome thing to be a part of. I feel a certain parental pride when he speaks and speaks well. To me, it is a huge milestone and one I am happy to witness daily.
Interestingly enough, I am probably the second quietest Prescott in my immediate family (my mother being the first), and I always knew that there was a chance that he would be a talker - much like my father and brother. Hopefully he will learn to filter his speaking, as my father has not yet mastered this ability at 63 years young. Oh well, as I said before he is the best and worst of me. I only pray that Jacob is the best of me in this arena. Sometimes silence is the preferred mode.
For now, I will sit back and listen to everything the little warrior has to say to Bridget and myself. He is quite the talker in and out of the tub. Now if I could only get him to stop drinking the bath water!
I just read up on V for Vendetta and discovered this bit of information pertaining to Alan Moore and his thoughts about the movie….enjoy (copied from wikipedia):
V for Vendetta film
The last straw came when producer Joel Silver said at a press conference for the Warner Bros. film adaptation of V for Vendetta that fellow producer Larry Wachowski had talked with Moore, and that “he [Moore] was very excited about what Larry had to say.”[58] Moore claims that he told Wachowski “I didn’t want anything to do with films… I wasn’t interested in Hollywood,” and demanded that DC Comics force Warner Bros to issue a public retraction and apology for Silver’s “blatant lies”. Although Silver called Moore directly to apologize, no public retraction appeared. Moore was quoted as saying that the comic book had been “specifically about things like fascism and anarchy. Those words, ‘fascism’ and ‘anarchy,’ occur nowhere in the film. It’s been turned into a Bush-era parable by people too timid to set a political satire in their own country.”[59]
This conflict between Moore and DC Comics was the subject of an article in The New York Times[60] on 12 March 2006, five days before the USA theatrical release. In the New York Times article, Silver stated that about 20 years prior to the film’s release, he met with Moore and Dave Gibbons when Silver acquired the film rights to V For Vendetta and Watchmen. Silver stated, “Alan was odd, but he was enthusiastic and encouraging us to do this. I had foolishly thought that he would continue feeling that way today, not realizing that he wouldn’t.” Moore did not deny this meeting or Silver’s characterization of Moore at that meeting, nor did Moore state that he advised Silver of his change of opinion in those approximately 20 years. The New York Times article also interviewed David Lloyd about Moore’s reaction to the film’s production, stating, “Mr. Lloyd, the illustrator of V for Vendetta, also found it difficult to sympathize with Mr. Moore’s protests. When he and Mr. Moore sold their film rights to the comic book, Mr. Lloyd said: “We didn’t do it innocently. Neither myself nor Alan thought we were signing it over to a board of trustees who would look after it like it was the Dead Sea Scrolls.”[60]
My body wakes in the morning. It takes a shower. Freshly shaven, dressed in proper work attire, my body drives to work. Hands on the wheel, two and ten, signaling when necessary. Yielding when being prompted, coming to a full stop at a sign that tells me to stop. After 11.5 miles of driving, one half of the mind numbing daily commute over, my body pulls my car into the school parking lot. Get out of the car, and walk to the door. With swipe card in right hand, red light to green flashing light, I gain access to the quite hallways of the morning, monastery like grammar school that I work at, the epitome of the quiet before the storm.
Soon there will be over four hundred 3rd, 4th, and 5th graders storming through the hallways, effortlessly, unconsciously turning the monastery into an excitable carnival, the epitome of the storm. It’s at about this time my mind attempts to unite with my robotized, set on autopilot like body. It fails. The syncopation hasn’t worked for months, and I mean the amount of months, a quantity of time that could be labeled as a “phase”, a “period” in one’s life when reflecting back on it years from now one thinks, “F@$k, that was hard, and it took a toll.”
Owen Scott Verde has been missing in action when it comes to his Tribe of Dad duties, and for this I apologize to Mr. Dean Everton Prescott and the good, loyal readers. My mind has been bamboozled, hood winked, hijacked by the ever powerful, all elusive Silverback Gorilla I call depression. I wrote about him some time ago. If you are need of a reference read The Beast, run a search for the piece in the search bar just to the top right. However, this time, this particular round of life long combat he brought some cronies along. They’re rude, they hit below the belt, they don’t clean up after themselves, and they are ruthless. Together they have declared a jihad on my central nervous system, and we all know how hard it is to defend oneself from terrorism. Allahu Akbar.
Over The Weekend:
Crony #1 Grandpa’s Back Hurts
Crony #2 Wake Up, You’re Dead
Crony #3 Drown The Battleship(?), Then Sink It
Resist. Multiply. I Want You To Hit Me As Hard As You Can.
I just started reading the graphic novel WATCHMEN. It is awesome and I highly recommend it. For all of you who think this is just a comic book - well whatever. Graphic novel implies a higher meaning. Sure there are pictures, but come on - I have a short attention span! The story has a deepness that I love in a regular book. I got it for my birthday and I plan to finish it before I rent the movie. I heard good things about the flick, too. Bravo, Alan Moore and David Gibbons.
Resist. Multiply. Read a Graphic Novel - not a comic book!!!!
