THE TWELVE STEPS OF ANGRY BIRDS

Welcome to Angry Birds Anonymous. In order to break our addiction to flinging birds by the means of slingshots with the sole mission of destroying the pigs and their fortresses, acceptance of the following twelve steps is deemed essential.

1. We admitted we were powerless over the pig king-that our lives had become meaningless without our eggs.

2. Came to believe that a slingshot is a Power greater than pigs and could restore us our eggs.

3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of birds as we understood the value of the slingshot.

4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of our eggs and birds.

5. Admitted to ourselves, and to other birds the exact nature of the wrongs of pigs.

6. We're entirely ready to have birds remove all defects of character within pigs.

7. Humbly asked birds to remove all pigs by destroying the fortresses of the pig king.

8. Made a list of all pigs we had harmed, and became willing to make prisoners of them all.

9. Made direct capture to such pigs and fortresses wherever and whenever possible.

10. Continued to take personal inventory of our eggs, and when we miscounted,  promptly admitted to the theft of eggs by pigs.

11. Sought through prayer, slingshots, and trajectory paths to improve our conscious contact with pigs, praying the pig fortress will one day be destroyed.

12. Having had the destruction of the pig fortresses successful as the result of these Steps, we tried to carry this message to pigs and all other farm animals, and to practice these flying principles in all our wars against the pig king.



In the end, pigs shall witness the greatest destruction of their fortresses. Never again shall pigs of any race, color or creed make happen the theft of birds's eggs again.

Angry Birds

I declare it official:

I am addicted to Angry Birds!

I have only downloaded this annoyingly addicting game two days ago. As of this moment, I am struggling to get through Theme 2 of Poached eggs. Each round, I find the obligation to destroy the pigs by deploying birds from slingshots. I'm stuck on 2-21.

Since I also have a penchant for CollegeHumor.com, I figured I'd share this:



Giving credit where credit is due; Thank you to collegehumor.com for the embedding code for the video.

The Development of BumbleBee

I could have titled this entry as "My High Achieving Daughter." Then I though about it and that just seemed too plain. Nothing I do is allowed to fall into the class of ordinary. At the rate my kids are going, nothing they do is allowed to either.

Officially, Beadgirl no longer exists. She decided to donate all of her beading supplies. Which is too bad to a certain respect. She was good at it.

Rising from the ashes of Beadgirl comes a new form of my daughter: BumbleBee. Some how, some sixth grader got it into its head that my daughter is a bumblebee and has the last name: Taco. I wonder about these children coming out of the public school system. I have no idea how this certain child came up with the idea that my daughter is a bublebee. Her socks are too obnoxiusly different colored for flying-pollinating insects. And where the Taco came from I have an even fainter clue.

Where kids get these ideas, I'll never know.

In the Days of the Eighties Movies

In our ever so changing times, gone with the wind are the days of the local video rental store that carried everything from black and white Shirley Temple to the orginial The Blob to the Apple Dumpling Gang to the modern day of Inception and the Hangover. Gone are the days where I can just walk into a video store, pick up some movie made in my childhood of the eighties, go home and watch it.

In the new more modern and less high touch era of life, I can visit the Redbox and select from a vast aray of current and popular titles. Little do they care that I'm not in the mood for Salt. I need a good dose of Lolita in black and white, or a day off with Ferris Bueller.

But, sun wil always come out tomorrow with my handy dandy Netflix subscription. Most recently on my list of mail-order dvd's was The Never Ending Story.

Comfy in my huge bed last night, Beadgirl (who has changed her name to BumbleBee) and I watched this wonderful movie of the eighties. Of all the things that could have caught my attention more, one scene stood out.

Of all dumb things that could grab my attention, I had to notice something about the two Sphinxes. Their eyes had nothing to do with anything I felt shocked by. I admire whoever constructed the miniatures for the scene. The artwork is wonderful. These two Sphinxes were definitely created by a member of the human species whose brain is drenched in testosterone. The one thing that threw me off about this scene was the Boobs.

These aren't just boobs. These are 38C boobs. Definitely built by a man. No woman would have given a Sphinx boobs of that size. She would have given her something modest like a 32A sized chest. I remember film being more flexible with creativity and content rating when I was a kid. Wow! Have I grown so wimpy that I got tripped up by boobs?

Had this movie been made in current politically correct times, this move would have received a PG-13 rating for sexual content. Boobs are not to be seen by kids in elementary school. Boobs with nipples are strictly prohibited from a G or even PG rating. Let alone the boobs would have been smaller, or removed completely.

Its too bad our weeny American society can't handle the concept of art. Boobs are a part of being woman. Boobs in film are the interpretation and edification of life. Watching The Never Ending Story last night reminded me that this is art. The Sphinxes are a replication of ancient mythology and culture where boobs were an accepted fact of life. We no longer live in a time where boobs are considered acceptable for kids to see in film, even if the object with said boobs is not human.

Thanks to film and Netflix, the eighties can live forever.