My nemesis.

So I'm in the Ace Hardware the other day buying bird seed, and I see the bag of corn. "Squirrel Food" it says. It's just corn. You could put it in any store anywhere in the world and it would say "Llama Food" or "Yak Food" and it would still be just a bag of corn. But I ponder my own dilemma, and that is how to keep the bloody squirrel out of my bird feeder.

In the past I have tried to spin a good yarn on my perils with the resident rodent in my back yard, but not today. In reality, this pesky pest won't stay out of my bird feeder. I put out corn for him on a little squirrel feeder, which he and the blue jays devour, but he still manages to get on the bird feeder and spill it all over the grass. I've hung it high, low, on every branch on the tree, and he still climbs, leaps, and flies to the thing at will. I have a giant "anti-squirrel" device on top, which actually makes for good theater. Every once in a while he still tries to climb over it and plummets to the ground as I give out a hearty "HA-HA!" ala Nelson the Bully from the Simpsons. But still, he finds a way.

My grandfather had a solution. He had a little bb-gun and would "shoot 'em in the ass" to scare him. He was successful in not harming them, but it never worked. They always came back for more. The acorn tree dumped buckets of acorns in his yard every year and it was like a buffet table to them. I never understood exactly what it was they were doing that made him upset though. They're just squirrels. It's just nature. Probably had something to do with digging in the yard. You don't mess with an old man and his lawn, squirrel or human.

You know I have that thing in my attic. Still shoots. I've though about it from time to time, but I'll never use it on him. I really don't mind him in my tree. He's like my little outdoor pet. He has his own feeder, why doesn't he get the concept of corn = squirrel food, seed in feeder = bird food? I think I might have finally found a spot he can't get to. Hmmm, we'll see. I might have to go all "Carl Spackler" on him. Hide in the bushes with my grandfathers bb-gun, and when he makes his move, I take him out. You think a little C-4 is over the top?

Ahh for the good old days.

I used to live for Saturday mornings. Some of you know what I am talking about. The TV would be on well before 9:00, in eager anticipation of Bugs Bunny, The Road Runner, The Banana Splits, or whatever cartoon was on. Massive bowl of Quisp cereal in front of my face, I would crunch away as The Coyote would be foiled yet again in his vain attempt to have Roadrunner Stew for dinner. It was the time when cartoons were on. There was no Disney Channel. No Cartoon Network. No Nickelodeon. There was just Saturday morning.

Today, my DVR is filled with episodes of Wizards of Waverly Place and ICarly. Every night before I hit the sheets I have to turn off brooding young teen #2's television in her room. (TV in our room. Who could have imagined that growing up.) She HAS to fall asleep to some endless loop of reruns on one of the afore mentioned channels. Next to her head, is her Ipod touch, loaded with games, songs, pictures and the like. And her charging cell phone blinks away as she sleeps. The thing is never off. Do you see where I am going here? Do I have to actually say it? Today's kids are spoiled rotten.

I defy anyone to find a young-un who knows what kick the can is. Or ghost in the graveyard. Or sardines. My neighborhood growing up was a plethora of young minds, where age didn't matter, and you came home to the dinner bell at 5:30 every night. Some dads would whistle from their back porch, other kids would just instinctively head home every night at the same time. We had the bell. You could hear that thing 8 blocks away, mom knowing that we were out there somewhere, and within minutes would be sitting down to meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Today is a different story indeed.

If we are brave enough to let our cherished offspring out of our site for one minute, we know that peace of mind is only a cell phone call away. That is, if the kids aren't chained to the TV in the basement playing Call of Duty with some kid on Xbox half a world away til 2 in the bloody morning. Hell I used to go to bed early on Friday night just so I wouldn't oversleep and miss a minute of the weeks worth of cartoons. But dinner at the table? With the whole family? Oh we manage a few times a week. But 35 years ago there wasn't the constant shuttling to basketball, soccer, baseball, tennis, whatever you-name-it sport-of-the-month you can come up with that dominated our lives 24/7.

When I was a kid, we played. All the time, all over town. At my house, at your house, outside, inside, we played. On our bikes, with cards in the spokes, we cruised the neighborhood like we owned it. Because we did. And you know what? I miss it.

Am I missing something here?

Lets start off this week by saying that I am probably going to piss a few people off. It is not the intention of the Guitarman to fan the flames of anger with his misplaced rhetoric. But to stir debate in a healthy way, is that not the responsibility of the author? Be it the lofty perch of a true journalist, or the demented ramblings of a self appointed blogger, getting under ones skin is our job. Or hobby. Hence, I wade into the sensitive topic of religion.

By all rights, most of my family have come from or are deeply embedded in religion. My grandparents on my dads side were loyal Christian Scientists. So much to the point that their "anti medical" stance in adherence with the strict confines of their church, probably cost my grandmother her life. Both children of that marriage (my dad and his brother) went on to become fierce born again Christians in their middle age. Forced to attend confirmation, I was raised Methodist, but to me it was a joke. For years my dad tried to "convert" me, but it was too late. A geology major has a big time problem with the idea that the world was only created a few thousand years ago. My uncle, in turn, raised his kids with God as the focal point of their lives. They can't understand where I went wrong.

My maternal grandparents were devout Catholics, going to mass 3 times a week like clockwork for 50 years. And in my wife's family, priests and nuns decorate the family tree like a string of Christmas lights. Yes it's safe to say I am like the Black Sheep of the family when it comes to God. But enough already with my boring history. What got me going, of course, was this mornings story about killing on the other side of the world in the name of, yep, religion. And leads me to my point: religion can be poison.

I toyed with that last sentence for a while. To replace the words "can be" with "is" was a raging debate in my head for all of 5 minutes. Of course the majority of the entire world believes in God one way or another, whatever name you want to give Him. And I guess I believe too, hence my fist shaking and cursing towards the heavens above when something in my life goes awry.

But to clarify, seven people were killed in Afghanistan when overzealous nut jobs stormed a U.N. building because some other overzealous nut jobs in Florida, half a world away, burned a copy of their holy book, the Quran. (Holy crap, get over it already!) This is nothing new. Theo Van Gogh was killed for his outspoken anti religious views. Well over 100 people died because of a cartoon depicting the Prophet Muhammad in a negative light. Lunatics from Massachusetts show up at the funerals of US soldiers to tell anyone who wants to hear it that God hates fags. The list goes on and on. It's like religion is an excuse for the world to forgive crazy people for being crazy.

Well not me. In the immortal words of Forrest Gump, stupid is as stupid does. I am not going to give a pass to someone who hides behind some unseen higher power for being one brick short of a load. For wanting to push their beliefs on the rest of us. For resorting to brutal and monstrous attacks on innocent people that don't agree with their views. Yes, religion can be poison. Innocently at times, and vindictively at others, it can poison the mind to the point of delusion. And we put up with it. Why? I guess that is the question of the day.