TGD Movie Review: Hop

Pixar has spoiled us parents. The quality of their movies has kept us entertained right alongside our kids ever since Toy Story. In fact, I saw the original Toy Story before I had kids, so what does that tell you?

But the true effect of Pixar's exquisite animated film production is felt when you look at the competition. Other studios have been forced to step up their game. If they wish to stay in the race for the money you are going to spend at the theater in order to try and buy your children's affection then they, too, need to provide higher quality entertainment. This has spawned movies like the Shrek series and Despicable Me. They're no Up, but they definitely keep me from wanting to tear my hair out while sitting and watching with my kids.

This drive to produce amazing animated movies aimed at both kids and adults has dominated the market. Thus, it's sort of refreshing when a movie comes along and decides to ignore this model, getting back to the old Hollywood kids' movie format of the eighties and early nineties. Such movies seek to entertain only your children, stuffing in each and every pop culture reference possible like Poochie did so many years ago on Itchy & Scratchy. These films are not seeking critical acclaim, only dollars. They want to get your children to hound you for every piece of annoying merchandise that goes along with it the movie: stuffed animals, candy, sheet sets.

Of course, when I say this is refreshing, I mean only if you aren't sitting in a theater watching said film with your kids. Then it's not refreshing at all. Instead, you then find yourself looking at your watch and wondering how the train of respectable children's films came completely off the rails and why this piece of garbage didn't go straight to DVD.

Now, completely unrelated to that rant (or maybe not, you be the judge), I will review Hop.

I think Russell Brand is hilarious. Of course, he's not hilarious in this movie, but he is hilarious in the other movies I've seen him in and his stand-up really gets me. Had he done the CGI for this movie, I would credit him on how adorable the rabbit in the lead role, E.B., looked. Had he written the script, I would want to choke him to death. Seeing as he merely got paid a boatload of money to voice the main character, I will simply congratulate him on his millions, forgive him and hope he sticks to adult targeted vulgar comedies from this point on.

The best thing about Hop is that you will look over at your kids and take joy from their entertainment. You might chuckle occasionally, like when E.B. drops a load of jelly beans from his bum on the hood of James Marsden's car, or when...um...I'm sorry, I just can't think of any other times.

You definitely will not laugh during the forced musical number as Marsden and Brand (as E.B.) break into song and belt out I Want Candy. That part sucks. You also won't enjoy Marsden doing his best imitation of Tom Cruise's obligatory freak-out scenes from every movie he's in. I suppose the thought behind this is, "Here's a handsome actor. Won't it be entertaining if he seems completely caught off guard and spazzes out on screen?" The problem is, while Cruise does one scene per movie like this, Marsden plays that character through this entire film.

While I looked over to my kids and smiled at some points of the movie, reminding myself that if they enjoy it, that's all that counts, for the majority of the rest of it, I glanced over at my wife and hoped that she would find some way to end my pain. I even mouthed the words, "Kill me," but I don't think she picked up on it in the darkened theater.

Anyway, I could spend my entire day telling you how terrible this movie is. Seriously, I could literally spend twenty-four hours telling you how absolutely terrible this movie was. However, that would make twenty-five and a half hours that I wasted on it, and I'd rather reduce that number significantly.

I'll sum it up this way: If you don't mind watching terrible movies that have zero to offer in terms of any kind of message as long as they make your kids laugh, then you might be able to sit through Hop without being driven insane.

TGD Rating: 0/5 stars; kids will like it (don't they pretty much like anything?), you won't

Should I Have Made the Top Five the Top Fore?

With the green jacket being awarded to Charl Shwartzel (how many times do you think he had that misspelled through grammar school?) at this year's Masters tournament over the weekend, I decided to make this week's top five list the top five cool things about golf:

5. The pants - You don't see enough of these since the untimely passing of Payne Stewart, how rocked them.

4. Golf carts - Every time I have been in a go-kart, I have wanted to have it out in open space instead of the confining track. The golf cart is the answer to this prayer. This is one major flaw in the pro game. They should allow the motorized carts on the PGA courses.

3. It's essentially physics - Sort of like becoming good at pool, the challenge is actually carrying out the physical performance of the action that you just determined must be taken through careful measurement.

2. The scenery - If you haven't been out on a golf course during a sunny day, you really ought to try it. It's beautiful and serene, provided you don't have an anxious, impatient foursome behind you. Of course, I let them play through. It's an excuse to sit on my ass and enjoy the outdoors for a few extra moments.

1. The scoring goes backwards - How cool is that? I did less than you, so I won.

This week's cool-ass thing you will never own is the Heart of Gold. The last guy to be known to possess it had to become president of the universe as an elaborate plot just to get his hands on it. But having an improbability drive around to get you out of tight situations would be pretty handy.

This week's sign you are a nerd is that you sweat while playing video games. The Wii and various motion capture games out now don't count. I mean the games you sit on your butt and play with a controller, the old-fashioned way. When you sweat from being so intensely focused on what you're doing on those games, you are a nerd.

This week's nemesis is serving sizes. If there is anybody out there who can sit down with a box of Oreos and eat only two of them, then they don't even deserve to be given a box of Oreos in the first place.

This week's lesson learned is not to hide Lego sets bought as gifts in your car. Eventually, you'll have the kids in there. Even if they don't find them, you will hit a bump and that unmistakable sound will come from the hiding spot. There is just no explaining away why your kids just heard a shaken Lego box coming from the rear of the car.

This week's equation was something that I looked up in light of rough economic times:

I know a lot of people are looking to save money, so if you calculate the surface area of your eggs before purchasing dye, this Easter, you can avoid buying too much. This equation was found in many different forms, but the best explanation I could find came from had2know.com.

This week's Star Wars quote is: "He has too much of his father in him."

Thanks for reading. There will be a few reviews coming soon, so please stop back.

Social Media is Taxing My Patience

Social media is everywhere. It's simply a part of life. You can allow people to know about all the stupid things you do throughout the day that they most likely don't care about via multiple networks.

Because of social networks, everyone knows how often you check in at Starbucks. The third grade classmate you haven't seen for over twenty years knows that you enjoyed the frozen pizza you had with your kids the other night. You awkwardly discover just how startlingly often that one guy you met once at your brother-in-law's birthday party and whose Facebook friend request you accepted just to be nice smokes weed.

Being updated about random, useless information is a part of the landscape of social media now. Pretty soon, I'm sure there will be buttons for updates like, "ate a sandwich," or, "got dressed," so that we don't even have to spend the time typing.

For as accepting as I am of this, I noticed something the other day that caused me to shake my head. I discovered an undiscriminating tentacle of social media reaching into a place that I never thought I would see it.

I had to complete my taxes. Normally, I do it in February, but every time I was about to get it done this year, something else would come up. Finally, I had time to sit down and do it via TurboTax, which is how I've happily filled out my taxes for the last several years. After the entire process was over, I received the notification that I was finally done, that everything had been successfully submitted.

Then, an icon appeared on the screen in front of me. TurboTax urged me to brag about the fact that I had finished my taxes on Facebook.

Really?

I could see bragging about the fact that I sat down with nothing but pencil, paper and abacus and filled out the forms myself successfully. While extremely geeky, at least it takes a great deal of skill. It's something I can respect. Filling in boxes on TurboTax is hardly impressive. It might possibly be the lamest possible thing that I could think of to brag about.

I suppose that both Facebook and TurboTax have nothing to lose in making that relationship happen, however. Facebook gets its name out there even more (if that's possible) and TurboTax might end up having people post their accomplishment on Facebook which might lead friends of such people to think, "Hey, TurboTax must be pretty easy because that guy's a complete moron and just did his own taxes with it. I should try that out."

All I know is that if anyone who I am currently with on Facebook posts an update bragging about having used TurboTax to complete their taxes, they are going to be immediately de-friended by yours truly. I would expect the same from any of my Facebook friends if I did anything so lame.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to post an update about this new blog post being up.

MLB's New Coolest Player is a Dunn Deal

Being a professional athlete carries with it the automatic status of cool. It is akin to Rock Star in this way. While you can certainly be cool without holding either of these careers, if you play a sport or rock out for a living, you are cool until proven lame.

But few athletes take the opportunity to earn their cred. Many just go from game to game and event to event, keeping relatively quiet and raking in the love without actively trying to prove that they deserve the designation of coolness that has been bestowed upon them. Recently, however, an athlete did something that catapulted him right over cool and into the depths of awesome.

After a 12-inning loss to the Kansas City Royals, White Sox slugger Adam Dunn underwent an emergency appendectomy at 2:30AM on April 6th. He didn't tear a ligament or anything, but his body was still cut into and sewn back together. So, when Dunn commented just hours later that he planned on playing in the White Sox home opener on April 7th, less than forty-eight hours after his surgery, I was impressed.

However, while that in itself is pretty bad-ass, it is not the reason why Dunn has suddenly become one of my favorite athletes. His now legendary status comes from the explanation that Dunn offered for why he thought he would be able to return so amazingly quickly during an interview with Comcast Sports Net's Brett Ballantini.

"I heal fast," Dunn said. "I'm like Wolverine."

Nice.

I, for one, think it's cool as hell when a professional athlete makes comic book references. Lance Briggs, all-pro linebacker for the Chicago Bears, became my favorite linebacker when I discovered that he routinely attends comic book conventions. I wrote recently of the movement of nerds into professional baseball, now there seems to be evidence of professional baseball players' movement into nerdery.

Granted, Dunn referenced one of the more well known of the characters from the Marvel Universe. Wolverine is also probably the most socially acceptable comic book character to mention since he is the one that keeps a man's tough guy status most intact. Still, the fact that he made reference to the healing factor of a comic book super hero deserves recognition.

And for those detractors who pooh-pooh accepting Dunn into the nerd community, allow me to provide two more quick facts and plead his case. First, Dunn figured out he might be having problems with his appendix after Google-ing his symptoms. The use of technology in order to seek knowledge and self-diagnose might frustrate the hell out of a doctor, but it impresses me. Second, if Adam Dunn were to be portrayed in a movie or on television, one would have to cast Will Ferrell.

So prepare to welcome Adam Dunn into our ranks, fellow nerds. Be sure to open those arms wide. He's listed at 6'6", 287. That's a large man.

Third Person Thursday: Epic Journey

The maiden fair slumbered atop the tower. She had been kept the night before tending to her kingdom’s business for many a long hour and returned weary. Thus, the ferry of the princes to their lessons fell once again to the knight.

It was not a long journey, but one fraught with peril. Great precaution was to be taken and much preparation necessary if the young lieges were to arrive safely and seek knowledge. For it was knowledge and wisdom, not brute strength, that made true leaders of men.

The valiant knight was not afraid. He stood before them brave and true.

“Awaken, my lords,” he beckoned. He stood in the doorway and his frame blocked the light from the outer hall. He spoke to the young princes in a way that was at once respectful of their status, cautious of the ability afforded to them through privilege to make his life more difficult should they choose, yet firm with the confidence that his lifetime of experience had bestowed upon him. “Knowledge awaits!”

The young men arose groggily from sleep, rubbing their eyes and acknowledging that they had heard the brave knight while neither speaking to, nor looking at him. He stepped aside, resembling a great wooden door swinging open, and allowed them to exit their bedchamber and begin the day’s preparation.

It was an early morning. Because they three were the only ones awake in the castle, the knight attended to the princes’ appearance. He made sure their garments were ready and then properly adorned. The younger of the two boys made the knight stoop to fasten his buttons. The knight suspected this was more out of desire for attention than inability, yet he said nothing and silently did his young master’s bidding.

Once suitably attired, it became clear that the hair atop the heads of the young princes would require tending. With wet fingers, he fashioned their locks into a more presentable display, something more befitting of their importance. This task took longer for the older of the princes. His brother’s hair was of fairer construct and lay down upon his scalp. The hair of the older of the two reminded him of a horse’s. But he had faced one thousand more difficult challenges in his travels and would surely tame this child’s curls.

The knight thought to himself then what a stark contrast to the state of his own appearance all this illuminated. His hair frequently fell over his ears and down onto his forehead, even before his eyes when he allowed it to grow long enough. His face would grow dark shadows upon it for days at a time. The garments the boys wore shone brilliantly compared to his own. This, in turn, caused him to ponder that knighthood was not all he had thought it would be when he was their age. He had grown to find that the life of adventure and recognition he had imagined was one of responsibility, honor and commitment. His purpose was to battle, to struggle, to champion the cause of these boys so that they might live up to expectations. The search for personal glory held little significance compared to this. The future of the kingdom rested upon their small shoulders. He was but their protector and this was a load he had become happy to bear.

At last presentable, as royalty ought to be, the good knight ushered the princes to the castle gate. Once there, he handed them each a cup of milk and a biscuit.

“Eat as we ride,” he instructed them. “You shall need your strength, but we must make haste.” Then, upon opening the gate, he said, “To the wagon.”

The knight secured the gate swiftly behind them then rushed ahead of the young men in order to assist them into the wagon, which he had seen to it was already waiting out front.

The sun had not yet broken the horizon but an orange glow swelled over the treetops to the East. As the wheels of the wagon began to roll forward along the road, a light fog hung in the air. Such fog at the start of a journey would make some feel trepidation, but the knight knew fog of this manner was of no danger. It would burn off as soon as the sun was allowed to touch it directly. Meanwhile, it allowed them to travel relatively unnoticed.

The trip went smoothly. The boys ate their meal and spoke of what the day’s lessons were to hold in the back of the wagon as it slipped through the fog without a single encounter. Little time had passed when they found themselves before the great hall where the princes were to spend their day seeking knowledge.

As the knight brought the wagon to a stop, he surveyed the area. He knew that this was the most perilous moment. The time when they were so close to the end was the precise time that the most obstacles and distractions made themselves clear. They had arrived early as planned, without a soul manning the gates to the hall. This was the time the brave knight used to prepare the young men for the challenges they would face.

“We shall lie in wait here until the gates are open,” he said. “When the time to advance arrives, you must move quickly and do as I say.” He looked them both in the eyes as he spoke, hoping to teach them by example of how to communicate with respect. “You will keep you head up and remain alert so that you are not struck by another wagon. You will be tempted to stop along the way and make merriment with the various knaves who wait near the tree line. You mustn’t stop and address them. You must go forward and into the hall without hesitation. You will receive all the enrichment you could ever want once inside. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” they answered as one. Then the older prince asked, “But what will you do, good knight? Shall you not accompany us?”

“I shall be near you, keeping watch,” he told him, “but I cannot go with you into the hall of learning. It is strictly forbidden. I shall return here to escort you back to the castle when your time is over.”

“I will miss you, brave sir,” said the younger boy. “Will you not miss us too?”

The knight paused as he felt his throat tighten. “I shall miss you dearly,” he responded quietly, “but I shall see you again before the sun has set. This I promise you.”

“And will you teach us to fight?” the older boy asked excitedly.

“I will not,” the knight said sternly. “Should I teach you anything, it will be to act with honor and respect towards your fellow man. And I shall teach you to defend your family, not to fight.”

Both children nodded and looked upon the knight with awe.

“It is time,” he said and snapped them back to their task. The gate raised and a bustle arose around it. “Gather your equipment. Stay your path. Be ready now. Do not run, but move quickly. The time has come.”

All three leapt from the wagon and strode toward the gates to the hall. Fear pricked at the backs of the princes’ necks, but they knew the knight was there, ever watchful and they tried to be brave as they believed he would be. A few rogues called to them from the bushes, attempting to lead them from their destination, but they focused on the gates as they had been told. They were nearly inside already.

The knight was suddenly flanked by one who meant to distract his gaze. He wheeled around and said, “Stand down, miscreant, or taste my steel. I’ll deal with you when the task at hand has been completed.” Thinking the knight had not noticed him, the other started then scurried off into the brush as he turned back to the princes.

He had taken his eyes from them just a second too long. Just as they were reaching the gates, a threat arose. It appeared to be another pupil, though the valiant knight could not be sure. So often he had heard tales of evildoers blending in with those around them, even tell of black magic employed to shift one’s shape. The life form, be it man or creature, ran at the princes, moving faster than would allow the knight to close ground. As it neared them, it raised a fist and the claws that protruded from its hand left little doubt that it meant to do them harm.

Without a notion that they were in any danger, the princes crossed the threshold into the hall. Just then, the gatekeeper’s axe blade met the wrist of the would-be attacker. The severed hand fell to the ground and the beast ran away, squealing in pain.

With a knowing nod, the knight thanked the gatekeeper from a distance as he lowered the gates and secured the hall. All had been rendered safe for now. Silently, the knight began his journey back to the castle.

While the princes learned, he had another task at had. In the dungeon of the castle sat a room filled with mystical objects. He would use his free time that day to unearth the many treasures kept within it, and organize them. He believed this was where he had left his mighty hammer. Should he find it, he could then use it to hang up those picture frames that the maiden fair had been bugging him about and perhaps have enough time left over to enjoy a pint of mead in the courtyard.

Root, Root, Root for the Home Team. If They Don't Win it's Slightly More Likely They Will Next Game Due to the Law of Averages.

Less than a full week into the Major League Baseball season, I’ve noticed a pattern that I had previously dismissed as unimportant. It would seem that fans and sport pundits everywhere are already attempting to put a mere four games worth of stats to use in predicting trends for the remainder of the season. This has caused me to take a closer look at the current state of baseball analysis.

For quite some time, I had been amused by people’s desire to break everything that happens during a game into some sort of rating. When I was a kid, growing up and learning baseball, you had batting average, RBI (I will not put an s after that as the R stands for Runs…it’s already plural), ERA and a smattering of other stats like stolen bases and home runs. Simple stuff.

Now you hear constantly about batting average with runners in scoring position, Slugging Percentage, OBP (on base percentage), OPS (on base plus slugging percentage), WHIP (walks plus hits per inning pitched), OOPS (opponent on base plus slugging), K/BB (strikeouts per walk), CGPG (crotch grabs per game), LSG (loogies spit per game) and GOF (gross-out factor, which is calculated by adding crotch grabs plus loogies spit per game). All of these stats (even those last few, trust me, someone is keeping track and it’s only a matter of time before you hear about it) are part of the analytical technique that objectively mines the depths of baseball minutiae never before seen by human eyes known as Sabermetrics.

It would seem that somebody decided that baseball wasn’t enough fun. Sitting down at the ballpark or in front of your television with a beer and a hot dog and cheering on your team just wasn’t cutting it for some. They had to find a way to completely eliminate, or at least look past, the human element of the sport and break it down to raw data. Keeping an accurate scorecard these days takes more calculating than preparing my taxes. And while I mention taxes, I’m beginning to think that the proximity of Opening Day to the income tax return deadline is not exactly a coincidence. It would seem that the people in charge (I didn’t say Illuminati. Did you say Illuminati?) just couldn’t get enough number crunching.

It is precisely this realization that caused an epiphany of sorts on my part. I realized that baseball is becoming a sport of nerds. Think about it. Once you open your mind to the possibility, you will see it everywhere. Should you still resist accepting this fact, allow me to provide you further evidence:

Bud Selig. Complete nerd. He looks more like that physics professor you hated in college than anyone who should have anything to do with anything even remotely involved with athleticism.

And speaking of athleticism, you still have guys playing this sport that look like they are more suited to sitting in a darkened room typing out line after line of code or playing World of Warcraft than running, even if it is for only ninety feet at a time. Case in point (I know he’s been out of the game for awhile) if you were to take John Kruk at the height of his career and fashion his mullet into a ponytail, it would be difficult to deny that he bares a striking resemblance to the Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons.

Decision after decision in baseball is made through analysis. If A, then B. Managing can be reduced to following a flow chart. What could be nerdier than reducing a sport that is played outdoors to a precisely defined set of rules that must be executed in an exact order.

Old school managers who want the sport to remain nerd free outwardly resist the trend toward statistic-based decision making. Joe Torre, Jim Leyland and Ozzie Guillen are baseball purists who make decisions based on their gut feelings. They are the Alpha Betas while those who religiously follow Sabermetrics are the Tri-Lams.

The ever-growing popularity of fantasy baseball speaks to this. You have people who may never watch a single game, who simply pore over stats in spreadsheet form, winning their leagues. There are baseball fans out there now who could accurately predict how many runs Albert Pujols will drive in this year to within a two run variance, but who could not tell you a single thing about his swing or his stance.

When it comes down to it, baseball is being reduced (or enhanced, depending on how you look at it) to a game of Dungeons & Dragons. The likelihood that a guy might have a bad game or injury can even be accounted for. There is nothing left in the game that can’t be analyzed or that involves more chance and randomness than exists in the roll of a d20.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about nerd power. I think it’s great that there’s a sport that actually involves athletic ability that nerds like to follow. But I encourage you all to put down the pencils for just a game and lose yourself in root, root, rooting for your home team. Maybe even go to the stadium (yes, outside in the sunlight) and enjoy a cold beer and the sounds and smells of the game while you watch it. You may find something enjoyable about baseball that is in danger of being lost.

And don’t buy a scorecard. Pay attention so that you don’t take a foul ball in the face. I would hate to see your day ruined by a flashback to that summer when your dad forced you to play little league and you were minding your own business in right field when a pop-up came your way. Nobody remembers that anymore. Let it go.

Uniquely Features

I know it’s a few days later than usual, but it’s better to update our weekly features late than never, so here we go.

As I pondered the significance of two types of dogs being represented in the NCAA Men’s Basketball Championship, I was left pining for more mascot variety. I prefer a mascot that sounds unique and has a back-story. So, I decided to come up with a few college mascots I’d like to see. Here are the top five:

5. Ocelots – Mostly because I like nicknames that start with O, but also because the ocelot, though appearing cute and harmless like a housecat, can be an extremely fierce fighter. There are also too many Tigers and Wildcats for my liking.

4. Samurai – Honor and dedication in battle. What more appropriate virtues can you try to instill in a college athlete.

3. Tauntauns – Ok, the most geeky of the selections by far and George Lucas would most likely give a university a tough time about licensing, but they are fast (look at that stride) and resilient under extreme conditions.

2. Ninjas – The other team would be defeated before they even knew what happened. Plus, I think these might make for the coolest uniforms ever. The fabric should be so dark that you can’t even distinguish the numbers from the rest of the jerseys. Why? Because the numbers don’t matter. The deadly Ninjas move as a single unit and strike with precision.

1. Octopi – Again, I like the O names. Furthermore, I love it when the team name doesn’t end in an s. This nickname also seems to beg for an adjective to be placed in front of it and an especially descriptive one at that. Not something like “Fighting” or “Mighty” but think more like “Enveloping,” “Multi-Apendaged," "Ink-spewing" or even "Vampire.” Now how’s that for intimidation?

This week’s cool-ass thing you will never own is a pet platypus. It would be, or course, infinitely cooler if the platypus was a secret agent who ran off anytime your back was turned in order to defeat the nefarious plans of a bumbling evil genius. However, I suppose just the paradoxical value of owning a duck-billed mammal that lays eggs is cool enough on its own.

This week’s sign you are a nerd is that you know precisely how many calories are in your child’s school lunch. Unless there is a genuine medical reason, just throw sandwich, some veggies and a few cookies in there and let the kid enjoy it in peace.

This week’s nemesis is the plethora of movie channels in my cable package. Because each major premium station has about a dozen different options (East, West, Kids, Action, Comedy, Documentary, Drama, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Dramedy, Bro-mance, Docu-Drama, Action-mance-docu-bro-dramedy) there is constantly some random movie on to distract me. For instance, I am now attempting to both write the weekly features and watch Rowan Atkinson’s epic performance in my favorite wacky comedy from 1997, Bean. How does shooting a peanut out of your nose to change the channel on the television in a bar not get you the Oscar? Show me another actor who can pull that off.

This week’s lesson learned is not to become too excited by the first warm day of the year when you live in the Midwest. While it’s seventy and sunny today, trust it will be windy and below freezing tomorrow.

This week’s equation allows one to determine how long it will take to find all of the Nerf darts around your home:

The time it will take to find them (t) can be calculated by multiplying the number of darts (n) by the rate of fire per minute (r) and the total area of your home (a) divided by the square root of the average height of clearance beneath your home’s furniture in inches (h).

Finally, this week’s Star Wars quote is, “If you choose to face Vader, you will do it alone. I cannot interfere.”

Thanks for reading, everyone, and I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I ought to know by now that the consequences of keeping my loyal readers from their regular fix of weekly features could be disastrous.

I Was (& Most Likely Continue To Be) An April Fool

“We’re gonna get you,” my sons kept telling me throughout the final week of March. This was their threat in anticipation of April Fools’ Day.

“You can’t fool me,” I would repeat, and I suspected that when the time came for them to pull their prank, I would obviously recognize it.

My plan, however, was to then masterfully act as if I believed their ruse and go along with it, allowing them the satisfaction of having fooled me. They would be happy, yet I would still know that, in truth, I outwitted my eight and six year olds. Sadly, that’s as much as I can hope for these days.

This was not going to be easy to pull off. As my sons have gotten older, they have developed a keen sense for when they are being patronized. I would need to act distracted and maybe even a little annoyed at whatever they would inevitably try and show me to make a fool of me.

What I anticipated was one of the fairly lame pranks that I tried to pull on my parents when I was a kid. I would hide and wait for them to look for me, hoping to make them think I somehow magically disappeared. Little did I know at the time that they were well aware of my lack of magical powers and that they’re grasp on logic would allow them to realize that I never left out of either door to the house since I would have had to walk right past them to do so. My pranks usually ended up with me getting bored and sweaty while crammed into a hiding place and eventually giving up before they ever looked for me.

But my brothers were older than me and I was on my own usually when trying to fool my parents. My sons are so close in age that they conspire on matters like this to trick my wife and I constantly.

Thus, I imagined their operation would involve one brother rushing up to me and implore me to come downstairs because something had happened to the other. If the fact that one was concerned about the other’s welfare enough to stop playing video games and come contact didn’t provide me with a clue that this was part of their deception, the repressed smile on the culprit’s face surely would. They don’t have good poker faces. I initially discovered this while trying to figure out whom in the car farted.

“It wasn’t me!” the accused would shout, acting hurt for not being believed and then immediately try and hide the smile on his face.

But let’s say one of them actually pulled off the sincerity of worry over what happened to his brother. The one who was hurt would be crying. They lack the ability to fake a decent sob. Their faux crying sounds more like a cartoon character’s overacting attempt to draw attention.

“Boo-hoo! Oh, Boo-hoo-hoo! Sob! Woe is me! Oh the pain!” Imagine this in Nathan Lane’s voice and you’ll get the picture.

Needless to say, by the time April Fools’ Day actually arrived, I was full of confidence. I was so full of confidence, and was so deep in sleep that when the alarm rang to alert me to get my sons ready for school, I may have hit snooze a fw too many times and I may have subsequently completely forgotten that it even was April Fools’ Day.

So there I scrambled through the house. I gave them their uniforms, I made them lunches, I provided them breakfast and spilled orange juice down the front of myself all while on the phone with my wife who was at work. Just as I completed cleaning up the floor and changing pants, my sons came running into the kitchen, fully dressed for school, shouting, “Ants! Ants!”

Every Spring, if I don’t lay down a barrier of bug repellent by my front windows, we get a few tiny black ants on the windowsill. It’s a pet peeve of mine and my sons know that I obsess over it each year. This year, I had already sprayed and to think there might still be ants was the last thing I needed on an already stressful morning.

I made about the biggest sigh of my life, hung up with my wife and went stomping into the living room, prepared to spy a couple insects and prepared to spend a portion of my day spraying some more. I stood before the window with a scowl on my face and looked around.

“Where?” I roared at my sons.

Their reply came simultaneously, “April Foo-ool!”

A smile spread across my face and they each received a pat on the head. They got me good. Touché, boys. Touché.

A Twenty-One Picture Salute!

The Orc minifigure was the selected representative of The Lord of the Rings (I would have picked Legolas, but who am I to criticize) and the standard Lego guy was Lego's choice.

Enjoy the following tale in pictures:

Hail to the victor!

Lego is Geek Tournament 2011 Champion!

Our Inaugural Geek Tournament Has Been Decided

It was a crazy March. Our Geek Tournament ran during the entire month and saw some exciting and interesting match-ups. But we all knew that one contestant would have to take the crown and it is now official.

Lego is the winner.

After a slight snafu explained in the previous post, Lego still took the majority of the remaining votes and won the crown. If you add the prior, deleted votes to the displayed votes for the sake of posterity, the final tally is Lego: 27, Lord of the Rings: 20.

And that, as they say, is the end of that chapter. I thank all those who participated in the Geek Tournament. It would not have been such a special experience for me (and you? was it good for you?) without such outstanding readership and input. Special thanks go out to Jonathan Liu of GeekDad for sending extra traffic our way, SMOC (our resident graphic design ninja) for regularly upgrading our site and to the selection committee (you know who you are) for being all-around awesome. If you submitted a bracket and won, you will be notified and asked your mailing address soon and your spoils will be mailed out to you within the next few days in the form of a TGD t-shirt. Lucky you!

Because we here at Transformer Generation Dad do not like to dwell on the past, and since we like to maintain a monthly poll, now is the bitter sweet time to say goodbye to last month's activities (wondrous as they may have been) and say hello to this month's poll. During the month of April, we want you to weigh in on a Star Wars related issue. Specifically, we would like to know which character(s) you found most detrimental to the overall image of the Star Wars franchise, the Ewoks or Jar-Jar Binks.

Happy voting. Please continue to visit regularly as we are constantly adding new material and posting thoughts, stories and ramblings. Also, stay tuned for the Lego victory tribute in an upcoming post.