Godzilla & Mothra are both sick. Godzilla has bronchitis, and Mothra is in the hospital with pneumonia. This is God's way of saying, "D-Rock, you thought you were powerless before... wait 'til you see this." Kids shouldn't be allowed to be sick. It's just wrong.

For those of you without kids: imagine you just got as a gift: a top of the line BluRay player, complete with Bose surround sound system and 40" plasma screen. Now after, using the best of your new system's capabilities for a few months, suddenly the only thing will play is BioDome. In mono. And the disc has scratches on it. And you think the person who gave you all this cool stuff is going to take it away because you took lousy care of it, but you know you took great care of it, including using fiber optics instead of regular cable, cleaning the dust off everyday, and turning it off at night at a decent hour. Okay, so you didn't clean the dust of every day, but that wouldn't make it break, would it? It's not like you took a hammer to it or dropped it in a swimming pool. But this is a precision instrument. Maybe a little dust could hamper performance. So you call up that techie friend of yours, Doc. Doc looks at your setup and says, "looks like you've got a little Pauly Shore infection." He pulls out a screwdriver. Well, you're pretty sure it's a screwdriver, but you've never seen one like this before. He turns one of the screws on the sound system a half a turn clockwise, and the stereo sound returns. He hands you the screwdriver and tells you to turn one screw a quarter turn clockwise twice a day for the next ten days, and everything will be fine. After that, what's left of the screwdriver will be useless, so don't try to use it anymore, but don't use it any less than that either.

Doc never asked if your stuff got dusted every day, if you used cable, or what time you shut it off each day. This all seemed very normal to him, like Pauly Shore is on every new TV in world once in a while.

The Mets really really suck

The Mets make me feel like the father of a marathon runner who is leads the entire race but trips on his own untied shoelace near the beginning of mile 25. He is tired, but has a comfortable cushion between himself and the rest of the pack. At first, I say, "no big deal, you're still leading." But I notice my long-distance offspring doesn't tie his shoes before he gets back up and starts running again. Around the 25.3 mark, he trips again. Blood trickles from a contusion on his knee. I yell "tie your shoes!" He doesn't hear me over the rest of the crowd. I mutter something under my breath about the manufacturer of his overpriced sneakers. At 25.7, it happens again. His hands are partly crimson now. This time, a few other people are yelling with me for him to tie his shoes. He still doesn't hear. He gets up slowly, in pain, and visibly more tired than before. I curse the guy who sold him this wretched footwear. Again, at mile 26 he falls again. He is so tired he cannot slow his tumble; his head hits the ground. Blood of scalp mixes with the sweat of marathon and tears of pain. He gets up much slower this time. He licks the salty pink cocktail as it drips down his face. Nearly the entire crowd yells for my son to tie his shoes. He looks down as he starts to jog, but the sound of approaching runners makes him think twice. Only now does my blame shift the to my moron child who didn't notice his shoes were untied. He looks more determined than before, but is acutely aware of where his feet land, making sure to not step on a shoelace. This slows him down considerably. The pack closes in. At 26.1, he falls again. For a moment, he can hear the individual footsteps of his approaching competitors, until the crowd, nearly unanimously, starts cheering for him to rise, but also swear at him for not tying his shoes when he had the chance. He doesn't get up. The pack is nearly on him now...