El Dia de las Madres

Posted on May 11th, 2010 by Jaymz

I thought it would be appropriate to share the essay I wrote for my mother with the remnants of my once mighty blogging empire.

An Ode to Mothers My Mother (Kathleen Tobe)

By: Jim (youngest; born: August 28, 1985; SSN: xxx-xx-xxxx)

Mothers. Every child has one. (Well, is that true is this day and age? There are books featuring kids with two dads…Let’s start over). Biological mothers. Every child technically had one at birth. A mother is one of the two most influential parents in the lives of their children. The extent of this influence seems to peak every year on the second Sunday in May. Fathers, meanwhile, experience absolutely no variance in the impact they have on their kids until the local department store advertises a clearance sale on tacky novelty ties. As April’s precipitation delivers May vegetation (that is a good saying, I should jot that down), children everywhere remember how their mothers nurtured what were once fragile, blossoming nose pickers and molded them into the stout, full-formed masters of metaphor they have become.

So, Mom, like any devoted son who catches a Kentucky Derby commercial, performs a frantic Google search for the terms, “Mother’s Day; 2010,” and looks for a calendar, I have been thinking recently about how to express my gratitude for all you have done for me. What sort of gift could I give that is truly unique? Flowers? Cliché. A card? Hackneyed. Chocolates? Trite. Acrostic poem? The third listed synonym from thesaurus for unoriginal. Time? Technology hasn’t been perfected. Grandchild? Already got it for Christmas. (Side note: adoption agencies are extremely pessimistic and dismissive about the possibility of time travel). Whenever I’m seeking something truly creative that countless employers have consistently refused to assign any monetary value, I consult my own imagination. That’s when it hit me: a grandchild! Four removed Craigslist postings and one restraining order later, I decided to write this essay on your behalf.

A mother’s bond with her son is eternal. Despite any trials and tribulations this relationship might endure, one inexorable fact remains: you and I were inseparable for a nine month period. You carried me everywhere. Was it difficult being the only third grade student who had to relearn the ability to walk as a result of leg atrophy? Obviously. But seeing me take my first steps for the second time was worth it. The experience brought us closer together. In a manner of speaking, you have been carrying me my whole life. Whenever I stumble on my path to greatness, you and Dad are there to help me gather myself and call me “Ex-Lax,” respectively. You have been my most loyal and supportive audience member. The approval of a million other people would be rendered meaningless by your unenthusiastic response. Whenever I pen a new work, I eagerly await your laughter. It is only fitting that your eyes be the first to behold this latest creation. I hope you have enjoyed it. If it doesn’t seem befitting of the unconditional love you’ve bestowed upon me over the years, read it again. This entire page is written in iambic pentameter.

(Did you actually attempt to reread the top portion? I apologize for misleading you. It was one last joke for the road).

Happy Mother’s Day to the Best Mother a Loquacious Offspring Dare Ever Imagine!
Love,
-Jim-

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Letter from the Editor

Posted on January 14th, 2010 by Jaymz

For those who aren’t a relative, former Glandorf Elementary teacher or corrupt, inquisitve employee of the postal service, here is an electronic version of the actual Christmas letter that my parents mailed this year.

Season’s greetings to family, friends and anyone else in my parents’ address book,

As the weather invariably grows colder, our thoughts naturally turn to that old familiar birth story we’ve all heard hundreds of times. You undoubtedly know the details. The son of a carpenter, the green-sleeved child (and his fluorescent rhinoplastic nightmare) would grow from rather humble beginnings to become King Wenceslas, the most famous reindeer of all. As a monarch, he received gifts. Gold. Frankincense. Myrrh. (You’re probably thinking, all three!? Remember, these were more prosperous times). He was wrapped in swaddling clothes. Later in life he preferred less confining garments and frequently wore sandals. It’s easy to forget that our focus should be on him during this time of celebration. Ideally, every decision made in preparation for the holiday should be governed by the question of WWJD: What Would Jim Desire for Christmas?

I’m kidding, of course. I should probably take this opportunity to identify myself as the youngest of Russell and Kathleen’s three children. The funny one. In what I can only conclude is an attempt to alienate herself from everyone on her mailing list and therefore avoid writing any more of these letters, my mother has assigned me the task of composing this year’s edition. You may have already noticed that our writing styles are slightly different. Bearing that in mind, continue reading to enjoy a brief summary of this year’s chapter in the book of Tobe.

Much like the advent wreath, the Tobe family (as I see it) consists of four candles, each one shining brightly in its own right. One of these four is unique, distinguishing itself mainly through unapologetic self-promotion and cleverly written Christmas letters. I shall provide an update on each segment of the family, starting with the eldest members and ending with the most vibrant.

Russell and Kathleen:
Mom and dad both celebrated an age-related milestone this year. To ensure that I’m well-represented under the tree come the 25th, let’s just say they look good for fifty, don’t they? Mom also doubled the size of her cooking repertoire (break AND bake, anyone?), while Dad suffered through the final year of the Charlie Weis era at Notre Dame. Dad still reminisces with a wistful glint in his eye about the Fighting Irish’s last national championship in 1988, when he was on the verge of thirty. (I’m committed at this point. What does one name his first yacht?)

Ben and Theresa:
The Schroeders celebrated a decade of married bliss and moved into their beautiful new home. This leaves two vacant guest rooms at la casa de Tobe. In order to combat Mom’s second bout of Empty Nest Syndrome, I suggest she open a “Bed and Bed,” considering breakfast for her usually consists of oatmeal and coffee. Ben also generously donated a kidney to his cousin in November. Evidently he was determined to complete his Christmas shopping early and avoid any possibility of his present being exchanged or returned.

John and *Francie (*denotes new Tobe!):
These two lovebirds tied the knot, saw Star Trek as part of an Australian honeymoon and were treated to an absolutely amazing toast at their wedding reception. The first new Tobe to make Russ and Kathy’s family picture since August of 1985, Francie was a shrewd free agent acquisition.

James Russell Tobe, Esquire:
I had an absolutely amazing year. The highlights include serving as best man for a second time, moving into an apartment with my new roommate and writing what I hope is an amusing Christmas letter. Returning to the question mentioned earlier (WWJD), Santa already knows what I hope to receive this year: the laughter and love exchanged on a late December morning in a tightly-wrapped package known as my family. They are a present I don’t deserve, but happily accept every Christmas.

Merry Christmas from the Tobes,
-Jim Tobe-

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Character Flaws

Posted on January 7th, 2010 by Jaymz

Video game aficionados have long clamored for competitive multiplayer games that allow players to act as the villains and vanquish their friends, the heroes. In this post, I will explain how every game in your collection can be transformed into the interactive experience I just described.

The process begins with a simple change in philosophy. In order to assume the role of evil mastermind, one must first view the traditional hero of the game as an enemy. By extension, this also makes whoever is playing the game an enemy, be it a friend, roommate or, ideally, a preexisting enemy. Forming a relationship with the person holding the controller through common interests will enable a covert attack from behind hero (enemy) lines. A truly committed saboteur may wish to marry his/her target. This is recommended only for those who are absolutely diabolical.

To play as a mini-boss, study the primary tool of the hero and use it against him. This controller has only one button: the power button on your enemy’s (the traditional hero’s) console. Advanced weapons in the arsenal of evil include any cords that plug into the wall, the eject button, remote detonation devices and grenades. Turning off the game system (or destroying it) before the player has the opportunity to save his progress results in a win of an imaginary prize (or a new enemy) and the loss of a friend (and possibly a video game console).

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I Ain’t Afraid of No Post

Posted on October 25th, 2009 by Jaymz

Thinking of the clever Ghostbusters pun in the title took a lot of creative effort, so the remainder of this post will be some of my wittier Facebook status updates from the past month or so.

Jim Tobe People who are extremely inebriated tend to wear their hearts on their sleeves. In addition, they often wear their dinner on their shirts, their damaged livers as badges of honor and the patience of any sober bystander on the bottom of their shoes with each stumbling step they take.

September 11 at 2:30am

Jim Tobe is willing to enter into a Monopoloid, monogamous relationship with a special young woman. She must be willing to take Chances occasionally, access to her Community Chest must be restricted to a sole player and she must be willing to place her home (or hotel) firmly upon the soil of St. Jaymz Place.

September 17 at 11:47pm

Jim Tobe is impressed that Liquid Plumber’s purported guarantee to quickly and effectively eliminate clogs was proven valid. Guard your dancing shoes with extreme vigilance, people of the Netherlands!

September 23 at 12:21am

Jim Tobe If a tree falls during the Annual Deaf Camping Trip to the Middle of the Forest, would Alanis Morissette consider it ironic?

September 24 at 1:38am

Jim Tobe Don’t let a popular advertising campaign ruin your life, kids. R-O-L-A-I-D-S does not spell relief, at least not according to the judges of the 1996 Putnam County Spelling Bee.

September 25 at 10:21am

Jim Tobe never speaks in absolutes…with the exception of the previous sentence. He has always considered it the least he can do.

September 27 at 12:21am

Jim Tobe Self checkout is for the vain and all it requires is a reflective surface.

September 30 at 12:40am

Jim Tobe was advised during this week’s homily to remove anything that causes him to sin from his life. He has decided to first target impure thoughts. Therefore, it is with a heavy heart that he must today swear off the voluptuous, suggestive bottles of both Mrs. Butterworth and Aunt Jemima brand syrups. Sorry, ladies, but it’s strictly generic brands from this day forward.

October 1 at 1:18am

Jim Tobe would love to be Benjamin Button for a day just so he could goad someone into saying, “Hey, come on! We’re not getting any younger!” To which he would calmly reply, “Speak for yourself.”

October 17 at 8:08pm

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Rats!

Posted on October 7th, 2009 by Jaymz

One of my New Year’s resolutions for 2009 was to blog more frequently. “How successful have you been in this endeavor?”, the intrepid reader undoubtedly ponders. Thank you for asking, imaginary audience I used merely as a transitional device. It’s now October and this will be my third post. One more and I ascend from “pulse-possessor,” to the rank of “neophyte.” I’m pretty excited. The original subject for this post, before I was interrupted by that inquisitive fan, was that my roommate wants to have a pet rat in our apartment. This is an idea to which I am diametrically opposed. If you are questioning why I might object to this request, kindly show yourself to the lovely padded room behind you and close the door tightly. Seriously, am I the one who must justify his logic? If so, I’m happy to oblige. My reasons are manifold.

1.) The Bubonic Plague.
-With the notable exceptions of scurvy and witches, the Black Death is among my biggest fears. I likes my lymph nodes nice and slender. Therefore, I am ever vigilant to be sure that the perpetrator of said continent-wide epidemic doesn’t come strolling through my door. Would a Bigger, Older Red Riding Hood ever adopt a pet wolf? No, and the principle here is the same. “But, Jim!” you protest, “It’s been over six centuries!” No amount of time is enough. Each animal only gets one catastrophic disease that kills an estimated 100 million people before I categorically refuse to accept it as a domesticated pet. Rats have cashed in their epidemic collateral. Humans now have the opportunity to exact their revenge for the rest of time. I’m sorry, rats. Your ship has sailed. (Historical wordplay!)

2.) My short list of acceptable pets.
-Call me old-fashioned, but the animals which I consider ideal pets are also a possible tic-tac-toe outcome between skilled competitors: cats and dogs. Animals that spend most of their days in cages, tanks or American Gladiator-esque transportation modules? Not for me. Have a flu named after you? Not domesticated enough. Would a stereotypical female character from a 1950’s cartoon leap onto a chair when the alleged pet entered a room? Sorry, not a pet in my book.

3.) Hygiene.
-Rats are renowned for their ability to thrive in unsanitary conditions, a fact my roommate seems to have embraced fully. The Odd Couple symbiosis that currently exists in the apartment ecosystem would be jeopardized by the introduction of a rodent. Right now, I’m reluctantly functioning as an overwhelmed Oscar (wait, he lived in a garbage can. The other one must have been the neat freak…Bert, or Ernie. I never really watched the show, truthfully). I can’t imagine a rat would assist in balancing the cleanliness ratio, despite what I’ve been shown in propaganda films like Walt Disney’s Snow White. The attempts by Mickey Mouse’s creator to advance a pro-rat agenda are disgustingly blatant. Actually, upon further reflection, my roommate enjoys cheese and maintains a level of sanitation equivalent to 14th century Italian standards, which brings me to my final concern…

4.) My roommate is either a rat himself or has been brainwashed by the rat overlord.
-My vitamin C intake is fine. This is now my most paralyzing fear. With every bite of food he gnaws, the evidence becomes increasingly damning. Then again, he has admitted to dining at Taco Bell, which would make him a cannibal.

Well, this post probably hasn’t provided a resolution to this difference of opinion, but I hope it has introduced some levity to the situation. If conditions deteriorate any further, the Zagat Rodentia will give this place a five star review. Only then will the rat overlord reveal himself and challenge me to a battle for control of the planet. I only hope my strait-jacket doesn’t inhibit my pugilistic performance.

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A Pretense of Blogging

Posted on September 8th, 2009 by Jaymz

Jim Tobe If you’re experiencing tension, do not attempt to alleviate it by visiting a detention center. They are deceptively named, improperly spelled and extremely unlikely to provide any sort of release for several years.

August 28 at 2:03am

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That Old Familiar Face(book) Status Update

Posted on September 7th, 2009 by Jaymz

Some of my elders who don’t have facebook accounts (relatives) and others who I would prefer refrain from joining any social network site (my parents) have been requesting insight into my daily exploits. So, rather than generating new and original content (a task too herculean at the moment), I have decided to fire up the old blogging machine and post some of the wittier musings I have shared as status messages over the last year. Please cherish these rare gems of entertaining text. Like this nugget of wisdom from Friday:

Jim Tobe takes his role as one of Hank Williams Jr.’s rowdy friends very seriously. That is why he has adequately prepared himself for some football and a Monday night party well in advance of the regular season opener.

Fri at 1:57am

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The Man Who Cried Retirement

Posted on October 17th, 2008 by Jaymz

Well, the walking record book most people know as Brett Favre has been reinstated by the NFL. So strike up the band and have them play their most rousing rendition of “Who Gives a Crap?”

I apologize if I sound bitter about the whole situation, but after an entire summer of drama, I was expecting a more satisfying resolution. I feel like I just endured eleven episodes of the O.C. only to watch the main character move to Alaska on the season finale. Maybe that’s not the perfect analogy….I can’t think of a city that sucks as much as the Jets do. The point is, he won’t be scoring as much, the supporting cast isn’t nearly as sexy and he doesn’t stand a chance of being as beloved or successful.

I also wish the media could have resisted the urge to use every Jet-themed pun at their disposal as a headline. Thanks to their lack of restraint, I was treated to gems like: “Jet Favre,” “Jet Setter,” “Jettisoned” and “For Jetter or Worse.” Ok, so I made up one of those. You get the point. Of course, Green Bay sports writers had their own unique perspective, as evidenced by their headline choice: “Fudge Packer.” Alright, so that’s another Jaymz original. I’m still waiting for an announcer to say “Crotchety to Cotchery” when Brett hits his new favorite target for a touchdown.

Lost in all the hysterics and hoopla is the real story. Despite reports that Brett returned for the “love of the game,” I believe I’ve determined his actual motive for coming back. Brett Favre is addicted to the rush of retirement. He can’t stop himself from walking away from the game, so he has to continue to get that fix every season. He is incapable of retiring from retiring. He loves the cake, the kind words and the nonstop media attention. I’m not criticizing the man. I can empathize with his plight. My own mother retired just this year, but couldn’t stay on the educational sidelines for long. She was promptly reinstated as a substitute teacher. I propose that the NFL institute a similar policy for gray-whiskered players like Mr. Favre.

Poor Kellen Clemens thought he was finally getting a full-time starting position. After years of education and studying lesson plans, the principal had indicated it was his time to teach. Instead, this old bastard with tenure sweeps in and usurps his position….and this elderly gentleman never takes a sick day, either.

You know, this whole teacher-quarterback analogy has forced me to rethink something. How is an organization supposed to produce results with limited resources? If the classroom leaders are not compensated properly, how will the next generation be encouraged to assume the responsibilities of this critical profession? Maybe it is wise to keep the seasoned, reliable veterans around instead of paying less for kids fresh out of college…The NFL needs to eliminate the salary cap restrictions. Otherwise, kids are going to grow up aspiring to be something else besides professional athletes, maybe even teachers….and where would we be as a society if that happens?

Well, that’s all I have for this week. Oh, and to any cynics who would dare to speculate that I started this entry back when Brett Favre was first reinstated and then proceeded to procrastinate for a couple of months, you have some nerve…albeit an accurate one.

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Swashbuckling Savings & Loan

Posted on August 17th, 2008 by Jaymz

Arrrr you tired of traveling to remote islands just to find the money to pay monthly bills? Creditors hassling you about accepting gold doubloons and bullion? Has collecting Aztec gold lost its luster because you keep forgetting where you buried it? Then maybe it’s time to consider entrusting your money to the folks at First National Davy Jones’ Locker, a Plundercorp bank. Ahoy, they call me Captain Five o’ Clock Shadow. First National Davy Jones’ Locker is a reputable institution that hasn’t been sacked, pillaged, or plundered in over thirty years of service. Instead of relying on treasure maps, shovels, or mythological creatures like the Kraken, we store your money in a secure vault surrounded by assassins. After all, you killed to obtain your treasure, so we’ll kill to protect it. We’re willing to work with you to find your best available option, and can offer you a loan at a low APRRRRR…yarrr. So force your old banking solutions to walk the plank, and start reaping the benefits of First National Davy Jones’ Locker today, where X marks the spot…for your future.

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Circle Jerk

Posted on July 23rd, 2008 by Jaymz

Some say it came from Greece. Others say Crete. Wherever it originated, it became a homicidal maniac. I always knew it was irrational, but I still can’t believe Pi killed all those people. The horrors I witnessed that day are permanently etched into my memory. As I crossed the boundary of police tape that encircled the circumference of the crime scene, a degree of remorse overwhelmed me. I could have prevented this. If only I hadn’t referred to Pi as “essentially 3.14 or 22/7.” Pi detested those labels more than anything. It went completely insane. As its mental health deteriorated, it even started talking to imaginary numbers, claiming it could recite over 100,000 digits of itself from memory…Pi carved out a final solution for x and itself by eliminating all the variables he once loved. There was just one area Pi and the Radius twins could never fully calculate: their own demented minds.

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