The Colonel T Show

First, a shout-out to my wife’s family, several members of which revealed to me in Kansas City that they read “The Colonel T Show” on a regular basis. I had no idea, and I’m honored! Thanks for a fantastic wedding and reception last weekend.

Speaking of my readership, I don’t know if any Southwest Airlines employees frequent this blog, but if you do, I’ve got a little message for you:

You, and your airline, are dead to me. Dead like George C. Scott. Dead like Ulysses S. Grant. Dead like Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip.

This tale of domestic air trauma is turning out to be my longest post ever (EVAH!) and I’m not quite finished with the writing and editing. I’ll keep plugging away at it, but here’s a little visual tidbit to tide you over. It’s representative of the general tone of the article:

We’re back.

I’m going to bed.

More tomorrow.

I’m packing up the wife and kids for a three-day adventure in Kansas City. My wife’s cousin is getting married. I don’t know if we’re going to be in Kansas City, Missouri or Kansas City, Kansas, but I don’t think it matters.

This will be my first airplane experience with Molly and Maddy. They flew with their mom and aunt a few months ago so while they are seasoned aviators, they’re older now and on the cusp of teething. I’m really worried about them freaking out over the air pressure changes and the sweatsuit-clad white trash heathens that typically fly Southwest. (Note to my readers: this is a broad generalization and I do know there are a few Southwest customers that don’t wear sweatsuits. Apologies for any hurt feelings.)

The adventure will afford us the opportunity to dress the girls in some swanky infant formal-wear, which should produce some awesome pictures. And no doubt I’ll come back with a story or two about something or another. Look for an update Sunday night, assuming I’m together enough to type and form sentences.

Hey all you relatives who complain in secret that we don’t take the babies outside enough: first, STOP, and second, here’s some proof that you’re dead wrong. We took the Molly and the Madeline to Sonny Acres Farm this afternoon to introduce them to America’s favorite orange squash fruit, the pumpkin. Please enjoy this selection of pictures from our adventure:

Molly and Maddy in the Edward James Olmos cart.

Maddy, freshly awakened, has no idea what’s going on.

Don’t let my left gun distract you from the cuteness that is Molly.

Maddy, in flight mode.

Not to be undone, Molly takes to the sky.

Yes, I’d rather you see my awful skin than my awful hair.

Hey! Quick Kick’s back with some rapid-fire tidbits. If you listen real close, you can hear his fists move the wind.

ITEM: Fresh from their six-month checkup, here are Molly and Maddy’s vital stats: Molly weighs 20 pounds, 1 ounce, and is 27.5″ long. Maddy weighs 18 pounds, 1 ounce, and is 28.5″ long.

ITEM: We’re three days out from the only season premiere that really matters: Battlestar Galactica’s back on Friday with a two hour epic continuation of last year’s magnificent cliffhanger. I’d like to thank the promo-monkeys at the Sci-Fi network for giving away a massive plot point in a 15-second commerical. Thanks, monkeys! And for those of you who haven’t checked out the show, you’ve got three days to watch the pilot and all 33 episodes. Off to Blockbuster with you.

ITEM: Is anyone else getting awkward and troubling emails from their Congressional Representative? Here’s one that arrived in my inbox this afternoon:

sup tim. headed to the gym — do you workout? pull-ups are hard how many can you do? is your birthday coming up? cake is awesome. post more pictures of yourself babies are cute but you’re the star later bro.

Shouldn’t this guy be focused on…anything else? Man alive.

ITEM: God bless YouTube. Here’s a Bill Shatner performance I’ve never seen…he’s singing something called “Taxi” on what appears to be the Dinah Shore show. The best part comes in the middle…the whole thing is only about two minutes…Quick Kick demands you click here!