How can you tell someone graduated from Notre Dame?

Don't worry they will tell you.

I can remember your grandfather used to walk around with his old typewriter.  Anytime someone would be allowed to enter the home he would bring it out and invite that lucky individual to take a few stabs at typing.  He would spend hours gleefully watching people bashing ink to paper.  Once he looked at me and said, "Son, the future is now!  From thought, to ink, to print with the push of a button.  Truly these are the glory days we fought the Germans to obtain."  

Anyways the real tragedy of the creation of the iphone is that it somehow gives the owner many responsibilities.  First and foremost the owner of the Iphone has solemn sworn duty to take it out at every opportunity.  Oh man thanks for sitting down next to me at the bar.  Oh and look you've pulled out an electronic device.  Oh wow are you going to use it?  No?  Oh ok just have it sit there then.  Oh you picked it up.  Did you get a call?  No.  No, you just wanted to check the weather because you can.  Oh look your shiny has gotten the attention of a female.  Well fortunately you're well versed in the marketing of said shiny.  Unfortunately once you're done with your infomercial you're going to have to find something else to talk about.  And now we have come full circle to doom.  You're generation has more information at your finger tips than ever could be dreamed by mine.  Yet none of you find anything useful to say. 

There’s no need to be smart or literate.  Don’t know how to spell a word?  Not any trouble thanks to iphone.  Too dumb to tell if it's sunny outside?  Fortunately you have a weather app at the ready.  Life getting you down?  Can't figure out how to seize the day?  Well congrats because now you can watch the video of the intense squirrel at any time.  Now you can take photographs of all the interesting non iphone owning folks who are out there doing stuff while you photograph them.  Later on you will marvel at your ability to zoom into said photo.  Even later on you will wipe a grimy glass screen with the tears of remorse from your impulse purchase.  But hey it's your allowance do with it what you want.  

You know in my day there were two types of journals, the Wall Street Journal and your sister’s diary. 

What age you were determined which journal you were more interested in reading.  Regardless, both were good sources for blackmail and an occasional valuable piece of info.  During this crazy time of human existence known as America's Golden years (unless you're black or a woman), men would go to these little comfy places called taverns to discuss topics eye to eye.  Sure there was an occasional brawl stabbing and what not.  Yes a brandy snifter can be turned into a lethal weapon.  But I’ll take fisticuffs any day to these internet murder suicide pacts that seem to be the rage with the current crop of youngsters.

Now a days any limp wristed vigilante with an inflated sense of self importance can boldly, YES, boldly proclaim his staunch opposition to any topic.  Meanwhile he sits behind a shell of emboldening anonymity or he rides the pine by calling himself cute names like socialjusticenowlol27 or rushlimbaugh.  Watch any video of the civil rights marches and guess what won’t be pictured.  People sitting on their butts.  Because if you really want something to happen you go make it happen. 

If blogging is so great when will I see it in pictures?  I can just imagine each thrill soaked scene.  Oh look there he goes grabbing a soda.  Uh oh.  looks like he has found an article unfavorable to his beliefs.   Oh man blast that AC/DC and strap in he just hit Caps Lock.  I almost cried as he braved nacho chips clogging his keyboard!  Man that's sick how he ducked those negative comments!  Will this screen gem feature some shirtless protagonist screaming catch phrases like, "  Comment Deleted MF’r!!"  This won’t happen.  Because there’s nothing more pitiful than a bunch of angry people tanning themselves by the glow of a computer screen. 

Fortunately for you there are still enough men like myself who realize that no one ever does anything unless there’s something right in front of them.    And right now you’re in front of the TV.  So get out of the way.  Don’t like it?  Well I am going to move you anyways.

Go cry to your ones and zeros.  Or maybe make a top ten list.  Better yet, why don’t you go do the dishes for your Mother.

Now first off let me make my stance clear.  Nicholas Cage is perhaps the finest American actor of his time.  Be he playing badass or badass with a southern accent, Nick Cage brings the goods.  Not just a little but a lot.  He kind of reminds me of you're Uncle Mike, always so intense and a fine head of hair.  Uncle Mike dissapeared for 10 years and when he returned he had this strange southern drawl that didn't seem to come from any particular region.  But it suited him and it made him seem double tough.  The allure of an intense southerner with the lack of any true education is exactly the fire that Nick Cage decides to blaze across my silver screen.  And speaking of fire check this out!

I can't imagine the costs it involved to carry around a human skeleton and enough kerosine to keep it a blaze as it roared through on a CGI motorcycle.  But the millions were well worth it.  So the movie involves a deal with the devil.  And Cages soul.  Cage turns into a flaming monstrosity during the night time.  This flaming Nick Cage is supposed to kill demons.  Fortunately for Nick Cage even when the demons discover his day time identity, they are still too lazy to arrange a home invasion by a murdering psycho during the day time.  I think that would have been a better movie as I quickly grew sick of the burning man killng badies and wished for more patented Nick Cage fist to face action.  Do you remember Face Off?  That movie was awesome!  And it didnt need some flaming motorist with a goofy voice.  So I admittedly fell asleep during this movie.  Fortunately when I woke up Con Air was on and that carried the remainder of the day.  Why don't you go take out the garbage before your Mom gets home.