Some mothefucker calling himself “Bruce Cook” thinks that it’s okay to misrepresent me and my wife:

I had opportunity to go to a Star Trek Convention recently and Wil Wheaton was there. He has always been one of my favorite actors and I so looked forward to meeting him. Anyway, I did not know he sold his autograph. I bought a picture for $5 and,when it came time for me to meet him, he told me he needed $10 for the autograph. I was brought ,by my brother,in a wheelchair and it was explained we did not have $10. But,instead of showing compassion, his wife,who was there,said, “then wheel your crippled ass out of the way,we’re here to make money,not give out charity!” I looked at Wil and he said “You heard her,now fork over the 10 or get the hell out of here!”

It’s bad enough that this bastard made up some stupid lie about me. That I can ignore. But he crossed a line when he lied about my wife, who is the most loving, compassionate, caring and thoughtuful woman on this planet.
Bruce Cook, if you’re reading this, you have one chance to set the record straight. Nobody tells lies about my wife and gets away with it, you son of a bitch.
UPDATE 11:46 PM PST: Now that I’ve managed to calm down, and my rage has cooled to just 500 degrees, rather than 500,000, I’ve removed this pigfucker’s Yahoo profile info. As furious as I am, I think it would be pretty uncool to flood this idiot with e-mails and junk. For all I know, this could be some troll looking for lots of attention, in which case I’ve played right into his / her / its hands.
The thing is, when I perceive a threat against people I love, I tend to blast off and nuke the site for orbit. I just want this guy / gal / robot to set the record straight, then we can all get back to hanging out at the stick, looking at a thing in a bag.

On Friday, Nolan came racing into the living room and said, “Wil! I want to go to the LA Car Show this weekend! Just you and me, okay?!”
Nolan loves cars. When we see a cool sportscar, it’s not enough for Nolan to tell me that it’s a Nissan 350 Z. He needs to tell me exactly what size engine it has, how fast it does 0-60, and how it would do against a Ferrari.
Nolan has a subscription to Car and Driver, and was excited to have Project Gotham Racing because “It’s the closest I’ll get to racing a Mini for a few years, Wil.”
I, on the other hand, have serious problems hanging an air freshener tree from my mirror (“You’ll find one in every car, you’ll see.”) or adding washer fluid. but when the Car Show came to town last year, I saw an opportunity to do something with him, in an environment where I knew he’d enjoy himself. I had to seriously talk him into going, but I eventually succeeded, and we had a great time. So I was very excited when he came to me Friday and asked me if I’d take him again.
Yesterday, he had plans with friends all day, so we planned to go today.
At 11:30 a.m., we got into my car, and drove to the convention center. About ten miles into the drive, he said to me, “Do you ever listen to anything other than Fred when you drive?”
“Sure, I do,” I said, “I listen to the jazz station, and Ethel, and Special X.”
“Why don’t you listen to the regular radio?”
“Because the regular radio sucks. It all sounds the same and the DJs are lame.”
“You won’t even listen to KIIS FM?”
KIIS is a local Top 40 station. I’m pretty sure it’s one of those Clear Channel stations.
“I don’t think so. I used to listen to KROQ, but nowadays –”
“KROQ just sucks, doesn’t it?” He said.
“Mostly, yeah. Kevin and Bean are awesome, but the music on that station is just –”
“They play too many oldies,” he said.
I nearly lost control of the car.
“Too many oldies?”
“Yeah! It’s all from the eighties,” he said, matter-of-factly.
Man, did I ever feel like I was 31 and squarely in a different generation. Squarely, man. Squarely.
“Well, I was thinking of all that Korn and System of a Down noise, but . . .” I couldn’t even complete the thought.
“Do you think KIIS will be around in ten years?” He asked.
“Probably. It’s been on the air since I can remember.”
“Oh, that’s good,” he said, “I don’t know what I’d listen to if KIIS went off the air.”
Oh dear god. I am so out of touch with the kids today.
I reflexively turned up Fred, which was playing Joy Division, and self-consciously sang along.
The rest of the drive, Nolan spoke without stopping for breath about how excited he was to see cars from 2 Fast 2 Furious, and some new concept cars, and some Mitsubishi. I kept looking at him in the rearview mirror, but I was distracted by my steadily receeding hairline and the lines that have recently deepened around my eyes.
We pulled off the freeway at 9th street, and turned down Hope on the way to the convention center.
I was passing the Staples Center when I realized that there were no other cars around, and all the parking lots were empty.
“Nolan, did you say that the Car Show was at the Convention Center?”
“Yeah, it’s the Los Angeles Auto Show at the LA Convention Center in Anaheim.”
I pulled over and turned off the car.
“Nolan,” I said, as my old heart sank, “Do you mean the Anaheim Convention Center?”
“Yeah! That’s it!” He said, cheerfully.
“Nolan, that’s in Orange County. This is the Los Angeles Convention Center.”
“How far is the other one?”
“It’s over an hour away. We can’t go there.”
His smile fell from his face.
“Why?”
“Because it’s noon, and we have to be at my parent’s house at four for dinner. We don’t have time.”
At a time like this, it would be totally normal for the kid to cry, but I felt like I was going to cry. I felt like I’d let him down by not double-checking the location, and now our big day together was a total loss.
“Well, can we do something else instead?” he offered.
“Are you okay with that?”
“Well, I was really looking forward to going to the car show, but we can still hang out together until dinner. That’ll be cool.”
I actually felt the heaviness lift from my heart. For the next few minutes, we talked about where we could go, and settled on Universal Citywalk. We figured there were lots of restaurants there, and maybe we could catch a movie.
A cold wind and the end of tourist season conspired to keep Citywalk mostly empty. Top-40 music blared from huge speakers echoed off the mostly-empty walkways. It sounded hollow and eerie, too warm for this chilly November afternoon.
We walked up to the theater, and scanned the showtimes.
“How about Texas Chainsaw Massacre?” Nolan said.
I opened my mouth to answer and he said, “Just kidding, Wil. How about School of Rock?”
“Haven’t you already seen that?”
“Yeah, but I really liked it. I think you’ll like it too.”
“Okay,” I said.
He turned to the girl in the ticket booth.
“One child, and one . . . ” he paused and looked at me, “. . . senior for ‘School of Rock at one.”
“Senior?!” I said, “I don’t think so!”
He giggled at me while I paid for one adult and one child.
The movie was mildly amusing to me, and though I enjoy Jack Black, I think he’s better in a supporting role. I got serious Jack Black fatigue after about 40 minutes. During the film, though, I finally grokked why parents can sit through terrible movies like Anastasia because their kids want to see it. Nolan was rocking back and forth in his chair, and kept looking at me to make sure I was enjoying it as much as he was.
When the film was over, we had about 45 minutes to spend at Citywalk before we had to go up to my mom and dad’s, so we checked out some of the junk shops they have up there.
Citywalk is this very strange, ultra-sanitized, fake version of a scaled-down Los Angeles. It’s so hideous, it’s sort of cool, and I must admit that I enjoy walking around up there.

“I remember coming up here when I was a teenager,” I told him, “when none of this was here. There were just two themed restaurants, and the movie theater. And the theater only had 12 or so screens. ”
“There was no Hard Rock Cafe?”
“Nope. But there was this place called Whomphoppers, which was a western-themed steak house, and this other place called Victoria Station, which was a train-themed steakhouse.”
“No offense, Wil, but that sounds pretty lame.”
“Yeah, it was . . . but it was the 80s so we didn’t notice. We were distracted by the awful hair and leather ties.”
“Yeah, what were you thinking?” he asked.
“Uhm. I don’t know, but I can promise you that all your friends who wear their ironic trucker hats cocked to the side on their heads will have this conversation with their own kids in fifteen years.”
We both laughed and walked into a blast of obnoxiously loud hip-hop music that poured out of a store.
“Man, I must be getting old,” I said, “because I just can’t stand this crap. I’m totally out of touch with you damn kids today.”
“What do you mean, getting?” Nolan laughed.
“Dude!”
“I’m just kidding . . . ” he said, and took my hand as we walked out, “. . . but you are.”
I love that kid.

Smilin’ Jay (Fark audioedit master of the universe) just sent in the following Halloween Safety Tips.
Ignore them at your own peril. You have been warned.
1. When it appears that you have killed the monster, NEVER check to see if it’s really dead.
2. Never read a book of demon summoning aloud, even as a joke.
3. Do not search the basement, especially if the power has gone out.
4. If your children speak to you in Latin or any other language, which they should not know, shoot them immediately. It will save you a lot of grief in the long run.
5. When you have the benefit of numbers, never pair off and go alone.
6. Never stand in, on, or above a grave, tomb, or crypt.
7. If you’re searching for something which caused a loud noise and find out that it’s just the cat, GET THE HELL OUT!
8. If appliances start operating by themselves, do not check for short circuits; just leave NOW.
9. If you find a town which looks deserted, there’s probably a good reason for it.
10. Don’t fool with recombinant DNA technology unless you’re really sure you know what you’re doing.
11. If you’re running from the monster, expect to trip or fall down at least twice, more if you are female. Also note that, despite the fact that you are running and the monster is merely shambling along, it’s still moving fast enough to catch up with you.
12. If your companions suddenly begin to exhibit uncharacteristic behavior such as hissing, fascination for blood, glowing eyes, and so on, kill them immediately.
13. Stay away from certain geographical locations, some of which are listed here: Amityville, Elm Street, Transylvania, Nilbog, anywhere in Texas where chainsaws are sold, the Bermuda Triangle, or any small town in Maine.
14. If your car runs out of gas at night on a lonely road, do not go to the nearby deserted-looking house to phone for help. If you think that it is strange you ran out of gas because you thought you had most of a tank, shoot yourself instead. You are going to die anyway, and most likely be eaten.
15. Beware of strangers bearing tools. For example: chainsaws, staple guns, hedge trimmers, electric carving knives, combines, lawnmowers, butane torches, soldering irons, or band saws.
16. If you find that your house is built upon a cemetery, now is the time to move in with the in-laws.
17. Dress appropriately. When investigating a noise downstairs in an old house, women should not wear a flimsy negligee. And, please, carry a flashlight, not a candle.
Happy Halloween, everybody!

It must be 5:30, because Ferris is hitting my leg, and wagging her tail like crazy. I stop typing and look down at her.
“What?”
Wag, wag, wag, wag, wag.
“Is it time to . . .”
She hits me with her paw. Her eyes are wide. Wag, wag, wag, wag.
“Are you ready for . . .”
Riley races into the room, and jumps up. She lands with both paws on my lap. Ferris growls at her to get down.
“Thank you, Ferris.”
Wag, wag, wag, wag, wag, wag, wag.
“Are you girls hungry? Are you ready for dinner?”
I said the magic word. Both dogs explode ahead of me, and tear across the living room. By the time they make it to the kitchen, Riley is running so fast she can’t stop on the smooth floor and crashes into the wall. Ferris stops right next to her dish.
“What’s that, Ferris?”
She looks at her dish, then at me. Riley picks herself up off the floor and stands next to me.
“Ferris? What do you want?”
I absolutely love this nightly ritual. I love the way Ferris finds me at about five o’clock, and reminds me, in her little (maybe not so little, at 72 pounds) dog way that it’s almost time to eat. I love asking her questions, and watching her grow increasingly excited when I say words she recognizes, like “hungry” and “five thirty” and
“Do you want your dinner?”
She is wagging her tail so hard now, her hips are rocking her whole body back and forth. She kicks her dish halfway across the floor. Riley barks at me.
“Okay! Okay!”
I pick up their dishes, and dump in their food.
My cell phone plays “Ode to Joy,” and I remember that I wanted to pay 1.99 for a cool ring tone.
I flip it open, and try not to notice the obvious relation to an Original Series communicator.
“Hello?”
“Hey Wil, it’s Jed and John from VH-1.” They’re on speaker phone.
My heart leaps. I’ve been waiting for this phone call.
“Oh, hi, Jed. What’s up?” I’m pretty sure I’ve successfully played the first line cool.
“Do you have a moment to talk?”
Do I?!
“Sure. I’m just feeding my dogs. Hold on.”
“Ferris, sit.”
She does.
“Stay.”
She does.
I put her bowl on the floor. She obediently waits.
“Okay!”
Ferris attacks her Nutro the way I attacked that Mean Gene burger on the weekend.
“Just a second, Jed.”
“Okay,” he says.
“Riley, sit.”
She looks at me and wags her tail.
“Riley. Sit!”
“Woah, you really are feeding your dogs!” he says.
I chuckle. “Did you think it was a euphemism?”
“Yeah, but I’m not saying what for.”
Riley sits, and I tell her to stay.
Ferris stops eating, like she does every night, and cocks an ear back toward us.
“Okay, Riley!”
Riley cocks her head to the side and barks at me.
“Riley, Okay!” I point at her dish, “You can eat now, dumbass!”
Riley looks down at her dish, and begins to eat. Ferris hears her dish scrape on the floor, and she resumes eating, too. It cracks me up that Ferris waits like that each night. I haven’t been able to determine if Ferris thinks I’m talking to her when I tell Riley to stay, or if she wants to make sure that she won’t be bothered by Riley while she’s eating, or what . . . but it’s pretty funny to watch her stand there with her mouth in her bowl, as she just listens to us.
“Sorry about that, Jed.” I say, and walk out of the room.
“No worries,” he says, “how was your trip up North?”
Oh shit. Is he making small talk? Did he call me to tell me that they’re excited, or is he making one of those look, I’m sorry that it didn’t work out, but we still want to work with you calls that I’ve gotten so many times before?
“It was tough. Anne’s grandmother is in the first stages of Alzheimer’s, so she’s really forgetful, and so frail the wind could knock her down.”
“Oh, Jesus, man, that sucks,” says John.
“Yeah,” I say, “I’m really glad we got to go visit her, though. I don’t think she’ll know who we are next time.” I say, “but the driving part was really great. Anne and I needed a couple of days to ourselves.”
“A couple of days with just the wife is always a good thing.” Jed says.
“Yeah,” I say. “So what’s up?”
“Well, we met with the network people here,”
Time slows to a crawl. The next few words are the ones that count.
“And they want us to go ahead and do a test with you.”
I’m pretty sure my heat stops. I sit down on my couch.
“Really?” I say. Though my meeting with them last week went really well, and all signs pointed to this happening, I’ve been let down so many times before . . . I guess I just expect things to fall apart. I’m genuinely surprised that we’re going to be taking the next step.
“Yeah, they love you. When we said your name to them, they went nuts.”
I allow myself to feel a bit of excitement. I don’t know if they really went nuts or not, but they said yes, and that’s what matters.
“So what happens next?” I ask.
“We need to get our budget together, and then we’re going to do a test with you. We’ll find someone local who could be on the show, and we’ll spend a day shooting stuff.”
Mother Jesus Balls. I can’t believe this!!
I can’t contain the excitement any longer and say, “Oh my god, you guys! This is so cool!”
They seem a bit surprised when I unleash my enthusiasm.
“Oh, I’m happy that you’re excited, Wil. This is going to be a lot of fun.” I don’t know who’s talking, now. In my defense, my heart had stopped for a moment there.
“We’re going to call your manager now, and get all the details worked out, but I just wanted to tell you myself first,” Jed says, “I hope that’s okay.”
“Are you kidding me?! This is great news, you guys, and I’m really glad that you called me.”
“Okay. We’ll put some stuff together, and talk to you soon.”
“Okay! I’ll talk to you then.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
I close the phone, and don’t care if I look like Captain Kirk or not.
Well, I run my hand through my hair, just to be sure.
I let out a loud, “Whooop!!” and jump up off the couch. “Thank you Fark! Thank you WWdN! Thank you! Thank you! Thank yyyooouuuuu!!!!!!!111”
Ferris comes racing into the living room, head cocked, and looks at me.
“Ferris! I’m going to be on VH-1!”
Wag, wag, wag, wag, wag.

We left Folsom at 8:30 this morning, and just got home about fifteen minutes ago.
When we got close to Gorman, we could see some smoke plumes over the mountains, and by the time we were in Santa Clarita, we were under a think blanket of smoke. (There are some camphone shots in my MoBlog)
The sun is this magnificent red ball in the sky, and the light it plays down on the city is a creepy but beautiful yellowish orange. All the grass in my neighborhood is just about glowing, it’s so green. The plumes we saw over the mountains as we came down the 5 were nothing short of majestic. I feel like it’s awful to praise the beauty that comes with the destruction, but I can’t ignore it.
I know that I’m late to the party on these fires, but it’s so immense, I couldn’t not mention it.
Some Oregon trip stuff:
I’m glad to be home, but sad that I have to leave the temporary “just us” world that Anne and I occupy when we go on a road trip. I’m happy to see the kids and the dogs again . . . but I’d like to selfishly keep Anne all to myself just a little bit longer.
As I reported in my Audioblogs, Grandma Beth is not doing well, and it breaks my heart to see 81 year-old Grandpa Joe struggling to care for her. We’re going to head back up to see them in Spring, so I hope Grandma Beth’s condition doesn’t get any worse before then.
Anne and I broke the trip up with stops in Folsom (just outside of Sacramento) at our friend’s Bed and Breakfast and Day Spa. The B&B hasn’t opened, yet, so Anne and I got to help apha test it with our two stays . . . I can’t wait to go back and get in on the beta. 😉
So now, it’s back to regular life. This week looks to be pretty busy for me, as the meetings I took last week move into their second stage. More details as they develop.