Beverly Hillbilly

That high-pitched whining sound you hear is coming from the direction of Hollywood is Billy Ray Cyrus.

Seems he’s finally been able to pinpoint the reason his marriage is in shambles and his family life has imploded.

And that reason? Hannah Montana. That darned show. Gosh, Billy just wishes he’d never let Miley do it.

If it weren’t for that Disney show that ran for years, Miley wouldn’t be as reckless and uncontrollable as she’s become.

If only he could go back in time to before the show ever happened he would. Back to being a washed up singer. Back to having the most reviled song in country music history.

Here’s the thing: going back wouldn’t help. He didn’t do anything when he was there the first time.

Billy Ray knows what it’s like to have an insane amount of success at an early age (did I mention the most reviled song ever?). So when Disney wanted to cast Miley in a show, as someone who’d been in the spotlight – and as her father – he knew what was in store for her.

Now, I’ll concede he probably didn’t anticipate exactly how huge the show and his daughter would become. You never can. But they were entering into the Disney marketing machine. He had to know they’re all in when it comes to promoting shows and spinning out stars.

Hey, Billy Ray, news flash: it isn’t the shows fault. Or Disney’s. Or Miley’s. It’s yours.

By your own admission, you acted like more of a friend to Miley than a father. I imagine that you imagine by making that statement, you think we’re supposed to feel sorry for you. That somehow, in your negligent, lacking, selfish child-raising ways, it just happened.

Since you obviously haven’t read the manual, one of the things a parent is supposed to do is protect their children by setting boundaries. Something they’re not supposed to do is treat their kid like their best friend, then use them as an ATM so they can buy mansions, cars, pre-torn faded blue jeans, tatoos and anything else they want. It’s hard enough to ground Hollywood kids in a world where grown ups say yes to everything they want to do and have.

It’s also mighty convenient, after the series has ended, you’re not on a hit show anymore and you’ve cashed all the checks to start talking about the toll it takes being a multi-millionaire country boy and having a multi-multi-millionaire daughter/wild child.

Miley is over 18 now, so we can only hope she makes smart(er) decisions in the future, and listens to guidance from people who have been where she is and know the pitfalls.

At least she's already learned one valuable lesson.

She knows where not to turn for advice.

No parking

We can't park in their spots. Why do they get to park in ours?

First of all, I get that it's a free country. People can park where they want when they want.

But really, do motorcycles have to park in car spaces? At the mall? On a hot, busy Saturday?

I'm starting to feel a little like Charlie Brown each time Lucy yanks the football away. I come around a corner, and see what I believe to be a free spot. Instantly filled with a sense of optimism and accomplishment, I pull up to it and begin turning in, only to see a motorcycle parked there.

At that moment, I'm filled with something considerably less positive.

I always thought one of the reasons you ride a motorcycle - besides the fun of it, the mileage, the low maintenance costs and the cool factor - is so you can just park it in all the places a car can't get into. You just ride up, park it on that sliver of asphalt right next to the shop, or restaurant, or bar, or where ever, then hop off with the smugness of knowing you aren't circling the parking lot for hours looking for a spot.

To engage in car-like behavior just seems self-defeating.

It'd be like sitting in traffic on the freeway at rush hour, and crawling along at 3 mph along with the rest of us instead of zipping between cars, narrowly missing our mirrors and inspiring jealousy and hatred.

Some malls already have designated motorcycle parking spots. Maybe they all need to.

Until they do, try to take advantage of what you've got and don't park in our spaces. After all, we may be on the freeway but our doors still open.

Just sayin'.

Justin time

Here's how it happened.

We were sitting around having dinner one night, and my son was making fun of my daughter for liking Justin Bieber. Now, I'll admit I've been guilty of this many times my own self.

Every time a song of his would come on, I'd turn to my daughter and say, "Man, that girl can really sing."

She didn't think it was nearly as funny as I did. Especially after the 50th time.

Anyway, not liking to see her brother making fun of her, I promised to take her to see the Justin Bieber film "Never Say Never." When she asked if I'd take her to the midnight show, her brother laughed and said, "Dad will never go to a midnight show of that."

So I looked right at my daughter and said, "Absolutely." Besides, midnight show, months away, on a school night. Really, what were the odds of that ever happening?

That's what I was thinking as I sat at the AMC Theaters in Downtown Disney one minute after midnight Friday morning watching the movie with my daughter and her friend and a theater full of Justin Bieber fans.

Midnight. Seventh circle of hell.

I took this picture of the marquee as I walked in, and was going to post it to my Facebook account with this caption. But a funny thing happened.

I liked the movie.

Not going to go so far as saying I caught Bieber fever, but I will say my perception of who he was going in was changed by the time I walked out.

The first thing that struck me peculiar was the audience. I'd expected a theater full of screaming 11, 12 and 13 year-old girls with their parents snoring loudly in the seat next to them. Not the case at all. The audience was a cross section of tweens, teens, and surprisingly many, many adult Beiber fans.

I understand that you always have to keep in mind the filmmakers are showing you exactly what they want you to see. However, as the film - a combination of documentary and concert footage, home movies and interviews unfolds, what I realized is even though I don't like most of his music, Justin Bieber is a crazy talented kid.

It would appear he is surrounded by people who genuinely care about him, as opposed to someone like Michael Jackson who was surrounded by people who only knew how to say yes to anything he wanted. The dangers of surrounding yourself with people like that are tragically obvious.

No adult in this movie - in particular the tough-as-nails vocal coach who travels on tour with him - has a problem saying no to Justin. He's not the Golden Goose to them. He's a kid, and they're trying to protect as much of that as they can given the extraordinary circumstances he finds himself in. (Yes, I know they're all out of jobs if something happens to him, but that doesn't seem to be their main motivation).

Before I said I don't like most of his music. I've only been exposed to the songs my daughter plays over and over. But in the film there are other songs, many of which I liked.

Owen Gleiberman has an interesting take on it in a piece he wrote for Entertainment Weekly. He makes a lot of good points, but this is the part I think I agree with most:

A lot of people, in other words, hate Justin Bieber because they’re scared of him. Scared of the power that teen pop now wields in our world. But I’m here to tell you that they’ve got it backwards. Justin Bieber isn’t just a product; he’s a genuine, talented, true-blue appealing star. They have pinned their fear and loathing on the wrong phenomenon.

I know I'm going to get a lot of comments and razzing for liking the movie. It's okay, I can take it. And I'll answer them all.

Right after I get back from seeing the movie again with my daughter. And her brother.

Sarah Palin needs to stop talking

I usually don't get so political on this blog, but eventually everyone hits their threshold. And as far as Sarah Palin goes, I've hit mine. Enough is enough.

Enough with the media giving this carpetbagger airtime. Seriously, Kim Kardashian has more lucid opinions on the state of geo-global politics. Sarah Palin's opinions (and of course she's entitled to them) and take on the state of the world, nation, economy, health care, Obama, Cairo or whatever mean absolutely nothing.

I recently saw again the clip of her giving yet another incoherent speech (it was at the Tea Party Convention, so I suppose the word incoherent is redundant) where she asks Obama "How's that hopey, changey stuff workin' out for ya?"

Well, I have a question for Sarah: How'd that roguey, mavericky thing work out for you?

There are good, intelligent and honorable people in both parties. But people like Sarah Palin are the reason they steer clear of public service. The fact that this quitter can actually be taken seriously is just too disheartening (bonus points if you can explain what she's talking about in her resignation speech).

In every poll, I mean every poll, she trails any other candidate. She can't beat Obama (although seriously, I'd buy a ticket to that debate, wouldn't you?), she can't win the nomination from Romney (who as governor actually accomplished things, like instituting one of the nation's most progressive state-run health care plans), and she can't string five words together that make sense to save her life.

The real blame here has to go to John McCain, a once great public servant who traded his dignity, soul and reputation on a last chance run at the presidency. He tossed her into the national spotlight. He met her once - ONCE - before inviting her to be his running mate. He said she seemed "nice." Perfect qualifications for the next in line.

You know who else is nice? Betty White. At least she makes sense when she speaks.

Now, I do agree with Sarah that she's gotten some unfair press. For example the shootings in Arizona had nothing to do with her gunsight chart or her "reload" rhetoric. But it is hard to take her complaints about her bad treatment from the press seriously when she starts whining about how Katie Couric ambushed her by asking what newspapers she reads.

She's "written" two books. She gets huge public speaking fees. She had a reality show on Discovery. And she's a commentator on FOX. She's cashed in on her 15 minutes more than Kato Kaelin. It's time to shuffle on off to become another footnote to political history, like Thomas Eagleton or Ross Perot.

Why doesn't she go home to Alaska, hunt some moose (which is fine with me because they're wicked nasty abominations anyway), and give Bristol some tips on her next abstinence talk with teenagers (cheap shot - I don't care).

I fully expect some of my more conservative friends will come after me for this post, and that's fine. They'll point out people in the Democratic party who are just as objectionable to them. And they'll probably be right about some of them. There's no shortage on either side.

I do think that Sarah Palin's done a lot to change the attitudes of world leaders.

I believe because of her, as Putin rears his head and enters the airspace of the United States, he thanks his lucky stars the first place he passes over is Alaska.

The happiest place on Monday

There are two life rules that've served me pretty well. Always avoid the 5 freeway, and never go to Disneyland on a weekend or holiday.

But since today was neither, I decided it was the perfect time to carpé Mickey.

My kids were out of school today. Some kind of teachers conference or something. Anyway, since my wife is an administrator at their school, she was off as well. And since I'm a freelancer, well, need I say more? So, a Monday. The family's together. Everyone else is in school. Not a holiday.

It was go time for Disneyland.

There really is something magical about maneuvering through the park without being bumped by thousands of sweaty tourists wearing mouse ears and doing their impression of sardines. The ability to just walk into a ride and get on it without waiting is definitely worth the price of admission.

Even the price of admission is worth the price of admission. We have the Deluxe Southern California Resident passes. Which means we can just jump in the car on a whim - as long as our whim isn't on a blackout day - and drive on over to the Magic Kingdom.

We didn't spend the whole day there. Just the afternoon. We hit about five line-free rides, had some ice cream, and called it a day. If it were this easy all the time, we'd be there all the time.

The other thing about being there when the park isn't so crowded is that it gives you the chance to notice things you might not otherwise see. My wife was waiting while we went on one of the rides. As she waited, she saw the Mr. Incredible character (or as I like to call him, the other Mr. Incredible) interact with an obviously mentally challenged younger child. The character stared into the child's eyes, and the child stared back. Then Mr. Incredible got down on his knee, right in front of the child, and held his hand up. The child smiled and touched Mr. Incredible's hand.

On another, busier day, swarmed with screaming children wanting their picture taken with him, Mr. Incredible wouldn't have had the time to give to the child my wife saw today.

But on a slow Monday at Disneyland, obviously, that's where the real magic is.

Going bananas

I never should've looked.

As you may know, I often use Starbucks as my branch office when I'm working on an assignment. And, being a creature of habit, I always have a grande decaf and a slice of Banana Walnut Bread while I'm working.

Now, I've never been under the impression that it's a diet snack. But I always thought, you know - bananas? walnuts? - how bad can it be.

Well, today I found out.

A law went into effect the first of the year saying restaurants/coffee shops now have to post the calorie content of their food where the customer can see it before ordering. Which, as you can see, Starbucks has done.

Not that I ever gave any thought to it at all, but if I had I would've figured maybe 200, 250 calories. Come to find out I would've been off. By half.

It's just not fair. Where I once was just wistful and carefree ordering my faux healthy banana bread, I now find myself sweating like Mel Gibson at Passover dinner deciding whether I can justify that many calories for a snack.

Being beautiful isn't easy. I don't have to tell you.

Maybe next time I'll try to find someone else at the "office" who wants to split a slice with me. Maybe I'll just do without.

I did notice that my Starbucks sells real bananas at the register. I don't see a lot of fat chimps running around. Wonder how many calories in those?

The Hot Man

The buyers at Sur La Table must have been beside themselves when this little guy walked in the door. Let me explain.

My wife went to a surprise birthday party (not for her) on Saturday with a few girlfriends of hers. One of her close friends, not the birthday girl, decided to give them each the newest in kitchen potholder technology design: the Hot Man.

Get it? Potholder? Hot, man. It works on so many levels.

Anyway, this little guy is as fun to look at as he is functional. And really, how many men can you say that about?

A cut piece of metal, glazed fire-engine red and shaped like a man - knees up, arms open, just waiting to have a scalding pot of hot something placed on top of him.

As so many men are.

The beauty of it is he's really a one-size-fits-all kind of guy. And really, how many men can you say that about?

Metal pots, aluminum pots, small pots, big pots, medium pots. Bring 'em on. He's there to hold them. In fact, look at him. He's just asking for it.

Another thing about the Hot Man that makes him the perfect kitchen companion isn't so much what he does as what he doesn't do.

He doesn't judge. He doesn't care what her hair looks like. He isn't concerned with what she's wearing. He's not hogging the remote. He never sits waiting anxiously until she's done speaking so he can say what he wants to say. And the reason he doesn't? Because he's such an excellent listener.

And really, how many men can you say that about?

My wife is many wonderful things, not the least of which is a professionally trained chef (we eat very, very well here). She's always on the lookout for new and fun cooking utensils and equipment.

So you can imagine how delighted she is that the Hot Man has made his way to her kitchen.

Apparently, the Hot Man is pretty happy about it himself.