Go visit CavemanConclusion.com. Now.

If you’ve ever written a blog of your own, you know how it easy it is to get hooked on blogging in the same way that Cuba Gooding Jr. is hooked on choosing movies designed to destroy his career.

You might write your blog for a while and then stop when you get tired, run out of ideas, sober up, get a girlfriend or simply need to spend a little less time sitting down at the computer and a little more time playing World of Warcraft.

But like herpes, blogging is in your blood and it’s always going to be lurking there in the background, waiting to come back and make your life a living Hell all over again.

That’s exactly what happened with The Caveman of the newly opened CavemanConclusion.com. He used to write a rather snappy blog about office life and working in the corporate world and all the insanity associated with both. But then he won the lottery or mowed down all his coworkers with a nail gun or moved to Tibet and joined a monastery or something. I’m a little fuzzy on details. At any rate, he stopped writing for a while, took down his blog and simply disappeared.

Fortunately, however, he’s back and back with a vengeance! The Caveman just opened up a new blog written from a real man’s perspective and so far it’s a damn fun read filled with top-notch graphics. From beer to women to beer to politics to beer to dining out to even more beer, The Caveman tells it like it is and comes up with his own dead-on, eerily truthful Caveman Conclusions like “Tasty alcoholic beverages are not as good when sucked through underwear,” and “Shut up, hand me a beer, and get naked!”

See a theme here? I told you it was a good blog.

So go visit CavemanConclusion.com now. Tell your friends to do the same. Find some new friends and tell them to visit, too. You’ll have fun reading it, you may find yourself nodding in agreement and you may even learn something.

Don’t worry, it won’t hurt.

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I don’t really ask for much in return for the hours of sweat and hard work I put into this blog. I appreciate comments, I like all the photos of themselves naked that are sent in by my readers in adoration and the large cash donations are always put to good use (mostly buying more photos of naked people).

So when I write a clever little blog post and I take the time to put in a clever little graphic I expect that everyone who views my image is at least reading my words or visiting my domain.

And in the realm of the “internetz” it has been a long-standing No-No to link to someone else’s image on your website because you’re basically stealing their bandwidth without them getting any credit for it. Granted, this was back in the day when bandwidth actually mattered, but old traditions die hard. Using an image from someone else’s site is the web equivalent of plugging all your appliances into an extension cord which you secretly plugged into your neighbor’s outside outlet.

This is sometimes called “hotlinking” and it’s impolite and rather rude.

That has not stopped one blogger who shall now remain anonymous from linking all over the web, including to one of my own images. He seems like an intelligent guy, but he should really know better than to link to images all over the place. Ignorance of the rules do not exempt you from having to follow them.

He should instead do what most bloggers do: copy the image, fiddle with it in Photoshop and host it on THEIR OWN SITE.

So I decided to have a little fun.

I took the image he linked to and simply swapped it out for another one. You can see the before and after below:

You can click on each photo to see a larger version or you can visit his blog at: (okay, I removed this…read the update below) to see the fun yourself, assuming he hasn’t figured it out.

No, that’s not a live link. That might tip him off sooner.

And that’s impolite.

Update: Someone let the guy know about my little prank and since that time we’ve been trading email and comments back and forth. He’s apologized and told me several times how unfunny I am and he’s asked me to take this post down. I won’t do that, but I will obscure the text so no one knows it’s his blog and I’ll erase his comments. I wish him no ill will and purposely didn’t do anything harmful to his site. To prove that I really don’t hold him any ill will I’ve taken out all references to him and his site… Though to be fair he probably got a decent amount of traffic and even some regular readers from this silliness.

Eh, join the crowd.

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As any parent can attest, trying to feed an 11-month-old baby is about as futile as trying to thread a needle with a cat while standing up in a roller coaster driven by Lindsay Lohan after a long weekend of partying as you go through the loop and into the corkscrew (of the rollercoaster, not Lindsay).

CheeriNoNos - Because Baby Won’t Eat It Unless He’s Not Allowed To Put It In His Mouth.

While I’m trying to feed my own 11-month-old son I usually talk out loud partially to entertain the the little guy for a moment or two but mostly to mask his screams of protest as I try to convince the baby that mushed carrots have another purpose other than finger paint. My conversation usually runs like this:

“Okay, good baby! Let’s put you in the high chair. Ow, that’s my hair. No, this leg goes down here. No, here. Why are you screaming? Stop. It’s just a chair. Put your leg here. Okay, here, that leg goes here. How many legs do you have? Where’s your arm? Where are my glasses? Ow, that’s my hair again. Okay, you’re in good enough. Here, try some carrots. You don’t want them? Woah, stop swinging your arms. No, this is a spoon with carrots. They’re good for you. They’re… on the floor. Okay, that was fun, right? Here, you want to feed yourself? Have a spoon. No, that’s the wrong end. That’s the other wrong end. No, that’s your nose. Here, want some carrots? I don’t even know where those went. What’s in your hair? Here, have another spoon. Okay, here’s another one. One more. Okay, forget the spoon. Put your hands back in the carrots. Where’d your bib go? Here’s the doggy! Yes, that’s the doggy. Yes, the doggy is licking the wall again. That’s where your carrots went. Do you want some… Okay, okay, stop screaming. Here, have an animal cracker….”

And then all is well. I throw away the baby food jar and tell my wife what a good eater the baby was. When she asks me where all the animal crackers went I just say I was hungry.

Our baby son, being our own little Baby Einstein, has quickly put together that being strapped into a high chair means he’s about to have globs of pureed meat and vegetables rammed down his throat for the next 20 minutes until my wife and I collectively decide that 1) We both need a good stiff drink and 2) baby has had enough to “eat” where the word “eat” means flung all over the room and smeared so much in his hair that he looks like a little light haired Squiggy. Instead of just giving in and letting us shovel in little piles of mush and oatmeal, our baby son quickly turns to screams and howls of protest which make us wonder if his high chair is padded with broken glass or at the very minimum is attached to a live car battery with rusty alligator clips.

By the end of each meal our dining room looks like someone set off a charge of dynamite in a farmer’s market.

This would be frustrating enough if it weren’t compounded by the fact that at the exact moment we free Baby Coffee from the confines of the dreaded high chair he immediately returns to smiles and giggles and burps and babbling. And the second we put him on the floor he crawls around the room grabbing everything he can and, here’s the ironic part, puts it all in his mouth and tries to eat it.

My son is crawling around my office and pulling himself up on various pieces of furniture as I write this. In the past three minutes he has tried to put the following into his mouth: my mouse, my keyboard, a stapler, the dog, his hands, both cats, a pen, my shoe, my leg, a dog treat, my keys, his foot, his shoe, a pair of headphones, the baby monitor, an electrical cord and the bill for the mortgage. I let him have the last one.

By watching this behavior I’ve learned several things:

1. My son is probably not going to be a very picky eater.
2. Baby food companies are really missing out on a big opportunity here.

Instead of packaging baby food in little jars or making baby treats in simple shapes like stars and circles and cute little animals, baby food should be made to resemble things that are dangerous and should not, under any circumstances, be touched by a baby! I’m thinking we could have Cheerios shaped like knives, animal crackers shaped like car keys and cookies fashioned to look like TV remotes.

Mushy foods could be freeze-dried or just frozen in much the same way. You’d have strained carrots in the shape of daddy’s cell phone, blended fruit medley in the shape of mommy’s earrings and pureed turkey and potato dinner that looks like dog poo (not really much of a stretch with that one). Of course I’ll have to give them a cute name like “CheeriNoNos” and have a clever ad campaign featuring the voice of Antonio Banderas because, well, that’s pretty much all he does now.

To make sure your baby gets enough to eat, you just scatter these dangerous looking CheeriNoNo snacks around the house in places you can’t imagine your baby can possibly get to. Under the bed, behind the toilet, and on top of ceiling fans are all excellent places to put this baby food because those are some of the places he’ll look first for Things To Put In His Mouth.

I hope this helps some of you fellow parents out there who are trying to get your babies to eat. There’s no need to thank me. I get all the reward I need knowing there’s a toddler out there who hasn’t eaten strained peas in weeks, but will soon be happily munching away on an animal cracker shaped like a jailhouse shiv.

It just brings a smile to my face…

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