Sweet, I am finally posting to our blog

For some time Mikaela (my sweet wonderful, sexy, accomplished, and intelligent) wife and distinguished college graduate has been carrying the load in terms of the Larson family blog. She has tried to persuade me numerous times to help her write posts which I have refused citing a lack of creative control. In response she has encouraged me to write my own posts which I have - on several occasions - promised to do. On one such occasion I was even ambitious enough to actually sit down at the computer and begin working on a post. 90 minutes later I had a somewhat decent looking diagram of the Sicilian crime scene (see post below) created from a Google maps aerial photo and some basic PowerPoint images; it included the indications of the approximate position of the initial purse snatch as well the pursuit paths and the site of the big show down (or as two cowardly Italian teenagers call it - that place that crazy red headed American CIA assassin and her giant hit squad like goon kicked our sorry butts). My battery started running low, so I saved my work. It subsequently become just another bit of used up memory hidden in some outer realm of my PC. Perhaps I will reproduce it one of these days.

For several years I have benefited from the service of a sturdy, loyal, and amazingly practical garbage can named Brute. Now most people don't know the name of their garbage can - but Brute was written right on his side (see image below) so it was easy to know what he was called.

Brute Larson - August 7th, 2006 to April 29th, 2008

Brute was bought when I was living with a couple of roommates in Arlington and caused some initial concern over whether a full sized garbage can in the house made our place too much of a bachelor pad (which of course it did). After a few weeks though the pure practicality of not having to take the garbage out three times a day won over even Brute's most ardent detractors.

In what I can only call one of the most elegant and adroit examples of modern day salesmanship I was able to convince Mikaela that keeping Brute was a good idea when we were married and moved to Fitchburg. Talking a female into having a full sized garbage can in the house is akin to talking France into giving you half the land area of the United States for $13.95 and two shiploads of salted cod. I guess that puts me and Thomas Jefferson in some pretty rare company. In reality we had a big kitchen and Brute could sit slightly behind the refrigerator in a spot fairly well hidden and in all other ways useless. There was also a walk down three flights of stairs to the garbage area which helped the cause.

Our recent move to a smaller place - with no fortuitous hidden and otherwise useless space for him to sit - proved to be the end of Brute. It was with a heavy heart that I bid adieu to Brute on April 29th at about 9:45 PM. I couldn't bear to leave him on the roadside - where some unscrupulous character might wander by and forever use Brute in some less than caring manner. So I sent Brute to be buried among the trash that he held so gallantly for so many years. There was a gentle rain when I threw Brute down two stories from the bridge that connects the Johnsonia building in Fitchburg to the public parking garage and into the Johnsonia dumpster. As I did so I yelled the only thing I coud think of, the famous words of Caesar himself "Et tu Brute".

I am going to miss you buddy.