insurance design

Smoking Charges Ignite

Last night, Amy took Anna, our seven-year-old, to the dress rehearsal for her 2015 dance recital. I was left in charge of Will, our nine-year-old, and Ella, our three-year-old. What follows is a litany of the kids showing me that I exist in their world as a piece of tightly-spun twine, permanently...

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Sad Child


Our actions become our kids' reactions. Not exactly new. Not exactly Newtonian (pause while joke sinks in). But it's a truism all the same. ...

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Car radio

Piece of Sh*t Car Reprise

When I was in high-school, a popular song named "Ode to My Car," by Adam Sandler, spun regularly on the radio. No, it didn't. All foul-mouthed teenage boys wished such happy, unfiltered radio days would appear, but that didn't stop the explicit lyrics from making an impact, even if the song's plot...

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Advertise Here

A year-and-a-half ago, something called “Facebook” was invented. Before you start writing email complaints (because I’m, like, so popular and worthy of the attention, you know), let me clarify. Facebook came into existence for me a year-and-a-half ago, for this …...

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Certain messes in life are unavoidable. If you get a DUI and your hair is sufficiently mussed or you manage to jam your finger into the nearest outlet just prior to the mug-shot, chances are you'll be a big-time celebrity some day. ...

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A Reasonable Explanation

Therapist: Take me back to the beginning. Tell me how it all got started, how you eventually wound up holding the bloody knife in the aftermath of your killing spree. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation....

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That's a Mouthful

Waking up to the sounds of birds and (outside) insects is alluring, and when you have your second 10th cup of coffee and realize you are on vacation, and this auditory lovemaking is real, not the result of an ambitious-carpet-cleaning hallucination, you can finally relax, letting your bulk stress...

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Stupid Piece of ... Oh, That's Right

I'm a realist. I call things like they are, and if I look stupid in the process, well, so be it. ...

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Deadly Donuts

The morning started off good. Four eggs fluffed with a splash of milk, mixed with Parmesan and salt and black pepper and red pepper flakes and slathered with Cholula hot sauce; four ounces of Bob Evan's spicy Italian sausage (sorry for the smell, honey, luv ya) fried into the wonderful concoction;...

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When Did I Become a Pushover?

I've never thought of myself as the Ultimate Fighter type. As a kid, whenever the possibility of bodily harm came up, I tried to avoid confrontation. But if the issue was pressed, I could stand up and issue fake threats along with the best of them and hope that my manufactured bravado was enough to...

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As I Approach 30

I live in a small town. Colona, IL has a population of just over 5,000. As a jogger, this means I am usually only assaulted with exhaust fumes a few times whenever I decide to go outside to burn some calories. But as far as the type of people passing me on the roadside? Over this, I have no control....

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Filed Under on December 18th, 2010

Route This, You [email protected]#$

By Seth Kabala

A year-and-a-half ago, something called “Facebook” was invented. Before you start writing email complaints (because I’m, like, so popular and worthy of the attention, you know), let me clarify. Facebook came into existence for me a year-and-a-half ago, for this was when I created my account.

Bowing to pressures from former MySpace frequenters who got with the program, I went online (not my first time, not that old), and it has been a blissful experience ever since. I can’t tell you all the comments I’ve received from friends whose lives have been changed for the better after reading my soul-lifting humor and wit.

Ok, made that up. But I am having fun.

By contrast, when I succumbed to peer pressure (inflicted by two 30-40lb humanoids and one hundred-and … no, not going there…. full-grown woman) and bought a Nintendo Wii, and then also had to get wireless internet for Netflix and the Wii store, and internet through the tv that was more difficult to use than just inventing the internet all over again, I had to buy another piece of hardware: a wireless router.

Following copious research (five minutes in the electronics department at Walmart trying to recall something about the wireless spectrum from my college days, culminating in a how-bad-could-it-be? decision) I bought a low-to-middle range-quality Linksys router.

The honeymoon lasted until we got out of the church. Then came domestic violence.

The thing just never worked right, dropping the internet connection at random. Sometimes it would last for days; other times mere minutes before crapping out on me in the middle of a project.

I didn’t pull it off the shelf at Goodwill, but neither did I spend for top-of-the-line, figuring a router was like a lot of things: priced based on the wind-sheer patterns across the Antarctic planes. In a word: randomly.

Sadly, to the “What the fuck, Man?” annoyance of my wallet, this proved to be untrue.

I don’t know if we got a defective one, but after suffering numerous losses of entire posts because the signal had dropped but failed to inform the currently loaded page, news reports written with higher than necessary levels of anxiety due to fears of getting booted off before deadline and having to endure the mandatory 15-30 minutes to reestablish an IP address, and coming very close to setting an all-time record for distance in a Frisbee-like throwing contest, we sprang for a top-shelf (north of $100) product.

And it worked. And (knock on wood, infinity) (whispering) it’s still working. (And … cue Hallelujah Chorus.)

So I learned my lesson about cheap hardware. The same company can sell good stuff and crap, and they know what they’re doing when they get your family to double-dip, buying the shit and then being forced to upgrade to the crème brûlée, and probably only a fraction of those households bothering to return the stinky poo.

Don’t make my mistake. Give your family the best fucking router you can afford. Don’t like cursing? Well, if you’re a cheapskate on this point, things will be coming out of your mouth that would embarrass Quentin Tarantino.

So spend, my pretties. Spend!


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Seth Kabala

About: Seth Kabala
Seth is an entrepreneur, writer, and musician. He lives with his wife and three children in Portland, OR.

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