After the fight in mid-July, the Red Sox went on a tear, winning 80% of their games for the remainder of the season, easily securing a playoff berth as the wild-card team. They never did catch the Yankees for first place in their division, and an interesting thing happened in late September.
In a game played at Yankee Stadium, one of the Red Sox top two pitchers - Pedro Martinez - lost to the Yankees for something like the 7th straight time, and in an interview in the Red Sox locker room afterwards he said the following: "What can I say? I guess the Yankees are my daddy", a statement that would throw gasoline into an already raging brushfire.
So onward we moved to October, and the playoffs. First up was the California Angels, and the Red Sox made short order of that series, but not without significant development. In game 1, Curt Schilling - the man who came to Boston "to make 55,000 people in Yankee Stadium shut up" - was running over to cover 1st base in a routine play that pitchers make every game, and something happened. After catching the ball and stepping on the base, he started limping quite noticeably. He's alright, Red Sox Nation though to themselves. We have a big lead, take him out and let him ice it, then he'll be back for the next game.
Or not...
The 2nd significant moment was in the 10 inning of the 3rd and decisive game. With the score tied, David Ortiz came to the plate with a runner on first base, and proceeded to launch a massive shot that rattled off the "Sports Authority" sign above the left field wall and seats. Game - set - match, Mr. Ortiz. Red Sox Nation was now starting to see the trend. With the game on the line, David Ortiz - nicknamed "Big Papi" - had the extraordinary gift bestowed on very few in history of being able to change the outcome with a single swing, regardless of the pressure of the moment.
Meanwhile, the Yankees were also winning their best of 5 series in 3 games as well, setting the stage for the clash of the baseball titans, round II. The prize once again being a trip to the world series.
Game 1 was played in Yankee stadium, and in the days leading up to the first battle, the people of Boston were informed in all its ingloriousness of the extent of Curt Shilling's injury. He had incurred a dislocated tendon, and the Red Sox medical staff was hopeful a specially designed brace would hold the tendon in place well enough to allow Schilling to pitch.
It didn't.
In what would seem to the Red Sox faithful one more incident in the cruel and on-going saga of Red Sox futility, their best pitcher during the season could go no farther than 3 innings, surrendering 6 runs and putting the Sox in a hole, 1 game to none.
Game 2 didn't go much better. Pedro Martinez, serenaded for 3 solid hours with chants of "Who's your Daaaaaady", "Who's your Daaaaaady", lost his eighth straight to the Yankees.
Game 3 went back to Boston, and history said the Red Sox needed to win this game in order to have any chance at all of advancing to the world series. You see, no team in the history of baseball - heck, no team in the history of sports in America - had ever come back from a 3 games to none deficit to win four in a row. The time was now, and the Sox needed to pull it off.
About 11:30 that night, with the score Yankees 17, Red Sox 7, my son was sitting on the floor in front of a sofa, softly pounding his fists on the carpet. "How could this be?" "They're getting killed by these guys". I told him to go ahead and go to bed, that it was ok. "Dad, don't give me that 'it's only a game' stuff, because we both know it isn't". As he entered his room, I remember telling him "Welcome to Red Sox Nation. You are an official member now. How do you like the pain?"
As I fell asleep in my own room, I turned the TV off with the final score being Yankees 19, Red Sox 8. My faith, tested so many times over the years - and strong as any faith can be - had fallen. I know longer thought 2004 was going to be the magical year...I had given up and resigned myself to Yankee fans once again looking down on Red Sox fans as second class citizens in the sports world.
Maybe...just maybe...the Yankees were our daddy.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Out of the Ashes, Part II ("Who you callin' punk?)
July 24th, 2004.
In their traditional late July meeting in Fenway Park in Boston, the Yankees are practically running away with the American League East, holding an 8.5 game lead over the struggling Red Sox. At this point in the season, even hope for obtaining the wild card playoff spot - awarded to the team who does not win their division, but finishes with the best overall 2nd place record in the league - was looking bleak. You can't beat the Yankees in the playoffs if you're not there, and they were playing terrible. On this day as a matter of fact, the Red Sox trailed the Yankees 9-4 after 5 innings.
In the top of the 6th, up to the plate came Alex Rodriguez, nicknamed not so originally, A-Rod. A-Rod is an enigma as a player and a person. By far the highest paid athlete in all of baseball ($25 Million a year for 10 years), he's indeed the highest paid athlete of all time - in any sport. He's handsome, intelligent (to a point), probably the most gifted player in the world, but people don't like him. Most are jealous of his money. Many are suspect of his ability to perform under pressure, and his statistics in clutch situations in both the regular season and the playoffs would suggest that he does indeed have an issue with tight situations and low performance thereof. Personally, he always seems to say the wrong thing at the wrong time, irritating not only fans, but his fellow teammates and opposing players as well. Furthermore, he is forever complaining that "nobody likes me", and he sees a sports psychologist on a regular basis to help him "better rationalize the fans and fellow athlete's perspectives".
I can rationalize it for him right now. Get some big hits in big games, prove that you're worth the zillion dollars a week you get paid, and everyone will leave you alone. That'll be $100 for my services A-Rod, leave the payment at the door.
So A-Rod steps up with the 9-4 lead, and the Red Sox pitcher, Bronson Arroyo, promptly hits him with a fastball. Here is what happened then:
In their traditional late July meeting in Fenway Park in Boston, the Yankees are practically running away with the American League East, holding an 8.5 game lead over the struggling Red Sox. At this point in the season, even hope for obtaining the wild card playoff spot - awarded to the team who does not win their division, but finishes with the best overall 2nd place record in the league - was looking bleak. You can't beat the Yankees in the playoffs if you're not there, and they were playing terrible. On this day as a matter of fact, the Red Sox trailed the Yankees 9-4 after 5 innings.
In the top of the 6th, up to the plate came Alex Rodriguez, nicknamed not so originally, A-Rod. A-Rod is an enigma as a player and a person. By far the highest paid athlete in all of baseball ($25 Million a year for 10 years), he's indeed the highest paid athlete of all time - in any sport. He's handsome, intelligent (to a point), probably the most gifted player in the world, but people don't like him. Most are jealous of his money. Many are suspect of his ability to perform under pressure, and his statistics in clutch situations in both the regular season and the playoffs would suggest that he does indeed have an issue with tight situations and low performance thereof. Personally, he always seems to say the wrong thing at the wrong time, irritating not only fans, but his fellow teammates and opposing players as well. Furthermore, he is forever complaining that "nobody likes me", and he sees a sports psychologist on a regular basis to help him "better rationalize the fans and fellow athlete's perspectives".
I can rationalize it for him right now. Get some big hits in big games, prove that you're worth the zillion dollars a week you get paid, and everyone will leave you alone. That'll be $100 for my services A-Rod, leave the payment at the door.
So A-Rod steps up with the 9-4 lead, and the Red Sox pitcher, Bronson Arroyo, promptly hits him with a fastball. Here is what happened then:
- A-Rod stares at Arroyo; Arroyo asks for the ball with a small grin on his face. Why was he laughing? Who knows? Perhaps a reaction to the crowd who clearly enjoyed A-Rod being plunked? Perhaps it was intentional? Who knows, but he had a small grin for sure.
- A-Rod takes offense to this grin and starts yelling F--k you to Arroyo repeatedly.
- Red Sox catcher Jason Veritek starts walking A-Rod down the line to get him to first without him going after the pitcher, proper protocol. The home plate umpire is between them. A-Rod continues yelling at Arroyo. Varitek says something, at which point A-Rod's attention turns to Varitek.
- Clearly visible on the TV, you can read A-Rod's lips inviting Varitek to hit him. "F--k you motherf--ker, come get me". "Come on, punk!"
- And as fast as lightnig, as soon as the word "punk" was uttered and A-Rod gave that little hand gesture....BAM!!!
And theeeeennnnnn..... 
Suddenly, apart from the incredible noise because the Boston crowd was going berserk...apart from the blood being spilled...seriously...this was a real fight, not the usual baseball "fake fight" where no one does anything...but apart from that, something else happened. Something strange and esoteric. Somehow a feeling came out - call it a Karma if you will - a feeling that spread through the stadium and throughout the nation...the Red Sox nation....and anyone who was watching that day. You could sense it, and the feeling was palpable. Tim McCarver, covering the game for FOX Sports called it "Disgusting. The worst game I've ever seen in my life".
Really? The worst game EVER? I think Tim McCarver needs to get out more, or at least lighten up in a big way. In any case, I saw the game as kind of an epiphany of sorts...and the Red Sox players and fans were the recipients of the heavenly guidance.
After a 67 minute long inning, one in which about a half dozen players total for both teams were ejected and later suspended and fined by the league, the Red Sox started coming back. Although they gave up 1 more run and going into the 9th inning they were behind 10-8, they had erased the majority of the five-run deficit, but they were facing the greatest closer in major league baseball history in Mariano Rivera, a man that had only surrendered 4 leads in over 300 chances the last 4 seasons. But karma had entered Fenway Park, and karma is never denied its rightful place. A double, followed by another double closed the gap to 10-9, and Bill Mueller (Pronounced Miller) slammed a pitch over the right field wall, setting off a frenzied celebration in the ballpark that carried on throughout the town for days after that one game.
My son, who had for 13 years not given a rats-ass about baseball, the Red Sox, or sports on TV for that matter (he was and still is an excellent athlete, but at the time he didn't care to watch others play as opposed to him playing himself), told me excitedly "Dad, dad...they were seriously fighting...I mean, for real dad...these guys hate each other". "There was one guy with blood all over his face". In front of my very eyes, I was witnessing the birth of another fan. A fan who by the way started faithfully following every single game, every day, from that point on. All it took was a little taste of the competitiveness between these two teams and these two cities, and he was hooked for life.
8.5 games behind or not, the Red Sox had just found their motivation to salvage the remainder of the season and see just how far this newfound karma could take them.
The game was on...
Out of the Ashes (Subtitled: How to earn a famous middle name)
On a very cold October night in 2003, Thursday the 16th to be exact, the New York Yankees and Boston Red Sox were playing game 7 of the American League Championship Series. Third baseman Brett Boone stepped to the plate in the bottom of the 11th inning at Yankee Stadium, also known as "The hell-hole that Ruth built", and the same thing happened that had been happening for the better part of an entire century to the Red Sox and for the Yankees.
Before I go any further, let's step back an hour or so and examine the latest catastrophe.
Roger Clemens, perennial Red Sox pitcher and future Hall-of-Famer, had defected in the mid-90's, and after a stop in Toronto, had wiggled his way into a Yankee uniform. Clemens' leaving was traumatic enough for the long-suffering people who preferred to call their flock "Red Sox Nation", but a Yankee!!??! Good Lord in Heaven, a Yankee? Anything...any team...any time...anywhere.
But not that team.
That team had won 26 World Championships since the Red Sox traded Babe Ruth to them in 1920, and the Red Sox were sporting the big goose-egg. To make matters worse, in 11 of the Yankees appearances that resulted in a championship, the Red Sox were the team the Yankees nudged out of the chance to play in the World Series. In all those years, the Sox had only been a participant in 3 World Series, and they agonizingly lost them each in the 7th game, each final game finding the Sox ahead and finding some sort of bizarre way of losing. The Yankees, on the other hand, found 26 different ways to win.
Be that as it may, here he was and here they were, the Red Sox and the Yankees, vying for the chance to go to the World Series, and each team had won 3 games in the best of 7 series, and it was all coming down to this game right here. Naturally, the Sox struck first, getting to Clemens and knocking him out of the game with 4 early runs by the 3rd inning. By the 7th, the lead was 4-2, and then in the top of the 8th, David Ortiz of the Red Sox hit a bomb of a home run, a feat which was the beginning of a still on-going drama today. Time and time again, Ortiz stakes his claim to being the biggest Yankee-killer of all time, and this was the first major battle in the war on the Yankees.
But back to the game. Ortiz homers, the Sox take a 5-2 lead into the bottom of the 8th, and Red Sox Nation is holding its collective breath. Could it be true? Could we finally be going back to the Series, and doing so at the expense of the Yankees? Whooda thunk that?
In the bottom of the 8th, the Sox start pitcher - Pedro Martinez - was running out of gas, and the tens of millions watching on TV knew it as well. The Red Sox manager, Grady Little, went to the mound in what was surely the moment he would pull the star pitcher from the game, get a fresh pitcher to finish this game off, and then go on to the World Series.
But he didn't replace him.
He left Martinez in there because the pitcher said he still felt like he had something left. I walked outside my home in Orlando, and I swear I could hear the collective groan of 8 million Red Sox fans all over America. The rest is history. Two singles followed by two doubles consecutively, tied the score at 5. Now the manager pulled out Martinez, but it was 4 batters too late. Millions of Red Sox Nation heads nodded almost imperceptibly, their fate sealed long ago in some predestined celestial joke that the God's of suffering had inflicted upon us and our offspring for eternity. The score was still tied, but we all knew it was over.
In the 11th, the aforementioned Brett Boone stepped to the plate and forever changed his name. You see, the Red Sox never lose gracefully, oh no. It always has to be some unkind or atrocious happenstance that causes the defeat. A case in point is this particular batter. In the previous 6 games, Boone had 1 hit in 25 at bats, and that was a squibbling ground ball that died before it even got to the 3rd baseman, resulting in a little-league looking infield hit. Boone was so pathetic at the plate that he had been benched by Yankees manager, Joe Torre for game 7. Inserted as a pinch-hitter in the bottom of the 11th, he was the perfect anti-hero to another imperfect Red Sox calamity, and he promptly sent the first pitch off into the night, sending the Yankees to the World Series again, and the Red Sox, well...
The name change I mentioned? Oh yeah...from the moment that ball rocketed off of his bat, he forever became known as Brett #^%$#* Boone, or Brett F. Boone for short.
Shocked and dismayed once again, I didn't know what to do. It was nearing midnight, I had to go to work in the morning, but I couldn't sleep. I paced and I cursed, and I walked the dog as fast as he and I could move together, but nothing would relieve my anxiety.
Gotdamit, sonavabitching, stupid #%$#* Red Sox bastards ripped my heart out again. 47 years of the same old stuff, and that's not mentioning the previous 38 years before I was born that I wasn't a part of. I was a Sox fan, tried and true, and by that I mean I'm not greedy and whiny like Yankee fans are. I didn't need 26 World Series to justify my existence and be happy; I just wanted one. Hey God, if you're listening, can ya take your foot off of our necks long enough to give us just one?
Still despondent, I went upstairs to my 12 year old son's room. He was asleep, and I sat down on the bed next to him and brushed his hair away from his forehead. He stirred, looked up at me and said, "What's the matter, Dad?"
I told him about the Red Sox, and with a puzzled look on his face that just screamed out, you woke me up for this? looked at me and said, "Like you always tell me dad...it's not life, it's just a game". "Now go away and let me sleep".
As I went downstairs to my bedroom, the thought occurred to me that we all sometimes ask our children to do as we say, not as we do. The truth of the matter was when it came to the Yankees/Red Sox, it had never been just a game to me, and probably never would. The next day after I came home from work, I told my son the truth. I still wanted him to conduct himself with sportsmanship and aplomb, but I let him know that maybe a bit of fire and passion can actually add to the fun of it all, and that...yeah...I lied...sometimes it's a lot more than just a game.
Once a man, twice a child is true, I guess.
As a post script, in the World Series the Florida Marlins shocked the world, the Yankees, and more than likely themselves and beat the *&^%#$# in 6 games. Good.
During the winter months, both the Yankees and the Red Sox reloaded with more talent, and set the stage for 2004. Most notable was the addition of Curt Shilling to the Red Sox roster, a shoe-in hall of fame pitcher, former world series champion against the Yankees, and a very outspoken athlete. He hated the Yankees and their dynasty, and came to Boston to put a stop to it. He made public statements in the press like "Nothing would make me happier than to go into Yankee Stadium and make 55,000 people shut up". He wasn't alone, as Yankee players and Red Sox players threw verbal punches at each other all through the winter, and the newspapers and national media like ESPN were more than happy to enlighten the public to each and every quotable quote.
The century-long fierce competition had erupted into a heart-felt disdain for each other, and for the first time ever, the players on both sides were reflecting the sentiments that each fan base had for as long as they had been playing. This was going to be good drama, and I had a sneaking feeling the next season was going to be filled with a moment or two to remember.
I had noooooo idea.
Before I go any further, let's step back an hour or so and examine the latest catastrophe.
Roger Clemens, perennial Red Sox pitcher and future Hall-of-Famer, had defected in the mid-90's, and after a stop in Toronto, had wiggled his way into a Yankee uniform. Clemens' leaving was traumatic enough for the long-suffering people who preferred to call their flock "Red Sox Nation", but a Yankee!!??! Good Lord in Heaven, a Yankee? Anything...any team...any time...anywhere.
But not that team.
That team had won 26 World Championships since the Red Sox traded Babe Ruth to them in 1920, and the Red Sox were sporting the big goose-egg. To make matters worse, in 11 of the Yankees appearances that resulted in a championship, the Red Sox were the team the Yankees nudged out of the chance to play in the World Series. In all those years, the Sox had only been a participant in 3 World Series, and they agonizingly lost them each in the 7th game, each final game finding the Sox ahead and finding some sort of bizarre way of losing. The Yankees, on the other hand, found 26 different ways to win.
Be that as it may, here he was and here they were, the Red Sox and the Yankees, vying for the chance to go to the World Series, and each team had won 3 games in the best of 7 series, and it was all coming down to this game right here. Naturally, the Sox struck first, getting to Clemens and knocking him out of the game with 4 early runs by the 3rd inning. By the 7th, the lead was 4-2, and then in the top of the 8th, David Ortiz of the Red Sox hit a bomb of a home run, a feat which was the beginning of a still on-going drama today. Time and time again, Ortiz stakes his claim to being the biggest Yankee-killer of all time, and this was the first major battle in the war on the Yankees.
But back to the game. Ortiz homers, the Sox take a 5-2 lead into the bottom of the 8th, and Red Sox Nation is holding its collective breath. Could it be true? Could we finally be going back to the Series, and doing so at the expense of the Yankees? Whooda thunk that?
In the bottom of the 8th, the Sox start pitcher - Pedro Martinez - was running out of gas, and the tens of millions watching on TV knew it as well. The Red Sox manager, Grady Little, went to the mound in what was surely the moment he would pull the star pitcher from the game, get a fresh pitcher to finish this game off, and then go on to the World Series.
But he didn't replace him.
He left Martinez in there because the pitcher said he still felt like he had something left. I walked outside my home in Orlando, and I swear I could hear the collective groan of 8 million Red Sox fans all over America. The rest is history. Two singles followed by two doubles consecutively, tied the score at 5. Now the manager pulled out Martinez, but it was 4 batters too late. Millions of Red Sox Nation heads nodded almost imperceptibly, their fate sealed long ago in some predestined celestial joke that the God's of suffering had inflicted upon us and our offspring for eternity. The score was still tied, but we all knew it was over.
In the 11th, the aforementioned Brett Boone stepped to the plate and forever changed his name. You see, the Red Sox never lose gracefully, oh no. It always has to be some unkind or atrocious happenstance that causes the defeat. A case in point is this particular batter. In the previous 6 games, Boone had 1 hit in 25 at bats, and that was a squibbling ground ball that died before it even got to the 3rd baseman, resulting in a little-league looking infield hit. Boone was so pathetic at the plate that he had been benched by Yankees manager, Joe Torre for game 7. Inserted as a pinch-hitter in the bottom of the 11th, he was the perfect anti-hero to another imperfect Red Sox calamity, and he promptly sent the first pitch off into the night, sending the Yankees to the World Series again, and the Red Sox, well...
The name change I mentioned? Oh yeah...from the moment that ball rocketed off of his bat, he forever became known as Brett #^%$#* Boone, or Brett F. Boone for short.
Shocked and dismayed once again, I didn't know what to do. It was nearing midnight, I had to go to work in the morning, but I couldn't sleep. I paced and I cursed, and I walked the dog as fast as he and I could move together, but nothing would relieve my anxiety.
Gotdamit, sonavabitching, stupid #%$#* Red Sox bastards ripped my heart out again. 47 years of the same old stuff, and that's not mentioning the previous 38 years before I was born that I wasn't a part of. I was a Sox fan, tried and true, and by that I mean I'm not greedy and whiny like Yankee fans are. I didn't need 26 World Series to justify my existence and be happy; I just wanted one. Hey God, if you're listening, can ya take your foot off of our necks long enough to give us just one?
Still despondent, I went upstairs to my 12 year old son's room. He was asleep, and I sat down on the bed next to him and brushed his hair away from his forehead. He stirred, looked up at me and said, "What's the matter, Dad?"
I told him about the Red Sox, and with a puzzled look on his face that just screamed out, you woke me up for this? looked at me and said, "Like you always tell me dad...it's not life, it's just a game". "Now go away and let me sleep".
As I went downstairs to my bedroom, the thought occurred to me that we all sometimes ask our children to do as we say, not as we do. The truth of the matter was when it came to the Yankees/Red Sox, it had never been just a game to me, and probably never would. The next day after I came home from work, I told my son the truth. I still wanted him to conduct himself with sportsmanship and aplomb, but I let him know that maybe a bit of fire and passion can actually add to the fun of it all, and that...yeah...I lied...sometimes it's a lot more than just a game.
Once a man, twice a child is true, I guess.
As a post script, in the World Series the Florida Marlins shocked the world, the Yankees, and more than likely themselves and beat the *&^%#$# in 6 games. Good.
During the winter months, both the Yankees and the Red Sox reloaded with more talent, and set the stage for 2004. Most notable was the addition of Curt Shilling to the Red Sox roster, a shoe-in hall of fame pitcher, former world series champion against the Yankees, and a very outspoken athlete. He hated the Yankees and their dynasty, and came to Boston to put a stop to it. He made public statements in the press like "Nothing would make me happier than to go into Yankee Stadium and make 55,000 people shut up". He wasn't alone, as Yankee players and Red Sox players threw verbal punches at each other all through the winter, and the newspapers and national media like ESPN were more than happy to enlighten the public to each and every quotable quote.
The century-long fierce competition had erupted into a heart-felt disdain for each other, and for the first time ever, the players on both sides were reflecting the sentiments that each fan base had for as long as they had been playing. This was going to be good drama, and I had a sneaking feeling the next season was going to be filled with a moment or two to remember.
I had noooooo idea.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Think
Ever go to a major metropolitan airport and just sit and look?
Try it sometime.
You will see more people passing by than you could ever guess or comprehend. And that’s just your little portion of the world in your small time-frame that you sat there watching. The vastness of the planet and the absolutely frightening expansion of its populace is too broad and complex for 1 person to take in. Where do they all come from, and where are they going? Business men and women, decked out in their power suits of both gender; tourists happily arriving or sadly leaving; the mentally lost and hopeless; the young soldier wearing his uniform home for the first time, pride and a sense of his place firmly etched on his face; others from foreign lands, trying in vain to make sense of the signage that may as well be written in Martian.
You can see it all here in the airport, a place that has taken center-stage in recent decades for all the wrong reasons. So now as you sit and people-watch, you can see the travelers going through the various stages of checks and re-checks. If you maintain your quietness and open your ears, you can hear their complaints as they pass by your position on the chair. They don’t like being inspected and queried, and according to many of them, they’re flabbergasted to even be thought of as a terrorist. To some, the asking of a few questions and checking the bottoms of their shoes is akin to the rubber-hose treatment at a 1950’s backwoods police station. “Do I look like a terrorist?” is the most common statement. “I don’t look Middle Eastern, do I?”
Here’s a helpful tip for Mr. Put-off: If and when another attack comes through our airport system, those perpetrators won’t look Middle Eastern either. That gig is up and has been done, and we’re not dealing with a stupid enemy, just a crazy and determined one. They won’t look or act the same next time around.
Sooner or later you’ll probably see a lost or temporarily misplaced child, fodder to those who think the right to breed should be something licensed, like the right to drive or fish. We’re sorry Mr. & Mrs. Jones, but we have evidence that you’re both so stupid you would actually lose track of any future offspring at the airport in Chicago while headed out to your Disney vacation, and based upon that information, we cannot let you procreate.
As you watch the parents finally and frantically reunite with their 4 year old, scolding the child for what is obviously inattentiveness on their part, the people keep strolling by in wave after wave of humanity. Keep watching the people as they move by your spot. Play little games with yourself. Evaluate them on several 10 scales…appearance, demeanor, attitude, how intelligent/non-intelligent they look, and fashion sense. Make assessments of each of them in your head. Anyone look suspicious to you, or is everyone pretty much the same?
Try and count as many as you can in 1 minute…multiply that by 1440 (the number of minutes in a day)…and then try and imagine again how many people are in the airport right then…stretch that out to how many are in the city…then the state…then the country…and finally the world.
Too damn many, huh?
Now think if you will, of the monumental task of trying to protect the entire world against harm…of trying to educate everyone on the planet to be observant of their surroundings…think about trying to convince the mom who lost control of her own flesh and blood in the crowded terminal that she needs to be more fastidious in watching out for total strangers when she can’t even watch out for her own kid. Think about a task that is so overwhelming it becomes apparent in short order the phrase “nothing is impossible” might actually be incorrect. Some things are impossible, or nearly so.
And as you sit there eating your soft pretzel, think of how easily it would be for any one person to cause harm and suffering on a large scale. Someone completely out of the blue with a grudge to settle or an ax to grind could pull off a big moment in history with relative ease. Someone that was on no one’s radar screen, met none of the stereotypes and profiles, and looked kind of like everyone else in the room.
Have you thought about it? You have?
Ok. The next time you read something…see something on the television ….or hear something on the radio about how the United States failed and that’s why 9-11 happened…
Weigh what you heard about the failures with the facts that you have gathered in your day at the airport, simply observing, thinking, and doing a little mathematics.
Peace.
Try it sometime.
You will see more people passing by than you could ever guess or comprehend. And that’s just your little portion of the world in your small time-frame that you sat there watching. The vastness of the planet and the absolutely frightening expansion of its populace is too broad and complex for 1 person to take in. Where do they all come from, and where are they going? Business men and women, decked out in their power suits of both gender; tourists happily arriving or sadly leaving; the mentally lost and hopeless; the young soldier wearing his uniform home for the first time, pride and a sense of his place firmly etched on his face; others from foreign lands, trying in vain to make sense of the signage that may as well be written in Martian.
You can see it all here in the airport, a place that has taken center-stage in recent decades for all the wrong reasons. So now as you sit and people-watch, you can see the travelers going through the various stages of checks and re-checks. If you maintain your quietness and open your ears, you can hear their complaints as they pass by your position on the chair. They don’t like being inspected and queried, and according to many of them, they’re flabbergasted to even be thought of as a terrorist. To some, the asking of a few questions and checking the bottoms of their shoes is akin to the rubber-hose treatment at a 1950’s backwoods police station. “Do I look like a terrorist?” is the most common statement. “I don’t look Middle Eastern, do I?”
Here’s a helpful tip for Mr. Put-off: If and when another attack comes through our airport system, those perpetrators won’t look Middle Eastern either. That gig is up and has been done, and we’re not dealing with a stupid enemy, just a crazy and determined one. They won’t look or act the same next time around.
Sooner or later you’ll probably see a lost or temporarily misplaced child, fodder to those who think the right to breed should be something licensed, like the right to drive or fish. We’re sorry Mr. & Mrs. Jones, but we have evidence that you’re both so stupid you would actually lose track of any future offspring at the airport in Chicago while headed out to your Disney vacation, and based upon that information, we cannot let you procreate.
As you watch the parents finally and frantically reunite with their 4 year old, scolding the child for what is obviously inattentiveness on their part, the people keep strolling by in wave after wave of humanity. Keep watching the people as they move by your spot. Play little games with yourself. Evaluate them on several 10 scales…appearance, demeanor, attitude, how intelligent/non-intelligent they look, and fashion sense. Make assessments of each of them in your head. Anyone look suspicious to you, or is everyone pretty much the same?
Try and count as many as you can in 1 minute…multiply that by 1440 (the number of minutes in a day)…and then try and imagine again how many people are in the airport right then…stretch that out to how many are in the city…then the state…then the country…and finally the world.
Too damn many, huh?
Now think if you will, of the monumental task of trying to protect the entire world against harm…of trying to educate everyone on the planet to be observant of their surroundings…think about trying to convince the mom who lost control of her own flesh and blood in the crowded terminal that she needs to be more fastidious in watching out for total strangers when she can’t even watch out for her own kid. Think about a task that is so overwhelming it becomes apparent in short order the phrase “nothing is impossible” might actually be incorrect. Some things are impossible, or nearly so.
And as you sit there eating your soft pretzel, think of how easily it would be for any one person to cause harm and suffering on a large scale. Someone completely out of the blue with a grudge to settle or an ax to grind could pull off a big moment in history with relative ease. Someone that was on no one’s radar screen, met none of the stereotypes and profiles, and looked kind of like everyone else in the room.
Have you thought about it? You have?
Ok. The next time you read something…see something on the television ….or hear something on the radio about how the United States failed and that’s why 9-11 happened…
Weigh what you heard about the failures with the facts that you have gathered in your day at the airport, simply observing, thinking, and doing a little mathematics.
Peace.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Near Miss
July 2nd, 2006.
The Asteroid 2004 XP-14 whizzed by the Earth Saturday in what has been described as a "galactic near miss".
2004 XP-14 is 800 meters wide, or approximately the size of Roseanne Barr's backside, and is potentially lethal to the human race...as is the asteroid by the way.
It flew past the Earth at a distance of 433,000 kilometers, which means no one in the United States has any idea at all how far that is. Hell, we still haven't figured out the liter thing with a bottle of Coke, and now some British guy is telling us the asteroid came X-amount of Kilometers from causing doomsday.
It was fun reading about the thing though, and how the only people in the world aware of this were the cosmos folks and a bunch of nerds in their basements who took time out from designing internet worms long enough to track the thing for a coupla days.
Hearing anything about asteroids always conjures up images of a near 50 Bruce Willis falling in love with Steven Tyler's 20-something daughter...only Hollywood could convince us that's a good couple.
In closing, I do believe the time has come for us to re-look the language again. I think it makes perfect sense to call Celestial bodies hurtling through space "Terror-Roids", and hemorrhoids should forever be called asteroids.
That's my take, anyways.
The Asteroid 2004 XP-14 whizzed by the Earth Saturday in what has been described as a "galactic near miss".
2004 XP-14 is 800 meters wide, or approximately the size of Roseanne Barr's backside, and is potentially lethal to the human race...as is the asteroid by the way.
It flew past the Earth at a distance of 433,000 kilometers, which means no one in the United States has any idea at all how far that is. Hell, we still haven't figured out the liter thing with a bottle of Coke, and now some British guy is telling us the asteroid came X-amount of Kilometers from causing doomsday.
It was fun reading about the thing though, and how the only people in the world aware of this were the cosmos folks and a bunch of nerds in their basements who took time out from designing internet worms long enough to track the thing for a coupla days.
Hearing anything about asteroids always conjures up images of a near 50 Bruce Willis falling in love with Steven Tyler's 20-something daughter...only Hollywood could convince us that's a good couple.
In closing, I do believe the time has come for us to re-look the language again. I think it makes perfect sense to call Celestial bodies hurtling through space "Terror-Roids", and hemorrhoids should forever be called asteroids.
That's my take, anyways.
NASA
Robert "Scooter" Bowerd, head technician for NASA's foam installation crew, once again expressed dismay over the latest incident of foam insulation flying off the rocket boosters and hitting the protective heat shields. "We used the latest and greatest materials, and applied the foam specifically according to the manufacturers specifications". "I'm at a loss to explain how it failed again".
I am...
I am the basketball hoop without a net in downtown Detroit.
I am the guy in the Old Spice commercial pushing his kid on the swing.
I am the firefighter carrying 80 lbs of equipment on my back while climbing to the 77th floor, all the while knowing I probably will not take the stairs back down.
I am the guy throwing the football to the kids in the neighborhood on the 4th of July.
I am the woman going back to work 45 days after giving birth.
I am 13 stripes and 50 stars.
I am fried chicken and baked beans.
I am Utah and Omaha beaches.
I am the first Thanksgiving dinner.
I am the Old North Church and 1 lantern.
I am - regrettably - Kent State, Watergate, and Abu Graib.
I am the notion of freedom and democracy, and I make that notion work.
I am the Mojave Desert and the Savannah’s of the southeastern shores.
I am “Give me liberty, or give me death”.
I am baseball in October, Football in January, and basketball in March.
I am 3 ships with Spanish names.
I am “a chicken in every pot”.
I am Will Rogers, Kenny Rogers, and Buck Rogers.
I am black, white, brown, yellow, and red.
I am English, but I can learn.
I am Lewis and Clark.
I am Arthur Fiedler.
I am Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin.
I am Shaker Village, Hancock Village, and Tahoe Village.
I am “new” - New York, New Jersey, and New Mexico.
I am the Brooklyn Bridge, the Tallmadge Bridge, and the Golden Gate Bridge.
I am the falls of Niagara.
I am a cheesesteak in Philly, and an Italian Ices in “The City”, and a sub in Boston.
I am Omaha, Des Moines, Wichita, and St. Paul.
I am John Wayne and Marilyn Monroe.
I am “Yesterday, December 7th, 1941…a date which will live in infamy.”
I am Babe Ruth, Henry Aaron - and grudgingly - Barry Bonds.
I am “All in the family”, “Moonlighting”, and “Bonanza”.
I am Texas, strong and large…and also Delaware, meek and quiet.
I am the PT 109.
I am Mt. Rushmore and the Crazy Horse monument.
I am the steam engine, the cotton gin, and the motor car.
I am Henry Ford, Bill Gates, and Berkshire Hathaway.
I am freedom of the press, freedom of speech, freedom of movement, and sometimes I am guilty of the abuse of each.
I am Walter Cronkite, Chet Huntley, and David Brinkley.
I am rock and roll, and I am hip-hop.
I am Samuel Clemens, but you may call me Mark.
I am a Vermont dairy farm, and a West Palm Beach condo.
I am Big Bird, Bugs Bunny, and a Mouse named “Mickey”.
I am Princeton, Stanford, and a small community college in your hometown.
I am Robin Williams and George Burns.
I am the first transcontinental flight as well as the first transcontinental ballistic missile.
I am shining from sea to sea.
I am war and I am peace.
I am Martin Luther King Jr., Ralph Abernathy, and Malcolm X.
I am the gold rush of ’48 and ’49.
I am October 1929, and I survived.
I am the Red Sox versus the Yankees, the Steelers versus the Cowboys, and Billy Jean versus Bobby Riggs.
Inexplicably, I am “American Idol”, “Survivor”, and “Fear Factor”.
I am Alaska, vast, mysterious, and gorgeous.
I am an otherwise perfect September Tuesday in 2001.
I am “Bring me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses”.
I am Davey Crockett, Sam Bowie and “The Alamo”.
I am Hollywood, Dollywood, and wish-I-could.
I am the Army, Navy, Marine Corps, and the Air Force.
I am the Easter Seals, The Jerry Lewis Telethon, and Make-a-wish.
I am “old” – Old Dominion University, This Old House, Old-time Rock and Roll, the Old Farmers Almanac, and Old Glory.
I am Stephen King, Carl Sandberg, and Louisa May Alcott.
I am criticized and admired, but I stand here with open arms in either case.
I am wrong and I am right.
I am California, therefore I am sometimes superficial and weird.
I am the Pops, and several wonderful philharmonics.
I am Ford Theater, the Ambassador Hotel in LA, a balcony in Memphis, and the grassy knoll.
Finally, I am the younger brother tearfully eulogizing...
"My brother need not be idealized or enlarged in death beyond what he was in life, to be remembered simply as a good decent man who saw wrong and tried to right it, saw suffering and tried to heal it, saw war and tried to stop it”.
"Those of us who loved him and who take him to his rest today, pray that what he was to us and what he wished for others will someday come to pass for all the world”.
"As he said many times in many parts of this nation, to those he touched and who sought to touch him: 'Some men see things as they are and ask why? I dream things that never were and ask why not"?
This is who I am, and whether up or down, I'm still better than you are. If that were not true, you wouldn't keep coming.
I am the guy in the Old Spice commercial pushing his kid on the swing.
I am the firefighter carrying 80 lbs of equipment on my back while climbing to the 77th floor, all the while knowing I probably will not take the stairs back down.
I am the guy throwing the football to the kids in the neighborhood on the 4th of July.
I am the woman going back to work 45 days after giving birth.
I am 13 stripes and 50 stars.
I am fried chicken and baked beans.
I am Utah and Omaha beaches.
I am the first Thanksgiving dinner.
I am the Old North Church and 1 lantern.
I am - regrettably - Kent State, Watergate, and Abu Graib.
I am the notion of freedom and democracy, and I make that notion work.
I am the Mojave Desert and the Savannah’s of the southeastern shores.
I am “Give me liberty, or give me death”.
I am baseball in October, Football in January, and basketball in March.
I am 3 ships with Spanish names.
I am “a chicken in every pot”.
I am Will Rogers, Kenny Rogers, and Buck Rogers.
I am black, white, brown, yellow, and red.
I am English, but I can learn.
I am Lewis and Clark.
I am Arthur Fiedler.
I am Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin.
I am Shaker Village, Hancock Village, and Tahoe Village.
I am “new” - New York, New Jersey, and New Mexico.
I am the Brooklyn Bridge, the Tallmadge Bridge, and the Golden Gate Bridge.
I am the falls of Niagara.
I am a cheesesteak in Philly, and an Italian Ices in “The City”, and a sub in Boston.
I am Omaha, Des Moines, Wichita, and St. Paul.
I am John Wayne and Marilyn Monroe.
I am “Yesterday, December 7th, 1941…a date which will live in infamy.”
I am Babe Ruth, Henry Aaron - and grudgingly - Barry Bonds.
I am “All in the family”, “Moonlighting”, and “Bonanza”.
I am Texas, strong and large…and also Delaware, meek and quiet.
I am the PT 109.
I am Mt. Rushmore and the Crazy Horse monument.
I am the steam engine, the cotton gin, and the motor car.
I am Henry Ford, Bill Gates, and Berkshire Hathaway.
I am freedom of the press, freedom of speech, freedom of movement, and sometimes I am guilty of the abuse of each.
I am Walter Cronkite, Chet Huntley, and David Brinkley.
I am rock and roll, and I am hip-hop.
I am Samuel Clemens, but you may call me Mark.
I am a Vermont dairy farm, and a West Palm Beach condo.
I am Big Bird, Bugs Bunny, and a Mouse named “Mickey”.
I am Princeton, Stanford, and a small community college in your hometown.
I am Robin Williams and George Burns.
I am the first transcontinental flight as well as the first transcontinental ballistic missile.
I am shining from sea to sea.
I am war and I am peace.
I am Martin Luther King Jr., Ralph Abernathy, and Malcolm X.
I am the gold rush of ’48 and ’49.
I am October 1929, and I survived.
I am the Red Sox versus the Yankees, the Steelers versus the Cowboys, and Billy Jean versus Bobby Riggs.
Inexplicably, I am “American Idol”, “Survivor”, and “Fear Factor”.
I am Alaska, vast, mysterious, and gorgeous.
I am an otherwise perfect September Tuesday in 2001.
I am “Bring me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses”.
I am Davey Crockett, Sam Bowie and “The Alamo”.
I am Hollywood, Dollywood, and wish-I-could.
I am the Army, Navy, Marine Corps, and the Air Force.
I am the Easter Seals, The Jerry Lewis Telethon, and Make-a-wish.
I am “old” – Old Dominion University, This Old House, Old-time Rock and Roll, the Old Farmers Almanac, and Old Glory.
I am Stephen King, Carl Sandberg, and Louisa May Alcott.
I am criticized and admired, but I stand here with open arms in either case.
I am wrong and I am right.
I am California, therefore I am sometimes superficial and weird.
I am the Pops, and several wonderful philharmonics.
I am Ford Theater, the Ambassador Hotel in LA, a balcony in Memphis, and the grassy knoll.
Finally, I am the younger brother tearfully eulogizing...
"My brother need not be idealized or enlarged in death beyond what he was in life, to be remembered simply as a good decent man who saw wrong and tried to right it, saw suffering and tried to heal it, saw war and tried to stop it”.
"Those of us who loved him and who take him to his rest today, pray that what he was to us and what he wished for others will someday come to pass for all the world”.
"As he said many times in many parts of this nation, to those he touched and who sought to touch him: 'Some men see things as they are and ask why? I dream things that never were and ask why not"?
This is who I am, and whether up or down, I'm still better than you are. If that were not true, you wouldn't keep coming.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
No title (Part I)
He's young, between the ages of 17 and 22. A-political by nature, he hasn't reached the age where politics mean anything to him. He's a high school graduate, and may have spent a couple of semesters in college. He worked as a grocery clerk in high school, played varsity football and basketball, but found himself on the fringe of the "football hero" mentality employed by many teenage kids. He always found it kind of strange that students would idolize the speedy halfback, especially when many of them knew that same football player was rude and arrogant most of the time, due in no small measure to the age and status bequeathed upon these star athletes. Subsequently, our guy found himself friends with both sides of the student body. In no way was he a loner, but he wasn't a follower either. His grades were not as reflective of his intelligence as he would like, but they weren't bad. His stint in college was marked by periods of indecision and boredom. He needed something in his life that his current surroundings couldn't provide.
So he took a chance.
The Drill Sergeants - much ballyhooed and reviled - were to his liking. He thought the games they played were perfect for what they were trying to accomplish, which was to shape young men and into citizen soldiers; people willing to work, fight, and survive under the toughest of circumstances in the never-ending quest to preserve and protect the country and its residents. He didn't differentiate between fighting on another soil and fighting on his own soil - that was an argument better left to those who've never fought at all. In his heart he knew where he was headed and what his charge would be, and for the first time in his life, he knew he stood apart from others. He heard them on the T.V., saw them condemning everything on the talk shows. He often thought privately about the fact that those who criticize rarely stand up and fight themselves, and history had proven this time and again to be true. They preach about Constitutional Rights - and their claim to them - while others like our young man are the ones who actually do the dirty work to maintain them. It has always been this way, and there is nothing on the horizon indicating that will ever change.
Knowingly, our young man trudges on, finding himself in the most God forsaken hell-hole of a country he or anyone of his comrades have ever seen. Perhaps it is in the Middle East, perhaps the Near East. In any case, the task is clear. Pay attention, learn as much as you can - as fast as you can - and stick close to the man next to you. Goddamit it's cold, he thinks as he hunkers down in a makeshift bunker high in the mountains. What the hell is the name of these mountains anyways? A needle in a haystack doesn't come close to describing what he and his unit are trying to do. On the thousandth mission of the thousandth day, they once again patrol the hills looking for the tall man with the cane and the entourage close at hand. Our guy has been told the unit has come close in the past - agonizingly close at that - but as hard as they've brought the hammer down, they still haven't been able to ring the bell. Maybe today, he thinks. Maybe it'll be me that takes him down and causes everyone else to go home.
He knows even if he is the one to take him down, no one is going home quite yet. He knows the enemy is here for the long haul, bent upon nearly 2000 years of pent-up frustration and anger, fueled by hatred for all things not of their own, whether that be land, religion, power, or money. The combatants are eager to fight, willing to die, and without a time-table. The side our young man stands on is a cornucopia of differing opinions, most of them against the fighting, but lacking the substance of a practical alternative. His people do not want to die, do not welcome the fight, and in many cases, don't even see the justification of such a battle. Memories are short, he thinks as he hunkers down, attempting to get a little shut-eye. When was the last time I slept comfortably? With a chuckle at that thought, he drifts off.
So he took a chance.
The Drill Sergeants - much ballyhooed and reviled - were to his liking. He thought the games they played were perfect for what they were trying to accomplish, which was to shape young men and into citizen soldiers; people willing to work, fight, and survive under the toughest of circumstances in the never-ending quest to preserve and protect the country and its residents. He didn't differentiate between fighting on another soil and fighting on his own soil - that was an argument better left to those who've never fought at all. In his heart he knew where he was headed and what his charge would be, and for the first time in his life, he knew he stood apart from others. He heard them on the T.V., saw them condemning everything on the talk shows. He often thought privately about the fact that those who criticize rarely stand up and fight themselves, and history had proven this time and again to be true. They preach about Constitutional Rights - and their claim to them - while others like our young man are the ones who actually do the dirty work to maintain them. It has always been this way, and there is nothing on the horizon indicating that will ever change.
Knowingly, our young man trudges on, finding himself in the most God forsaken hell-hole of a country he or anyone of his comrades have ever seen. Perhaps it is in the Middle East, perhaps the Near East. In any case, the task is clear. Pay attention, learn as much as you can - as fast as you can - and stick close to the man next to you. Goddamit it's cold, he thinks as he hunkers down in a makeshift bunker high in the mountains. What the hell is the name of these mountains anyways? A needle in a haystack doesn't come close to describing what he and his unit are trying to do. On the thousandth mission of the thousandth day, they once again patrol the hills looking for the tall man with the cane and the entourage close at hand. Our guy has been told the unit has come close in the past - agonizingly close at that - but as hard as they've brought the hammer down, they still haven't been able to ring the bell. Maybe today, he thinks. Maybe it'll be me that takes him down and causes everyone else to go home.
He knows even if he is the one to take him down, no one is going home quite yet. He knows the enemy is here for the long haul, bent upon nearly 2000 years of pent-up frustration and anger, fueled by hatred for all things not of their own, whether that be land, religion, power, or money. The combatants are eager to fight, willing to die, and without a time-table. The side our young man stands on is a cornucopia of differing opinions, most of them against the fighting, but lacking the substance of a practical alternative. His people do not want to die, do not welcome the fight, and in many cases, don't even see the justification of such a battle. Memories are short, he thinks as he hunkers down, attempting to get a little shut-eye. When was the last time I slept comfortably? With a chuckle at that thought, he drifts off.
No title (Part II)
Deep in sleep, he heard the crack and pop of the fireworks, his Dad laughing at the way his young son shied away from the noise and suddenness of the display – especially the M-80’s. Loud and packing a certain amount of concussion, the M-80’s were a favorite on the 4th of July in the neighborhood, and Dad always made sure he had a half dozen or so to shoot off at the family bar-b-que the family had every year after returning from the parade. The parades that as the years wore on became smaller and less ornate – the price for traveling marching bands escalating and silly political correctness ordinances like no sirens from police and fire vehicles causing the parades to have less volume and subsequently less punch than they had when he was younger. But at least they still had the M-80’s, although this time he was confused because there was shouting going on in the background, and all the years Dad had been doing this the only shouting he had ever heard was squealing and joyous laughter. Why was there shouting going on?
The gun battle between his platoon and the band of enemy soldiers had been going on for the better part of 40 seconds before he pulled himself out of his deep, dream-filled sleep, to the screams of his bunker-mate telling him to hand him another bandoleer of ammo, and to “get his ass moving”. Without so much as another thought, his training and discipline kicked into place and he handed his fellow soldier the needed ammo, and took his place upon the top of the sandbags firing towards the sounds of the incoming rounds. Nowhere in his mind was he covering the in’s and out’s of his particular circumstance, he was just reacting and doing. It became eerily quiet on that mountainside, and the young man thought it strange that he could look up and see his friend still firing and yelling, but he couldn’t hear anything. His world was going in slow motion now, and he felt calm and reassured in his surroundings. The fingers on his right hand, holding fast to the side of his neck, were warmed now with the flow of thick hot blood.
He thought about the touchdown run – 70 yards with most of his friends out in front blocking and imploring him to run as fast as he could. He thought about how happy his mom looked on graduation day, he in his purple cap and gown and the crooked tie that he never could get right. He thought about what time it must be back home. His dog ran in front of him, and he leaned down and gave it a big backrub. He saw everyone reacting to the fireworks, and he watched in amazement as his favorite marching band went by silently, the faces in the crowd silently forming oooohs and ahhhhs with their mouths.
The T.V. was on back home at his girlfriends house, and the talking head, hand adorned with a Rolex and a diamond pinky ring, was saying something about how he could no longer find himself supporting the troops. He spoke of how he no longer favored or even liked the idea of having troops, and how he had no problem expressing his opinions publicly...
The girlfriend pulled the covers up, using the remote to turn the T.V. off...
Click.
The gun battle between his platoon and the band of enemy soldiers had been going on for the better part of 40 seconds before he pulled himself out of his deep, dream-filled sleep, to the screams of his bunker-mate telling him to hand him another bandoleer of ammo, and to “get his ass moving”. Without so much as another thought, his training and discipline kicked into place and he handed his fellow soldier the needed ammo, and took his place upon the top of the sandbags firing towards the sounds of the incoming rounds. Nowhere in his mind was he covering the in’s and out’s of his particular circumstance, he was just reacting and doing. It became eerily quiet on that mountainside, and the young man thought it strange that he could look up and see his friend still firing and yelling, but he couldn’t hear anything. His world was going in slow motion now, and he felt calm and reassured in his surroundings. The fingers on his right hand, holding fast to the side of his neck, were warmed now with the flow of thick hot blood.
He thought about the touchdown run – 70 yards with most of his friends out in front blocking and imploring him to run as fast as he could. He thought about how happy his mom looked on graduation day, he in his purple cap and gown and the crooked tie that he never could get right. He thought about what time it must be back home. His dog ran in front of him, and he leaned down and gave it a big backrub. He saw everyone reacting to the fireworks, and he watched in amazement as his favorite marching band went by silently, the faces in the crowd silently forming oooohs and ahhhhs with their mouths.
The T.V. was on back home at his girlfriends house, and the talking head, hand adorned with a Rolex and a diamond pinky ring, was saying something about how he could no longer find himself supporting the troops. He spoke of how he no longer favored or even liked the idea of having troops, and how he had no problem expressing his opinions publicly...
The girlfriend pulled the covers up, using the remote to turn the T.V. off...
Click.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Jumping the shark
It's baaaaaack.
For the 3rd time since 1989, the Senate has once again failed to approve an amendment to the Constitution to ban the practice of burning the United States flag. This time, it failed by one single vote. Opponents of the bill said burning the flag was a critical proponent of free speech, and any stifling of such would go against the principles upon which this nation was formed. Former presidential candidate John Kerry went so far as to say, "Our country is founded on the right to be stupid", a fact that is pretty much ratified on a daily basis within the Washington beltway, as well as in the line at any ATM machine in our great land.
I implore you, from here on in exercise your rights as free and equal citizens, and walk with John Kerry, Senator Hillary Clinton, and all the other's who voted against the amendment. Follow their lead, and hold your head high while you do it.
If you want to call an obese man a "fat bastard", you are hereby protected by your First Amendment right to say so. If you find someone in front of you at the DMV a fine candidate for the new reality show, "How stupid is this woman?", by all means, let her know it. If they get upset at you and call you a callous, insensitive, asshole...stand loud and stand proud. You're protected by the First Amendment, and you should strive to let them know that many of our greatest Senators have told you so officially.
I also think we should set up burn stations around the country in a show of solidarity to our fellow countrymen. Let's start with one at a place like...oh, I don't know...how about Ft. Bragg, North Carolina? Bring your flags to the home of the 82nd Airborne Division and show them how you - the intelligent nationalistic citizen - know how to exercise your rights and privileges, and burn that baby right in front of an infantry platoon. Show America you have the courage of your convictions, and do so on national t.v. If any of those stupid soldiers who don't have half the courage and intellect that you possess object to your actions, remind them that "it's just a piece of cloth, and as a caring, compassionate American, I have the right to do this."
Let's stand up for the rights of all the ugly people to be called homely, it's the American way. Tell people everywhere that John Kerry said they have the right to be stupid, and stand up for that right. He certainly does.
And don't forget to buy some donuts for the fat bastard in the cubicle next to you. He'll appreciate your patriotism.
For the 3rd time since 1989, the Senate has once again failed to approve an amendment to the Constitution to ban the practice of burning the United States flag. This time, it failed by one single vote. Opponents of the bill said burning the flag was a critical proponent of free speech, and any stifling of such would go against the principles upon which this nation was formed. Former presidential candidate John Kerry went so far as to say, "Our country is founded on the right to be stupid", a fact that is pretty much ratified on a daily basis within the Washington beltway, as well as in the line at any ATM machine in our great land.
I implore you, from here on in exercise your rights as free and equal citizens, and walk with John Kerry, Senator Hillary Clinton, and all the other's who voted against the amendment. Follow their lead, and hold your head high while you do it.
If you want to call an obese man a "fat bastard", you are hereby protected by your First Amendment right to say so. If you find someone in front of you at the DMV a fine candidate for the new reality show, "How stupid is this woman?", by all means, let her know it. If they get upset at you and call you a callous, insensitive, asshole...stand loud and stand proud. You're protected by the First Amendment, and you should strive to let them know that many of our greatest Senators have told you so officially.
I also think we should set up burn stations around the country in a show of solidarity to our fellow countrymen. Let's start with one at a place like...oh, I don't know...how about Ft. Bragg, North Carolina? Bring your flags to the home of the 82nd Airborne Division and show them how you - the intelligent nationalistic citizen - know how to exercise your rights and privileges, and burn that baby right in front of an infantry platoon. Show America you have the courage of your convictions, and do so on national t.v. If any of those stupid soldiers who don't have half the courage and intellect that you possess object to your actions, remind them that "it's just a piece of cloth, and as a caring, compassionate American, I have the right to do this."
Let's stand up for the rights of all the ugly people to be called homely, it's the American way. Tell people everywhere that John Kerry said they have the right to be stupid, and stand up for that right. He certainly does.
And don't forget to buy some donuts for the fat bastard in the cubicle next to you. He'll appreciate your patriotism.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
The end
Yeah you did. Yes, you did. Stop it, right now. You did...we know you did...and thankfully, now we don't have to deal with you any more.Yes...you did.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Funeral Protests
Demonstrators will be barred from disrupting military funerals at national cemeteries under legislation approved by Congress and sent to the White House Wednesday The measure, passed by voice vote in the House hours after the Senate passed an amended version, specifically targets a Kansas church group that has staged protests at military funerals around the country, claiming that the deaths were a sign of God's anger at U.S. tolerance of homosexuals. The act "will protect the sanctity of all 122 of our national cemeteries as shrines to their gallant dead," Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist, R-Tenn., said prior to the Senate vote. "It's a sad but necessary measure to protect what should be recognized by all reasonable people as a solemn, private and deeply sacred occasion," he said.
Unfortunately excluded from the bill was the provision that law abiding, compassionate citizens would have free reign to kick the ever-loving shit out of anyone who dared protest at any funeral, let alone a military one.
Ok...I made that last part up, but it sure sounded good...didn't it?
Monday, May 29, 2006
Memorial Day 2006
Since it's Memorial Day, make sure you do what 98% of American's do...grill hamburgers and go to the beach cuz it's a Monday off!!!
I wonder what this guy trudging his way across some long-forgotten hell in Italy would think of that?
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Awesome
Once again, God has proven that terrorists can't do as well as he can when he puts his mind to it.Can you stop it? No
Can you contain it? No
Then I guess HE does have the upper hand on these kinds of things.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Old
You know you're getting old when...
- You mention Babe Ruth and your kid asks you, "They still make that candy bar?"
- You listen to talk radio more than regular radio
- You think you should be hosting the talk radio show
- You sprain your ankle reaching for the toilet paper
- You put your glasses on so you can see
- You take your glasses off so you can eat or read
- You have no idea where the hell your glasses are
- You discover you're wearing them
- Sexy underwear is anything with color
- You stopped watching the 10 pm news because it was waaaaaay past your bedtime
- You wonder why McDonald's hasn't caught on to the "senior menu" idea yet
- At breakfast, something snaps, crackles, and pops, but you're eating French toast
- I dawns on you that eating Hot Pockets has the same symptoms as the bird flu
- You stop doing everything that is bad, but you still feel like crap
- You can't seem to recall when your memory started failing
- You say things like, "Nowadays"...a lot
- You try to justify your position by saying, "50 years old is different than it once was"
- You ask your kid to turn down the music while you turn up the volume on the T.V.
- You stopped watching the 7 am weather because it was waaaaay before you awoke
- Flea markets are cool
- You say, "I remember when", but the story cuts off because you really can't
- A HUGE party is held at your house, and no one in the neighborhood notices
- You get called 'mister' more times than you would prefer
You're getting even older when...
- Your kids are close to moving away, and suddenly it's not as good an idea as you once thought it was
Manny Rummy? Rummy Manny?
Is it just me, or has anyone else noticed that this man....
And this man....
Are never in the same place at the same time? Coincidence? I think not!
Manny, is that you?
Rummy, are you in there?
And this man....
Are never in the same place at the same time? Coincidence? I think not!Manny, is that you?
Rummy, are you in there?
Pregnant...again
Well...according to the tabloids Britney Spears is pregnant again, proof that God does have a sense of humor.
That means two more kids growing up and talking to the media with riveting phrases such as...
"You know...like I was sooooo excited about my new purse you know, because it had...like...flowers and stuff, and it...like....wasn't...like...made in...like Taiwan by, you know, little...like...kids and stuff" "You know?"
Yeah...we...like...know.
That means two more kids growing up and talking to the media with riveting phrases such as...
"You know...like I was sooooo excited about my new purse you know, because it had...like...flowers and stuff, and it...like....wasn't...like...made in...like Taiwan by, you know, little...like...kids and stuff" "You know?"
Yeah...we...like...know.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Dinosaurs and us
There are three theories why the Dinosaur's became extinct:
1) A huge asteroid fell somewhere near the Yucatan Peninsula, causing an ice age and killing off everything except Keith Richards.
2) The Dinosaurs ate themselves out of house and home. When the food ran out, so did their time.
3) O.J. Simpson killed them.
I tend to agree with theory number 1 about the asteroid, but theory number 2 has validity as well. Dinosaurs were consumers, and consumers....well...consume.
Everything.
Until there is nothing.
It was several billion years later that the next species of consumers came along, and that of course is us. Not consumers in a she's a trophy-bride driving a Lincoln Navigator and if she can't go to Tiffany's, then there will be hell to pay kind of consumer.
Nope. We are energy consumers. Have been, will continue to be, and eventually we'll run out of it like our predecessors the Triceratops and his friends may or may not have, depending upon whether you believe theory 1, 2, or 3. In any case, we certainly DO have a problem, and you can't blame this one on Dubya. In my lifetime, I can remember every President going back to Richard M. Nixon seated in his chair at the White House, television camera's rolling, telling us how we must reduce our dependence on foreign oil.
Every last one of them. Presidents Nixon, Gerald Ford, James T. Carter, Ronald Reagan, Nancy Reagan, George HW Bush, William J Clinton, and George W Bush. Both parties represented. None of them did anything but talk about it. Congress has changed hands as far as the power of the majority goes several times in the last 40 years...Congress did nothing either. The automobile manufacturers helped out by designing cars and SUV's that weigh as much as a 757, but tend to use a lot more fuel. And see above for the trophy brides to know who buys and drives those beasts.
Soooo...whose fault is it? Yours. Mine. The Sierra Club's. The American realtors and commercial construction companies. The strip-mall association of America (yeah, yeah, I know. Shuddup...I can make this up as I go along. It's my blog).
And now gas is inchin' towards $3 a gallon, and Hurricane Yagoddabeeshittinme hasn't even landed yet. Think the price is going down when that happens? Think again.
Ok. We know it's our fault. We know we're consumers, and yes out there my tree-hugging protesters, I saw you drive up in that Hummer and park it where you didn't think anyone would see you. You're here protesting against tapping into our own reserves and building new refineries because you're afraid the one-legged, bi-sexual, green-horned, crustacean whoop-a-dong flea might get flushed out of his comfy home deep in the branches of the Alaskan oak preserve if we pump a few gallons of oil so I can afford to both go to work and return without having to rob a 7-Eleven along the way.
Ok. I hear you. Feed a cold; starve a fever. Feed a Saudi Arabian terrorism funder, starve an American child. Or is it starve a cold....awwww hell, I can never remember.
So carry on with the environmental arguments, and get really violent if someone disagrees with you. Tie yourselves together in a human knot and stand in a circle around Anwar; as a matter of fact, you should do it in February. Keep up the protests, but remember you may be forcing some unfortunates to downgrade from a Hummer to an H3, and you too might even have to get rid of the Villa in Aspen. Or at least the maid.
I'm thinking what killed the Dino's was stubbornness on thier part. The Eco-Dino's wouldn't let them eat any more leaves, so that killed off the Veggie Dino's...and the meat eaters did each other in until there was only one left standing, and then he died of boredom from having to talk to Keith Richards every day.
Or maybe OJ did kill them all. Allegedly.
1) A huge asteroid fell somewhere near the Yucatan Peninsula, causing an ice age and killing off everything except Keith Richards.
2) The Dinosaurs ate themselves out of house and home. When the food ran out, so did their time.
3) O.J. Simpson killed them.
I tend to agree with theory number 1 about the asteroid, but theory number 2 has validity as well. Dinosaurs were consumers, and consumers....well...consume.
Everything.
Until there is nothing.
It was several billion years later that the next species of consumers came along, and that of course is us. Not consumers in a she's a trophy-bride driving a Lincoln Navigator and if she can't go to Tiffany's, then there will be hell to pay kind of consumer.
Nope. We are energy consumers. Have been, will continue to be, and eventually we'll run out of it like our predecessors the Triceratops and his friends may or may not have, depending upon whether you believe theory 1, 2, or 3. In any case, we certainly DO have a problem, and you can't blame this one on Dubya. In my lifetime, I can remember every President going back to Richard M. Nixon seated in his chair at the White House, television camera's rolling, telling us how we must reduce our dependence on foreign oil.
Every last one of them. Presidents Nixon, Gerald Ford, James T. Carter, Ronald Reagan, Nancy Reagan, George HW Bush, William J Clinton, and George W Bush. Both parties represented. None of them did anything but talk about it. Congress has changed hands as far as the power of the majority goes several times in the last 40 years...Congress did nothing either. The automobile manufacturers helped out by designing cars and SUV's that weigh as much as a 757, but tend to use a lot more fuel. And see above for the trophy brides to know who buys and drives those beasts.
Soooo...whose fault is it? Yours. Mine. The Sierra Club's. The American realtors and commercial construction companies. The strip-mall association of America (yeah, yeah, I know. Shuddup...I can make this up as I go along. It's my blog).
And now gas is inchin' towards $3 a gallon, and Hurricane Yagoddabeeshittinme hasn't even landed yet. Think the price is going down when that happens? Think again.
Ok. We know it's our fault. We know we're consumers, and yes out there my tree-hugging protesters, I saw you drive up in that Hummer and park it where you didn't think anyone would see you. You're here protesting against tapping into our own reserves and building new refineries because you're afraid the one-legged, bi-sexual, green-horned, crustacean whoop-a-dong flea might get flushed out of his comfy home deep in the branches of the Alaskan oak preserve if we pump a few gallons of oil so I can afford to both go to work and return without having to rob a 7-Eleven along the way.
Ok. I hear you. Feed a cold; starve a fever. Feed a Saudi Arabian terrorism funder, starve an American child. Or is it starve a cold....awwww hell, I can never remember.
So carry on with the environmental arguments, and get really violent if someone disagrees with you. Tie yourselves together in a human knot and stand in a circle around Anwar; as a matter of fact, you should do it in February. Keep up the protests, but remember you may be forcing some unfortunates to downgrade from a Hummer to an H3, and you too might even have to get rid of the Villa in Aspen. Or at least the maid.
I'm thinking what killed the Dino's was stubbornness on thier part. The Eco-Dino's wouldn't let them eat any more leaves, so that killed off the Veggie Dino's...and the meat eaters did each other in until there was only one left standing, and then he died of boredom from having to talk to Keith Richards every day.
Or maybe OJ did kill them all. Allegedly.
Monday, May 08, 2006
Uncle!!!!
The following things make no sense to me:
An ad on the radio for an attorney's office that says, "Slip and fall? Call." Call who and why? You're a spaz, so your company should be sued? Plllleeeeeease!
MVP awards in sports. Why do they always give out the MVP awards to the guys with the best statistics instead of what the definition of MVP is? If he wasn't there, would the team have done as well? If the answer is 'probably', he's not the MVP, stupid.
Telephone voice prompts in the U.S. that say, "For English, press 1." I better not have to explain this one!
Test instructions that say, "Fill in every answer. There is no penalty for a wrong guess." What? Excuse me, but there sure as hell is!
A woman in a grocery store - in front of me of course - who asked the clerk if the question on the ATM machine, "Is this amount correct?" was for her to answer? Oh my God, somebody get me an oxygen mask!
Everyone knows that Braille on a drive-up ATM is retarded, but I drove up to an ATM at a Bank north of Orlando about a month ago that wasn't wide enough to accommodate my car. No, I don't drive a Hummer, but after the 76 Datsun went out of production, you'd think they would have modified the lane. Apparently not.
Ahhhh, no more...I'm starting to get pissed again. I'm heading off to Wendy's. My plan is to slip on the floor, spilling hot coffee on myself, and then sue them under the grounds that when I fell, I did so because I was staring at the finger in the other person's chili, while contemplating faking the fact that I was about to have septuplets.
That' outta be worth a few 'mil' at least.
An ad on the radio for an attorney's office that says, "Slip and fall? Call." Call who and why? You're a spaz, so your company should be sued? Plllleeeeeease!
MVP awards in sports. Why do they always give out the MVP awards to the guys with the best statistics instead of what the definition of MVP is? If he wasn't there, would the team have done as well? If the answer is 'probably', he's not the MVP, stupid.
Telephone voice prompts in the U.S. that say, "For English, press 1." I better not have to explain this one!
Test instructions that say, "Fill in every answer. There is no penalty for a wrong guess." What? Excuse me, but there sure as hell is!
A woman in a grocery store - in front of me of course - who asked the clerk if the question on the ATM machine, "Is this amount correct?" was for her to answer? Oh my God, somebody get me an oxygen mask!
Everyone knows that Braille on a drive-up ATM is retarded, but I drove up to an ATM at a Bank north of Orlando about a month ago that wasn't wide enough to accommodate my car. No, I don't drive a Hummer, but after the 76 Datsun went out of production, you'd think they would have modified the lane. Apparently not.
Ahhhh, no more...I'm starting to get pissed again. I'm heading off to Wendy's. My plan is to slip on the floor, spilling hot coffee on myself, and then sue them under the grounds that when I fell, I did so because I was staring at the finger in the other person's chili, while contemplating faking the fact that I was about to have septuplets.
That' outta be worth a few 'mil' at least.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Earl
On May 3rd, 2006 a retired Lt. Colonel from the US Army died. His name was Earl, and chances are, you may have heard of his son.
Just around 29 years ago or so, Earl was out hitting golf balls at a driving range in California, his 10 month old son in tow, dragging around his own 13 inch club, and playing with it in the dirt, and chewing on the grip end...as 10 month olds are supposed to do.
Earl looked down and asked the tot if he would like to try. The 10 month old grunted a yes, and stood up - left handed - drew the club back and swung.
He missed.
Three more misses later, he tried again. This time the ball arched upwards and landed about 8 yards away. Rather astonished, Earl showed the boy how to place his hands on the club in a proper grip.
The boy managed to somehow get just about every second ball airborne. When they went back home, Earl told friends and his wife of the occurrence, but no one really believed him.
He started taking the boy back to the range on a regular basis. One day, while still only a year old, it dawned on the boy that he was standing on the left side of the ball, while dad was standing on the right. In mid-swing, he stopped, walked around to the other side - adjusted his grip by himself - and nailed the first one he swung at. Earl knew he had something then.
Through the years, Earl invested all of his money and time into his growing son and the son's passion for golf. People from all over criticized Earl with comments like, "You can't push him - he's just a kid", and things of the like.
Isn't it interesting in our society how we can push a little girl to be a ballerina, we can home school and let a boy or girl become geeky social misfits in the name of a spelling bee, but if we even nudge our children when it comes to sports, we're terrible parents and horrible people.
$350.00 a week in dancing lessons? No problem!
Endless hour after endless hour learning the etymology of words like 'pestiferous'...as in...
Pestiferous.
The parents pestiferous insistence that their child eschew throwing around a ball with the kids in the neighborhood in lieu of more vocabulary studies was evident.
Pestiferous
Guess what spelling bee mom's and dads?
30 years later. The son has a personal wealth nearing a billion dollars, was voted the most recognizable athlete in the world, as well as the 3rd most recognizable personality in the world and enjoys a popularity among youth and adults unparalleled in our time or any other.
Earl was right all along.
Just around 29 years ago or so, Earl was out hitting golf balls at a driving range in California, his 10 month old son in tow, dragging around his own 13 inch club, and playing with it in the dirt, and chewing on the grip end...as 10 month olds are supposed to do.
Earl looked down and asked the tot if he would like to try. The 10 month old grunted a yes, and stood up - left handed - drew the club back and swung.
He missed.
Three more misses later, he tried again. This time the ball arched upwards and landed about 8 yards away. Rather astonished, Earl showed the boy how to place his hands on the club in a proper grip.
The boy managed to somehow get just about every second ball airborne. When they went back home, Earl told friends and his wife of the occurrence, but no one really believed him.
He started taking the boy back to the range on a regular basis. One day, while still only a year old, it dawned on the boy that he was standing on the left side of the ball, while dad was standing on the right. In mid-swing, he stopped, walked around to the other side - adjusted his grip by himself - and nailed the first one he swung at. Earl knew he had something then.
Through the years, Earl invested all of his money and time into his growing son and the son's passion for golf. People from all over criticized Earl with comments like, "You can't push him - he's just a kid", and things of the like.
Isn't it interesting in our society how we can push a little girl to be a ballerina, we can home school and let a boy or girl become geeky social misfits in the name of a spelling bee, but if we even nudge our children when it comes to sports, we're terrible parents and horrible people.
$350.00 a week in dancing lessons? No problem!
Endless hour after endless hour learning the etymology of words like 'pestiferous'...as in...
Pestiferous.
The parents pestiferous insistence that their child eschew throwing around a ball with the kids in the neighborhood in lieu of more vocabulary studies was evident.
Pestiferous
Guess what spelling bee mom's and dads?
30 years later. The son has a personal wealth nearing a billion dollars, was voted the most recognizable athlete in the world, as well as the 3rd most recognizable personality in the world and enjoys a popularity among youth and adults unparalleled in our time or any other.
Earl was right all along.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
It's here!!! It's here!!!
Uber Geeks unite!!!It's finally here. No longer do you have to watch 1960's Star Trek episodes drooling over Uhura's super high tech digital communication device. You too can now own your dream, and at 50% off at that!
Yes, you'll be the envy of all your friends at the next convention. Imagine if you will, all those years of hanging out at the mall, living with your parents until you were 39, and never having a girl-friend outside of the 976 area code have now finally cashed in for you with the excitement of your own working earpiece cell phone. Models come with blinking red or blue lights (your choice), to let everyone you pass by know that you - and you alone - are in tune with the modern world.
You sir, aren't the average every day dweeb any longer!
You're a nerd with a neat device that is 100 times better than the Mattel Tri-Corder that constantly needs batteries, and 1000 times better than that Tyco Light Saber (although to be honest, we all know you still 'dig' the sound effects in the handle).
Laptops? We don't need no stinkin laptops! We got it all right here baby.....The Zoomziggy 5000 portable talk-o-lizer. Life as we know it will never be the same.
Live long and prosper, Eugene's of America. You've waited enough.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Congresswoman Cynthia McKinney
Good God, it's about time!
Opening day has finally arrived, and the world is once again rotating properly on it's axis. The NY Yankees won yesterday 15-2, with Alice Rodriguez hitting a grand slam, Mary Sheffield scoring two runs and Jennifer Jason Giambi making an error in the first inning. As anyone wise to the machinations of baseball clearly knows, there is absolutely no way any other team is going to keep the Yankees from winning their 456th World Series title this October, right?
Uhhhh...well.....ummmmm....not so fast quickdraw.
Uhhhh...well.....ummmmm....not so fast quickdraw.
Friday, March 31, 2006
Hooliman Aja Geechum guma guma guma
Salt Lake City UT.
The lawsuit continues today in the American Atheists Inc. vs. the State of Utah. It seems the state troopers erected 13 crosses in memorial tribute to fellow officers who died in the line of duty. The crosses were placed in December of 2005, and these memorials are seen as offensive to some.
The plaintiffs, Stephen Clark, Michael Rivers, and Richard Andrews are members of the American Atheists Inc. which claims a membership of 30 million. The organization is based in Texas.
Rivers, claimed in court "The himellybop wana wana, shoo shoo blah dee dah, violates my deeepegog mooma dooma"
The UHP said they simply wanted to honor the memory and bravery of their fallen comrades, to which Stephen Clark replied, "This is an outrage!! My sebbestia absodufia imbabda bada, chompo chompo resoundo umleeback teeka teeka has been systematically codwhipped by slimatosis and whipperslop banglesheeding."
Supporters of the memorials said the families of the deceased would be devastated and the legacies of the fallen policemen tarnished if the lawsuit is upheld.
Richard Andrews, last of the plaintiffs remarked, "Halla halla halla. Yipsee dowwa googledeeshama! Ina godda da vida, pluffenbucko wa wa wa wa wa."
The American Atheists Inc., issued a public denunciation of the crosses, in part saying "The separation of church and state, combined with a hooliman aja geechum guma guma guma is protected under the provisions of la la la figero humma humma beestow incestibiggot platimama shumshum halibashima."
A group of recalcitrant folks in Texas are offended. Awwww...boo-friggin-hoo. Maybe they should....ooooooh, I don't know....get a life?
In any case, I researched the Constitution that this particular group clings so strongly to. Try as I might, I could not find anything in the document that covers people being offended, short-changed by others, or even totally pissed off for that matter. Our ignorant forefather's stupidly created some sort of live-and-let-live society, and this of course is not fair to the fine folks of AAI. They feel they have exclusive rights to being offended, and even if they have to conversely offend the other 270 million people living here who think it's ok to have a memorial of any kind, they'll do it to protect their rights. Of course we all know the AAI is in the middle of an increasingly long line of people and groups that are currently offended, so we're asking their patience while we resolve this matter.
Democracy is in its finest finest hour. Enjoy!
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Better than Da Vinci
Al Gore brought out his newest invention today, to the absolute delight of hundreds of millions world-wide.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Beer or stress...donuts wasn't an option?
This was just on the MSN.com homepage. Can you see the conversation down at the sports bar tonight?
"Hey Billy-boy, you been bangin' down a few beers lately, huh?"
"Naaaah Fred. It's just stress, ya know?" "My wife wants the living room painted teal, and I really would like kind of a terra-cotta finish with some general accents like decorative pillows and maybe an etegere with a couple of nice finials placed in a crystal planter filled with genuine sea stones". "Thing is, all we seem to do is fight about it."
"Ummm. Gotcha. Yoowanonunutherin?"
Monday, March 27, 2006
Random thoughts...very random
- Illegal immigrants were out by the thousands this weekend - many of them waving Mexican flags - protesting the U.S. possibly enforcing laws that are already in place, and then saying they still want to be part of the U.S. I don't know about you, but I'm baffled.
- Zacharias Moussaoui said he was actually an initial part of the 9-11 planning. Wow, really?
- Speaking of 9-11, the "theorists" are correct. I figured it out today. Flight 175. Flight 93. Flight 11. 175 minus 93, minus 11 is 71. 7 plus 1 is 8. There are 6 letters in the word Boston. 8 plus 6 is 14. Each of the three planes had a pilot and co-pilot, that's 6 total. 14 plus 6 is 20. How much is 9 plus 11? Ha! It was there all the time, and those stupid government folks couldn't figure it out. I did it in less than 1 minute. Minds like mine are rare indeed.
- Some guy in Afghanistan wants to convert to Christianity, but according to Islamic law he must be executed for that. Evidently we're misunderstanding Muslims again.
- Speaking of such things, an Indian man said the word "Talaq" in his sleep 3 times. Talaq means divorce, and local Muslim leaders told them to separate immediately or face the consequences. In the U.S. of course, an attorney has to say the words "half his stuff" three times to make divorce official.
- Terry Shiavo died a year ago, and we're still talking about it.
- A married man is suing e-harmony for banning him from the singles-only dating service.
- The Tennessee minister's wife who killed her husband is suddenly "confused" according to her attorney.
- The NFL is about to pass a rule limiting end-zone dances. What they need to do is pass a rule limiting player interviews. That would be something I could get behind.
- 7 million illegal immigrants just tried to leave at the same time, but were stopped "3 stooges" style at the door.
- Julia Roberts is on Broadway now, but not without a price. She said she's taking a $35,000.00 a week pay cut. Please - somebody send her a coupla McDonald's gift certificates before the poor dear starves.
- Barry Bonds says his life "is in shambles". At last, his life mirrors his home run chase.
- Of the approximately 10 buzagabillion NCAA pools in this country, not one single person had George Mason University making it to the final four. Actually, 98% of the country thought George Mason was that scary actor guy
.
- Yesterday's news reports from Seattle said the man who shot and killed six total strangers - then himself - was very polite as he did the act. Thank goodness for that. If there is anything I've always stressed to my children this is it. "When committing incomprehensible mass murder, make sure you always say please, thank you, and hold the door for your female victims." It's about time good manners entered the picture again.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Today in history
On March 23, 1775, Patrick Henry made his famous "Give me liberty, or give me death" speech.
Also on this date:
In 1806, exactly 200 years ago, explorers Lewis and Clark, having reached the Pacific coast - began their journey back east. They were last seen in a Checkered cab, driven by San Francisco transplant Hamid Ali Bommbaya Falaffa, taking the long route.
In 1919, Benito Mussolini founded his Fascist political movement in Milan, Italy. Today, it is known as HBO's "The Soprano's".
In 1933, the German Reichstag passed the "Enabling Act", which effectively granted Adolph Hitler dictatorial powers. Translation: It ENABLED him to do whatever he could or wanted to do until the U.S., Great Britain, and the Soviet Union could get in there and stop him 12 years later.
In 1956, Pakistan became and independent republic of the British Commonwealth. Today, Pakistan is known as the place where Osama probably does his laundry on the corner of Jihad and Main streets. Nice little place...Mahmed's coin-op "with front loading washers".
In 1983, President Reagan first proposed developing technology which would then become known as "Star Wars". Follow on Presidents would develop, "Star Wars -the next generation", Star Wars - the prequil", and of course "The Matrix - WMD's have never looked so lame", staring Keanau Reeves as a bus riding LA cop-turned-nuclear-physicist-turned-greenpeace-activist. What?
In 1996, Taiwan held it's first direct Presidential elections, paving the way for the now famous "throw your shoe at your elected official" policy.
5 years ago on this date, the Mir space station fell out of the sky and crashed into Detroit. This ended the 15 year odyssey for the space craft. No one in Detroit noticed the firery destruction.
1 year ago today, a federal appeals court refused to reinsert Sean Hannity's feeding tube. Unfortunately, he survived and is now a transexual Aruban newspaper reporter still combing the beach to locate Joran Vandersloot's missing penny loafers.
Yeah...yeah...I know some of these references are really off-the-wall. Get over it.
Also on this date:
In 1806, exactly 200 years ago, explorers Lewis and Clark, having reached the Pacific coast - began their journey back east. They were last seen in a Checkered cab, driven by San Francisco transplant Hamid Ali Bommbaya Falaffa, taking the long route.
In 1919, Benito Mussolini founded his Fascist political movement in Milan, Italy. Today, it is known as HBO's "The Soprano's".
In 1933, the German Reichstag passed the "Enabling Act", which effectively granted Adolph Hitler dictatorial powers. Translation: It ENABLED him to do whatever he could or wanted to do until the U.S., Great Britain, and the Soviet Union could get in there and stop him 12 years later.
In 1956, Pakistan became and independent republic of the British Commonwealth. Today, Pakistan is known as the place where Osama probably does his laundry on the corner of Jihad and Main streets. Nice little place...Mahmed's coin-op "with front loading washers".
In 1983, President Reagan first proposed developing technology which would then become known as "Star Wars". Follow on Presidents would develop, "Star Wars -the next generation", Star Wars - the prequil", and of course "The Matrix - WMD's have never looked so lame", staring Keanau Reeves as a bus riding LA cop-turned-nuclear-physicist-turned-greenpeace-activist. What?
In 1996, Taiwan held it's first direct Presidential elections, paving the way for the now famous "throw your shoe at your elected official" policy.
5 years ago on this date, the Mir space station fell out of the sky and crashed into Detroit. This ended the 15 year odyssey for the space craft. No one in Detroit noticed the firery destruction.
1 year ago today, a federal appeals court refused to reinsert Sean Hannity's feeding tube. Unfortunately, he survived and is now a transexual Aruban newspaper reporter still combing the beach to locate Joran Vandersloot's missing penny loafers.
Yeah...yeah...I know some of these references are really off-the-wall. Get over it.
My kingdom for a pencil and a piece of paper
I'm gonna let you in on a secret.
I'm a low-tech guy. I don't own a digital camera, don't know how to use one, and don't care. I do own a DVD video camera (bought only a month ago), but I never ever watch the movies after they're filmed. I've seen it already, why revisit it 4 hours later?
My cell phone is hated by me, but in any case....get this...it's just a phone. It's not an MP-3 player (whatever that is), a calculator, an ESPN scoreboard, a GPS, and it can't make an appointment at a restaurant for me. It has text messaging, but it takes too long to type things, and I haven't figured out the upper and lower case deal yet. No only that, when you text message, it becomes so tedious that you end up sending messages like:
How RU ding? I M ding fne. 2 day I M ging 2 mall. RU ging 2 mall 2 Kimosabee?
I don't know how to forward a call so I don't do that. I don't know how to change the date and time so I don't do that either. When I went to buy it, here is how the conversation with the Cingular guy went:
Him: May I help you?
Me: Yes. I'd like to buy a phone.
I'm a low-tech guy. I don't own a digital camera, don't know how to use one, and don't care. I do own a DVD video camera (bought only a month ago), but I never ever watch the movies after they're filmed. I've seen it already, why revisit it 4 hours later?
My cell phone is hated by me, but in any case....get this...it's just a phone. It's not an MP-3 player (whatever that is), a calculator, an ESPN scoreboard, a GPS, and it can't make an appointment at a restaurant for me. It has text messaging, but it takes too long to type things, and I haven't figured out the upper and lower case deal yet. No only that, when you text message, it becomes so tedious that you end up sending messages like:
How RU ding? I M ding fne. 2 day I M ging 2 mall. RU ging 2 mall 2 Kimosabee?
I don't know how to forward a call so I don't do that. I don't know how to change the date and time so I don't do that either. When I went to buy it, here is how the conversation with the Cingular guy went:
Him: May I help you?
Me: Yes. I'd like to buy a phone.
Him: What options would you like with your phone?
Me: Options?
Him: Yes. Things like linear messaging, a 15 Zagabit Mainframe, deep-space communications capability, Osama Bin Laden digital tracking mode, 396 function calculator, a dog whistle, and an insulin pump. And that's just our basic model.
Me: Do you have a phone that just makes phone calls?
Him: You're kidding, right? You want to call people on your phone, and that's it?
Me: I know. What an idiot I am, huh?
Him: Well, we do have this lower-end model, the SAD-36. It can make and receive phone calls, but that's about it.
Me: I'll take it.
Him: You sure I can't interest you in the Vision Pronambular Extreme 109? It has video poker, instant NFL draft analysis, and for a nominal fee - it can be programmed to let you know when your car needs servicing. It's as light as a feather, thinner than your drivers license, and can be used to break and enter your neighbors garage to get your lawnmower back.
Me: Hmmm...does it make and receive calls as well?
Him: Calls?
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Be my little bayabay
Music producer Phil Spector's capital murder trial was delayed today (March 22nd, 2006) because:
A) The court didn't have a "Ronco Super-charged Weed Whacker" on site.
B) Homeland Security needed to sweep the top of his head for listening devices.
C) Spector's actual height and weight were different than on his drivers license.
D) Feel free to opine with your own pithy comment.
Monday, March 20, 2006
Thinking out loud
Did you ever wonder what would happen if you asked someone if they were honest, and they answered "no" ?
Artful dodgers
The latest count says there are 8,000 deserters listed with the United States Armed Forces since 2003, a strange statistic given the fact that the draft was last used in 1973, which is 33 years ago in case you don't have your calculator handy. Here are some of the reasons given by those daring enough to come forward and make a statement. If you'll notice, I said "daring" enough, I didn't say "courageous". Courage is a term reserved for a category of people that military deserters do not belong to, whatever their reasoning for doing what they have done. In any case, let's review some of their reasons (you can google them quite easily if you don't trust me reprinting them here):
"The Army didn't tell me I'd have to adopt their belief structure". No, of course they didn't. And if you end up working for Netscape, they won't mind if you tell everyone you know about the merits of Microsoft, either.
"I'm a conscientious objector". Funny, three months ago on page 5 of your enlistment contract you failed to check that block. What happened? And by the way, the war started in 2003 and you enlisted in 2004. Helllloooooo?!?
"My recruiter didn't mention anything about being deployed to Iraq." This excuse is of course believable, since the entire Gulf War II has been a secret that no one knew about until last month.
"I came in for the $50,000.00 college fund." Riiiight. Well here is the deal thunder head, they don't give you that money. It's called a trade-off, or something earned for something given.
"This war is illegal as far as I'm concerned." This is the one most commonly used after conscientious objector. I think people who can't use an ATM machine should be declared legally stupid as far as I'm concerned, but you know what? They won't be declared legally stupid any more than this war will be declared illegal to fight. In any event, please let us know when a 'legal war' comes about that you're willing to fight in, and we'll call you. In the meantime, I'll just go to another bank.
C'mon folks, it doesn't matter how you feel about the war or whether you're in the military or not...deserting the Armed Forces is one of the most despicable things a person in this country can do. And here is the real irony - the very reason you can even try and pull off some crap like this - is because of the millions of men and women who have died in wars in the past to make and keep this a free democratic society. I think it's monumentally sad that a young man or woman can freely enter the armed forces, get a barrel-full of college money or up to $75,000.00 in college loan forgiveness, get paid a decent salary every month, and the moment they're called upon to do what they're trained to do - they bail. Hey Jimmy Deserter-boy, every time you went to the field, they made you carry your M-16 rifle 24/7, right? Did you think that was because you might get a chance one day to nail a scurrying squirell? They conducted war games in the field and at places like the National Training Center in the Mojave desert in California. You were there, remember? War games. Drop the 'games' part, and insert only the 1st word. That's correct Jimmy...the word is 'war'.
How does your "my recruiter didn't tell me" logic apply when there are those of us out here in the civilian sector that know better? How come you weren't conscientiously objecting at the bank every month when you deposited your paycheck? Have you mentioned the training with the weapons, the paychecks, and the terminology like 'war-gaming' to your lawyer in Canada?
No? I didn't think so. That would take courage.
"The Army didn't tell me I'd have to adopt their belief structure". No, of course they didn't. And if you end up working for Netscape, they won't mind if you tell everyone you know about the merits of Microsoft, either.
"I'm a conscientious objector". Funny, three months ago on page 5 of your enlistment contract you failed to check that block. What happened? And by the way, the war started in 2003 and you enlisted in 2004. Helllloooooo?!?
"My recruiter didn't mention anything about being deployed to Iraq." This excuse is of course believable, since the entire Gulf War II has been a secret that no one knew about until last month.
"I came in for the $50,000.00 college fund." Riiiight. Well here is the deal thunder head, they don't give you that money. It's called a trade-off, or something earned for something given.
"This war is illegal as far as I'm concerned." This is the one most commonly used after conscientious objector. I think people who can't use an ATM machine should be declared legally stupid as far as I'm concerned, but you know what? They won't be declared legally stupid any more than this war will be declared illegal to fight. In any event, please let us know when a 'legal war' comes about that you're willing to fight in, and we'll call you. In the meantime, I'll just go to another bank.
C'mon folks, it doesn't matter how you feel about the war or whether you're in the military or not...deserting the Armed Forces is one of the most despicable things a person in this country can do. And here is the real irony - the very reason you can even try and pull off some crap like this - is because of the millions of men and women who have died in wars in the past to make and keep this a free democratic society. I think it's monumentally sad that a young man or woman can freely enter the armed forces, get a barrel-full of college money or up to $75,000.00 in college loan forgiveness, get paid a decent salary every month, and the moment they're called upon to do what they're trained to do - they bail. Hey Jimmy Deserter-boy, every time you went to the field, they made you carry your M-16 rifle 24/7, right? Did you think that was because you might get a chance one day to nail a scurrying squirell? They conducted war games in the field and at places like the National Training Center in the Mojave desert in California. You were there, remember? War games. Drop the 'games' part, and insert only the 1st word. That's correct Jimmy...the word is 'war'.
How does your "my recruiter didn't tell me" logic apply when there are those of us out here in the civilian sector that know better? How come you weren't conscientiously objecting at the bank every month when you deposited your paycheck? Have you mentioned the training with the weapons, the paychecks, and the terminology like 'war-gaming' to your lawyer in Canada?
No? I didn't think so. That would take courage.
Falling...without a net...
Former 'mom of the year' nominee Andrea Yates goes back on trial today for drowning her 5 children, ages 6 mos to 7 years old in 2001. Her conviction was overturned when the court determined that a prosecution witnesses testimony about Yates watching "an episode of Law & Order" and getting the drowning idea from that was incorrect.
Why? Was she actually watching "Wheel of fortune"? And how could this possibly matter?
We have slipped so far and so stupidly into the abyss of wordsmithing attorneys and judges that a woman can murder her 5 children and then get off on a technicality like which TV show she was watching the previous night. Her defense team is attempting to prove that she was and still is - legally insane. Is there anyone out there doing the same for the brain-dead judge and court for overturning this? No, I think not. How about the imbeciles that continue to protect and proliferate laws that hurt the populace and allow the terminally corrupt to flourish?
Did she drown her kids? Yes, she did. Should she be allowed to go free or potentially go free down the road? No, she should not. Is she a menace to society? Yes, she is. She drowned her 5 children - there is no need to prove to me she is insane - I'm convinced. Put her on a gurney and give her the "night-night" injection that Timothy McVeigh received.
Perhaps we are the insane ones for allowing this to occur. I'm sure there are thousands of advocates (maybe 100's of thousands) who will no doubt say - "That's the law".
That's right, it is. So change it.
Why? Was she actually watching "Wheel of fortune"? And how could this possibly matter?
We have slipped so far and so stupidly into the abyss of wordsmithing attorneys and judges that a woman can murder her 5 children and then get off on a technicality like which TV show she was watching the previous night. Her defense team is attempting to prove that she was and still is - legally insane. Is there anyone out there doing the same for the brain-dead judge and court for overturning this? No, I think not. How about the imbeciles that continue to protect and proliferate laws that hurt the populace and allow the terminally corrupt to flourish?
Did she drown her kids? Yes, she did. Should she be allowed to go free or potentially go free down the road? No, she should not. Is she a menace to society? Yes, she is. She drowned her 5 children - there is no need to prove to me she is insane - I'm convinced. Put her on a gurney and give her the "night-night" injection that Timothy McVeigh received.
Perhaps we are the insane ones for allowing this to occur. I'm sure there are thousands of advocates (maybe 100's of thousands) who will no doubt say - "That's the law".
That's right, it is. So change it.
Friday, March 17, 2006
"JOHNNY! YOU GIT YER *** OVER HERE NOW!!!
I did something this evening I hate doing. I needed to buy some modeling clay for my son's school project, some dog food for my starving mutt, and some other random odds and ends. Being an American male, I wanted the shopping trip to be fast and easy, so I went against my better judgment and entered a place where I knew I could get all these things in 1 stop.
WalMart.
We have 1 week here in the Orlando area that is called "Click it or ticket". It has to do with the police enforcing the seatbelt laws. I've some news for them. Income a little low at the Sheriff's Dept this month? Send two officers down to the WalMart parking lot and you'll collect a years worth of revenue in one afternoon. 8 out of 10 hubcapless 1976 Datsun's and still-crumpled-from-the-17-accidents vans have drivers and passengers without their seatbelts on. And that's not even bringing into account the fact that 30% of those drivers look at 5:40 pm like they just woke up from a 4-day drunk...or are still in the middle of one.
I must have missed the sign at the entrance, but apparently it's ok when you're in there to yell at the top of your voice two aisles over to your kids or your shopping partner. "Do ya thaank cuzin Marvin would like this rocket propelled skateboard, Earl?"
"Billy!! Billy!!!! Put yer damn sister down for a secund and git over here. I'm NOT TELLIN' YOU AGIN, BOY!!"
Ahhhh...where America shops.
Let me ask you a question. Is their a weight minimum for admittance into this store? I'm between 6-1 and 6-2 and weigh about 195, and I'll be damned if I didn't look like I needed to eat some more. In comparison, I must have looked downright famished. Speaking of comparisons by degree, when in there I quickly realized intellectually I was Stephen Hawking in a Red Sox cap, and by virtue of the fact that I wasn't completely transfixed by the singing bass mounted on the wooden plaque, I must have appeared to be a friggin' Rhodes Scholar or the Crown Prince of Pango Pango.
There was one more rule I was apparently unaware of. Once inside, I guess it's ok to let your kids run free wherever they want like it's a public park or something. I see more 4 and 5 year olds - dirty faces with clothing to match - wandering free in WalMart than in a typical school playground. If I were a pedophile predator in there, I would think I'd hit the motherload. You could scarf one of these unaccompanied children up and be half way to the Neverland Ranch before mom and dad - dancing to the rhythmic sounds of the stuffed monkey standing on a large branch singing "TREE times a lady" - even knew you were gone.
We need to bring Osama over here for a side trip to the local WalMart. I think we could change his mind about wanting to destroy us. He'd soon realize we're doing quite well bringing it down all by ourselves.
WalMart.
We have 1 week here in the Orlando area that is called "Click it or ticket". It has to do with the police enforcing the seatbelt laws. I've some news for them. Income a little low at the Sheriff's Dept this month? Send two officers down to the WalMart parking lot and you'll collect a years worth of revenue in one afternoon. 8 out of 10 hubcapless 1976 Datsun's and still-crumpled-from-the-17-accidents vans have drivers and passengers without their seatbelts on. And that's not even bringing into account the fact that 30% of those drivers look at 5:40 pm like they just woke up from a 4-day drunk...or are still in the middle of one.
I must have missed the sign at the entrance, but apparently it's ok when you're in there to yell at the top of your voice two aisles over to your kids or your shopping partner. "Do ya thaank cuzin Marvin would like this rocket propelled skateboard, Earl?"
"Billy!! Billy!!!! Put yer damn sister down for a secund and git over here. I'm NOT TELLIN' YOU AGIN, BOY!!"
Ahhhh...where America shops.
Let me ask you a question. Is their a weight minimum for admittance into this store? I'm between 6-1 and 6-2 and weigh about 195, and I'll be damned if I didn't look like I needed to eat some more. In comparison, I must have looked downright famished. Speaking of comparisons by degree, when in there I quickly realized intellectually I was Stephen Hawking in a Red Sox cap, and by virtue of the fact that I wasn't completely transfixed by the singing bass mounted on the wooden plaque, I must have appeared to be a friggin' Rhodes Scholar or the Crown Prince of Pango Pango.
There was one more rule I was apparently unaware of. Once inside, I guess it's ok to let your kids run free wherever they want like it's a public park or something. I see more 4 and 5 year olds - dirty faces with clothing to match - wandering free in WalMart than in a typical school playground. If I were a pedophile predator in there, I would think I'd hit the motherload. You could scarf one of these unaccompanied children up and be half way to the Neverland Ranch before mom and dad - dancing to the rhythmic sounds of the stuffed monkey standing on a large branch singing "TREE times a lady" - even knew you were gone.
We need to bring Osama over here for a side trip to the local WalMart. I think we could change his mind about wanting to destroy us. He'd soon realize we're doing quite well bringing it down all by ourselves.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
WTF?
I'm going to type something here that is totally out of character for me, or at least on the surface I think it is. Now before you jump on my side or start berating me, read the whole thing and make your judgments after the fact. Ready?
President George W. Bush is on a direct collision course to be considered an abject failure as the President of our country. Now - now - all my liberal friends out there stop getting excited, because as you read on you'll see I'm going to jam it to you as well. But to stay on topic, let me present this to you. For starters, the President has increased the national deficit from 3 trillion to 8 trillion...and yes...I said trillion with a 'T'. What we have to show for this deficit is home prices laughably high, a war in Iraq that has the most hardened conservatives like myself scratching their heads, crap-ass border control, and gas prices soaring - then dropping by a matter of pennies only - then going back up almost imperceptibly unless you're really paying attention.
I am paying attention.
We have no exit plan for Iraq, we're threatening Iran for some God-awful reason that is unclear to me, we allow people like Zacharias Moussaoui to potentially escape the death penalty he probably deserves, we have allowed the wonderful men and women of the Armed Forces to be unilaterally embarrassed by the actions of the very few at places like Abu Graib and Gitmo, and not one single believable explanation has come out of the small group that comprises the President's tight inner circle in a long, long time. As a matter of fact, what does come out of there is nothing - silence - nada! Even well-respected and honored republicans across this country are starting to become restless and demand answers publicly. For whatever they're worth - and I don't give them as much weight as some do - the polls have this particular President and his administration at what could be the all-time low in our history if it continues. The average Joe and Jane - the middle class men and women in middle class America - are drifting away from this administration. Why? Because this administration isn't doing a damn thing to try and keep these people in the fold. They maintain their silence; they maintain their arrogance; and they continue to disrespect and ignore the people who put them where they are today.
Even in the face of this negativity, nothing verbal comes out of the inner circle. The President's daily radio show skips over the confusion and anxiety in this country, and subsequently what he plans to do about relieving it. It is so obvious at this point the President, Vice President, Secretary of State, and Secretary of Defense have absolutely no concern what anyone thinks; and it's frightening. It is my belief that no one in that circle of 4 is listening to anyone right now, even their previously most trusted confidant's. Where are we going as a nation and who the hell is taking us there? I think that is a fair question, especially coming from a guy who has a blue spandex suit on under his clothing with a big red 'C' on the chest, for conservative.
Now, the flip side. Never in the 5 years of this administration have the democrats had a better opportunity to take the reigns and show everyone they can right the ship, but you know what? They can't. Wanna know why?
Because Howard Dean is the chairman of the democratic party. Because Ted Kennedy is once again the face of the party, even if that face is squarely planted in his salad at the dinner table. Because Nancy Pelosi is the minority leader of the party, that's why. The "leadership" (and I say that with all the sarcasm I can muster in print) is a total whack job, an alcoholic, and an ultra-liberal big mouth from San Franfreak-o. A blind - deaf - mute Ortangutan with brain damage can see the simplicity of the democrats opportunity to take over the whole deal, but unfortunately being blind drunk or metaphorically brain-dead in California is different from being just sightless or clinically stupid. Instead of jumping on the deficit, we hear about terrorist prison reform. Instead of staying on the who's, what's, and why's of the potentially disastrous ports deal, the dem's want to keep bad-mouthing the military and its role in the war against terrorism. The entire country is up in arms about illegal immigration - especially those who went through the arduous and exhausting procedure to earn their citizenship properly - and the democratic party (along with Senator John McCain) insist on being the apologists for this influx of illegals, and is consistently trying to pass laws to make it easier to sneak in and stay in. I think it's interesting that the democrats and liberals are so "into" human rights, when liberal judges twice in the last 45 days in this country (Vermont and Ohio) have let confessed rapist/child predators walk with probation because they're fighting back at the system they've hated their entire lives - and the law said they could. Where are the "human rights" of the little girls raped and preyed upon? Where is the liberal democratic outrage when the perpetrators of these crimes walk?
Nowhere...trust me on this...nowhere.
The liberal left is as silent on these a-hole judges as the current administration is on their own issues. The dem's have the opportunity to take charge and spearhead manifest change in this country, but instead of working the real issues, they want to talk about insignificant crap like gay marriage and gay adoption. Screw railroad security, let's talk about why we won't let Bill and Bob get married. Hey look....Bill and Bob, I now pronounce you man and husband. Go down to city hall - sign for your kid - and take good care of him.
Can we get on with the important shit now???
Finally, last night I watched a former Rhodes Scholar named Rachel Maddow on Tucker Carlson's MSNBC show say "the difference between the liberal left and democrats (her distinction by the way) and conservative republicans (notice she made no distinction) was that liberals try to make the country better while conservative republicans think about ways to take advantage of every situation." When Tucker asked her to explain what she meant - get this now-
She was silent.
President George W. Bush is on a direct collision course to be considered an abject failure as the President of our country. Now - now - all my liberal friends out there stop getting excited, because as you read on you'll see I'm going to jam it to you as well. But to stay on topic, let me present this to you. For starters, the President has increased the national deficit from 3 trillion to 8 trillion...and yes...I said trillion with a 'T'. What we have to show for this deficit is home prices laughably high, a war in Iraq that has the most hardened conservatives like myself scratching their heads, crap-ass border control, and gas prices soaring - then dropping by a matter of pennies only - then going back up almost imperceptibly unless you're really paying attention.
I am paying attention.
We have no exit plan for Iraq, we're threatening Iran for some God-awful reason that is unclear to me, we allow people like Zacharias Moussaoui to potentially escape the death penalty he probably deserves, we have allowed the wonderful men and women of the Armed Forces to be unilaterally embarrassed by the actions of the very few at places like Abu Graib and Gitmo, and not one single believable explanation has come out of the small group that comprises the President's tight inner circle in a long, long time. As a matter of fact, what does come out of there is nothing - silence - nada! Even well-respected and honored republicans across this country are starting to become restless and demand answers publicly. For whatever they're worth - and I don't give them as much weight as some do - the polls have this particular President and his administration at what could be the all-time low in our history if it continues. The average Joe and Jane - the middle class men and women in middle class America - are drifting away from this administration. Why? Because this administration isn't doing a damn thing to try and keep these people in the fold. They maintain their silence; they maintain their arrogance; and they continue to disrespect and ignore the people who put them where they are today.
Even in the face of this negativity, nothing verbal comes out of the inner circle. The President's daily radio show skips over the confusion and anxiety in this country, and subsequently what he plans to do about relieving it. It is so obvious at this point the President, Vice President, Secretary of State, and Secretary of Defense have absolutely no concern what anyone thinks; and it's frightening. It is my belief that no one in that circle of 4 is listening to anyone right now, even their previously most trusted confidant's. Where are we going as a nation and who the hell is taking us there? I think that is a fair question, especially coming from a guy who has a blue spandex suit on under his clothing with a big red 'C' on the chest, for conservative.
Now, the flip side. Never in the 5 years of this administration have the democrats had a better opportunity to take the reigns and show everyone they can right the ship, but you know what? They can't. Wanna know why?
Because Howard Dean is the chairman of the democratic party. Because Ted Kennedy is once again the face of the party, even if that face is squarely planted in his salad at the dinner table. Because Nancy Pelosi is the minority leader of the party, that's why. The "leadership" (and I say that with all the sarcasm I can muster in print) is a total whack job, an alcoholic, and an ultra-liberal big mouth from San Franfreak-o. A blind - deaf - mute Ortangutan with brain damage can see the simplicity of the democrats opportunity to take over the whole deal, but unfortunately being blind drunk or metaphorically brain-dead in California is different from being just sightless or clinically stupid. Instead of jumping on the deficit, we hear about terrorist prison reform. Instead of staying on the who's, what's, and why's of the potentially disastrous ports deal, the dem's want to keep bad-mouthing the military and its role in the war against terrorism. The entire country is up in arms about illegal immigration - especially those who went through the arduous and exhausting procedure to earn their citizenship properly - and the democratic party (along with Senator John McCain) insist on being the apologists for this influx of illegals, and is consistently trying to pass laws to make it easier to sneak in and stay in. I think it's interesting that the democrats and liberals are so "into" human rights, when liberal judges twice in the last 45 days in this country (Vermont and Ohio) have let confessed rapist/child predators walk with probation because they're fighting back at the system they've hated their entire lives - and the law said they could. Where are the "human rights" of the little girls raped and preyed upon? Where is the liberal democratic outrage when the perpetrators of these crimes walk?
Nowhere...trust me on this...nowhere.
The liberal left is as silent on these a-hole judges as the current administration is on their own issues. The dem's have the opportunity to take charge and spearhead manifest change in this country, but instead of working the real issues, they want to talk about insignificant crap like gay marriage and gay adoption. Screw railroad security, let's talk about why we won't let Bill and Bob get married. Hey look....Bill and Bob, I now pronounce you man and husband. Go down to city hall - sign for your kid - and take good care of him.
Can we get on with the important shit now???
Finally, last night I watched a former Rhodes Scholar named Rachel Maddow on Tucker Carlson's MSNBC show say "the difference between the liberal left and democrats (her distinction by the way) and conservative republicans (notice she made no distinction) was that liberals try to make the country better while conservative republicans think about ways to take advantage of every situation." When Tucker asked her to explain what she meant - get this now-
She was silent.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
The Fire
Remember when Billy Joel wrote that song called "We didn't start the fire" something like 10 years ago? Evidently he remembered each of the hundreds of events listed rapidly in his song from memory, complete with chronological correctness. I was impressed and still am actually. Here is my version of that:
I remember.....
Penny Candy. Red Hot dollars that were 2 for a penny, along with dozens of other goodies. They were all kept in a glass box on top of the counter in a store long-since gone at the end of the street my parents lived on for 50 years.
The smell of my glove. If you played baseball as a kid - with any passion whatsoever - then you certainly remember standing in the field and placing that glove over your face to suck in the aroma of the leather. If you don't remember, didn't do this, or think I'm crazy - you never shared the same passion. You were just going through the motions.
Banana Seats and High Handle bars. You couldn't have just a bike 40 years ago, no siree mister! It had to be a bike with a leopard skin banana seat and high handle bars. Who needed 10-speeds back then? Not I. Slower? I slowed down. Faster? I peddled harder.
Steel Automobiles. Lots of chrome all shiny and reflecting the sunlight. If you see a well maintained American Rambler or Thunderbird driving down the road today, don't you stop and reflect on a different time and culture? You're damn skippy you do.
Parades and Drum & Bugle Corps Competitions. The 4th of July was always so cool when I grew up. One of the biggest parades anywhere was held, with band after band after band marching by. Floats, fire engines with their powerful horns blaring, funny cars filled with clowns throwing candy to the kids. Afterwards, all the bands would go to the local minor league baseball stadium and have a competition that lasted all day and into the night. Topped off with a modest but really nice fireworks display.
"Look" Magazine. "Life" magazine's more photography-oriented sister. I miss it.
Peace signs. There was a time where they were everywhere. It was pretty much the mantra for harmless hippies and college kids. For some reason when you see one now, it doesn't have the same effect. Some things are meant for certain times and places. A Cindy Sheehan rally is about 35 years removed from that time and place, and it makes me feel uncomfortable when I see one on TV. Kind of like when I see a 50+ year old man with a long pony tail and 5 earrings. Dude...get a haircut.
The Green Monster. The first time I entered Fenway Park to see a Red Sox game in person, I was awestruck at the green everywhere...but in particular, the 35 ft tall left field wall, which to a 7 year old looked at least 250 feet high.
My parents house. When you're a little boy, everything looks so big. Later in life after being away in the service for a lifetime with only the occasional stop-over, you see how small houses were that were built 85 years ago. Still a wonderful place, that house. Lot's of warmth and friendly memories there.
The woods in back. We used to ski in these woods, rode sleds through these woods, found the occasional Revolutionary War artifact in these woods, and played a lot of cowboys and indians in these woods. They're still there, unfortunately I'm here. By the way the skis and the poles were made of wood, and the ski boots were tied not strapped.
The McDonald's Arch sign. I remember when the sign said "Over half a million sold", and it took years to reach a million. I saw something the other night that said they sold 46 Billion last year alone.
Rotary Phones that actually "rang". A Gallon of Gas was 50 cents. Movie Theaters had balconies that would open for a Saturday matinee, and each theater in town had 1 screen and 1 movie showing. I'm not too sure of the price, but it wasn't equal to the mortgage payment like it is today. Drive-in Movies, and sneaking the kids into them via the trunk. 3 TV stations. To be honest, that part we do better today. Stealing your first kiss at age 16 and not 12. Obedience. If you were born after 1985, you have no chance of understanding that word.
So much more, all of it drifting farther and farther away.
Sigh.
I remember.....
Penny Candy. Red Hot dollars that were 2 for a penny, along with dozens of other goodies. They were all kept in a glass box on top of the counter in a store long-since gone at the end of the street my parents lived on for 50 years.
The smell of my glove. If you played baseball as a kid - with any passion whatsoever - then you certainly remember standing in the field and placing that glove over your face to suck in the aroma of the leather. If you don't remember, didn't do this, or think I'm crazy - you never shared the same passion. You were just going through the motions.
Banana Seats and High Handle bars. You couldn't have just a bike 40 years ago, no siree mister! It had to be a bike with a leopard skin banana seat and high handle bars. Who needed 10-speeds back then? Not I. Slower? I slowed down. Faster? I peddled harder.
Steel Automobiles. Lots of chrome all shiny and reflecting the sunlight. If you see a well maintained American Rambler or Thunderbird driving down the road today, don't you stop and reflect on a different time and culture? You're damn skippy you do.
Parades and Drum & Bugle Corps Competitions. The 4th of July was always so cool when I grew up. One of the biggest parades anywhere was held, with band after band after band marching by. Floats, fire engines with their powerful horns blaring, funny cars filled with clowns throwing candy to the kids. Afterwards, all the bands would go to the local minor league baseball stadium and have a competition that lasted all day and into the night. Topped off with a modest but really nice fireworks display.
"Look" Magazine. "Life" magazine's more photography-oriented sister. I miss it.
Peace signs. There was a time where they were everywhere. It was pretty much the mantra for harmless hippies and college kids. For some reason when you see one now, it doesn't have the same effect. Some things are meant for certain times and places. A Cindy Sheehan rally is about 35 years removed from that time and place, and it makes me feel uncomfortable when I see one on TV. Kind of like when I see a 50+ year old man with a long pony tail and 5 earrings. Dude...get a haircut.
The Green Monster. The first time I entered Fenway Park to see a Red Sox game in person, I was awestruck at the green everywhere...but in particular, the 35 ft tall left field wall, which to a 7 year old looked at least 250 feet high.
My parents house. When you're a little boy, everything looks so big. Later in life after being away in the service for a lifetime with only the occasional stop-over, you see how small houses were that were built 85 years ago. Still a wonderful place, that house. Lot's of warmth and friendly memories there.
The woods in back. We used to ski in these woods, rode sleds through these woods, found the occasional Revolutionary War artifact in these woods, and played a lot of cowboys and indians in these woods. They're still there, unfortunately I'm here. By the way the skis and the poles were made of wood, and the ski boots were tied not strapped.
The McDonald's Arch sign. I remember when the sign said "Over half a million sold", and it took years to reach a million. I saw something the other night that said they sold 46 Billion last year alone.
Rotary Phones that actually "rang". A Gallon of Gas was 50 cents. Movie Theaters had balconies that would open for a Saturday matinee, and each theater in town had 1 screen and 1 movie showing. I'm not too sure of the price, but it wasn't equal to the mortgage payment like it is today. Drive-in Movies, and sneaking the kids into them via the trunk. 3 TV stations. To be honest, that part we do better today. Stealing your first kiss at age 16 and not 12. Obedience. If you were born after 1985, you have no chance of understanding that word.
So much more, all of it drifting farther and farther away.
Sigh.
The Rocket Trip
I've been thinking a lot about that rocket trip to another galaxy, and I've decided it has to be one-way. Once I leave, there is no way I'm coming back. I decided there were probably a few essentials that would be needed on the voyage, and for your edification, I've listed them below:
Cuisine:
A lifetime supply of Pepperidge Farm cheddar cheese goldfish.
A lifetime supply of Snyders pretzel rods
A man has to eat to survive, you know.
DVD's
"Faith Rewarded"...the story of the 2004 Boston Red Sox.
"Saving Private Ryan" and "Band of Brothers". Two nice reminders of a time where not only the men were brave, but the country was as well.
"The Dukes of Hazzard" with Jessica Simpson. What? When this movie didn't win "Best Cinematography" I knew the Oscar's were fixed.
"Home movies" of my kid's birthday parties. As much as we bore our friends with these, they're only special to us. By the way, that was a hint. Stop making me watch your kid's home movies, and if you're a fellow employee, stop sending me e-mail photo's of your little darling. Really.
Cd's
"Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" by Elton John
"Who's Next" by The Who
"Frampton Comes Alive" by Peter Frampton when he had hair
"One more for/from the Road" by Lynard Skynard
Some compilation CD's with songs from the 50's and 60's.
Visual
Pictures of my kids and family
A live feed to ESPN and ESPN2
That's about it. I just need to come up with $20 Million so I can do this. In pondering this adventure, I've discovered what a simple, uncomplicated man I really am. I've also come to realize all the ancillary crud we are exposed to on a daily basis does absolutely nothing to enhance my life one bit.
And yes, I'm talking to you, Sean Hannity.
Cuisine:
A lifetime supply of Pepperidge Farm cheddar cheese goldfish.
A lifetime supply of Snyders pretzel rods
A man has to eat to survive, you know.
DVD's
"Faith Rewarded"...the story of the 2004 Boston Red Sox.
"Saving Private Ryan" and "Band of Brothers". Two nice reminders of a time where not only the men were brave, but the country was as well.
"The Dukes of Hazzard" with Jessica Simpson. What? When this movie didn't win "Best Cinematography" I knew the Oscar's were fixed.
"Home movies" of my kid's birthday parties. As much as we bore our friends with these, they're only special to us. By the way, that was a hint. Stop making me watch your kid's home movies, and if you're a fellow employee, stop sending me e-mail photo's of your little darling. Really.
Cd's
"Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" by Elton John
"Who's Next" by The Who
"Frampton Comes Alive" by Peter Frampton when he had hair
"One more for/from the Road" by Lynard Skynard
Some compilation CD's with songs from the 50's and 60's.
Visual
Pictures of my kids and family
A live feed to ESPN and ESPN2
That's about it. I just need to come up with $20 Million so I can do this. In pondering this adventure, I've discovered what a simple, uncomplicated man I really am. I've also come to realize all the ancillary crud we are exposed to on a daily basis does absolutely nothing to enhance my life one bit.
And yes, I'm talking to you, Sean Hannity.
Saddam
Saddam Hussein took the stand today for the first time in his crimes against humanities trial, and called the International Court a "Comedy".
"Not as good a 'Seinfeld', but better than 'Just shoot me'", the deposed dictator said. He went on to add the last time he laughed this hard was when "Chemical Ali" got the mixture wrong in the Northern Kurdish region in 1988, and instead of killing a couple of key people in the town, the entire 5,000 person population was wiped out.
"Gosh....we all had a few beers that night in my palace, and laughed and laughed at that foul up", Saddam said. "Darn near killed Ali himself."
Gen. Ali Hassan al-Majeed, affectionately known as "Chemical Ali", died tragically in a coalition air strike in April of 2003.
"Not as good a 'Seinfeld', but better than 'Just shoot me'", the deposed dictator said. He went on to add the last time he laughed this hard was when "Chemical Ali" got the mixture wrong in the Northern Kurdish region in 1988, and instead of killing a couple of key people in the town, the entire 5,000 person population was wiped out.
"Gosh....we all had a few beers that night in my palace, and laughed and laughed at that foul up", Saddam said. "Darn near killed Ali himself."
Gen. Ali Hassan al-Majeed, affectionately known as "Chemical Ali", died tragically in a coalition air strike in April of 2003.
PS 3
The Sony Corp announced today that the long-awaited Spring of 2006 unveiling of the vaunted Play Station 3 will be delayed possibly until November because of an internal software problem. This is seen as a major set-back to the electronics giant.
It's also a huge setback to millions parents all across America.
Without the new Play Station, mothers and fathers will be forced to actually communicate with their children when they come home from work in the evenings, making for some rather awkward conversations and situations. "I've been so used to little Marky being totally absorbed in his gangsta gunfight game that I've never had to talk to him before", said a father in Ooleewop Minnesota. "I had no idea he was so tall now."
Other complications are sure to arise. Homework assignments will no doubt start being completed - and correctly - which will lead to teachers thinking that Mom has started doing her child's work, which would be cheating. Grades, previously exalted at the 'C-' level will increase, causing additional stress due to the now imperative financial burden of having a child previously pre-destined for 3 months at the local community college who is now thinking of a major university and a quality education.
Fast and snack food companies are outraged by the delay. Without the new video game, children will actually start going outside and exercising, leading to a reduction in overweight or outright obese youngsters, which will impact the bottom line of companies like "Debbie's Cakes".
"These and other issues associated with this delay are bound to cause serious financial difficulties in a kind of domino-effect", said Senator Biff Boffo of California. "It is the moral and financial obligation of this administration to step in an lend assistance to the Sony corporation to keep this potential disaster from happening", he concluded.
Oh the humanity.
It's also a huge setback to millions parents all across America.
Without the new Play Station, mothers and fathers will be forced to actually communicate with their children when they come home from work in the evenings, making for some rather awkward conversations and situations. "I've been so used to little Marky being totally absorbed in his gangsta gunfight game that I've never had to talk to him before", said a father in Ooleewop Minnesota. "I had no idea he was so tall now."
Other complications are sure to arise. Homework assignments will no doubt start being completed - and correctly - which will lead to teachers thinking that Mom has started doing her child's work, which would be cheating. Grades, previously exalted at the 'C-' level will increase, causing additional stress due to the now imperative financial burden of having a child previously pre-destined for 3 months at the local community college who is now thinking of a major university and a quality education.
Fast and snack food companies are outraged by the delay. Without the new video game, children will actually start going outside and exercising, leading to a reduction in overweight or outright obese youngsters, which will impact the bottom line of companies like "Debbie's Cakes".
"These and other issues associated with this delay are bound to cause serious financial difficulties in a kind of domino-effect", said Senator Biff Boffo of California. "It is the moral and financial obligation of this administration to step in an lend assistance to the Sony corporation to keep this potential disaster from happening", he concluded.
Oh the humanity.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
The old man and the kid
Sometime in late June or early July I'm going to become a grandfather for the first time. Her name will be Sage Diane, and I just wanted to take a few seconds to tell her how happy I am she's entering my world. It's unnaturally warm right now, and it's still just March. So it's bound to be extremely warm in July when you show up, Sage. You better be prepared.
See you then,
Love...Grandpa
http://solosong.net/gordon/beautiful/beauti.wav
See you then,
Love...Grandpa
http://solosong.net/gordon/beautiful/beauti.wav
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