You love to wordsmith, which is a wonderful and creative quality.
Most of the time.
In its most sinister form, word-smithing is known as Political Correctness. It started out innocently enough when we started calling the garbage man a “sanitation engineer”, implying that the guy hanging off the back of the truck in the boots and the smelly clothing graduated Suma Cum Laude from Princeton, and he’s just doing this work now while he awaits acceptance into Stanford Medical School. This soon morphed into more clever phraseology, pinning anyone to the wall without the current manual. Out of touch with the newest and best words? You will surely suffer at the hands of the PC police.
An “Oriental” person became “Asian”, people of color in this country adopted Africa as their native homeland, even if the closest they ever got to Africa was a vacation day at Bush Gardens in Tampa. This gave rise to the hyphenated name…African-American. Funny, but I’ve never heard a black man from England call himself African-cockneyed, or is cockneyed no longer acceptable? The most recent manual I have is the PC-PC version 2.1, (available through Microsoft, which will soon be called “Teeny-weeny gentle”) but I’m sure we’re far beyond that now.
Soon thereafter, hyphenation took on its own split personality – yes, pun intended. Thousands of women all over America decided they couldn’t possibly stand on convention, and Susie Thomas became Susie Thomas-Bernham-Blue, which conveniently rhymes with I’m-JL4-so-bite-me-too.
And now we have a new list of words that for years were harmless and ineffectual, but are now considered treasonous, blasphemous, a whole lot of other ous’s, as well as being down-right criminal, depending upon your position or status:
“Flip Chart” has to be changed because evidently it offends Philipino’s, or at least those that can’t spell. Feel free to re-read if you didn’t get what I said.
In Glasgow Scotland, it is no longer proper to order “Black Coffee”. It has been legally established that “black coffee” is racist. I’m thinking “Columbian-Dark” would be a good substitute, incorporating the finest elements of color, nationality, and hyphenation.
“Mennaissance” has replaced “Metrosexual.” Since I neither am nor know what a metrosexual is or was, I’m not going to waste my time worrying about a mennaissance man.
In this country, there are those in political authority who want to call “Illegal Immigrants” “migratory populace.” Is your head spinning yet, Buckwheat? Well, I’m not done.
Back to the British Isles, a newspaper in England is trying to defer from using the word “terrorist”, while substituting it with “Misguided Criminals”. Of course. And a rapist is simply someone with lousy penis aim.
The common computer terms, “Master and Slave” have been deemed offensive, because they “bring back memories of the early days of America.” Last time I looked, Strom Thurmond finally passed away, and he’s the only person I can think of besides Dick Clark and Bob Barker who would or could have any actual memories of 150 years ago.
And I saved the best for last:
Thousands of NOW veterans are again pushing for the word “history” to be called “HERstory”. Apparently, women also made up the past (who knew?) and they want their just deserts.
Subsequently, I think the term “mathematics” has reached its zenith as well, and I propose we now call it, “Addsubtractdividametrics”, giving the proper recognition where it belongs.
See you all later...unless of course I meant to say, "at a time in the future".
Valium please.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Friday, March 30, 2007
Been tryin'
I've been tryin' to stay a-political the last month or so. But in this case, I just want to ask a question. Which one of these men do we want to cut the funding on?
Monday, March 19, 2007
Yeah, but you really want to try their poached egg supreme latte, with mayonaise and noodle flavored cinamon powder
Starlight, star bright. First Starbucks, I see tonight.
It started around the same time, early to mid-1990's. Political correctness and the Starbucks franchise, forever intertwined in our mix-and match-world. "Coffee" became extinct right around the time that "handicapped' people did.
"Hi, welcome to Starbucks. May I help you?"
Yes...I'd like a cup of coffee.
"You bet. Could I get you to step over to this register sir?"
Ok. What's wrong with that register?
"It's reserved for handicapable people."
Handicapable?
"That's correct, sir. Soooo, what kind of coffee would you like?"
Ummmmm....just a coffee will do.
"Ok. Would you like a rum-flavored pizza and chocolate cake with hazel nut whipped topping?"
A what? No, no. I'd like a cup of coffee. Do you sell coffee?
"Why yes we do Sparky. We sell coffee in 1008 different flavors and 13 varieties of colors. Would you like a tree bark and speckled walnut flavored bagel made from crushed sunflower seeds and soy bean to go with it?"
To go with what?
"Our blend of the day: Salmon and toasted frog legs super-mega dude frothy, with a glazed onion dip in our very own Starbucks display case."
Wow. And does that come with a cup of coffee too?
"Sir...that is the cup of coffee."
Really?
And thus, the phenomenon known as Starbucks began, and an entire generation of people born between 1970 and 1980 gravitated towards it like metal shavings to an electro-magnet. Soon, Starbucks the "coffee" store became Starbucks the "retail" store, where - much like the "Cracker Barrel" restaurants - you have to go through the area where they want you to spend the real money before you can get to the counter. And now, Starbucks has its own record label, to produce God-knows-what kind of Starbucks music. Perhaps a mix of flock of seagulls/techno/mariah/JLo/dion with a touch of Puff Diddy Daddy Doody or whatever he calls himself, mixed in.
So why did I mix Starbucks and PC?
Oh, that explanation is easy. You see, exactly like Starbucks, political correctness started innocently enough, with basic courtesy being the desired effect. Now PC has taken on a life of its own, with a huge following of strung out and overly hyperactive and hypersensitive individuals. So when I see or hear something PC, I throw my hands up into the air, shake my head violently, and say out loud, "Where in the hell did all of this come from?" "Is somebody having a bad Ecstasy trip?"
Just like Starbucks.
Sparky.
It started around the same time, early to mid-1990's. Political correctness and the Starbucks franchise, forever intertwined in our mix-and match-world. "Coffee" became extinct right around the time that "handicapped' people did.
"Hi, welcome to Starbucks. May I help you?"
Yes...I'd like a cup of coffee.
"You bet. Could I get you to step over to this register sir?"
Ok. What's wrong with that register?
"It's reserved for handicapable people."
Handicapable?
"That's correct, sir. Soooo, what kind of coffee would you like?"
Ummmmm....just a coffee will do.
"Ok. Would you like a rum-flavored pizza and chocolate cake with hazel nut whipped topping?"
A what? No, no. I'd like a cup of coffee. Do you sell coffee?
"Why yes we do Sparky. We sell coffee in 1008 different flavors and 13 varieties of colors. Would you like a tree bark and speckled walnut flavored bagel made from crushed sunflower seeds and soy bean to go with it?"
To go with what?
"Our blend of the day: Salmon and toasted frog legs super-mega dude frothy, with a glazed onion dip in our very own Starbucks display case."
Wow. And does that come with a cup of coffee too?
"Sir...that is the cup of coffee."
Really?
And thus, the phenomenon known as Starbucks began, and an entire generation of people born between 1970 and 1980 gravitated towards it like metal shavings to an electro-magnet. Soon, Starbucks the "coffee" store became Starbucks the "retail" store, where - much like the "Cracker Barrel" restaurants - you have to go through the area where they want you to spend the real money before you can get to the counter. And now, Starbucks has its own record label, to produce God-knows-what kind of Starbucks music. Perhaps a mix of flock of seagulls/techno/mariah/JLo/dion with a touch of Puff Diddy Daddy Doody or whatever he calls himself, mixed in.
So why did I mix Starbucks and PC?
Oh, that explanation is easy. You see, exactly like Starbucks, political correctness started innocently enough, with basic courtesy being the desired effect. Now PC has taken on a life of its own, with a huge following of strung out and overly hyperactive and hypersensitive individuals. So when I see or hear something PC, I throw my hands up into the air, shake my head violently, and say out loud, "Where in the hell did all of this come from?" "Is somebody having a bad Ecstasy trip?"
Just like Starbucks.
Sparky.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Elton John - Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow 1987
This is from the "Prince's Trust" concert at Wembley Arena in 1987. Elton John had recently met Ryan White, who would become his friend until White's death in 1990. A great song written by Carol King, sung with passion and sadness by EJ.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
His turn
On November 24th, 1991 I was leading the La Vida Golf Club Championship by 6 strokes heading into the third and final 18 hole round. It was a blustery Sunday morning, and I had won many golf championships in my time, and I would continue to win many more after this particular day. What was unique about this particular championship was La Vida country club, 55 years old at the time, was situated in the heart of Savannah, Georgia, and was home to some of the best amateur golfers in the entire state. If you know anything about Georgia, the state is large and the number of talented athletes - in every sport amateur and professional - is an extensive list indeed. Any time you can crack the code and win something is a monumental achievement. I had played the first two rounds in 3 under par 69, and 1 under par 71. I was firmly in command of what would have been my 35th amateur championship of the club level or higher.
Thing is, my wife was nine months pregnant. As we sat together at the breakfast table that morning, discussing what I planned to do to celebrate afterwards, I noticed her enthusiasm for the moment was not there. I hastened my way to my car, totally aware of what was going on. As I went to back out of the driveway, my wife opened the front door and shook her head. I knew the tournament at that moment was gone.
I rushed her to the hospital at Ft. Stewart, where they admitted her for delivery. After several conversations with the doctor, I made what was at the time a horrible call to the golf club, where I stammered out the fact that I was withdrawing from the championship. It must be noted that what I did might well be considered a rare feat in the world of sports. Who would withdraw from a 54-hole tournament, only 18 holes from the finish with a virtually insurmountable lead?
Evidently, that person was me.
This morning, the boy that came out that November day was formally informed he has been selected to the National Honor Society at his high school. He and I have known for about a month or so, but today was the day they officially announced it in the school.
He was born 24 November, 1991...7 lbs, 3 oz. He is a 15 year old sophomore, a year ahead of his peers because he started school in California, which has a different age cut-off than Florida. So this sophomore - who should by rights be a freshman - is enrolled in a school who's "Institute of Engineering" is considered one of the top public school programs in the entire state. He has transcended local and regional standards, and has placed himself in a very unique group of people.
He has been a varsity soccer player both years, even though he looked no more than 10 years old his freshman year. He is the media editor of his 2006-2007 Yearbook Committee, he's a 5 year captain of his club soccer team, and he has done most of this under some very suspect conditions.
You see, he was diagnosed as a Type 1 diabetic in March of 2005.
He injects himself with a syringe at least two times a day (sometimes three) and sticks his fingers and checks his blood sugar 7 times a day (10 when he's playing soccer), suffers from the ups and downs of sugar overload/deficiency [try that sometime while running non-stop for 80 minutes in a soccer game], and he has never complained.
That's right...never.
Oh sure, he cried when he found out, stating that it wasn't fair - and it wasn't. But he has pushed on academically, socially, and athletically, routinely taking on bigger and stronger players on the soccer field and putting them in their place. For those of you who don't know it, diabetes limits your growth and physical development, because doctors limit your diet and the subsequent intake of sugar. So my 5-7 inch tall, 125 lb son has to take on man-sized boys, many of them 6-1 and 190 lbs, and he does so with courage and resolve - and he NEVER backs off.
He could have quit the day he was diagnosed with this awful affliction - but he didn't. He could have claimed that the kids he's competing against on the soccer field are too big and too strong for him - but he hasn't. He could have said that he felt like crap...the diabetes getting the best of him, and skipped his homework or school itself, but the proud young fighter of a man that he is - he just couldn't.
And on the 23rd of April, in this the 2007th year, he will make his father realize that the best day he ever had was when he cashed in his chips on a winning hand, and went to the hospital to meet the newborn boy that would become a bigger man at 15 than that father had ever been in his entire life.
Perhaps that was the message of that November Sunday, 15 and a half years ago: "Move over dad, it's my turn now."
Thing is, my wife was nine months pregnant. As we sat together at the breakfast table that morning, discussing what I planned to do to celebrate afterwards, I noticed her enthusiasm for the moment was not there. I hastened my way to my car, totally aware of what was going on. As I went to back out of the driveway, my wife opened the front door and shook her head. I knew the tournament at that moment was gone.
I rushed her to the hospital at Ft. Stewart, where they admitted her for delivery. After several conversations with the doctor, I made what was at the time a horrible call to the golf club, where I stammered out the fact that I was withdrawing from the championship. It must be noted that what I did might well be considered a rare feat in the world of sports. Who would withdraw from a 54-hole tournament, only 18 holes from the finish with a virtually insurmountable lead?
Evidently, that person was me.
This morning, the boy that came out that November day was formally informed he has been selected to the National Honor Society at his high school. He and I have known for about a month or so, but today was the day they officially announced it in the school.
He was born 24 November, 1991...7 lbs, 3 oz. He is a 15 year old sophomore, a year ahead of his peers because he started school in California, which has a different age cut-off than Florida. So this sophomore - who should by rights be a freshman - is enrolled in a school who's "Institute of Engineering" is considered one of the top public school programs in the entire state. He has transcended local and regional standards, and has placed himself in a very unique group of people.
He has been a varsity soccer player both years, even though he looked no more than 10 years old his freshman year. He is the media editor of his 2006-2007 Yearbook Committee, he's a 5 year captain of his club soccer team, and he has done most of this under some very suspect conditions.
You see, he was diagnosed as a Type 1 diabetic in March of 2005.
He injects himself with a syringe at least two times a day (sometimes three) and sticks his fingers and checks his blood sugar 7 times a day (10 when he's playing soccer), suffers from the ups and downs of sugar overload/deficiency [try that sometime while running non-stop for 80 minutes in a soccer game], and he has never complained.
That's right...never.
Oh sure, he cried when he found out, stating that it wasn't fair - and it wasn't. But he has pushed on academically, socially, and athletically, routinely taking on bigger and stronger players on the soccer field and putting them in their place. For those of you who don't know it, diabetes limits your growth and physical development, because doctors limit your diet and the subsequent intake of sugar. So my 5-7 inch tall, 125 lb son has to take on man-sized boys, many of them 6-1 and 190 lbs, and he does so with courage and resolve - and he NEVER backs off.
He could have quit the day he was diagnosed with this awful affliction - but he didn't. He could have claimed that the kids he's competing against on the soccer field are too big and too strong for him - but he hasn't. He could have said that he felt like crap...the diabetes getting the best of him, and skipped his homework or school itself, but the proud young fighter of a man that he is - he just couldn't.
And on the 23rd of April, in this the 2007th year, he will make his father realize that the best day he ever had was when he cashed in his chips on a winning hand, and went to the hospital to meet the newborn boy that would become a bigger man at 15 than that father had ever been in his entire life.
Perhaps that was the message of that November Sunday, 15 and a half years ago: "Move over dad, it's my turn now."
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
P.E.
In schools, school districts, and homes all across this nation, the argument rages on about physical education. Should it be removed from the curriculum? If it has been removed already, should it be reinstated? Does having PE take away from the three R's? Do the three R's matter if you're 5-7, 297 lbs? Is having a degree in mechanical engineering any good if you're dead of a heart attack at age 25?
Can you think of a good reason why we need P.E.? I can think of three...
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Needs fixing...and fast!
Part II
So, how do you fix something as broken as Florida seems to be?
You do it the same way everyone else does it - at the local and state level, you elect representatives that you believe will take steps and measures that will strengthen your community. For decades - literally decades - the family's living in Florida couldn't get quantifiable representation to pass any laws or monetary appropriations that deal with children's issues, because the snow-birds would go to the polls in strength and vote any measures down. In fairness to them, they were on a fixed budget and their children and grandchildren were all living in other parts of the country. It took years of teeth-gnashing and fist pounding to finally get the parents to go to the polls and outnumber the snow-birds, and we have accomplished that goal in the past 10 years or so, and we're moving forward with some actual educational and child-care issues that lay dormant while the rest of the country passed us on.
It is the essence of a "representative government" that we pick the correct people to "represent" us. If a man from Kansas is elected state rep to Washington, D.C., he damn sure better be talking about farming and agriculture when he goes there. Detroit? Inner city issues and the auto industry. So on and so forth. It's actually a fairly simple concept. But nothing seems to be simple to the simpleton's in Florida. If you elect the wrong person, you'll get the wrong production. I give you three of Florida's elected State Senators, "distinguished gentlemen" and ladies, all.
Republican State Senator Michael "Mike" Bennett from the southwest coast of Florida, near Ft. Myers and Port Charlotte. He's the doof-ball I spoke of yesterday that wants to make it illegal to obey the law. I've covered him already, so I won't go back over it.
Democrat Frederica Wilson, from the southeast corner of the state, representing the greater Miami area.
Senator Wilson is famous for her groundbreaking education reform, right?
Ummmmm....no.
She's famous for the fair tax resolution, isn't she?
Ummmmmm....no.
Ecology and environment?
Ummmmm....no.
Senator Wilson is famous for wearing hats that match her clothing. What? Who wouldn't want to elect such a brilliant fashion plate as her? Senator Wilson's claim to fame as far as her job is concerned, is to try and pass a law that eliminates grades in schools. FL Proposal 0334.
"Children who achieve C grades and lower are categorized separately from children who are more successful in school."
Duuuuuuuh. That's the idea, Senator. Identify those who need help and those who can press on farther. You do this through testing and assignment of competency statistics, known as "grades".
Her second claim to fame is on-going, where in Fl Proposal 0536, she wants to ban the word "Alien" when talking about citizens from outside this country that are here without proper paperwork or permission. Evidently she thinks...wait...forget it. You get the idea.
Lastly, we have Orlando-based Democrat, Gary Siplin. Gary is currently sponsoring two bills, FL Proposals 0456 and 0466. These proposals have to do with wrongful incrimination lawsuits, and the reestablishment of convicted felon's right to vote.
Why is he sponsoring these two laws?
Because he was recently convicted of Grand Theft, misappropriation of public funds, fraud, and using government employees for improper means. He is free right now because his case is in appeal.
If we keep electing these types of people, Florida's reputation will not get better...it will get WORSE. But that fact notwithstanding, voters have not deterred from going to the polls and letting these morons call the shots for them.
I leave you with a still photo from a local Orlando Television News footage. That is State Senator Gary Siplin - a "distinguished gentleman" - scaling a chain link fence in an expensive suit to keep from being interviewed.
Your Honor...? The prosecution rests.
So, how do you fix something as broken as Florida seems to be?
You do it the same way everyone else does it - at the local and state level, you elect representatives that you believe will take steps and measures that will strengthen your community. For decades - literally decades - the family's living in Florida couldn't get quantifiable representation to pass any laws or monetary appropriations that deal with children's issues, because the snow-birds would go to the polls in strength and vote any measures down. In fairness to them, they were on a fixed budget and their children and grandchildren were all living in other parts of the country. It took years of teeth-gnashing and fist pounding to finally get the parents to go to the polls and outnumber the snow-birds, and we have accomplished that goal in the past 10 years or so, and we're moving forward with some actual educational and child-care issues that lay dormant while the rest of the country passed us on.
It is the essence of a "representative government" that we pick the correct people to "represent" us. If a man from Kansas is elected state rep to Washington, D.C., he damn sure better be talking about farming and agriculture when he goes there. Detroit? Inner city issues and the auto industry. So on and so forth. It's actually a fairly simple concept. But nothing seems to be simple to the simpleton's in Florida. If you elect the wrong person, you'll get the wrong production. I give you three of Florida's elected State Senators, "distinguished gentlemen" and ladies, all.
Republican State Senator Michael "Mike" Bennett from the southwest coast of Florida, near Ft. Myers and Port Charlotte. He's the doof-ball I spoke of yesterday that wants to make it illegal to obey the law. I've covered him already, so I won't go back over it.
Democrat Frederica Wilson, from the southeast corner of the state, representing the greater Miami area.Senator Wilson is famous for her groundbreaking education reform, right?
Ummmmm....no.
She's famous for the fair tax resolution, isn't she?
Ummmmmm....no.
Ecology and environment?
Ummmmm....no.
Senator Wilson is famous for wearing hats that match her clothing. What? Who wouldn't want to elect such a brilliant fashion plate as her? Senator Wilson's claim to fame as far as her job is concerned, is to try and pass a law that eliminates grades in schools. FL Proposal 0334.
"Children who achieve C grades and lower are categorized separately from children who are more successful in school."
Duuuuuuuh. That's the idea, Senator. Identify those who need help and those who can press on farther. You do this through testing and assignment of competency statistics, known as "grades".
Her second claim to fame is on-going, where in Fl Proposal 0536, she wants to ban the word "Alien" when talking about citizens from outside this country that are here without proper paperwork or permission. Evidently she thinks...wait...forget it. You get the idea.
Lastly, we have Orlando-based Democrat, Gary Siplin. Gary is currently sponsoring two bills, FL Proposals 0456 and 0466. These proposals have to do with wrongful incrimination lawsuits, and the reestablishment of convicted felon's right to vote.
Why is he sponsoring these two laws?
Because he was recently convicted of Grand Theft, misappropriation of public funds, fraud, and using government employees for improper means. He is free right now because his case is in appeal.
If we keep electing these types of people, Florida's reputation will not get better...it will get WORSE. But that fact notwithstanding, voters have not deterred from going to the polls and letting these morons call the shots for them.
I leave you with a still photo from a local Orlando Television News footage. That is State Senator Gary Siplin - a "distinguished gentleman" - scaling a chain link fence in an expensive suit to keep from being interviewed.
Your Honor...? The prosecution rests.
Needs fixing...and fast!
PART I
This must be just like livin' in Paradise.
And I don't wanna go home.
Just like Paradise. Just like Paradise.
- David Lee Roth, 1986
Ahhhh, Florida. The sunshine state. Land of the free, home of the expression, "Three T-shirt - 10 dollah". Orange groves replaced by endless rows of living communities that if you're prone to drunk driving, would make it nearly impossible for you to find your own house, since it looks just like everyone else's house. The Miami area - or as I like to call it - "New Jersey South", with it's pink highrise's that look suspiciously like the gray highrise's in Newark.
Oh, I'm sorry. That's mauve - not pink. My bad.
Florida, who's number one import seems to be cement. Florida, the place where they print an election ballot that 90% have no problem understanding, but 10% are obviously too stupid to...and the 10% say they tried to vote for Al Gore, but instead Mr. Ed led the electorate in Palm Beach county (Yes; I had the same "Butterfly" ballot in my county, and had no problem with it - and Mr Ed lost).
Florida...it just can't seem to stay out of the news, can it?
Why is Florida the bastion of retardedness it seems to be? Well, there are several reasons for this, primarily no state tax, the promise of warm weather, and a plethora of service industry jobs for the unskilled and uneducated. This has led to a progression in the state that started over 50 years ago. Initially, Florida was the winter destination of the elderly, where the term "snowbird" was coined. Then Walt showed up with the mouse in Orlando, and the minimum wage explosion began. Finally, as factories folded up north in favor of outsourcing to other countries, people came here in droves; people without much going on for them. Florida has long since been just a vacation spot, as families dominate the landscape, and millions of children now live here. Most of them, children of the above-mentioned imports.
Floridians will hate this blog; but it's true.
We as citizens of this state contribute to the issues, sometimes directly...sometime indirectly. The aforementioned election fiasco, mismanaged from a PR (and possibly legal) perspective by then Secretary of State Katherine Harris; the Jessica Lundsford murder; Carlie Bruscia, abducted and murdered on Super Sunday in 2004; Hurricane's ripping the place to shreds two years in a row; Orlando becoming more dangerous than NYC in the last year and a half with respect to the murder rate; and most recently, the raid and arrest of several pharmaceutical laboratories in Orlando that were manufacturing steroids, human growth hormone, and pain killers, then selling them on-line to prominent athletes, movies stars, and the most horrifying of all - high school football coaches nationwide.
And what do we Floridians do about it? Nothing.
TO BE CONTINUED...
This must be just like livin' in Paradise.
And I don't wanna go home.
Just like Paradise. Just like Paradise.
- David Lee Roth, 1986
Ahhhh, Florida. The sunshine state. Land of the free, home of the expression, "Three T-shirt - 10 dollah". Orange groves replaced by endless rows of living communities that if you're prone to drunk driving, would make it nearly impossible for you to find your own house, since it looks just like everyone else's house. The Miami area - or as I like to call it - "New Jersey South", with it's pink highrise's that look suspiciously like the gray highrise's in Newark.
Oh, I'm sorry. That's mauve - not pink. My bad.
Florida, who's number one import seems to be cement. Florida, the place where they print an election ballot that 90% have no problem understanding, but 10% are obviously too stupid to...and the 10% say they tried to vote for Al Gore, but instead Mr. Ed led the electorate in Palm Beach county (Yes; I had the same "Butterfly" ballot in my county, and had no problem with it - and Mr Ed lost).
Florida...it just can't seem to stay out of the news, can it?
Why is Florida the bastion of retardedness it seems to be? Well, there are several reasons for this, primarily no state tax, the promise of warm weather, and a plethora of service industry jobs for the unskilled and uneducated. This has led to a progression in the state that started over 50 years ago. Initially, Florida was the winter destination of the elderly, where the term "snowbird" was coined. Then Walt showed up with the mouse in Orlando, and the minimum wage explosion began. Finally, as factories folded up north in favor of outsourcing to other countries, people came here in droves; people without much going on for them. Florida has long since been just a vacation spot, as families dominate the landscape, and millions of children now live here. Most of them, children of the above-mentioned imports.
Floridians will hate this blog; but it's true.
We as citizens of this state contribute to the issues, sometimes directly...sometime indirectly. The aforementioned election fiasco, mismanaged from a PR (and possibly legal) perspective by then Secretary of State Katherine Harris; the Jessica Lundsford murder; Carlie Bruscia, abducted and murdered on Super Sunday in 2004; Hurricane's ripping the place to shreds two years in a row; Orlando becoming more dangerous than NYC in the last year and a half with respect to the murder rate; and most recently, the raid and arrest of several pharmaceutical laboratories in Orlando that were manufacturing steroids, human growth hormone, and pain killers, then selling them on-line to prominent athletes, movies stars, and the most horrifying of all - high school football coaches nationwide.
And what do we Floridians do about it? Nothing.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Standards
Ok, at the risk of alienating 1 of the 2.43 people who actually read this blog (my dog does as well - but he's not a people) I have to take the time to answer something from my blog just previous to this one.
This is not a condemnation of anything anyone has said, just my explanation of what I meant by my statement of yesterday.
I made a crack in the comments section that the US citizenry doesn't have standards, and one of my loyal readers said I shouldn't lump everyone in the same group. To this I say simply:
1) Should I list the number of murders, rapes, child porn arrests, murder-suicides, car-jacking's, robberies, steroid arrests, NBA basketball brawls, fatherless births, and other assorted tid-bits from just today...? Or...
2) Should I fill the entire Blogspot server with a national listing for say...a week...of the same nefarious deeds done by our supposedly high-standard society?
3) Al Gore just won an Oscar for his global warming movie, and yesterday the Tennessee Utilities Commission released the fact that Gore's home utility bills for the past two years have been $30,000.00 per year...20 TIMES the national average.
4) The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences was embarrassed yesterday, as they had to admit that 4 out of 10 voters for Oscars never saw the movie or performance they voted on. In the grand scheme of things, who cares anyways? But from a socially moralistic viewpoint - the folks in Hollywood - who constantly remind our government how immoral it is, turned the tide on themselves.
No....I won't focus on these things. Instead, I'll point out this little factoid of perversion:
Florida State Senator Mike Bennett (a state "standard-setter") is attempting for the fourth time to pass legislation aimed at ticketing drivers going the speed limit in the left lane. You see, Senator Bennett (a state "standard-setter") believes that road rage is caused by slower drivers in the passing lane, and he places the blame for road rage on the driver or drivers that are NOT experiencing the anger, instead of on the individual who is. He wants to allow those going faster than the speed limit the freedom to move about as they like, and he thinks the state and local police should be going after Mrs. Jones because she's going 65 in a 65 zone. Ok, so the short synopsis of this legislation is this:
Mr Bennett (a state "standard-setter") says we need to make a LAW that says the following:
It is against the law to obey the law, and on the flip side, it is permissible by law to disobey the law.
And this is going to make things better on the Florida highways, according to State Senator Bennett (a state "standard-setter")
As Mahatma Gandhi would say, "What the...?"
This is not a condemnation of anything anyone has said, just my explanation of what I meant by my statement of yesterday.
I made a crack in the comments section that the US citizenry doesn't have standards, and one of my loyal readers said I shouldn't lump everyone in the same group. To this I say simply:
1) Should I list the number of murders, rapes, child porn arrests, murder-suicides, car-jacking's, robberies, steroid arrests, NBA basketball brawls, fatherless births, and other assorted tid-bits from just today...? Or...
2) Should I fill the entire Blogspot server with a national listing for say...a week...of the same nefarious deeds done by our supposedly high-standard society?
3) Al Gore just won an Oscar for his global warming movie, and yesterday the Tennessee Utilities Commission released the fact that Gore's home utility bills for the past two years have been $30,000.00 per year...20 TIMES the national average.
4) The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences was embarrassed yesterday, as they had to admit that 4 out of 10 voters for Oscars never saw the movie or performance they voted on. In the grand scheme of things, who cares anyways? But from a socially moralistic viewpoint - the folks in Hollywood - who constantly remind our government how immoral it is, turned the tide on themselves.
No....I won't focus on these things. Instead, I'll point out this little factoid of perversion:
Florida State Senator Mike Bennett (a state "standard-setter") is attempting for the fourth time to pass legislation aimed at ticketing drivers going the speed limit in the left lane. You see, Senator Bennett (a state "standard-setter") believes that road rage is caused by slower drivers in the passing lane, and he places the blame for road rage on the driver or drivers that are NOT experiencing the anger, instead of on the individual who is. He wants to allow those going faster than the speed limit the freedom to move about as they like, and he thinks the state and local police should be going after Mrs. Jones because she's going 65 in a 65 zone. Ok, so the short synopsis of this legislation is this:
Mr Bennett (a state "standard-setter") says we need to make a LAW that says the following:
It is against the law to obey the law, and on the flip side, it is permissible by law to disobey the law.
And this is going to make things better on the Florida highways, according to State Senator Bennett (a state "standard-setter")
As Mahatma Gandhi would say, "What the...?"
Monday, February 26, 2007
Disturbing
The television and radio ratings were released for the week of February 19th through February 23rd, 2007. If you did a story about Anna Nicole Smith, your ratings went up 57%. If you did a piece about Britney Spears, your ratings went up 32%. If you did nothing but talk about the two of them, you were guaranteed to be the King or Queen of last week.
Five and a half years ago, we were told to pay more attention. Our government begged us to pay attention...remember?
Have we? Do we?
Every single man, woman, and child in this country needs to be more diligent, but by and large we are not even barely so. No government can protect its people from each and every potentially dangerous person in their midst, so it is incumbent upon us all to be aware. But we choose not to be.
Perhaps knowing the facts of the A.N.S. baby case and whether or not Jennifer Aniston is back with Vince Vaughn (whoever he is) will make us aware of the guy in the mall this coming June. You know the guy of whom I speak, don't you?
He's wearing the long coat and carrying a suitcase - both for no apparent reason?
Five and a half years ago, we were told to pay more attention. Our government begged us to pay attention...remember?
Have we? Do we?
Every single man, woman, and child in this country needs to be more diligent, but by and large we are not even barely so. No government can protect its people from each and every potentially dangerous person in their midst, so it is incumbent upon us all to be aware. But we choose not to be.
Perhaps knowing the facts of the A.N.S. baby case and whether or not Jennifer Aniston is back with Vince Vaughn (whoever he is) will make us aware of the guy in the mall this coming June. You know the guy of whom I speak, don't you?
He's wearing the long coat and carrying a suitcase - both for no apparent reason?
Friday, February 23, 2007
Wait! There is still SOME hope
Just when you think God never answers prayers, that is when you know he (she?) does. I opened up the newspaper today and saw an add in the paper for this:
It's called the Jitterbug, and it's been manufactured by Samsung, God love 'em.
Here is what it does not do:
It doesn't....
Park your car, take photos, compute weights and balances, employ a digital GPS tracking sensor to find your stupid dog, buy your groceries for you, delineate the plausible imbalance between the cross-verticality of a non-linear existential position or theory, have a retractable keyboard, call QVC on demand, show "ssssup dawwwg?" MTV video's, place bets with Vegas, control the draft for your fantasy baseball league, invert the global warming trend, allow you to vote for some crappy singer, cancel a subscription, or mend your socks.
But what DOES it do, you ask?
It makes and recieves phone calls. How stupid is that?
Ref one of the first JL4 posts ever: March 2006 "My Kingdom for a piece of paper" (5th story down) http://jl4.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_archive.html
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Don't you know ANYTHING? Well, not really....
As I close in on 50 years old (in 7 months – don’t rush me) I was thinking about the amount of things that I still don’t know anything about after a half century on the planet. It’s amazing that I still don’t know why women cry at movies on Lifetime network when I find the same films hysterically funny…
Tonight on the Oxygen network…"She had no choice but to kill him at this point." Really? Taking a train out of town was absolutely out of the question?
I don’t know why Fabio is on the cover of nearly every dime-store trash novel that women love to read. Aside from the basics of addition, subtraction, and division, I’ve never known what “n” was in the isosceles triangle, nor do I friggin’ care. Come to think of it, I have no idea what an isosceles triangle is, either. I don’t know why we as a nation are so captivated by the doings of Paris Hilton, Nicole Ritchie, and no-talent morons and losers of their ilk.
I don’t know the meaning of life, but I have seen the Monty Python movie that tried to explain it to me. I don’t know why when we’re going up it’s an escalator, but coming down it’s not called a descalator. I don’t know who killed J.R. Ewing. There is a song that starts out, “Have you ever - ridden horses through a rainstorm?”
Nope.
From my early childhood onward, no one ever told me how much the doggie in the window cost. Carl Sagan told me there were billions and billions, but I usually tired after counting 20 or so. I don’t know if OJ did it; but I have my suspicions ;-).
I’ve never understood why I’m such a staunchly proud American, but I am. I’ve often wondered how much more quality music we all could have enjoyed if Mark David Chapman had not been born. I’ve never understood why a soldier – entrusted with this nation’s highest ideals and principles – would do something to disgrace themselves and those ideals; but sometimes they do.
Onomatopoeia has something to do with poetry. What it is exactly makes my brain sizzle like a hamburger in a pan. Ok, perhaps that was too deep for most to understand. Google it, then come back and read this again.
I don’t know when the “Oldies” radio stations started playing the music I like, but they have been for quite a long time. Hip-hop and Rap are supposedly different...who knew?
I don’t know why teenagers in 2007 wear the same checkered shorts and striped polo shirts that we are embarrassed about when we look at pictures of ourselves from the 70’s, but they do – and they say it’s different.
Uh huh…whatever.
Halloween has become dangerous, but I can’t understand how or why we arrived at that. Christmas is about gaudiness, over-extension, and arguing about who has the right to display what.
????
I still don’t understand why I hear the ocean when I hold a shell to my ear, and it’s ok not to know. Magicians have been a lifetime of joy and wonderment to me, and nope – no clue how they do that…or that.
So when it all comes down to it, I’m just a wandering dumb-ass, unaware of most things that make up what we call life. I’m a happy-idiot, as Jackson Browne so eloquently put it, going from base to base, hoping the shortstop will miss the cut-off throw so I can cross home-plate unopposed.
Here is what I do know:
Although I have never been able to place a definitive finger on exactly what love is, if you look into my children’s eyes – or more accurately – my eyes when viewing my children - you’ll see it.
And after all, isn't that the one thing we crave to know the most?
Tonight on the Oxygen network…"She had no choice but to kill him at this point." Really? Taking a train out of town was absolutely out of the question?
I don’t know why Fabio is on the cover of nearly every dime-store trash novel that women love to read. Aside from the basics of addition, subtraction, and division, I’ve never known what “n” was in the isosceles triangle, nor do I friggin’ care. Come to think of it, I have no idea what an isosceles triangle is, either. I don’t know why we as a nation are so captivated by the doings of Paris Hilton, Nicole Ritchie, and no-talent morons and losers of their ilk.
I don’t know the meaning of life, but I have seen the Monty Python movie that tried to explain it to me. I don’t know why when we’re going up it’s an escalator, but coming down it’s not called a descalator. I don’t know who killed J.R. Ewing. There is a song that starts out, “Have you ever - ridden horses through a rainstorm?”
Nope.
From my early childhood onward, no one ever told me how much the doggie in the window cost. Carl Sagan told me there were billions and billions, but I usually tired after counting 20 or so. I don’t know if OJ did it; but I have my suspicions ;-).
I’ve never understood why I’m such a staunchly proud American, but I am. I’ve often wondered how much more quality music we all could have enjoyed if Mark David Chapman had not been born. I’ve never understood why a soldier – entrusted with this nation’s highest ideals and principles – would do something to disgrace themselves and those ideals; but sometimes they do.
Onomatopoeia has something to do with poetry. What it is exactly makes my brain sizzle like a hamburger in a pan. Ok, perhaps that was too deep for most to understand. Google it, then come back and read this again.
I don’t know when the “Oldies” radio stations started playing the music I like, but they have been for quite a long time. Hip-hop and Rap are supposedly different...who knew?
I don’t know why teenagers in 2007 wear the same checkered shorts and striped polo shirts that we are embarrassed about when we look at pictures of ourselves from the 70’s, but they do – and they say it’s different.
Uh huh…whatever.
Halloween has become dangerous, but I can’t understand how or why we arrived at that. Christmas is about gaudiness, over-extension, and arguing about who has the right to display what.
????
I still don’t understand why I hear the ocean when I hold a shell to my ear, and it’s ok not to know. Magicians have been a lifetime of joy and wonderment to me, and nope – no clue how they do that…or that.
So when it all comes down to it, I’m just a wandering dumb-ass, unaware of most things that make up what we call life. I’m a happy-idiot, as Jackson Browne so eloquently put it, going from base to base, hoping the shortstop will miss the cut-off throw so I can cross home-plate unopposed.
Here is what I do know:
Although I have never been able to place a definitive finger on exactly what love is, if you look into my children’s eyes – or more accurately – my eyes when viewing my children - you’ll see it.
And after all, isn't that the one thing we crave to know the most?
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Freedom without cost.
“If you give a man something for free, you break his spirit”
Franklin D. Roosevelt said that, and FDR was a democrat.
Today in this country, and by “today” I mean both the literal as well as the broader use of the word, I would be willing to state that the vast majority of Americans [and the number is still growing], are no longer interested in the Super Power theory of world dominance. This is a natural occurrence, as we’ve seen throughout history in each empire that ruled – Greeks, Romans, Byzantine’s – the people became complacent, happy in their own world of family, food, and leisure. This complacency was eventually exploited by an outside agency that had none of those things, but wanted to try them for themselves. Greece fell from within when philosophies of leadership and direction changed, which led to internal wars, leaving the empire exposed and vulnerable. Rome fell because it became so vast it had to split into Eastern and Western regions, giving birth to the Byzantine dynasty, which eventually fell to the Crusades and crusaders. In recent history, the Soviet Union fell because they invested nearly 25% of their gross national product into their military, and when they saw in the late 1980’s and early 1990’s the United States – only using 4.2% of their GNP for military machinery and might – was indeed light years beyond the Soviets in technological advances – and had money to burn. The Soviets were broke, without an adequate military, and subsequently they had to release all their interests in Eastern Europe and the Balkan’s.
Apparently, we are now seeing the beginnings of this in our own country as well, as more than half our citizens are ready to embrace and welcome our descent from super power status. Indeed, the majority want to pull out of Iraq, Afghanistan, the Philippines, and wherever else we have troops, bring them home to where they [and us] are presumably safe, then throw the lounger back and vote on American Idol. Let the world be as the world is, as long as they leave us and our families alone. The world doesn’t need a super power, let alone the United States as that super power. The American Idol fans have been growing in number and voice since the 1960’s, and their time is now. They will succeed in their quest to withdraw every troop from every location, go back to their sofas, and start worrying about what “Friends – the Reunion” will be like on NBC next week.
And the world will be plunged into darkness.
It may take some time, but eventually, the “Survivor” fans will channel-surf over to MSNBC, and gasp in shock that Chicago, Kansas City, or Philadelphia were just blasted into the Netherlands by a suitcase nuke smuggled in by Ramsey Bin Al Fuckaduck. Cindy Sheehan, Keith Olberman’s MSNBC replacement because Olberman was considered too conservative, will be expressing her outrage that Al Fuckaduck had promised her during her 2007-2008 tour of the Middle East that he was an ally, not a foe. “He lied to us; he lied to me”, Sheehan will say in her nightly montage. Yes, he did. A lot of people did, as a matter of fact.
And right now, we’re lying to ourselves.
Indeed, the insurgents in the Sunni Triangle will not follow us back home. The Iranian’s will be too busy claiming Iraq as their own to worry about flying over here. The Taliban will once again rule Afghanistan, executing women in the soccer stadiums because these women had the audacity to stake a claim to equality, or at least some form of it. Hugo Chavez will be laughing his ass off as his Venezuelan troops march through a defenseless South America, and all the while we in the U.S. sit around praising our new-found separatist mentality, Al Qaeda will be lurking in their jungles and tents, planning for the nuclear annihilation of Seattle.
Pyongyang, Brussels, Paris, Berlin, Moscow, and several other world capitals will lose whatever slim respect we once had, and they will no doubt point out that Vietnam and Somalia were not aberrations, rather undeniable trends in our nation's outlook and policy decisions. Everyone will know we as a people do not have the stomach for war - justified or unjustified - and that weakness alone will leave us exposed like no other time in our history. Hollywood and the NY Times will be deliriously happy at our departure from combat, until of course, they see the residual effects of such an action.
Some out there will argue our insistence in fighting this thing from the beginning is the cause of all our current woes; completely dismissing the 1960's thru the end of the 1990's, when terrorists hijackings, bombings, and other mayhem were happening both on and off our shores, long before anyone even knew who George W. Bush was. And lastly, we have all but forgotten the lessons of 9-11, taking on a national consciousness not unlike the "Stockholm Syndrome", where the party entrapped takes sorrow upon the entrapp-er. Somehow we have managed to shift blame for the four September 2001 airliners upon ourselves, and in doing so we have empowered the very people who perpetrated the deed in the first place.
Greece, Rome, the USSR, and soon the United States as well. I wonder what they’ll call the next dynasty? Probably something like “The Mohammedan Empire”, I would think.
Better duck and cover everybody. "Free" freedom is damn near upon us.
Franklin D. Roosevelt said that, and FDR was a democrat.
Today in this country, and by “today” I mean both the literal as well as the broader use of the word, I would be willing to state that the vast majority of Americans [and the number is still growing], are no longer interested in the Super Power theory of world dominance. This is a natural occurrence, as we’ve seen throughout history in each empire that ruled – Greeks, Romans, Byzantine’s – the people became complacent, happy in their own world of family, food, and leisure. This complacency was eventually exploited by an outside agency that had none of those things, but wanted to try them for themselves. Greece fell from within when philosophies of leadership and direction changed, which led to internal wars, leaving the empire exposed and vulnerable. Rome fell because it became so vast it had to split into Eastern and Western regions, giving birth to the Byzantine dynasty, which eventually fell to the Crusades and crusaders. In recent history, the Soviet Union fell because they invested nearly 25% of their gross national product into their military, and when they saw in the late 1980’s and early 1990’s the United States – only using 4.2% of their GNP for military machinery and might – was indeed light years beyond the Soviets in technological advances – and had money to burn. The Soviets were broke, without an adequate military, and subsequently they had to release all their interests in Eastern Europe and the Balkan’s.
Apparently, we are now seeing the beginnings of this in our own country as well, as more than half our citizens are ready to embrace and welcome our descent from super power status. Indeed, the majority want to pull out of Iraq, Afghanistan, the Philippines, and wherever else we have troops, bring them home to where they [and us] are presumably safe, then throw the lounger back and vote on American Idol. Let the world be as the world is, as long as they leave us and our families alone. The world doesn’t need a super power, let alone the United States as that super power. The American Idol fans have been growing in number and voice since the 1960’s, and their time is now. They will succeed in their quest to withdraw every troop from every location, go back to their sofas, and start worrying about what “Friends – the Reunion” will be like on NBC next week.
And the world will be plunged into darkness.
It may take some time, but eventually, the “Survivor” fans will channel-surf over to MSNBC, and gasp in shock that Chicago, Kansas City, or Philadelphia were just blasted into the Netherlands by a suitcase nuke smuggled in by Ramsey Bin Al Fuckaduck. Cindy Sheehan, Keith Olberman’s MSNBC replacement because Olberman was considered too conservative, will be expressing her outrage that Al Fuckaduck had promised her during her 2007-2008 tour of the Middle East that he was an ally, not a foe. “He lied to us; he lied to me”, Sheehan will say in her nightly montage. Yes, he did. A lot of people did, as a matter of fact.
And right now, we’re lying to ourselves.
Indeed, the insurgents in the Sunni Triangle will not follow us back home. The Iranian’s will be too busy claiming Iraq as their own to worry about flying over here. The Taliban will once again rule Afghanistan, executing women in the soccer stadiums because these women had the audacity to stake a claim to equality, or at least some form of it. Hugo Chavez will be laughing his ass off as his Venezuelan troops march through a defenseless South America, and all the while we in the U.S. sit around praising our new-found separatist mentality, Al Qaeda will be lurking in their jungles and tents, planning for the nuclear annihilation of Seattle.
Pyongyang, Brussels, Paris, Berlin, Moscow, and several other world capitals will lose whatever slim respect we once had, and they will no doubt point out that Vietnam and Somalia were not aberrations, rather undeniable trends in our nation's outlook and policy decisions. Everyone will know we as a people do not have the stomach for war - justified or unjustified - and that weakness alone will leave us exposed like no other time in our history. Hollywood and the NY Times will be deliriously happy at our departure from combat, until of course, they see the residual effects of such an action.
Some out there will argue our insistence in fighting this thing from the beginning is the cause of all our current woes; completely dismissing the 1960's thru the end of the 1990's, when terrorists hijackings, bombings, and other mayhem were happening both on and off our shores, long before anyone even knew who George W. Bush was. And lastly, we have all but forgotten the lessons of 9-11, taking on a national consciousness not unlike the "Stockholm Syndrome", where the party entrapped takes sorrow upon the entrapp-er. Somehow we have managed to shift blame for the four September 2001 airliners upon ourselves, and in doing so we have empowered the very people who perpetrated the deed in the first place.
Greece, Rome, the USSR, and soon the United States as well. I wonder what they’ll call the next dynasty? Probably something like “The Mohammedan Empire”, I would think.
Better duck and cover everybody. "Free" freedom is damn near upon us.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Surfing without a board
In Los Angeles, Paris Hilton was seen...click!
Tonight on Nancy Grace, Nancy finds...click!
Senator Joseph Biden of Dela...click!
Muhamed Al-Sadr said the American...click!
In NBA action last...click!
One of six men said to be the father...click!
In Washington, White House sources say...click!
The killer was said to be depressed over...click!
The fire, which killed 6 children...click!
You add 2/3 cup of non-hydrogenated...click!
And then the man who played Kramer went...click!
The former NBA star said he really wasn't homophobic, he was just...click!
And the car came in upside down...click!
Post-pardem syndrome was blamed for the...click!
Toxicology reports sa...click!
NJ, one of the few states to recognize...click!
Spears, a former Mousketeer...click!
Obtained the rifles from his grandfather...click!
We liked the second house better because...click!
I've heard better singers drunk in a...click!
Wearing a black trench coat, he entered the school...click!
In Chicago, the worst...click!
A case of road rage, this is the 3rd time in...click!
The mother, smoking a cigarette and drunk at the time...click!
In the book he admits to...click!
Alarm set. Lights off.
Click.
Tonight on Nancy Grace, Nancy finds...click!
Senator Joseph Biden of Dela...click!
Muhamed Al-Sadr said the American...click!
In NBA action last...click!
One of six men said to be the father...click!
In Washington, White House sources say...click!
The killer was said to be depressed over...click!
The fire, which killed 6 children...click!
You add 2/3 cup of non-hydrogenated...click!
And then the man who played Kramer went...click!
The former NBA star said he really wasn't homophobic, he was just...click!
And the car came in upside down...click!
Post-pardem syndrome was blamed for the...click!
Toxicology reports sa...click!
NJ, one of the few states to recognize...click!
Spears, a former Mousketeer...click!
Obtained the rifles from his grandfather...click!
We liked the second house better because...click!
I've heard better singers drunk in a...click!
Wearing a black trench coat, he entered the school...click!
In Chicago, the worst...click!
A case of road rage, this is the 3rd time in...click!
The mother, smoking a cigarette and drunk at the time...click!
In the book he admits to...click!
Alarm set. Lights off.
Click.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Today is Friday, unless of course, it isn't
90% of all scientists agree that catastrophic global warming is upon us; it is our fault; and we probably cannot stop the total destruction of the world by the year 2015. Or maybe it's 2025. No, wait...perhaps it's 2052. Or 2076. 2132?
In any event, it has now been decided by the scientists, and if you even question their speculatory gestures, you're considered an evil, hateful, person.
Funny, but I clearly recall my senior year in high school (1975) and we were launching satellites faster than Campbell's was churning out soup cans, because the same scientists were telling us the ice-age was upon us and Maine was only a few short years away from being Key West, etc., etc. The reason for the satellites is because we were trying to measure and record the atmosphere to see if the ice age was being caused by that. We already knew how to warm the earth - we only had to pour cement.
Now here we are 30 years later, and the same folks are back - apologetic about their missed hypothesis of three decades ago - but firm in their resolve that this time, they are 100% correct. Interestingly, these scientists are using very little science in their scientific hyperventilation. You see, if you believe so strongly in something that no one can shake you from that belief under any circumstance, that my friends is what we on Earth call "F-A-I-T-H". Mention faith to a scientist, and be prepared for a dissertation on the existence (or lack of existence) of a God or anything related to faith and belief. Faith does not enter the equation, according to the Chicken-Little's of today. The sky is falling dammit. The sky is falling. And if you don't believe them, they're going to stomp their feet...uhhhhh...stomp their feet again...and uhhhh...stomp their feet a 3rd time. Then they'll come out in 2037 and tell us to bundle up because it's reaaaaalllly friggin cold out, and again it will be our fault that it's snowing in Miami.
So stop asking them to prove their theories. Don't mention things about Solar Cycles [where Earth, Mars, Pluto, and Venus become warmer, while the other planets get cooler]. The cycle, like all cycles (that's why the word means what it does) repeats itself now and then. If you ask a global warmist why it's snowing like a sunovabitch and cows are freezing to death everywhere in the world right now, they'll tell you that's "weather", not "climate". However, they have no issue in noting the fact that the Earth has had some extremely hot summers the past decade, but apparently hot summers are not "weather" like cold and snowy winters are. It's a brilliant position to take, because no matter who says what about whatever, you have the ability to deny the validity of everything, or concur the validity of everything, dependent upon how the wind seems to be blowing at any particular moment.
Wind of course, being "weather", unless for some reason it's not. Get it?
In any event, it has now been decided by the scientists, and if you even question their speculatory gestures, you're considered an evil, hateful, person.
Funny, but I clearly recall my senior year in high school (1975) and we were launching satellites faster than Campbell's was churning out soup cans, because the same scientists were telling us the ice-age was upon us and Maine was only a few short years away from being Key West, etc., etc. The reason for the satellites is because we were trying to measure and record the atmosphere to see if the ice age was being caused by that. We already knew how to warm the earth - we only had to pour cement.
Now here we are 30 years later, and the same folks are back - apologetic about their missed hypothesis of three decades ago - but firm in their resolve that this time, they are 100% correct. Interestingly, these scientists are using very little science in their scientific hyperventilation. You see, if you believe so strongly in something that no one can shake you from that belief under any circumstance, that my friends is what we on Earth call "F-A-I-T-H". Mention faith to a scientist, and be prepared for a dissertation on the existence (or lack of existence) of a God or anything related to faith and belief. Faith does not enter the equation, according to the Chicken-Little's of today. The sky is falling dammit. The sky is falling. And if you don't believe them, they're going to stomp their feet...uhhhhh...stomp their feet again...and uhhhh...stomp their feet a 3rd time. Then they'll come out in 2037 and tell us to bundle up because it's reaaaaalllly friggin cold out, and again it will be our fault that it's snowing in Miami.
So stop asking them to prove their theories. Don't mention things about Solar Cycles [where Earth, Mars, Pluto, and Venus become warmer, while the other planets get cooler]. The cycle, like all cycles (that's why the word means what it does) repeats itself now and then. If you ask a global warmist why it's snowing like a sunovabitch and cows are freezing to death everywhere in the world right now, they'll tell you that's "weather", not "climate". However, they have no issue in noting the fact that the Earth has had some extremely hot summers the past decade, but apparently hot summers are not "weather" like cold and snowy winters are. It's a brilliant position to take, because no matter who says what about whatever, you have the ability to deny the validity of everything, or concur the validity of everything, dependent upon how the wind seems to be blowing at any particular moment.
Wind of course, being "weather", unless for some reason it's not. Get it?
The game that would be king (Epilogue)
On Wednesday evening in Lockhart Stadium in Ft. Lauderdale, the magic ran out. Giving up a goal 1 minute and 10 seconds into the game, Lyman was behind the eight ball the entire evening.
They managed to tie the game 1-1 with about 14 minutes left in the first half, but Wellington High School proved to be too much. The next two goals were scored by Wellington, and then Lyman's fierce determination kicked in, and they scored with 11:33 remaining to make the game 3-2. Unfortunately, that was the final score.
It was an unprecedented run for a school and a team on no one's radar even as the season unfolded and opponents started to understand how good they really were. Everyone kept waiting for them to fall, but it didn't happen until the very end. Pain will be replaced in a few weeks by a tremendous sense of accomplishment, and the boys and their parents now have a memory for the ages.
Way to go "Greyhounds"....you made us all extremely proud.
They managed to tie the game 1-1 with about 14 minutes left in the first half, but Wellington High School proved to be too much. The next two goals were scored by Wellington, and then Lyman's fierce determination kicked in, and they scored with 11:33 remaining to make the game 3-2. Unfortunately, that was the final score.
It was an unprecedented run for a school and a team on no one's radar even as the season unfolded and opponents started to understand how good they really were. Everyone kept waiting for them to fall, but it didn't happen until the very end. Pain will be replaced in a few weeks by a tremendous sense of accomplishment, and the boys and their parents now have a memory for the ages.
Way to go "Greyhounds"....you made us all extremely proud.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
The game that would be king, Part I
On an unseasonably pleasant February night in Winter Park Florida, the sport that has taken not only a backseat to football, but more accurately has resided in the trunk of the high school sports popularity vehicle, took center stage in a big way last evening. Mark your calendar folks; February 9th 2007, soccer made its appearance in Central Florida, and the “other” football had to take a step to the side.
Perhaps two steps, now that I think about it.
It was a tale of two high schools, galaxies apart socially, and was the perfect setting for the tortoise to stand toe to toe with the hare. Winter Park High School is part of a northern suburb of Orlando, a city replete with multi-million dollar mansions, upscale yuppie-style restaurants and boutiques, and interior design firms and home fashion stores on virtually every corner. Mercedes Benz autos and monstrous SUV’s dominate the roads, and everything about the city speaks of wealth and opulence. Art festivals and an open farmer’s market are a staple of Winter Park. Indeed – as is often the case – those not-so-well-off live remarkably close to those with money to burn, but the city goes out of its way to ensure that side of town goes relatively unnoticed.
The opponent for the game was Lyman High School, located on the working class side of the town of Longwood, about 10 miles north of Winter Park. Longwood itself is a nice little place with its own share of well-to-do residents, but most of them send their kids to different schools. Lyman’s location speaks to its very nature: A vast industrial park across the street from the front entrance and a dog track across the street on the other side. As a matter of fact, the high school’s mascot and nickname is “The Greyhounds”, taking their cue from their neighbor. Lyman’s parking lot has no Mercedes or BMW’s, and the family vehicles are SUV’s and mini-van’s made by Chevrolet and Ford. For years Lyman was looked down upon socially and academically without justifiable reason. In time, the school obtained magnet status by initiating and staffing their “Institute of Engineering”, which has started to bring a cross-section of different kids into the school, making it more balanced socially, and certainly more competitive academically.
Athletically, Winter Park had the better pedigree. No stranger to post season success, this very team had advanced to the state final four just last year. They were accustomed to long winning streaks and a high place in the yearly district and conference standings.
Lyman on the other hand, had spent the decade prior to this year finding nothing but heartbreak in the playoffs. In 7 of the previous 10 years, they had capitulated in the very first round, many of those times ending their season far sooner than the talent on the field would have led you to believe possible.
In the 2006-2007 season though, things looked different for Lyman. They went through their conference - thought by most to be the toughest in the entire state – without a loss. There were 5 ties, but ties are still better than losses. As the season progressed into the playoffs, Lyman was taking on an air of confidence and solidarity among its coaching staff and players that was noticeable to both Lyman and opposing fans alike. Prior to games and during breaks in the action, the entire team would huddle on the sideline, arm-in-arm in a show of unity and strength. There seemed to be no distinction between the players on the field and the players on the bench. They were one team with one goal: victory every time they took the field.
Each school won its district championship, though by different means. Winter Park, not surprisingly, rolled through their tournament without breaking a sweat. Lyman had to get mud under their fingernails in each game they played. A hard fought win over rival Lake Mary High, followed by a dramatic last minute goal against Lake Brantley for the district championship.
The regional championship tournament was more of the same. Winter Park winning its two games leading up to the regional final, 4-1 and 3-1. Lyman again had to rely on last minute heroics to notch a 3-2 win over local Apopka High, with the decisive goal scored with 52.2 seconds remaining in the contest. Two games in a row, Lyman had refused to go down, playing as hard in the last minute as they did in the first. One interesting side note about Lyman’s two regional tournament games - they were both played at Lyman stadium, and drew in excess of 400 fans each game. In Florida, football rules and no one is even in second place. A normal regular season soccer game will have about 65 fans at it; perhaps double that for a rivalry game. Four hundred plus twice in a row was the high school soccer equivalent to filling the Orange Bowl on a Fall Saturday for a Miami Hurricane’s game. With Lyman now advancing farther than they ever had before, the prospects for an even larger crowd at the regional championship game loomed more likely as the championship approached.
The time had arrived, and the stage was set. As David laced up his cleats and looked over at Goliath, it wasn’t fear he had in his eyes; it was desire.
Perhaps two steps, now that I think about it.
It was a tale of two high schools, galaxies apart socially, and was the perfect setting for the tortoise to stand toe to toe with the hare. Winter Park High School is part of a northern suburb of Orlando, a city replete with multi-million dollar mansions, upscale yuppie-style restaurants and boutiques, and interior design firms and home fashion stores on virtually every corner. Mercedes Benz autos and monstrous SUV’s dominate the roads, and everything about the city speaks of wealth and opulence. Art festivals and an open farmer’s market are a staple of Winter Park. Indeed – as is often the case – those not-so-well-off live remarkably close to those with money to burn, but the city goes out of its way to ensure that side of town goes relatively unnoticed.
The opponent for the game was Lyman High School, located on the working class side of the town of Longwood, about 10 miles north of Winter Park. Longwood itself is a nice little place with its own share of well-to-do residents, but most of them send their kids to different schools. Lyman’s location speaks to its very nature: A vast industrial park across the street from the front entrance and a dog track across the street on the other side. As a matter of fact, the high school’s mascot and nickname is “The Greyhounds”, taking their cue from their neighbor. Lyman’s parking lot has no Mercedes or BMW’s, and the family vehicles are SUV’s and mini-van’s made by Chevrolet and Ford. For years Lyman was looked down upon socially and academically without justifiable reason. In time, the school obtained magnet status by initiating and staffing their “Institute of Engineering”, which has started to bring a cross-section of different kids into the school, making it more balanced socially, and certainly more competitive academically.
Athletically, Winter Park had the better pedigree. No stranger to post season success, this very team had advanced to the state final four just last year. They were accustomed to long winning streaks and a high place in the yearly district and conference standings.
Lyman on the other hand, had spent the decade prior to this year finding nothing but heartbreak in the playoffs. In 7 of the previous 10 years, they had capitulated in the very first round, many of those times ending their season far sooner than the talent on the field would have led you to believe possible.
In the 2006-2007 season though, things looked different for Lyman. They went through their conference - thought by most to be the toughest in the entire state – without a loss. There were 5 ties, but ties are still better than losses. As the season progressed into the playoffs, Lyman was taking on an air of confidence and solidarity among its coaching staff and players that was noticeable to both Lyman and opposing fans alike. Prior to games and during breaks in the action, the entire team would huddle on the sideline, arm-in-arm in a show of unity and strength. There seemed to be no distinction between the players on the field and the players on the bench. They were one team with one goal: victory every time they took the field.
Each school won its district championship, though by different means. Winter Park, not surprisingly, rolled through their tournament without breaking a sweat. Lyman had to get mud under their fingernails in each game they played. A hard fought win over rival Lake Mary High, followed by a dramatic last minute goal against Lake Brantley for the district championship.
The regional championship tournament was more of the same. Winter Park winning its two games leading up to the regional final, 4-1 and 3-1. Lyman again had to rely on last minute heroics to notch a 3-2 win over local Apopka High, with the decisive goal scored with 52.2 seconds remaining in the contest. Two games in a row, Lyman had refused to go down, playing as hard in the last minute as they did in the first. One interesting side note about Lyman’s two regional tournament games - they were both played at Lyman stadium, and drew in excess of 400 fans each game. In Florida, football rules and no one is even in second place. A normal regular season soccer game will have about 65 fans at it; perhaps double that for a rivalry game. Four hundred plus twice in a row was the high school soccer equivalent to filling the Orange Bowl on a Fall Saturday for a Miami Hurricane’s game. With Lyman now advancing farther than they ever had before, the prospects for an even larger crowd at the regional championship game loomed more likely as the championship approached.
The time had arrived, and the stage was set. As David laced up his cleats and looked over at Goliath, it wasn’t fear he had in his eyes; it was desire.
The game that would be king, Part II
Debated for two days leading up to the game, the site was finally chosen. With the better record, Winter Park was the host, but their stadium was undergoing renovations and couldn’t be used. Several places volunteered their facilities, but none were in Winter Park, and they wanted to use the home field to their advantage. It was arrived upon that Rollins College in Winter Park would be the location of the game. Cahall-Sandspur field is a cozy and well maintained facility on campus. The problem with this field being used was obvious at the outset: nowhere near enough seating. They had a covered fan section with 500 very comfortable seats, but as I said earlier, Lyman alone was nearing that amount of fans at each of their last two games. I arrived early, fearful that my wife, son, and I wouldn’t get a seat. As we entered and paid for our tickets, I volunteered to the Winter Park folks taking our money that they had made a miscalculation, and they were going to have more people than they could accommodate in this tiny facility. They brushed off my words and told me they would just refuse entrance after a certain point.
Yeah, ok. Good luck with that.
About 20 minutes prior to game time, every seat in the stadium was already full, and the people entering were starting to fill any available space they could stand. Aisle’s, up in the back of the stands, on stairs, wherever. The building was awash with excited soccer fans, and more were on the way. Ten minutes prior to the start, I went down to use the rest room. I passed by the ticket takers and looked at one of them and shrugged my shoulders, as if to say, “I told you”. The woman selling tickets nodded her head and rolled her eyes in agreement. As I walked to the rest room, I could see the line of people wanting to get in, snaking its way down Aloma Avenue, so long it was out of my line of sight. There was soon to be a large number of people in a very small area.
The teams marched out to the center of the field, and the public announcer read off the starting line-ups and coaches for both squads. It was at this juncture that I noticed the canopy over head and the aluminum flooring beneath our feet was providing outstanding acoustics, and it didn’t take much imagination to realize this was probably going to be a fairly loud soccer games. I couldn’t have been more wrong. This ended up being the loudest and most electric high school soccer games anyone has ever been a part of. The intense energy was flowing through those stands, and there probably isn’t a strong enough adjective to describe it.
One of the moments I’ll always remember happened one minute and forty-seven seconds prior to kick-off. Everyone rose for the playing of the National Anthem, and then a strange thing occurred. Slowly from the Winter Park side of the stands, people could be heard softly and respectfully singing along with the music. Everyone in there, white, black, Hispanic, parent, student, school administrator, or stadium official, picked up on the singing and joined in. We were all caught up in the emotion and expectation of the evening, and regardless of which side anyone was supporting, for slightly less than two minutes we bonded together as Americans and citizens of the same nation. It was a very moving moment to be a part of, and unfortunately happens far too infrequently any more.
The field is surrounded on three sides by a wrought iron fence about seven or eight feet high. They had indeed shut off ticket sales, though far beyond the number they had initially planned upon. I can only imagine they didn’t want to face a confrontation with a parent who couldn’t get off work in time to arrive early, and in doing so they made the correct call. The sidewalks near the fence started to fill with people who simply watched the game for free from the street. With the exception of being higher up in the stands, those forced to stay out had a perfectly good view of the game. There were around a hundred lining the fence as the game began, a number that would just about triple as the night wore on. Game organizers had indeed miscalculated, and the lost revenue was represented by the growing multitudes on the outside of the fence.
After feeling each other out in the beginning, about eight minutes into the game “David” struck first. On a corner kick, the ball was maddeningly bouncing around in front of the goal, Lyman in their sky blue and yellow and Winter Park in all white, each frantically trying to do something in a sea of legs. In what seemed like an eternity, but were actually fractions of seconds, sophomore defenseman Josh Bonnel finally flicked the ball into the back of the net, setting off what was at the time the largest explosion of noise I’d ever personally heard in soccer. The place erupted larger than Mount St. Helens, and the game was on. Everyone knew then, this was not going to be a normal night.
Four minutes later, the initial noise produced after goal number one became a distant memory. Lyman junior midfielder Chris McKeever sent a high ball from about 25 yards out on the left over the outstretched arms of the Winter park goalkeeper, and when the fans saw the vinyl netting give way to the ball hitting it, somewhere in Florida a Richter scale surely must have gone off. I had mistakenly thought the first goal produced the loudest noise in soccer history, but it was nothing in comparison to goal number 2. The Lyman fans, who we later realized out-manned the Winter Park fans somewhere near 5 to 1, were delirious. It was screamingly loud, a term I use to describe the fact that even if you screamed at the top of your lungs to the person sitting 12 inches from you, they wouldn’t have the foggiest idea what you just said.
As the first half wound down, Winter Park had an incredible scoring opportunity whisk right by them. On a breakaway, the left wing striker for Winter Park took a low hard shot that Lyman’s senior goalkeeper Marcos Lado had to dive just to get his body in front of. The ball deflected off of his legs and ended up on the foot of another Winter Park forward less than 10 yards out. With Lyman’s keeper on the ground and the goal mouth wide open, the young high schooler shot the ball high of the cross-bar, bringing about another huge roar from the Lyman faithful. As half time arrived, the crowds outside the fence had doubled, and the tension in the stands was palpable. Would the giant fall tonight? Did Lyman have this in the bag?
Not hardly. Champions don’t fall without a fight, and this game was far from over. The Winter Park boys were champions, and had every intention of proving it in the last forty minutes.
Yeah, ok. Good luck with that.
About 20 minutes prior to game time, every seat in the stadium was already full, and the people entering were starting to fill any available space they could stand. Aisle’s, up in the back of the stands, on stairs, wherever. The building was awash with excited soccer fans, and more were on the way. Ten minutes prior to the start, I went down to use the rest room. I passed by the ticket takers and looked at one of them and shrugged my shoulders, as if to say, “I told you”. The woman selling tickets nodded her head and rolled her eyes in agreement. As I walked to the rest room, I could see the line of people wanting to get in, snaking its way down Aloma Avenue, so long it was out of my line of sight. There was soon to be a large number of people in a very small area.
The teams marched out to the center of the field, and the public announcer read off the starting line-ups and coaches for both squads. It was at this juncture that I noticed the canopy over head and the aluminum flooring beneath our feet was providing outstanding acoustics, and it didn’t take much imagination to realize this was probably going to be a fairly loud soccer games. I couldn’t have been more wrong. This ended up being the loudest and most electric high school soccer games anyone has ever been a part of. The intense energy was flowing through those stands, and there probably isn’t a strong enough adjective to describe it.
One of the moments I’ll always remember happened one minute and forty-seven seconds prior to kick-off. Everyone rose for the playing of the National Anthem, and then a strange thing occurred. Slowly from the Winter Park side of the stands, people could be heard softly and respectfully singing along with the music. Everyone in there, white, black, Hispanic, parent, student, school administrator, or stadium official, picked up on the singing and joined in. We were all caught up in the emotion and expectation of the evening, and regardless of which side anyone was supporting, for slightly less than two minutes we bonded together as Americans and citizens of the same nation. It was a very moving moment to be a part of, and unfortunately happens far too infrequently any more.
The field is surrounded on three sides by a wrought iron fence about seven or eight feet high. They had indeed shut off ticket sales, though far beyond the number they had initially planned upon. I can only imagine they didn’t want to face a confrontation with a parent who couldn’t get off work in time to arrive early, and in doing so they made the correct call. The sidewalks near the fence started to fill with people who simply watched the game for free from the street. With the exception of being higher up in the stands, those forced to stay out had a perfectly good view of the game. There were around a hundred lining the fence as the game began, a number that would just about triple as the night wore on. Game organizers had indeed miscalculated, and the lost revenue was represented by the growing multitudes on the outside of the fence.
After feeling each other out in the beginning, about eight minutes into the game “David” struck first. On a corner kick, the ball was maddeningly bouncing around in front of the goal, Lyman in their sky blue and yellow and Winter Park in all white, each frantically trying to do something in a sea of legs. In what seemed like an eternity, but were actually fractions of seconds, sophomore defenseman Josh Bonnel finally flicked the ball into the back of the net, setting off what was at the time the largest explosion of noise I’d ever personally heard in soccer. The place erupted larger than Mount St. Helens, and the game was on. Everyone knew then, this was not going to be a normal night.
Four minutes later, the initial noise produced after goal number one became a distant memory. Lyman junior midfielder Chris McKeever sent a high ball from about 25 yards out on the left over the outstretched arms of the Winter park goalkeeper, and when the fans saw the vinyl netting give way to the ball hitting it, somewhere in Florida a Richter scale surely must have gone off. I had mistakenly thought the first goal produced the loudest noise in soccer history, but it was nothing in comparison to goal number 2. The Lyman fans, who we later realized out-manned the Winter Park fans somewhere near 5 to 1, were delirious. It was screamingly loud, a term I use to describe the fact that even if you screamed at the top of your lungs to the person sitting 12 inches from you, they wouldn’t have the foggiest idea what you just said.
As the first half wound down, Winter Park had an incredible scoring opportunity whisk right by them. On a breakaway, the left wing striker for Winter Park took a low hard shot that Lyman’s senior goalkeeper Marcos Lado had to dive just to get his body in front of. The ball deflected off of his legs and ended up on the foot of another Winter Park forward less than 10 yards out. With Lyman’s keeper on the ground and the goal mouth wide open, the young high schooler shot the ball high of the cross-bar, bringing about another huge roar from the Lyman faithful. As half time arrived, the crowds outside the fence had doubled, and the tension in the stands was palpable. Would the giant fall tonight? Did Lyman have this in the bag?
Not hardly. Champions don’t fall without a fight, and this game was far from over. The Winter Park boys were champions, and had every intention of proving it in the last forty minutes.
The game that would be king, Part III
Lyman’s head coach is a man named Steve Lyons. Steve is an engineer, reserved and quiet for the most part. He’s well spoken, articulate, and doesn’t say very much during games. This particular night, Steve was very quiet. Dressed in jeans, a shirt, and a short leather jacket, Steve leaned up against the inner wall of the shelter that covers each bench, his arms folded in front of him. I understood exactly where he was coming from. Although his assistants occasionally shouted instructions or adjustments, there was not much coaching to do at this point. The groundwork had been laid since October in the daily practices and earlier games. All coach Steve could do now was watch the kids play, and hope the hours of training and effort paid off.
Winter Park came out like the fierce competitors they are right from the start of the second half. Although Lyman nearly connected twice on scoring opportunities that no doubt would have put the game to bed, the score stayed 2-0. More than half way through the final period, a defensive mistake on Lyman’s part led to an easy break-away goal by Winter Park striker Nickolas Scures, bringing them within a goal at 2-1. The applause from the Winter Park side made everyone realize how many more Lyman faithful were in that stadium than the so-called home team. In comparison to the bursts of noise from Lyman, the other fans barely registered from 50 feet away.
The minutes continued to tick away with Lyman precariously holding onto its slim lead. The mistake that led to the goal seemed to be wearing on Lyman, while providing inspiration to Winter Park. Lyman’s passing wasn’t as crisp as it had been, and the scoring chances had dried up. Conversely, the Winter Park boys were furiously attacking the Lyman end of the field, and the only thing keeping the tying goal out of the net was the sheer determination of Lyman’s defense, along with some brilliant goal keeping by Lado. Finally, with less than ten minutes to go, Winter Park’s continued pressure and Lyman’s inability to change the momentum swing resulted in Nickolas Scures again breaking free down the left side. Lyman’s keeper – in a moment of indecision – came halfway off of his line, stopped, then went further out and stopped again. This left him in no-man’s land, and Scures easily lifted a soft floater over Lado’s head to notch the game at 2 apiece.
With momentum firmly on their side now, Winter Park nearly won the game on 3 separate occasions in the final seven minutes or so. Senior Lyman defender Nick Basquill-White brilliantly shut down two breakaway scoring chances, and with less than a minute to play, Junior striker Ezra Rickard sprinted from the middle of the field all the way back into his own goal mouth and threw his body in front of a would-be winning goal. The screaming, pleading, and frenetic energy from both sides in the stands was deafening at times, as the people in those stands were up and down every 30 seconds, watching potentially game ending play after game ending play be thwarted by each team’s defense. As time ran down, Lyman’s Orlin Palma took a punted ball from his own keeper and sent a scorching shot about an inch and a half above the crossbar as the numbers on the clock went to 00.00. The place simultaneously gasped and screeched at the thrilling end to regulation time. It was almost unbearable to think they had to play overtime to decide this game.
Winter Park came out like the fierce competitors they are right from the start of the second half. Although Lyman nearly connected twice on scoring opportunities that no doubt would have put the game to bed, the score stayed 2-0. More than half way through the final period, a defensive mistake on Lyman’s part led to an easy break-away goal by Winter Park striker Nickolas Scures, bringing them within a goal at 2-1. The applause from the Winter Park side made everyone realize how many more Lyman faithful were in that stadium than the so-called home team. In comparison to the bursts of noise from Lyman, the other fans barely registered from 50 feet away.
The minutes continued to tick away with Lyman precariously holding onto its slim lead. The mistake that led to the goal seemed to be wearing on Lyman, while providing inspiration to Winter Park. Lyman’s passing wasn’t as crisp as it had been, and the scoring chances had dried up. Conversely, the Winter Park boys were furiously attacking the Lyman end of the field, and the only thing keeping the tying goal out of the net was the sheer determination of Lyman’s defense, along with some brilliant goal keeping by Lado. Finally, with less than ten minutes to go, Winter Park’s continued pressure and Lyman’s inability to change the momentum swing resulted in Nickolas Scures again breaking free down the left side. Lyman’s keeper – in a moment of indecision – came halfway off of his line, stopped, then went further out and stopped again. This left him in no-man’s land, and Scures easily lifted a soft floater over Lado’s head to notch the game at 2 apiece.
With momentum firmly on their side now, Winter Park nearly won the game on 3 separate occasions in the final seven minutes or so. Senior Lyman defender Nick Basquill-White brilliantly shut down two breakaway scoring chances, and with less than a minute to play, Junior striker Ezra Rickard sprinted from the middle of the field all the way back into his own goal mouth and threw his body in front of a would-be winning goal. The screaming, pleading, and frenetic energy from both sides in the stands was deafening at times, as the people in those stands were up and down every 30 seconds, watching potentially game ending play after game ending play be thwarted by each team’s defense. As time ran down, Lyman’s Orlin Palma took a punted ball from his own keeper and sent a scorching shot about an inch and a half above the crossbar as the numbers on the clock went to 00.00. The place simultaneously gasped and screeched at the thrilling end to regulation time. It was almost unbearable to think they had to play overtime to decide this game.
The game that would be king Part IV
“How fun is this?” I said to my wife. The blood nearly drained from her face, she acknowledged this was the most fun you could ever have for six dollars. There was a 5 minute break, and then both teams came out for the first overtime. In soccer they call it a “golden goal”, but I still prefer the universal “sudden death”. There would be a ten minute overtime with the first team to score being the winner.
Forty seconds into it, that winner was darn near Winter Park. In a flurry of activity in front of the net, Marcos Lado again got a fingertip on a ball to keep Lyman’s season alive. Four minutes into the OT, senior Lyman striker Marko Bilal took the game winning shot – or so it seemed – but it rattled hard off the right goal post and back into play. Not a minute later, Winter Park sent a high ball into Lyman’s goal mouth that bounced hard off the firm turf, struck the underside of the crossbar, and came back into the field of play without crossing the goal line. Those crossbars and posts are round, and so is the ball. It’s in the hands of the sporting deity’s which way a shot will carom after it hits. At this point in the match, it was impossible to tell which team destiny was favoring, as both had struck and come up empty. With only one or two minutes left in the first overtime, senior Lyman midfielder David Portella fired what looked to me and everyone in the stadium to be the winning goal. It was a blasted strike, heading straight towards the upper 90 (the corner of the post and crossbar that form a 90 degree angle). Incredibly, the Winter Park goal keeper sprung upward like a gazelle on steroids, and flicked the ball away with his gloved left hand. I remember screaming out loud how impressed I was with the save…disappointed, but impressed nonetheless. You can watch professional soccer on T.V. for the rest of your life, and you may see many saves just as good, but I guarantee you won’t see one better.
The second overtime wasn’t quite as dramatic. There were scoring chances for each team to be sure, but these boys had been going at it for 2 ½ hours now, full speed the whole time. You could see the kids suffering from cramps, exhaustion, and little nicks and bruises. There were players on both sides playing hurt, but in a game of this magnitude, competitors go with what they have and play through the pain. In a last second effort, Winter Park nearly scored with 4 seconds left, but Lado came through again.
We all knew at this point, the game would end soon. Per pre-established procedure, after the two teams play two overtimes without closure, they immediately go to penalty kicks, or PK’s as they are called. Each team will get five shots, alternated from team to team. The shots are taken from a spot centered approximately 12 yards from the goal line. One player – one keeper. The referee ensures both parties are ready, blows the whistle and the shooter makes his approach and fires away. By rule the keeper has to have both heels on the line and can’t move until the shooter starts his approach. For all intents and purposes, the keeper is dead in the water. He has to read the eyes of the shooter, make a guess as to which way he’s going, and then dive that way. Most times it’s an exercise in futility.
With both teams’ shooters assembled at the mid-field line, Lyman had the first shot. A glance at the Lyman bench found the coaches and players arm in arm in a line, one more show of solidarity for the team. They would stay locked together for the duration of the penalty shoot.
Senior Marko Bilal sent his shot too close to the center of the goal, but it had so much velocity on it, it bounced off the keepers hand and in.
An explosion of noise from the Lyman side followed.
Winter Park’s first shooter took what I thought in hind-sight was the best shot of the whole PK session, a screamer headed around the right goalpost and into the side netting. Lado, obviously inspired and guessing correctly, leapt to his right, body parallel to the ground, and deflected the ball away.
Quadruple explosion of noise.
Lyman made its next two kicks, and Winter Park made one and missed another. Lyman was on its fourth kick, with three opportunities to win. Make the fourth kick; stop Winter Park’s fourth kick; or make the fifth and final kick. We went with option #2. After Lyman missed for the first time, the Winter Park #4 shooter sent a ball careening off the top of the crossbar and upward, setting off a tumultuous ovation that wouldn’t stop for nearly 15 minutes. As the shooter missed, the Lyman players went streaking across the field as the stadium floorboards vibrated with the volume and emotion of the moment.
I too was screaming as loud as I could, but somewhere while watching my own son race across the field to join in his teammate’s celebration, a thought came to me: I’ll be darned. The coyote finally caught the road-runner.
Seniors for the Winter Park team sat or were laying on the ground devastated, crying understandable tears. They had fought hard and nearly won the game on several occasions, but fate was wearing sky blue and yellow this night. For most of those seniors, this is it. Sad as it may seem, life will start getting in the way, and their playing days will begin to dwindle. For Lyman, it’s off to Ft. Lauderdale and the state finals this Wednesday, so the journey continues.
As the Lyman boys danced, chanted, and sang into the night - taking victory lap after victory lap around the field - I could have sworn I heard the rumble of high school football waking up from its slumber, wondering how all of its fans had made their way to this soccer game. Of course, I’ve just explained to you why that happened, and how for one night at least – soccer was king of the universe, and the center of it all was a tiny, overfilled college stadium that turned out to be the perfect venue after all..
Forty seconds into it, that winner was darn near Winter Park. In a flurry of activity in front of the net, Marcos Lado again got a fingertip on a ball to keep Lyman’s season alive. Four minutes into the OT, senior Lyman striker Marko Bilal took the game winning shot – or so it seemed – but it rattled hard off the right goal post and back into play. Not a minute later, Winter Park sent a high ball into Lyman’s goal mouth that bounced hard off the firm turf, struck the underside of the crossbar, and came back into the field of play without crossing the goal line. Those crossbars and posts are round, and so is the ball. It’s in the hands of the sporting deity’s which way a shot will carom after it hits. At this point in the match, it was impossible to tell which team destiny was favoring, as both had struck and come up empty. With only one or two minutes left in the first overtime, senior Lyman midfielder David Portella fired what looked to me and everyone in the stadium to be the winning goal. It was a blasted strike, heading straight towards the upper 90 (the corner of the post and crossbar that form a 90 degree angle). Incredibly, the Winter Park goal keeper sprung upward like a gazelle on steroids, and flicked the ball away with his gloved left hand. I remember screaming out loud how impressed I was with the save…disappointed, but impressed nonetheless. You can watch professional soccer on T.V. for the rest of your life, and you may see many saves just as good, but I guarantee you won’t see one better.
The second overtime wasn’t quite as dramatic. There were scoring chances for each team to be sure, but these boys had been going at it for 2 ½ hours now, full speed the whole time. You could see the kids suffering from cramps, exhaustion, and little nicks and bruises. There were players on both sides playing hurt, but in a game of this magnitude, competitors go with what they have and play through the pain. In a last second effort, Winter Park nearly scored with 4 seconds left, but Lado came through again.
We all knew at this point, the game would end soon. Per pre-established procedure, after the two teams play two overtimes without closure, they immediately go to penalty kicks, or PK’s as they are called. Each team will get five shots, alternated from team to team. The shots are taken from a spot centered approximately 12 yards from the goal line. One player – one keeper. The referee ensures both parties are ready, blows the whistle and the shooter makes his approach and fires away. By rule the keeper has to have both heels on the line and can’t move until the shooter starts his approach. For all intents and purposes, the keeper is dead in the water. He has to read the eyes of the shooter, make a guess as to which way he’s going, and then dive that way. Most times it’s an exercise in futility.
With both teams’ shooters assembled at the mid-field line, Lyman had the first shot. A glance at the Lyman bench found the coaches and players arm in arm in a line, one more show of solidarity for the team. They would stay locked together for the duration of the penalty shoot.
Senior Marko Bilal sent his shot too close to the center of the goal, but it had so much velocity on it, it bounced off the keepers hand and in.
An explosion of noise from the Lyman side followed.
Winter Park’s first shooter took what I thought in hind-sight was the best shot of the whole PK session, a screamer headed around the right goalpost and into the side netting. Lado, obviously inspired and guessing correctly, leapt to his right, body parallel to the ground, and deflected the ball away.
Quadruple explosion of noise.
Lyman made its next two kicks, and Winter Park made one and missed another. Lyman was on its fourth kick, with three opportunities to win. Make the fourth kick; stop Winter Park’s fourth kick; or make the fifth and final kick. We went with option #2. After Lyman missed for the first time, the Winter Park #4 shooter sent a ball careening off the top of the crossbar and upward, setting off a tumultuous ovation that wouldn’t stop for nearly 15 minutes. As the shooter missed, the Lyman players went streaking across the field as the stadium floorboards vibrated with the volume and emotion of the moment.
I too was screaming as loud as I could, but somewhere while watching my own son race across the field to join in his teammate’s celebration, a thought came to me: I’ll be darned. The coyote finally caught the road-runner.
Seniors for the Winter Park team sat or were laying on the ground devastated, crying understandable tears. They had fought hard and nearly won the game on several occasions, but fate was wearing sky blue and yellow this night. For most of those seniors, this is it. Sad as it may seem, life will start getting in the way, and their playing days will begin to dwindle. For Lyman, it’s off to Ft. Lauderdale and the state finals this Wednesday, so the journey continues.
As the Lyman boys danced, chanted, and sang into the night - taking victory lap after victory lap around the field - I could have sworn I heard the rumble of high school football waking up from its slumber, wondering how all of its fans had made their way to this soccer game. Of course, I’ve just explained to you why that happened, and how for one night at least – soccer was king of the universe, and the center of it all was a tiny, overfilled college stadium that turned out to be the perfect venue after all..
Friday, February 09, 2007
Who knew Zsa Zsa was even alive?
Zsa Zsa Gabor's Husband: Anna Nicole's Baby Daddy?
LOS ANGELES (February 9, 2007) -- Actress Zsa Zsa Gabor's husband says he had a decade-long affair with Anna Nicole Smith and may be her daughter's father.
The claim, by Prince Frederick von Anhalt comes amid a paternity suit over Smith's five-month-old daughter, Dannielynn.
In an ever-increasingly bizarre story, three more celebrities have also stepped forward, claiming to be the father of the 5 month old baby...
LOS ANGELES (February 9, 2007) -- Actress Zsa Zsa Gabor's husband says he had a decade-long affair with Anna Nicole Smith and may be her daughter's father.
The claim, by Prince Frederick von Anhalt comes amid a paternity suit over Smith's five-month-old daughter, Dannielynn.
In an ever-increasingly bizarre story, three more celebrities have also stepped forward, claiming to be the father of the 5 month old baby...
Now what? Where will we turn?
Nicole Anna Paris Britneyhan died yesterday at the age of 39. Unfortunately, her breasts were only 14, her hips and buttocks still in the pre-pubescent years of 7 thru 10, and her eyes and nose barely out of diapers.
It is a social loss to our nation to be sure, the effects of which we'll no doubt still be feeling for the rest of the decade. We're running out of role models faster than a DNA test result in a Judge's hands can necessitate the phrase, "Sir...the report clearly shows the baby belongs to the pool boy."
Whom do we turn to at this point? How will our children ever grow up with a set of values that bespeak hard work, educational focus, and goals-based achievement without the positive influences of the Anna's in our world?
People magazine will soon be 7 pages lighter, there will be one less Enquire/Star at the checkout stand, and US Weekly will no doubt become US Monthly. Oh, the humanity. Who will carry the mantle for our children at this point - parents?
Parents as role-models?
Now you're just crazy-talkin'.
It is a social loss to our nation to be sure, the effects of which we'll no doubt still be feeling for the rest of the decade. We're running out of role models faster than a DNA test result in a Judge's hands can necessitate the phrase, "Sir...the report clearly shows the baby belongs to the pool boy."
Whom do we turn to at this point? How will our children ever grow up with a set of values that bespeak hard work, educational focus, and goals-based achievement without the positive influences of the Anna's in our world?
People magazine will soon be 7 pages lighter, there will be one less Enquire/Star at the checkout stand, and US Weekly will no doubt become US Monthly. Oh, the humanity. Who will carry the mantle for our children at this point - parents?
Parents as role-models?
Now you're just crazy-talkin'.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Yes...they DO say the darndest things
Questions on Marriage and relationships asked to children:
HOW DOES AN ADULT CHOOSE MARRIAGE?
You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like, if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the chips and dip coming.
-- Alan, age 10
No person really decides before they grow up who they're going to marry.
God decides it all way before, and you get to find out later who you're stuck with.
-- Kristen, age 10
WHAT IS THE RIGHT AGE TO GET MARRIED?
Twenty-three is the best age because you know the person FOREVER by then.
-- Camille, age 10
HOW CAN A STRANGER TELL IF TWO PEOPLE ARE MARRIED?
You might have to guess, based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids.
-- Derrick, age 8
WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR MOM AND DAD HAVE IN COMMON?
Both don't want any more kids.
-- Lori, age 8
WHAT DO MOST PEOPLE DO ON A DATE?
Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know each other. Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough.
-- Lynnette, age 8
On the first date, they just tell each other lies and that usually gets
them interested enough to go for a second date.
-- Martin, age 10
WHAT WOULD YOU DO ON A FIRST DATE THAT WAS TURNING SOUR?
I'd run home and play dead. The next day I would call all the newspapers and
make sure they wrote about me in all the dead columns.
-- Craig, age 9
WHEN IS IT OKAY TO KISS SOMEONE?
When they're rich.
-- Pam, age 7
The law says you have to be eighteen, so I wouldn't want to mess with that.
- - Curt, age 7
The rule goes like this: If you kiss someone, then you should marry them and
have kids with them. It's the right thing to do.
-- Howard, age 8
IS IT BETTER TO BE SINGLE OR MARRIED?
It's better for girls to be single but not for boys. Boys need someone to
clean up after them.
-- Anita, age 9
HOW WOULD THE WORLD BE DIFFERENT IF PEOPLE DIDN'T GET MARRIED?
There sure would be a lot of kids to explain, wouldn't there?
-- Kelvin, age 8
And the #1 Favorite is........
HOW WOULD YOU MAKE A MARRIAGE WORK?
Tell your wife that she looks pretty, even if she looks like a truck.
-- Ricky, age 10
HOW DOES AN ADULT CHOOSE MARRIAGE?
You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like, if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the chips and dip coming.
-- Alan, age 10
No person really decides before they grow up who they're going to marry.
God decides it all way before, and you get to find out later who you're stuck with.
-- Kristen, age 10
WHAT IS THE RIGHT AGE TO GET MARRIED?
Twenty-three is the best age because you know the person FOREVER by then.
-- Camille, age 10
HOW CAN A STRANGER TELL IF TWO PEOPLE ARE MARRIED?
You might have to guess, based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids.
-- Derrick, age 8
WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR MOM AND DAD HAVE IN COMMON?
Both don't want any more kids.
-- Lori, age 8
WHAT DO MOST PEOPLE DO ON A DATE?
Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know each other. Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough.
-- Lynnette, age 8
On the first date, they just tell each other lies and that usually gets
them interested enough to go for a second date.
-- Martin, age 10
WHAT WOULD YOU DO ON A FIRST DATE THAT WAS TURNING SOUR?
I'd run home and play dead. The next day I would call all the newspapers and
make sure they wrote about me in all the dead columns.
-- Craig, age 9
WHEN IS IT OKAY TO KISS SOMEONE?
When they're rich.
-- Pam, age 7
The law says you have to be eighteen, so I wouldn't want to mess with that.
- - Curt, age 7
The rule goes like this: If you kiss someone, then you should marry them and
have kids with them. It's the right thing to do.
-- Howard, age 8
IS IT BETTER TO BE SINGLE OR MARRIED?
It's better for girls to be single but not for boys. Boys need someone to
clean up after them.
-- Anita, age 9
HOW WOULD THE WORLD BE DIFFERENT IF PEOPLE DIDN'T GET MARRIED?
There sure would be a lot of kids to explain, wouldn't there?
-- Kelvin, age 8
And the #1 Favorite is........
HOW WOULD YOU MAKE A MARRIAGE WORK?
Tell your wife that she looks pretty, even if she looks like a truck.
-- Ricky, age 10
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Astronauts gone wild
I awoke this morning to Internet, television, and radio shock. The word "Astronaut" has always - ALWAYS - brought the following adjectives to mind:
Honor, bravery, courage, guts, intelligence, and any of a thousand other superlatives.
Not this morning though. In one single story about a 43 year old mission specialist, the following words and phrases were extracted in the order which they appeared in the story. Certainly, a story such as this is the first of its kind in the history of manned space, for any nation who has participated in these endeavors:
Attacked, trench coat, wig, latex gloves, knife, BB pistol, adult diapers, kidnapping, battery, attempted vehicle burglary with battery, destruction of evidence, GPS ankle bracelet, victim, restraining order, intent to batter, pepper spray.
What in the world is going on here?
How could we have done this?
Good Lord in Heaven, what the heck were some of these people thinking? This is before the age of Prozac, so a certain level of insanity can be excused, but my goodness, most of the folks featured here have lost it - and more than likely will never again find it either.Tino. Tino, Tino, Tino, Tino, Tino. What in the name of the disco duck were you thinking? My sources tell me the title means, "For the first time." Hopefully, the last as well.
Isn't Al Davis the flamboyant owner of the Oakland Raiders of the NFL? We now see where his flamboyancy came from. Which came first, the "Crusades" or the "Spanish Inquisition"? Whichever order they came in, we now have a solid theory as to why these tragic events occured.
The title of this little piece of musical history tells most of the story: "PLEASURE PUDDING SWEET PIE LIVID AT FAT CITY.Anyone who has even the vaguest idea of what that title may mean may call me at 555-266-3873...that's 555-CON-FUSE.
Apparently, this classic album is from the 1970's, when the Industrial Revolution was still in its infancy, and people were forced to go to church in their neighbor's barn. Eventually the 80's came about, and concrete and stained glass were discovered.
An interesting tid-bit about the photo. All three men look as if they have both arms hanging straight down, yet the woman has a hand on her shoulder. Is anyone else spooked by this image? And furthermore, if the cameraman is over here, who are they looking at?
Pass.
"The Playmates"? They're kidding, right? The guy in the middle is having way too much fun, while the guy in front has just come to realize he has the stomach flu, and no time to get off the scooter and over to a bathroom. Subsequently, the photo shoot ended about 4 seconds later.
I once saw Herbie Mann in concert. Now I've seen far too much of him. Why didn't he just shave the title into his chest hair? It would have had a greater cinematic effect that way.
And we finish our segment with "Devastatin' Dave - the Turntable Slave".
Dave was famous for the chart-topping hits "Hey Baby", "Yo Baby", "Wassup Baby?", and his 1972 #1 Single, "Sssapenin' Baby?"
Dave was the original model of the Michael Jackson JC Penny collection, but he eventually zip, zap, rapped himself into oblivion.
"Ssssall in a day's work, Baby", Dave said in an interview conducted in a 1984 autograph session at the Umatilla Florida Quick-Mart and Check Cashing Emporium, where literally scores of unknowing people made Dave's aquaintance for the first time.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Speaking of Prime-Time cable news
The top 4 cable news shows between 7 pm and 11 pm.
#1 The O'Reilly Factor Fox (Don't watch it often, and only in small bursts)
#2 Glenn Beck CNN's Headline News (Watch it a lot)
#3 Anderson Cooper 360 CNN (Watching it more now)
#4 Countdown with Keith Olbermann MSNBC (Used to watch it, not any more)
This is a quick look at what you could have watched in Prime-Time last week:
Anderson Cooper:
2 terrific interviews with a British war correspondent that broke down the fall of Iraq, and how Iranian insurgents have taken so much control without the main-stream American media reporting on it. Best and most informative story I've seen in a long time, and a radical departure from CNN's reporting stance. Included constructive criticism and praise [where merited] of the civilian and military policy makers in the U.S. Wonderful use of maps, Google Earth, and pertinent graphics.
Several interesting and introspective pieces about the various U.S. politico's view the entire Middle East issues on both sides of the political fence.
A heart-felt and sensitively handled on-site coverage of the Feb 2nd Tornado's that ripped Central Florida.
Anderson Cooper is a rounded program, with a focus on issues in and out of the country that concern us all.
Glenn Beck:
Iranian nuclear enrichment program and it's global consequences.
A story about Islamic Extremism taking a bolder, more proportional role in European politics.
Stories of the 5 U.S. Soldier's killed in a coordinated attack inside a compound, and the 3 (now 4) helicopter downing's in Iraq that have all the ear-marks and fingerprints of the Iranian Revolutionary Guard.
A fascinating story about the rift occurring in the U. S. between Shiite and Sunni's living in this country, to include specific notation of acts of violence happening without mention in the media.
In short, Glenn's focus is on the Middle East, it's broader issues, and how it affects the U.S.
Keith Olberman:
3 different monologue's about President Bush and the issues he has failed the country on.
Another monologue about how Newt Gingrich wants freedom of speech limited.
A story about how 9/11 fever has Republicans' criticizing Senator Barak Obama about something to do with Islam.
A monologue about how the President is conning Christians (that makes 4 Bush mono's)
A monologue about how the President doesn't want fair and speedy trials of Gitmo prisoner's to happen (that's 5...but who is counting?)
A criticism of FOX TVs popular show '24', and how it is giving its viewers the impression that car bombs on the streets of this nation are not only possible, but likely. Apparently part of the current administration's "fear tactics."
Keith's broadcasts tend to be about to people, in particular the current republican administration. He talks issues, but mainly concentrates on the people involved in the issues and the mistakes they make.
I can certainly see what makes one show higher than another. Focus. News. Interesting and constantly updating content. Each has the right to their own style and opinion of what is news, and what is not. Some stuff about people, some stuff about broader issues. Very little in the same ole - same ole department.
I don't watch local news because it does the weather 4 times a half hour. I don't watch Hannity and Colmbs, Nancy Grace, or O'Reilly, because they never change, and always have the same basic theme.
H&C is about libs vs concervs in our government. Grace is always about women who have crimes committed against them. O'Reilly spends most of his time defending what he said the night before, but in fairness to him, he does go from topic to topic.
With the exception of O'Reilly, the majority of them spin their wheels in the same spot in the ratings, while Anderson Cooper rises, Glenn Beck rockets towards the top, and Olbermann seems to be falling slightly.
In change, there is often progress. I'm pretty sure that applies to news as well.
#1 The O'Reilly Factor Fox (Don't watch it often, and only in small bursts)
#2 Glenn Beck CNN's Headline News (Watch it a lot)
#3 Anderson Cooper 360 CNN (Watching it more now)
#4 Countdown with Keith Olbermann MSNBC (Used to watch it, not any more)
This is a quick look at what you could have watched in Prime-Time last week:
Anderson Cooper:
2 terrific interviews with a British war correspondent that broke down the fall of Iraq, and how Iranian insurgents have taken so much control without the main-stream American media reporting on it. Best and most informative story I've seen in a long time, and a radical departure from CNN's reporting stance. Included constructive criticism and praise [where merited] of the civilian and military policy makers in the U.S. Wonderful use of maps, Google Earth, and pertinent graphics.
Several interesting and introspective pieces about the various U.S. politico's view the entire Middle East issues on both sides of the political fence.
A heart-felt and sensitively handled on-site coverage of the Feb 2nd Tornado's that ripped Central Florida.
Anderson Cooper is a rounded program, with a focus on issues in and out of the country that concern us all.
Glenn Beck:
Iranian nuclear enrichment program and it's global consequences.
A story about Islamic Extremism taking a bolder, more proportional role in European politics.
Stories of the 5 U.S. Soldier's killed in a coordinated attack inside a compound, and the 3 (now 4) helicopter downing's in Iraq that have all the ear-marks and fingerprints of the Iranian Revolutionary Guard.
A fascinating story about the rift occurring in the U. S. between Shiite and Sunni's living in this country, to include specific notation of acts of violence happening without mention in the media.
In short, Glenn's focus is on the Middle East, it's broader issues, and how it affects the U.S.
Keith Olberman:
3 different monologue's about President Bush and the issues he has failed the country on.
Another monologue about how Newt Gingrich wants freedom of speech limited.
A story about how 9/11 fever has Republicans' criticizing Senator Barak Obama about something to do with Islam.
A monologue about how the President is conning Christians (that makes 4 Bush mono's)
A monologue about how the President doesn't want fair and speedy trials of Gitmo prisoner's to happen (that's 5...but who is counting?)
A criticism of FOX TVs popular show '24', and how it is giving its viewers the impression that car bombs on the streets of this nation are not only possible, but likely. Apparently part of the current administration's "fear tactics."
Keith's broadcasts tend to be about to people, in particular the current republican administration. He talks issues, but mainly concentrates on the people involved in the issues and the mistakes they make.
I can certainly see what makes one show higher than another. Focus. News. Interesting and constantly updating content. Each has the right to their own style and opinion of what is news, and what is not. Some stuff about people, some stuff about broader issues. Very little in the same ole - same ole department.
I don't watch local news because it does the weather 4 times a half hour. I don't watch Hannity and Colmbs, Nancy Grace, or O'Reilly, because they never change, and always have the same basic theme.
H&C is about libs vs concervs in our government. Grace is always about women who have crimes committed against them. O'Reilly spends most of his time defending what he said the night before, but in fairness to him, he does go from topic to topic.
With the exception of O'Reilly, the majority of them spin their wheels in the same spot in the ratings, while Anderson Cooper rises, Glenn Beck rockets towards the top, and Olbermann seems to be falling slightly.
In change, there is often progress. I'm pretty sure that applies to news as well.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
.jpg)