What's wrong with these pictures?

30 year old New York Firefighter yearly salary

$54,048

$148/day

30 year old New York Yankee yearly salary (A-Rod)

$25,680,727

$70+ THOUSAND per day

Vote for Pedro

Yesterday was primary day in Ohio. I didn't vote. I wanted to. I tried to. But I couldn't do it.

I've always been adamant about voting. I have worked, locally, on several presidential campaigns. I have organized voter registration drives and MTV Rock the Vote campaigns. I've complained more times than I can count about people who don't vote but then whine about the state of the union-state-county-city. Now I am one of those people.

I'm not sure my excuse for not voting is valid. Heck, it's not even an excuse, just an explanation. I'm sick of politics. I take that back. I'm not sick of politics, I'm sick of dirty politics. I'm sick of negative campaign ads (attacks). I'm sick of trying to figure out how we've come to such a sorry state that we put up with this crap.

I think we need to abolish the party system and just let people run on their platforms rather than against each other. Yeah, I know, that'll never happen. It's not feasible. It's not sordid enough. It's not even American. But wouldn't it be nice to just be able to hear about what someone wants to do to improve their little piece of the world and be able to reasonably expect them to follow through? Wouldn't it be nice if someone would inject a modicum of decency and respect into their campaign? Wouldn't it have been nice to have had the option of voting for a Kerry/McCain team?

The media pundits don't exactly have a positive effect on politics, either. Most media outlets lean towards one party or another, with few offering truly unbiased information. It seems like journalism has gone completely over to the spin doctors, commentators, and speculators rather than honest, intelligent reporting. And I'm not just talking about Jayson Blair or Stephen Glass, both reporters found guilty of injecting not just their own opinions into their pieces but fabricating the "news" they reported. I'm talking about Bill O'Reilly, Sean Hannity, Alan Coombs. I'm talking about Fox News versus CNN versus whichever of your local network channels you get your news from. The traditional town paper versus the tabloid version (which is roughly equivalent to the papers owned by The New York Times conglomerate versus those owned by Rupert Murdoch.) I'm talking about how the news is slanted depending on who is delivering it. That doesn't even begin to touch on the "news" that isn't news but mere speculation. Or projecting. Or polling. That seems to be a whole other genre of infotainment.

Anyway, to get back to voting, I actually researched some of the candidates. I tried to learn about the issues. I tried to separate the wheat from the chaff and I finally gave up. I finally got so disgusted I made a conscious decision (as opposed to an unconscious decision?) to ignore my own sense of duty and skip the polling places. I'm sure I could have conquered the new polling equipment, much of which was reported to have not lived up to expectations of simplicity, at least in my county. And I know from experience that I would have had to wait to get into a vacant booth but that wait would be less than ten minutes. I also know I could see past the familial links between candidates who all seem to be trying to make the point that they are related to JOE Smith but not JOHN Smith, or NOT related to any Smith that has served before. (You think nepotism in politics is bad in Boston, you should check out the incestual local governments in Ohio, including my little berg.)

Instead of just going through the motions I decided to take a stand and refuse to support what I think is a flawed system. Not flawed in its design but flawed in its execution. It probably won't have much of an effect on the outcome of local races, but I kind of feel good about my own little protest. Maybe I'll even write a letter to the editor. It's bound to get published. It seems the whole front section of the paper has been taken over by editorials and essays. I wonder where they put the REAL news.

GOOD NIGHT, AND GOOD LUCK

No Matter How You Slice It

So I was watching Dateline last night and they did a segment on the dangers of eating a bagged salad without first washing it. You know, those bags of salad mixtures you can get at the grocery store. The ones with names like Fresh Express, and variations from American to European to Veggie Lovers. I’m not sure the Veggie Lovers is aptly named, since the only thing that distinguishes that from a regular salad mix is extra carrots. I like carrots, but I wouldn’t consider myself a carrot lover! Maybe they should just call it the American with Extra Carrots. Or the American Mix for Folks Who Like Extra Carrots. Or they could call it what it is…lettuce and carrot salad. That’s probably not good enough for the marketing team. Not too catchy. And heaven forbid they should actually call it what it is. What do we expect, truth in advertising?

Okay, here it comes…drum roll please…Ah But I Digress. Back to the Dateline piece. The “Industry Consultant” (read the guy who’s paid to spin the problem on behalf of the lettuce growers/packers/sellers, everybody but the salad eaters) referred to bagged salads as the greatest food innovation since sliced bread. That really got me thinking. Not about bagged salads but about sliced bread. I mean, really, is it that great that all else pales in comparison to it? I mean, how difficult is it to slice the bread yourself? It’s not like people couldn’t figure out how to slice the bread before the industrial revolution. Knives have been around in some form since the cavemen learned how to make tools out of stone. Granted it’s easier to slice the bread with a serrated bread knife, but the sharp stone was good enough for Neanderthal Man. I’m not exactly sure of this but I imagine slicing bread was popular hundreds of years ago when the Earl of Sandwich decided to stack a hunk of meat between two, well, slices of bread. So I guess people have been slicing bread for a while now.

When you think of it, there have been a few innovations, a few discoveries and inventions, in the past few centuries that are truly better than sliced bread. So why is sliced bread still the gold standard against which all other advances are measured? (And what was the best thing before sliced bread?) How about something being the best thing since the polio vaccine? Or the best thing since moveable type? Did moveable type come before sliced bread, and hence lose its luster and its best ranking? Even other sliced foods are better than sliced bread. Like bacon. Which would you rather slice, a loaf of bread or a big ol’ side of pork fat? I’ll slice the bread and go with the pre-sliced bacon, thank you very much. Oh, and how about cheese? Sliced cheese is good, but I’m not sure it’s better than sliced bread. Although it becomes a tighter race when the cheese is individually wrapped so it doesn’t all stick together. But only if it’s real cheese. I’m not so sure about that cheese food stuff. Who ever thought of calling it cheese food? You don’t feed the cheese. You can cut the cheese. Preferably in another room. You can melt the cheese. You can even slice the cheese yourself. But I have never, in my many years on this planet, seen anybody feed their cheese.

You know what? Since the cheese is individually wrapped, maybe they should individually wrap the pieces of bread. Maybe it would stay fresh longer. That would be the best thing since sliced bread!

RIDE LIKE THE WIND

This is another installment of previously written essays that I occasionally post here. It may help you understand what "drives" people to ride those infernal machines known as motorcycles. And no, a Vespa doesn't count!

In spite of the dangers that accompany every motorcycle ride, motorcycles are becoming more mainstream than they ever were. Baby boomers are fulfilling lifelong fantasies of posturing as Easy Rider and cruising through town on a customized chopper. Women have long enjoyed riding motorcycles but it’s only recently that it has become socially acceptable for them to be bikers rather than just biker babes. Admittedly, riding motorcycles is in and of itself an inherently dangerous, some say reckless, activity. But there is no other mode of transportation that legally offers the thrills and excitement, the enjoyment of being one with the road, that motorcycling does, and riding in motorcycle friendly California is one of the best ways to experience this.

There’s a new kid in town, Joanie come lately, and she’s rollin’ in on her hog. Whether tooling around town on a customized Harley or riding across the country on a fully dressed Honda Gold Wing, the woman’s place has almost always been on the back of the bike. Fortunately this is no longer the only way for women to ride. More and more women are giving up the queen seats and side cars to ride their own bikes alongside their mates. Many women who have been closet bikers can now proudly leave the mini-van in the garage and bop around town on their bikes. Some grandmas are fulfilling life-long dreams of touring across America on its back roads, meeting people from all walks of life and generally having the times of their lives. Still other women are trading Oprah-inspired book club meetings for group rides, sometimes with no particular justification except the enjoyment of the ride itself.

Out on the pavement, all motorcyclists actually take their lives into their hands every time they hop on a bike. Hitting the open road has a different, even literal, meaning for a cyclist. Regardless of continuing technological improvements, bikes are dangerous just by nature of their design. Because a motorcycle’s tires are so much smaller than a car’s they allow less contact with the road. In recent years improvements in the design, structure, and materials used in manufacturing motorcycle tires have greatly increased their grip; reduced the rate of blowouts; and helped improve bike handling and road traction. Along with tire R&D, new suspension technologies, lighter weight materials, and stronger frame designs have helped enhance handling and drivability. But all the high tech R&D available can’t help a motorcyclist in his battles with inattentive, ignorant, and reckless car drivers. A cycle/rider combination’s relatively small stature makes them less visible to other drivers. Not only do car operators have difficulty perceiving the speed at which a motorcycle may be coming toward them, they have trouble judging how far away they are. Or they erroneously think a motorcycle’s better handling characteristics will compensate for their own lack of judgment. When push comes to shove, in most accidents between motorcycle and motor vehicle, the cyclist had the right of way. Unfortunately the laws of physics supersede the rules of the road, and a motorcyclist who is right just may be dead right. (Wanna know how I know this?)

Despite the risks involved, the lure of the open road joins with the liberation of zooming along free of the confines of a hulking metal cage to entice riders into the great outdoors. Riding in California is one of the greatest ways to experience the fun and challenge a motorcyclist craves. First, to make commuting more bearable, the fine art of lane splitting, once mastered, offers more than enough excitement to satisfy even the most masochistic rider’s need for an adrenaline rush. Cyclists all over the country envy Californians’ ability to legally ride through rush hour traffic, slithering along on the lane markers between the Lexuses and Range Rovers, leaving frustrated drivers in their wake to mutter into their car phones about missing Johnny’s baseball game because they are once again stuck in traffic in the Sepulveda Pass. An even better way to get from town to town in LA is to leave the boring, overcrowded freeways to ride the twisty, hilly canyon roads. Speeding along Topanga Canyon Road to reach the beaches of Malibu beats any amusement park ride known to man. (Of course, the operative word is speeding!) Words cannot describe the divergent views encountered on the stretch of Topanga Canyon from the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) to the 101 (Ventura Freeway). Finally, riders can choose to spend the entire day on the PCH, starting at the Mexican border heading north all the way to San Francisco. Along the way the ride along the coast travels through beach towns like La Jolla, Malibu, and San Luis Obispo, and past the naval warfare installations at Point Mugu, continuing as far north as Carmel and Big Sur before scenic overload necessitates a stop for the night to revel in the wondrous sites just encountered. All in all, not a bad way to explore the coast and take advantage of motorcycle friendly California.

In conclusion, motorcycling offers a unique experience to all who partake while the dangers previously associated with riding have been reduced. Women are coming into their own in a previously male-dominated arena. Improvements in handling, safety, and driver awareness reduce the element of danger, although with the increased popularity of extreme sports, people seem more willing to risk life and limb for thrills, chills, and spills. Finally, it can be argued that traveling by motorcycle, whether customized chopper, touring cruiser, or sport bike, can be the most exhilarating, enriching means to experiencing America at its best.

Deal...or No Deal?

So my phone died the other day while I was talking on it. I have no idea what happened. The call was dropped and when I tried to call back, my phone had become a party line. This happened when I first moved into the house so, naturally, I figured it was the same problem, so I call the phone company. Pretty smart, eh? So they send a tech out the next day, about four thirty. Well they did say they’d have somebody there between the time I called Wednesday morning and the close of business Thursday. I think they schedule it like that simply because they can.

Anyway, he tells me the problem is with my phone or inside line and he can't fix it, so here’s a bill for $71 and call us again if you have any more problems. Hah! Seventy-one bucks and all he did was plug his phone into my outside jack and make a call. And he called a buddy, not the home office! Well, now I know I should take a phone outside and plug it in to test the line BEFORE I call SBC. Or AT&T. Or whatever they’re calling themselves nowadays.

So all this is just a set-up for the news du jour. I’m looking online to decide what phone to buy to replace mine, and I decide to check out, among others, the Best Buy site. Lo and behold, Best Buy is having a HUGE sale on cordless phones and phonesets. If I buy before the sale ends, I can save $1.00 on select models. I kid you not! A WHOLE DOLLAR! Wow, if that isn’t going to bring the customers in in droves, I don’t know what will. That’s an incredible incentive! I just wouldn’t feel right keeping this info to myself. I really feel the need to share this with each and every one of you so you, too, can take advantage of this great opportunity. I mean, how often do you get a chance to save $1.00? Why pay $65.99 when you can get the same phone for $64.99? But wait!!! On further inspection I found a couple of models on which you could save $2.00! That’s twice the savings! You can get a brand, spankin’ new Uniden cordless phone NOT for the low, low price of $24.99 but right now you can get that phone for $22.99. New and in the original box! (I assume, though it doesn’t actually say you get the box. Maybe that’s where they make up that extra $1 off. Maybe they don’t give you a bag, either. Hey, they have to make up the difference somewhere.)

If I were you, I’d act quickly because I’m sure this must be a limited time offer. How could they possibly stay in business offering this kind of savings on their products?

Alas, being the savvy shopper I am – when it comes to BUYING phones rather than repairing them (see the aforementioned unnecessary $71 charge) – I’m going to have to do more research before purchasing a phone from Best Buy. I don’t want to suffer buyer’s remorse if I find out somebody else is having a $3 off promotion!

BTW, at the rate I operate, I probably won’t actually buy a phone until, say, Wednesday. Then Thursday I’ll set it up to charge it. Gosh, I hope it comes with a battery. Maybe it doesn’t and THAT is where they make up for the discount. So don’t bother trying to call me until Friday. By then I’ll have my caller ID set up and I can ignore your call.

Where am I?

Woof! Woof woof woof woof. Woof woof, woof woof woof! Woof woof ARF!!! Woof woof.

Woof,
Woof

Where have all the Red Sox gone?

Oh, this does not look good. I know it's only spring training, but take a look at the box score from the Sox-Yankees game. Take a look at the players....

DHing for the Red Sox....MAnneeeey RaMIRez! The rest of the list - who ARE these guys?

Then take a look at the Yankees' line-up. We KNOW who those guys are. Most of them, anyway.

Here's hoping the new guys on the Sox can play well enough to make us want to know them...and that the next Sox-Yankees box score shows a win for the good guys!

PS - Johnny doesn't look good in pinstripes. Just as we're learning to cope with the Sox roster changes, now we have to find a decent kicker to move into Vinatieritory. Act now and you can save a ton of money on McGinnest, Vinatiera, Givens, and other Pats merchandise at the fire sale at the Pats Pro Shop....

Boston	AB	R	H	2B	3B	HR	RBI	AVG
Adam Stern CF-RF	5	1	3	1	0	1	2	.429
Alex Cora SS	4	0	1	0	0	0	0	.273
Trent Durrington 2B-3B	1	0	0	0	0	0	0	.190
JT Snow 1B	2	0	0	0	0	0	0	.308
Ian Bladergroen PR-1B	0	0	0	0	0	0	0	.500
Manny Ramirez DH	2	0	0	0	0	0	0	.370
Enrique Wilson PH-DH	2	0	0	0	0	0	0	.300
Mike Lowell 3B	3	1	1	1	0	0	0	.270
Ignacio Suarez PR-2B	0	0	0	0	0	0	0	.000
Wily Mo Pena RF	4	1	2	0	0	1	2	.375
Ron Calloway PR-LF	0	0	0	0	0	0	0	.227
Dustan Mohr LF	3	0	0	0	0	0	0	.333
Willie Harris LF-CF	1	0	0	0	0	0	0	.188
Ken Huckaby C	4	0	1	1	0	0	0	.286
Javier Cardona C	0	0	0	0	0	0	0	.000
Alejandro Machado 2B-SS	3	1	0	0	0	0	0	.275
Totals	34	4	8	3	0	2	4
NY Yankees	AB	R	H	2B	3B	HR	RBI	AVG
Johnny Damon DH	4	1	1	0	0	0	0	.500
Kevin Reese PH-DH	1	0	0	0	0	0	0	.279
Derek Jeter SS	3	0	1	0	0	0	0	.417
Felix Escalona PR-SS	0	1	0	0	0	0	0	.265
Hideki Matsui LF	1	0	0	0	0	0	0	.294
Bubba Crosby CF	1	0	0	0	0	0	0	.182
Gary Sheffield RF	2	0	0	0	0	0	1	.077
Luis A. Garcia RF	1	1	1	0	0	1	2	1.000
Alex Rodriguez 3B	3	0	0	0	0	0	0	.000
Russ Johnson 3B	0	0	0	0	0	0	0	.190
Jason Giambi 1B	4	1	0	0	0	0	0	.227
Andy Phillips 1B	0	0	0	0	0	0	0	.333
Bernie Williams CF-LF	3	1	3	1	0	1	1	.364
Kevin Thompson LF	1	0	0	0	0	0	0	.386
Robinson Cano 2B	3	0	1	0	0	0	1	.339
Miguel Cairo 2B	1	0	0	0	0	0	0	.273
Kelly Stinnett C	3	0	1	1	0	0	0	.296
Omir Santos C	1	0	1	0	0	0	0	.222
Totals	32	5	9	2	0	2	5

Keep the cell phone abusers off the planes!

The FAA and airlines may soon allow the use of cell phones during flights. I think the powers that be need to look at security issues other than possible electronic interference. I think they need to consider protecting the passengers from each other! One can only imagine the horror stories that will become all to familiar when we throw unthinking cell phone users into the mix of what is fast becoming the sardine can method of travel. (Allowing the use of quiet, non-intrusive email would be a suitable alternative. I also think the use of laptops and DVD players should be restricted to quiet use - or use headphones.)

I was on a flight recently that was held on the ground for thirty minutes due to weather conditions at our destination. The captain announced that we were free to use our cellphones for a time so we could alert people at our destination that we were delayed. Several people took advantage of this, as did I. Almost all of us had a brief conversation passing on arrival information, hung up, and turned the phones off. Unfortunately the immature, misogynistic medical student with the foul mouth sitting across the aisle from me used this opportunity to regale his far away buddy with his weekend partying experiences and his opinion of "Harvard Law School girls who only want to talk about shoes and purses." Though for now he's stuck in a lab while the others in his class are doing rotations (leaving one to wonder why he's still "stuck in the lab"), he's apparently looking forward to his rotations at the hospital where all the desperate nurses try and hook up the med students with their daughters. He'll "gladly take advantage of it" but he wouldn't want to settle down with any of them. Boy, was that entertaining...NOT! After about twenty minutes of this, as his increasingly loud voice carried his profanity up and down the aisle, I finally asked him to keep his voice down. Yup, that made me the bad guy, the jerk who had the audacity to infer that his behavior was rude and obnoxious (though several nearby passengers thanked me for speaking up. Why did they feel they couldn't do the same?). Had I not had control of my manners, I would have just come right out and told him he was being rude and obnoxious.

There were no safety issues involved in this situation, although I can see the potential for serious harm should cell phone use be allowed in-flight. Imagine if more than one person had been using their phone in the same manner, and at the same volume, as he was. How long will people put up with this kind of boorish behavior before a serious altercation erupts? Will we have to enlist the aid of air marshalls to control the peace? I think that cell phone use in such a restricted, closed-in atmosphere is a recipe for disaster. Cell phone users will claim a right to use their phones as they want, the rest of us will clamor for our right to a peaceful environment. Why are the airlines even considering opening this can of worms? There are few people in this world whose responsibilities will not allow them to be out of touch with their jobs, families, or friends for a short period of time. If you can't bear it, take shorter flights, or better yet, stay home and leave the friendly skies as they are. I, for one, don't want to be subjected to a cacophony of cell phone users, many of whom don't realize the use of a phone precludes the need to yell so they can be heard, as they all try and scream over each other with the detritus of their sorry, can't-survive-an-hour-without-my-cell-phone, what-do-you-care-if-I-like-to-drop-the-f-bomb-three-times-in-each-sentence, my-needs-are-more-important-than-yours, lives.

How to Pick a Driving School - or not

Remember how I said earlier that my niece is learning to drive? Last week I had to cancel one of her in-car driving sessions with the driving school. Being as lazy as I am, I decided to look up the school’s info on the web. I mean, how hard could it be? The computer was right in front of me, the phone was next to the computer, and making the call was on my list of things to do. While I was browsing the search results for driving schools in the Potomac area, I started questioning some people’s choices when it came to naming their businesses. I know people say the most important thing for starting a business is location, location, location. But you gotta take a little care in choosing a name as well. The names of some of the schools were very professional and instilled a sense of safety and seriousness. Some were straight forward. For instance, the school I needed to call, where kids in Potomac go to driving school, is called, interestingly enough, Potomac Driving School. See? What you want is a driving school. And you’d like one that’s not too far away, probably locally owned. Well, fairly locally since it’s actually located in Rockville but that’s within easy…ummm…driving distance from Potomac.

And, there’s a special advantage the Potomac Driving School offers. It provides instruction in Tagalog. I’m not sure where they speak Tagalog but I’m sure the drivers there must be very good, especially if they took lessons at the Potomac Driving School. By the way, if you want to learn to drive a stick shift at the PDS, it’s an extra $50. I think that’s very reasonable considering if you try and teach your kid to drive your Porsche with the manual transmission it’s going to cost a lot more than $50 to replace the clutch.

Anyway, I feel much more comfortable that the sixteen-year-old is taking lessons at the Potomac Driving School rather than, say, the ELS Driving School. I don’t know what language they use in their lessons but if it’s not English, she’s not going to learn a whole lot. Oh, wait. Nevermind. It’s the ELS Driving School, not the ESL school. My bad.

Now, since she wants to take lessons in Montgomery County, she could have chosen Ed’s Driving School, or maybe Greg’s Driving School. They’ve both been teaching for ten years, and there’s only $9 difference in their prices, but Greg specializes in teaching teen and beginning drivers. I’m not sure how much sense it makes to point that out but it seems to me that’s where most of your business is going to come from. You know. People who don’t know how to drive.

Ed and Greg might both be really nice guys, but when it comes to driving, I’d take the business a little more seriously. It’s not like you’re looking to buy an ice cream or something. Let’s see, Ed’s Ice Cream vs. Ed’s Driving School. Maybe Ed could put a drive-thru window at his ice cream shop. Though I’d prefer to buy my gourmet ice cream at a shoppe. No, you’re entrusting your precious (or, in some cases, and you know who you are, not so precious) child to these people. That’s why I’d lean more towards working with the fine folks at the Maryland Driving Academy. Now doesn’t that instill confidence? I might even consider the Ryden Driving Institute. Sounds kind of exclusive, doesn’t it?

I’m not sure a beginner would be prepared for the techniques taught at the Advanced Driving School, unless the people at Advanced are just trying to BS their customers and really teaching beginner classes. And how do you choose between the Easy Teach Driving School and the Easy Method Driving School? If you can’t make up your mind but still want to go the easy route, check with Mr. B’s Drive with Ease.

Blue Bird Driving School…sounds like a place you’d send your pre-schooler to learn how to drive that Little Tykes minivan that’s just like mom’s. Or where you can learn how to drive a school bus. Actually, I think the classes are taught by a little old lady who only teaches on Sundays and never endangers your child by teaching highway driving.

Great Commission Driving School. Maybe it’s not a bad idea for the instructor to get paid commission. It gives them more incentive to make sure your kid passes the driving test. Though I might be more tempted by the Arrive Alive Driving School. That sounds like a pretty good incentive.

You know, there’s more than one way to learn how to drive. There’s the Nu-Way and then there’s the Riteway. Tough choice. The Nu-Way might just be better than the old Riteway. But do you really want your kid being the one to find out? Plus, if the owner can’t spell Right right, how do you know he’s going to teach right. Right?

I might be tempted to check out the Safeway Driving School. It sounds kind of, well, safe. Until you remember you do your grocery shopping at the Safeway. I want my kid to learn how to drive a car, not push a cart.

Do you want to learn how to drive from the Top Dawg or the Top Driver?

Places I’d definitely stay away from? How about the AA Driving School? Hmmm. Did they pick AA to be at the beginning of the alphabetical listing, or does the AA actually stand for something. You’d have to be MADD to send your kid there.

The AB Discount Driving School is also kinda scary. You get what you pay for.

Even scarier is the 123-ABC Linnell Driver Training School. Again with the pre-schoolers? Sounds like it should be the 123-ABC Potty Training School.

But the number one school I’d stay away from, even if because I just didn’t want to tell anybody the name, is Peggy Pusey’s Driving School. “Miss Pusey says you should always use your turn signals.” “Miss Pusey says you should look both ways before entering an intersection.” “Miss Pusey says…” “I don’t care what Miss Pusey says! I don’t ever want to hear that name again!” (My apologies to the Pusey’s of the world. Just be thankful you’re not related to Gary Busey!”)

Outta town or outta my mind

Friday, repeat Wednesday morning’s wake-up routine. The twelve year old asks if he can wear his slippers to school. I figure he’s not awake yet. When I say no, he asks if he can wear his pajamas to school. I’m worried he’s missing his mom and experiencing some kind of regression and thinks he’s in pre-school. I’ve already gotten the pants/dress shirt/tie combo ready and his jacket is downstairs waiting. Then he tells me it’s free dress day. Well, that explains the odd clothing request. But somehow I don’t think casual dress includes Homer Simpson slippers. Battle ensues. I enlist the aid of the sixteen year old. No, free dress does not mean pj’s. We finally decide on his Yaz shirt and his camo shorts (if you don't know who Yaz is, you're obviously not a citizen of Red Sox Nation). Shoot. Can't find Yaz T-shirt. Schilling T-shirt is dirty. Finally settle on the authentic "Big Papi" Ortiz Red Sox uniform shirt. And no, you can't wear it to baseball practice. It is NOT a play shirt.

Drop the twelve year old at school. Phew! Nobody is wearin' their pj's. Good call. Check the list. We have a busy afternoon ahead of us. Guess what? The twelve year old starts baseball practice tomorrow. He needs new baseball cleats. And while we're at it, he needs some lacrosse gear. Oh yeah, he's playing soccer, too. But first he has to go to the end-of-season bowling party with his hockey team. Did I mention the kid's a sports nut?

Okay, pick up twelve year old at school, go to sports store. Shopping with a tired twelve year old is not fun. In fact it is sucking the life outta me. Which is not a good thing because it’s only 4 and, though I don't know it yet, my day won’t end for another five hours.

Lacrosse cleats…check

Baseball cleats...sorry we only have metal cleats in his size. Metal cleats are illegal for twelve year olds. For good reason. Especially when your twelve year old is the catcher.

Okay. He can wear the lacrosse cleats for baseball. I think. And soccer. I hope.

Baseball pants...check

Lacrosse pads...check

DONE!

Head home to drop off the twelve year old before picking up the sixteen year old at lacrosse practice at 5:30. Get stuck in traffic...oh did I say traffic? I meant the parking lot...on the beltway. Go one exit. In forty minutes. Realize you can't take the twelve year old home and get to lacrosse practice on time, so head to sixteen year old's school while twelve year old sleeps in the car. Lucky stiff. Sit in traffic going the other way. Get to lacrosse practice at 6:15. Fortunately practice has run late again. Why don't they just change the schedule? No time to take sixteen year old home before returning to downtown Bethesda for twelve year old's hockey party. Try to figure out how to avoid traffic. No mapquest. No GPS cuz we're drivin' the Beemer. Fine time to switch cars.

Somehow find our way to bowling alley, drop off the twelve year old. Drop off the sixteen year old's friend. She had no idea she was going to be driving an hour to get home, which is ten minutes from the school. Take the sixteen year old home. Take a bathroom break. Go back to Bethesda to pick up twelve year old. Hang out in the bowling alley. He's having a GREAT time. And he's bowling pretty well, even if he is wearing goofy shoes. Finally get home at nine. Remember to get baseball gear ready. Everybody stays up late.

Saturday. Get up at seven thirty because the sixteen year old may need a ride to lacrosse. Phone rings. She has a ride. Feed dogs and let them out. Go back to bed for an hour. Go to wake twelve year old. He's already up. The Dad came home late last night and got up early to help him. Tear the twelve year old away from his new computer game (Wednesday's mall trip!) and send him back upstairs to get dressed.

Twelve year old announces the baseball pants we bought yesterday don't fit. He wears last year's pants, which don't fit either, but he likes them better. He wears the Yaz T-shirt. It was in his hockey bag. (YES, I washed it! Sheesh!) Tear the twelve year old away from the computer game. Again. His ride will be here any minute. Tear the twelve year old away from the tv. His ride will be here shortly. Tear the twelve year old away from the kitchen tv. Still waiting on the ride. Ride arrives, twelve year old off to baseball and a sleepover. I miss him already. But I get over it and go back to bed.

Dad has offered to pick up the sixteen year old from lacrosse and take her to the mall to see her favorite tv show's cast. I'm free til seven. I attempt to wash the car. Skip the roof. It's an SUV. Nobody's tall enough to see it anyway. The bed is calling me...

Get back outta bed and take a shower. Wait til seven thirty to pick up the mom and the eighteen year old at the airport. Home. Dinner. Bed.

Sunday. Get up late. Throw everything in my bag and go home.

Make plans to go back again in two weeks. You know what's really sick? I actually enjoy this!

PS - no, I didn't forget about the dogs. But their routine doesn't change much. Let them out. Feed them. Let them back in again. Regain possession of my socks from Scout the Wonder Dog. Take kids to school. Go home and let the dogs out. Go to the park and let them chase the ball. Go home. Let them out. Pick up the kids. Feed the dogs. Let them out. Let them out again before bed. Repeat process each day. They never tire of it.

sorry about not posting

Okay, so I haven’t posted in a while. Whenever that happens you can be pretty sure I’m outta town. This time, back in Potomac, kid and dog sitting. I was supposed to come down on Monday. The 1:00 flight. At ten am I am awoken from a sound sleep.

“I just wanted to make sure you were coming down…”

“Uhh, yeah. Tomorrow, right?”

Oooh, that’s not good.

After some juggling we got new tickets for Tuesday morning. Whoops! That’s gotta instill a lot of confidence in the mom, right? But hey, my track record speaks for itself. In thirty years this is only the second time I messed up where the kids are concerned. And I’m not sure the first time counts because all I did then was forget to pick up Casey to take him golfing. It’s not like I left him somewhere and forgot to go get him. And I’m not sayin’ there weren’t times I was tempted to “forget” one or two of them somewhere. But they’re all still around. I haven’t lost one. Not yet.

So I get to DC on Tuesday and have a couple of hours before my tour of duty starts. I think I remember getting some rest then. It seems soooo long ago.

Tuesday was pretty easy. Go watch the sixteen year old’s lacrosse game, wait for her to get her stuff, then go pick up the twelve year old at the school library. Pick up dinner (hey, if I cooked that woulda meant I’d have to do dishes too. Not on the first night.)

Homework goes well. Everybody gets to bed on time.

Wednesday, get up at the crack of dawn and start the day. Did I mention I’m not a morning person? Guess what? Neither are the kids! Hmmm. I wonder where they got that from?

Awaken the sixteen year old. You can pretty much wake her and forget her. Despite not being a morning person, this kid’s really got it together.

Gently awaken the twelve year old…
awaken the twelve year old again…
go in and pull the covers off the twelve year old…
go back in and grab the twelve year old’s feet and drag him off the bed. He’ll wake up when he hits the floor. Trust me. It works.

Go downstairs and let the dogs out (Who? Who? Who let the dogs out? I did. That’s right, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.) Yell up to the twelve year old to make sure he’s getting dressed. He has his pants on.

Feed the dogs. Then let them out again. Yell up to the twelve year old. He’s thinking about putting his T-shirt on.

Let the dogs in. Hey, ya let ‘em out, ya gotta let ‘em in again. Yell up to the twelve year old. He’s workin’ on putting his dress shirt on. The twelve year old wears a suitcoat and tie to school. That is soooo cute. But it’s also extra stuff he’s gotta put on.

Ignore the dogs. Yell up to the twelve year old. He’s on his way down. He’s trying to tie the tie.

Check on the sixteen year old. She’s pretty much ready to go out the door. The twelve year old is still workin’ on the tie. I have no idea how to tie a tie. He’s on his own. The tie gets done. He’s actually pretty good at it. And he DOES look cute! Ooops! Don’t tell the twelve year old how cute he is.

Okay, time to leave. The only way I can do this without totally screwing up the kids’ morning is if I have specific instructions. And a timetable. Too bad plans change after the mom leaves and I just have to fly by the seat of my pants. Thank God for the sixteen year old…and the GPS system in the car. Mapquest ain’t got nothin’ on that GPS guy. Mapquest isn’t as demanding as the GPS guy, though.

“In 300 feet, Turn Left.”

“In one hundred feet, Turn Left. At the intersection.” (duh)

“Turn Left.”

“TURN LEFT”

“I SAID turn LEFT!!!”

Okay, okay, I just thought I’d wait for traffic to clear first.

Drop off the twelve year old. All the kids are in khakis and jackets and ties. They look so grown up. And yes, they are soooo cute.

Switch seats with the sixteen year old, who is learning to drive. She’s so good I keep forgetting I’m supposed to be watching her. Then she kinda drifts to the right and I remember. Drop the sixteen year old at school. Go home and let the dogs out. Take a nap.

Pick up the twelve year old. Take him to the mall, drop him at home, go pick up the sixteen year old after lacrosse. Go home. Make dinner. Do homework. Wash dishes. Do more homework. Oh oh. The twelve year old has forgotten his science homework paper at school. How can we fix this? He decides he’ll go to school early so he can do it before school. Good decision! I'm very impressed. But not as impressed as I'll be in the morning!

Awaken the twelve year old at 6:45 instead of 7:00. Let the dogs out. Check on the twelve year old. He’s already out of bed and half dressed! Feed the dogs and let them out again. The twelve year old is standing in the kitchen, ready to go with a smile on his face. We leave before 7:15!!!

Thursday afternoon, reverse carpool. Pick up the sixteen year old at lacrosse practice, which has run over a half hour. Change of plans. Pick up the twelve year old BEFORE dropping the sixteen year old at church youth group. Get the twelve year old home and feed him. Start homework. I'm learning a lot about General George Brinton McClellan. I bet none of you knew he was Abe Lincoln's challenger in the 1864 presidential election. Now you know. There may be a quiz later.

The sixteen year old comes home. First crisis of the night…the sixteen year old needs a wristband to see her favorite tv show cast at the mall this weekend. The mall that is an hour away and closes in fifty minutes. Make a deal with the sixteen year old. Help your brother with his homework and get him to bed, I’ll go get the wristbands.

Unbelievable. There’s traffic on the beltway. It’s nearly nine o’clock. There’s not supposed to be traffic on the beltway. Get to the mall at 9:27. Mission accomplished. Get home. Twelve year old is in bed, sixteen year old is done with her homework. She's ecstatic when she gets her wristband. Her happiness is infectious. We chat about the tv show and cast. Time for bed.

I'll let you take a breather and post about Friday another time.

Whatever you do, don't answer the door

So I’m lazing around trying to get over this miserable cold I have, when someone comes a knockin’ on my door. I drag myself off the couch and answer the door to find two, dare I say elderly?, women standing there in the below-freezing cold, one with a Bible in her hands and the other with a folder full of God knows what. Ahhh. Tracts. A lighthouse beacon shines through the fever-induced fog in my head. The indomitable Jehovah’s Witnesses have come to invite me into their, uhh, community.

Don’t you sometimes want to just silence that little Emily Post voice in your head that reminds you to be nice to people no matter what? Don’t you sometimes just want to answer these people truthfully? But you can't bring yourself to do it. Not out loud, anyway. I mean they are, in their minds, representatives of Jehovah come to save my soul. At least that’s what I think they’re doing. Ya gotta give 'em credit for trying.

I’ve never actually held a REAL conversation with a Witness. I’ve had a lot of internal dialogue with them. Like “C’mon in and set a spell. Today’s your lucky day. Normally you wouldn’t get out of here alive but I’ve run out of places to hide the bodies.” Or how about “C’mon in and set a spell. I just got the slides back from my Las Vegas vacation. I can’t remember what I did there but I’m sure the slides will knock your socks off. And maybe we can figure out how I got that red mark...” Or “C’mon in and set a spell. I’m just waiting for my black and Latino and gay druid friends to get here so we can get on with our devil worshipping. We're having a pot luck dinner.”

No, instead I just give a little smile and say “I’m sorry. I’m not interested. Thanks anyway.”

You know, I’ve never actually allowed one of these folks into my home. I already know all I need to know to decide I DON’T want to be a Jehovah’s Witness. First, you have to get all dressed up and go around to strange neighborhoods trying to get others to join your little club. And then, worst of all, THEY DON’T CELEBRATE BIRTHDAYS! How cruel is that? I’d rather repeat all twelve years of the sentence I did in Catholic schools than give up my birthday. What kind of way is that to raise your kids? Isn’t that sacrilegious or blasphemous or something? There oughta be a law.

Oh yeah. I decided to do a little research on the Jehovah’s Witnesses before writing this, so I went to their website. There’s some interesting stuff there. I’m not sure what it has to do with religion, but it’s interesting. And some of it is kinda gross. Like the article with this title/subtitle:
Protect Yourself From Parasites!
What are intestinal parasites, and how can you tell if you are playing host to these unwanted guests?

Then there’s an article about Medical Care and Blood. Apparently Jehovah’s Witnesses don’t believe in or allow for blood transfusions. Now right there is a good reason not to join. If I had, I’d be dead.

Then there’s the uplifting notice that The Bulletin for Atomic Scientists has advanced their “Doomsday Clock” five minutes to 11:51 pm. That was in 1998. I checked the Bulletin and now it’s at 11:53 pm. So we’re two minutes closer to a nuclear holocaust. It’s a good thing they don’t give the day or year. That would take the fun out of waiting everyday to see if we’re going to make it past the monologue on the Tonight show. (Have you ever heard of The Bulletin for Atomic Scientists? Have you ever heard of the Doomsday Clock? Me neither. See what we’re missing?)

I think I’ll stay an indifferent recovering Catholic.

Are the Olympics still on?

Has anybody been watching the Olympics? Yeah. That's what I thought. NBC sure isn't getting their money's worth this time around. I have watched a few events, though, and I have to say I'm a little confused about some of the scoring systems. I finally figured out the Curling thing. I watched the women's finals, in which the Swedes beat the Swiss in what turned out to be a very close competition. The Swedes were way ahead of the Swiss about three-fourths through the match, and then Grady Little decided to let Pedro...oh, wait, that wasn’t it. But the Swedish coach did make what even I could tell was a bad decision. Anyway, the Swedes pulled it out in the end. The eleventh end, to be exact. End is apparently what they call each round. And ten is the game, but in this case it went into extra ends, or innings.

Anyway, the Curling, once you actually figured out the scoring, was actually pretty interesting. There's a lot of strategy involved. And it’s a lot more fun to watch than ice dancing.

Speaking of ice sports, well, let’s not focus on the hockey too much. Mostly because I didn’t see any of the games. I think skating takes the gold in the bad attitude finals. Shani Davis won a close match against that Italian bi… uhhh…skater who practically melted the ice out from under her partner with her glare. If looks could kill, her partner would be dead for falling on top of her after he dropped her. The Italians, Barbara Fusar Poli and Maurizio Margaglio, made up after their next performance but that first impression really stuck. And Shani Davis (did you see tha look on the interviewer's face when he showed so much emotion after he won a silver medal? Unfortunately that emotion was akin to disdain rather than elation. What's with this guy? Although he was seen cheering on Chad Hedrick during the men’s 15,000 meter finals in which Hedrick got silver. Maybe Davis isn’t such a jerk after all. Well, maybe he is but at least he showed a little team spirit yesterday.

Oh yeah. Back to the scoring confusion. Okay, here’s what’s got me befuddled. (Wow, I finally got to use that word in a sentence!) American Sasha Cohen falls in the free skate finals, not once but two times, and skates away with a silver medal. The German snowboarder crashed and burned during the finals of the women’s parallel giant slalom…and took the silver medal. Lindsay Jacobellis falls near the end of her snowboard finals and slides away with a silver medal. (She had the gold locked up until she started celebrating prematurely and dropped the ball before crossing the goal line.) The Chinese pairs figure skaters fell hard during their finals, and won silver. America’s Jeret Peterson does the most difficult trick ever in men’s aerials finals and dragged his hand on the landing. He didn’t fall, he just dropped his hand a little too low. And he gets…seventh place. Huh? What, no silver? How does that work? Maybe he should have fallen. Oh, yeah, then he got kicked out of the Athletes’ Village and sent packing back to the U.S. for fighting. In hockey he’d only have gotten a five minute time-out. In the summer Olympics he could have gotten the silver for boxing.

I wonder if the athletes are disappointed that they've worked so hard and made so many sacrifices to win an Olympic Medal and all they get is a CD-on-a-rope.

I think the people responsible for Olympic scoring systems are the same folks who set up the college BCS football schedule. And put the Memphis Grizzlies in the NBA’s Southwest division. Or the NFL’s Baltimore Ravens in the AFC North while sticking the Indianapolis Colts in the AFC South. And forget about the folks who assigned Detroit to the NHL’s Western Conference and Dallas to the Pacific. Never mind that Detroit is East of the Mississippi and you have to go through either three states or the whole country of Mexico to get from Dallas to the Pacific coast. I think it’s all a plot by the Bush administration to divert our attention from, well, anything the Bush administration has done. Or not done. I’m surprised GW hasn’t gotten Olympic Silver. Maybe in the 2008 Summer Olympics…..

News from the Potomac

Scout the Wonder Dog

Sorry I've been lax in posting but I've been busy playing with Scout the Wonder Dog. And getting my butt kicked in chess. I gave Sam a Red Sox/Yankees chess set for his birthday last year. The Red Sox are on quite the winning streak. Guess who has to be the Yankees? It doesn't help that the Yankees manager never played chess and the Red Sox manager was in charge of explaining the rules. The Commissioner, aka Rick, agreed to replace the Yankees manager in a game. Come to find out, you CAN'T move your outfielder in every direction or jump your own guys....

Hmmm...was that just an oversight on the part of the Red Sox manager, or was that a deliberate act of sabotage? The sly look and giggle of the Red Sox manager seems to indicate the latter, an obvious attempt to thwart the success of the Yankees. Maybe the Yankees manager was a little too hard on him when it came time to turn off the Playstation and do homework!

Scout the Wonder Dog part dieux

"Hmmm. I wonder where she is."

"Hmmm. I wonder if all that cold white fluffy stuff scared her off."

"Hmmm. I wonder if she'll get here before She Who Must Be Obeyed leaves for NYC."

"Hmmm. I wonder if the kids will stay home and play with me tomorrow."

Stay tuned....

Jack comes Back from Iraq

Jack is scheduled to return to North Carolina on Sunday!!!! Please keep him and his family in your thoughts as they re-unite after a long tour of duty! Click the CW4 link on the left to check out Jack's blog. OOPS. That would be your other left. As in your right.

Scout the Wonder Dog

I'm going to DC this week to Sam/house/dog-sit. It's a real adventure taking care of Scout the Wonder Dog, who is also affectionately referred to as Bobble Butt because she's articulated (articulated, not articulate. She's a wonder dog, not a miracle dog.) and when she wags her tail, which is 99.9% of the time, she looks like a bobble-head doll with the bobble at the wrong end. Here's how a typical day with Scout goes:

It starts at,oh, about 6:30 am. As in before dawn.

"Hmmmm. I wonder if she's ready to get up and let me out."

"Hmm. I wonder how high I can jump if I get a running start down the hallway and leap onto the bed."

"Hmm. I wonder if that's the loudest she can scream."

"Hmm. I wonder if she's ever going to feed me before she feeds Casey. Hmm. I guess not."

"Hmmm. I wonder if we're going to the park this morning."

"Hmm. I wonder how fast she's going to take that s-curve on MacArthur Blvd. Maybe I better wedge myself next to the wheel well."

"Hmm. I bet she could go faster in the Beemer. I wonder if she'll ever take me for a ride in the Beemer."

"Hmm. I wonder how far I can wander before she zaps the button that triggers my electric coll....oooh. I guess that was a little too far." (She: that's a joke. I've never had to zap her. The Wonder Dog is actually pretty good at bein' have.)

"Hmm. I wonder how long I can make her stand there and throw that tennis ball."

"hmm. Gonna take that s-curve going in the opposite direction. I wonder if I should sit on the other side of the car. I'm glad she doesn't take me to the park in the Beemer."

"Hmmmmm. Dinner time. I wonder if she's ever going to feed me anything besides that same old big-puppy chow. Nope."

"Hmm. I wonder if Casey left any tidbits in her bowl. Nope. But I'm gonna lick the finish off it anyway."

"Hmm. I wonder how long I have to sit in front of this door before she lets me out. I hope not too long or I'm gonna..."

"Hmm. I wonder if she'll toss the ball down the hall for me."

"Hmm. I wonder if she'll toss the ball if I drop it in her lap."

"Hmm. I wonder if she knows the ball's in her lap or if she's just ignoring me."

"Hmm. I wonder when I'm gonna learn not to slide into the door at the end of the hall when she tosses the ball."

"Hmm. Time for bed. I've had a WONDERful day."

TV Dinners

So I get around to eating dinner at about quarter past nine last night. Here's a piece of advice for you: if you're going to eat in front of the TV, ease into it with something tasteful like HGTV or the Food Network. Don't do as I did and tune in CSI right off the bat. I sit down with a nice hot meal and click the clicker. Then the conversation goes like this:

"Do you smell that decomp?"

"Yeah"

"D'ya think the hand is in that pile?"

Okay, so it wasn't as bad as the other night when I turned the TV on and it just happened to be set to The Discovery Channel. Since it was Tuesday it was "Dirty Jobs." I'm gonna leave that up to your imagination.

I need to start eating dinner during Wheel of Fortune.

Did they play the Super Bowl yesterday?

Super Bowl Sunday. It just isn't the same without the Pats in it. But it was fun to be able to relax and enjoy the game and not really care who won.

I thought both teams had the first-quarter jitters but I expected play to improve during the second half. It really didn't. And boy, did Seattle fall apart at the end of the second quarter!? I think that's where they lost the game. Of course, all the penalties and turnovers and missed opportunities kinda helped. I wonder if the game would be better played if there wasn't a two-week break. Keep the teams in the rhythm of playing. I think two weeks is too much rest, too much preparation, and too much hoopla.

I was really disappointed in the Stones' half-time show. It certainly appeared as though they forgot to bring their "A game". Ironic that they kicked it off with Start Me Up but seemed like they were having trouble starting themselves. It didn't help that somebody forgot to turn on the sound for the guitars. What's a Stones song without jammin' guitars? That's right, a Beatles song. Hah! And I'm always curious when they play that song on live tv to see if they're going to keep the line about the dead guy. You know the one. Yup they kept it. Yup it got bleeped.

The second song they finally got it outta first gear, though Ron Wood seemed to be sleep-walking (literally walking) through his performance. Maybe he missed his nap. Or maybe they were all just hungry because they missed the early-bird special while they were prepping for the show. If, in fact, they prepped for the show.

The stage was waaaay cool, but maybe a little too big for Mick to be workin' it. I don't think he could use that stage for a whole show. But yeah, it rocked, though it was weird having those people in the jaws of the beast.

You can't go wrong with "Satisfaction." I don't care how old it is. Hey hey hey. That's what I say.

The commercials, for the most part, met expectations. Some were kinda lame. That Cadillac one has got to go. It sucked. I thought the FedEx caveman one was a loser, too, until the end where the guy walks outta the cave. My first impression was, oh no, not another stupid caveman commercial. But when he kicked the pteradactyl and got stomped by the wooly mammoth, that was funny. Sick, but funny.

The horses playing football in the snow is becoming a classic theme, but I think this time it dragged a little. And maybe they shoulda had more cowboys because, with just the two of them standing there it felt a little like they were playing off Brokeback Mountain. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But there just didn't seem to be enough energy. Course it was kinda reflective of the real game, not a whole lotta excitement and energy. But that may just be because I'm a Pats fan. And they weren't in it. Although it might be said they were as much in the game as Seattle.

I was watching the game with my sister and she was reminiscing about the old games where they would have fans hold up different placards to make designs in the stands. And lo and behold, Bud comes out with a placard ad! And it was one of the best ads of the game. Very clever, well executed, and the gulp at the end sent it through the uprights! See, you can be creative and successful without all the flashy gimmicks and CGI. Are you listening, Gillette?

Bud shoulda gotten a penalty for the "Little Clydesdale that Could" bit. (I stole that from my sister.) Illegal use of a tearjerker.

The Whopperettes were pretty funny, especially when they referred to the "freaky" king - so I'm not the only one who thinks this guy's freaky? - but the hamburger patty was kinda gross. There's somethin kinda cute about people dressing up as vegetation but it always makes me uncomfortable to see somebody dressed up as meat.

I wish Kermit hadn't sold out. No, it's not easy being green. But nobody does green like you, Kermit. Not even Ford.

Michelob. I woulda thrown the flag at that guy for that cheap hit. But then I woulda given the chick the MVP for the "late" hit.

CareerBuilder.com and Ameriquest have both hit on really funny running gags. The CareerBuilder monkey commercials are usually pretty entertaining, as they were in the Super Bowl ads, but ya gotta give the prize to Ameriquest for the "Don't judge too quickly" series. Nationwide comes in a distant third with the "Life Comes At You Fast" series. Their ads made me chuckle but they've done better.

MasterCard. MacGyver. Priceless.

I've always been a little disturbed by the naked ladies on the truck flaps. But the Honda ad was pretty clever. I remember when I had Yosemite Sam mud flaps.

Ben Roethlisberger,(did I spell that right? Do you care?) "You've just led your team to a record-tying fifth Super Bowl Championship. Can't you find someplace better to go than Disneyworld?"

Some of the companies shoulda saved their advertising dollars:

Lorne Michaels, I think the ads for your new show were a little inappropriate for the Super Bowl's wide audience, but then again probably 95% of your target market was watching the game. Though it's a good bet half of them were wasted by the time your commercials ran. The one about the Jews, maybe it'll be a funny show but the ad was kinda unnerving since it was outta context. Shock but no awe.

Sprint. I missed the Benny Hill connection. Shoulda used something like the Stooges or Abbott and Costello. (Did I spell that right? Do you care?)

Emerald Nuts. Stupid.

United. Too bad you didn't think of FedEx's tagline that it wasn't invented yet. Neither was the airplane in King Arthur's time. Hellllloooo.

Disney. Okay, you own Disneyworld. Okay, you own ABC. Okay, you own ESPN. Okay, you own Pixar. Okay, you're trying to own the free world. But your ads sucked. Big time. Every one of them. Well, the Cars ad for Pixar was kinda cute, but I hate that you own Pixar.

Hummer. I don't have a problem with interspecies relationships but that was just stupid.


Okay, my favorite parts:

The Pirate getting the Sharpie stuck in his nose

The fly that got defibrillated

The caveman kicking the pteradactyl

The Gulp folowed by The Ahhh

Kathy Griffin confiscatin' the Sierra Mist. Was that Michael Ian Black? Cuz if it was, I know somebody who knows him. No, really, I do. If it wasn't, well, I still know somebody who knows him. Really.

When they replaced the Diet Pepsi can with a stunt double in the Jackie Chan flick. With a Diet Coke can.

Oh yeah, and during the game, the part where the Umpire shoulda gotten flagged for piling on.

Next year I won't be able to focus so much on half-time and the commercials. I'm sure the Pats will be back.

Political Perspective

I once had an assignment to write my Personal Political Narrative. Every once in awhile I like to re-read it to remind myself who I am. Cuz sometimes I forget.

The Road Less Traveled

Sometimes I can be a little slow on the uptake. I don’t always catch the brass ring on the first go-around. I’ve wasted much of my time pondering what to put in my personal political narrative but I missed the major on-ramp to this assignment. I wrote and rewrote a lot about how I grew up, and how I responded to the civil rights movement, and a lot of other rhetoric (read crap). Finally, with a little help from my friends, I realized I was on the right highway but going in the wrong direction. I have a habit of doing that. I lived on Cape Cod for awhile and for several months after I moved there I would instinctively head east on Rte. 6 when I wanted to go to Boston. No matter that for my entire life, wherever I lived, I had to head east to get to Boston. I just couldn’t get it into my mind that now, living east of the city, I had to head west to get there. It took a while but I finally realized sometimes you have to change directions to get where you’re going.

I realized personal politics is about more than who you voted for in the last election, it’s not just about racism or social injustice, or how we should be governed. Personal politics is about who we are and what we believe, and maybe a little bit about why we believe it. Okay, so it took me awhile to figure out the destination, but now I’m ready for the journey. (Does AAA make a Triptik for this?)

Anyway, here is what I believe.

I believe children learn what they live and I am grateful for the brief time I had to live with my mother. She was the foundation for my beliefs and my compassion and my need to make things right. She died while I was in high school. When she lost her battle with Leukemia I lost my protector, my confidante, the only person in the world who understood me. It’s only been recently that I realized how much like her I am. I often wonder what it would be like to have known her as an adult. Would it be different than I’ve imagined? How would I be different?

Since children do learn what they live, they deserve special protection and special considerations. George Benson was right: “I believe that children are our future. Teach them well and let them lead the way.” A man I know began a program in Los Angeles to help inner-city kids and coined the phrase “All Kids are a Lifetime Investment”. We need to take this literally, even if it means increased taxes; and music and arts education should be given the same consideration as math and science and way more than football. And man, do I like football.

In the grander scheme of my political world, I believe that all men are not created equal. And hallelujah for it. What a boring world this would be if we were all equal in every way. There would be no competition, no striving to improve oneself or one’s station in life. We should, however, all have equal opportunities to make of our lives what we will. Our inequalities should be based on our individual capacities for learning, for doing, and for loving. Differences in heritage, culture, or religious beliefs should be celebrated but should not be considered or treated as inequalities.

The recent terrorist attacks and America’s immediate military response make it clear that we have not yet learned that lesson. We have not yet learned to live together peacefully, or to treat each other, in our own country or abroad, with respect. We want everybody to get along but we want them to do it our way, without consideration for cultural or religious differences. How many more people must die before we get it? The best lesson we can take from the September 11th experience is that it is the grand wake-up call. Americans are not the only people on this Earth that matter. Perhaps we have let our pride and our greed eclipse that which is good and right in America. We may not want to admit it but we do bear some responsibility for how others see and react to us. Maybe, someday, we can find healthy balances between capitalism and socialism, big brother foreign policy and laissez-faire. Then maybe we won’t be seen as the bad guys anymore.

The people directly responsible for planning and sponsoring terrorist attacks should be punished, and I am a firm believer that the punishment should fit the crime. I maintain that there are some crimes that are so heinous, so inhuman, that the death penalty is justified. Unfortunately our judicial system is so flawed that, while I support the theory of capital punishment, our implementation of it is too discriminatory and leaves too much room for human nature to affect its application. It just plain doesn’t work right. Neither does mandatory sentencing. Or incarceration without rehabilitation. We gotta put some justice back in the justice system.

I also believe some religious fanatics can be the most unchristian of us all. Too many people are “Christianlike” only when it suits their purposes. Going to church every week does not a Christian make. And maybe we should think up another word for Christian, anyway. Roget doesn’t have one but maybe it’s time we accepted that not all good people are Christians in the strictest sense. Jews can be good people. Muslims can be good people. Hell, even agnostics and atheists can be good people. Everybody is born with the capacity to be “good people.” Some just don’t develop it as fully as others. Some of us are destined to be Ghandis, some of us are destined to be John Rockers, and some even feel destined to be terrorists. That’s life and we just have to deal with it.

Sometimes you can judge a book by its cover, but judging people is a whole different story. People should take Mr. Rogers more seriously. Being nice should be cool. Being a gangsta wannabe should be bad. Meaning bad bad, not good bad. That said, even though getting angry doesn’t solve a hell of a lot, sometimes it just feels good to throw something.
I now realize I have the right to believe whatever I want as long as I am a good person and a good citizen. Socrates was right when he said only older people can achieve wisdom. With age comes experience, and with experience comes knowledge. Knowledge begets wisdom. I’m old enough to know and young enough to keep learning.