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.

Time to call the Geek Squad

I'm planning on setting up a website and I have very few computer skills. So little I think I only use half the buttons on my keyboard (well, sometimes I use the Z but otherwise only half) and I don't have a clue what the F buttons do. I said F, not f'in. F1, F2 etc. So I probably have no business doing a website but I thought I'd give it a try. Can I do one without having to actually learn anything about computers or programming or that kind of stuff?

I did a search on Amazon for a Websites for Dummies book but there were so many hits I was frightened. And the more I read the titles the more I thought they were talking about WEBSITES for dummies, not website designing for dummies who don't know how to do websites. I don't want to build a website for dummies. I AM the dummy and I want to build a website.

Anyway, now that I got that straightened out, has anybody found a simple way to do this? I have an old graphics program that has website design v.1 on it but it's very, very limited. For instance, it has two views, actual size and 50%. Yeah, that's helpful. When I really want to look at something I reduce it. NOT!

I just want the basics. I want to have images, text, links. None of that flashy stuff or shockwave or anything. Just info, photos, and links. I know nothing about security - this one has to be secure. Haven't decided whether it will have message boards (it is not a glass site, message boards would be more for comments and direct questions). It's going to be for informational purposes only and will need to be constantly updated. It just needs to be something that's easy for me to maintain without spending two years at ITT Tech.

Any suggestions on easy-to-read books (don't forget the dummy part) or easy to use programs, especially if they're cheap? And easy.

I set up a family blog and it took me three days to figure out how to add a link. Well, they didn't specifically say to just copy and paste the info already provided and just 'insert name here'. That's the part I mean about dummies. Give me something tangible to build and I'll get it done and look good doin' it. Throw something like this at me, especially if there's any math involved, and don't expect to see a completed project in the forseeable future.

Here's how my computer experience got started, back in the 80's when computer typesetters were first introduced: The manual said to insert the Floppy Disc into the slot (A:) and Format the disk. So I would. Then I'd happily type in all the info I needed for a program I was writing for a gallery show. I'd get halfway through and it'd be time for lunch. So I'd Eject the Floppy and Turn off the machine. I'd come back from lunch, Reboot the machine, Insert the Floppy into slot A: and Format the disc. Then I couldn't find all the stuff I saved. It was literally DAYS before I finally figured out YOU DON'T FORMAT THE DISK EVERY TIME YOU USE IT! So that's the kind of computer literacy I'm dealing with here. I need a program that is very specific with easy to follow steps. I don't think I'm capable of weeding through all the info that's out there on my own so I'd appreciate any guidance... especially if someone would offer to just do it for me! No, not really, but I do need to find a simplistic approach so I'm hoping some of you folks who actually know a USB port from a BUS stop can give me some advice. (I still refer to the second Law and Order show as Law and Order SUV.)

Any takers?

Thanks in advance.

"Who would name their kid Jack with the last word(s) 'off' at the end of your last name?" George Clooney

I wrote this last week so it's not so timely now but I'm posting it anyway...

Are you kidding me? Frank Abramoff (lobbyist Jack's father) is chastising George Clooney for making his granddaughter cry. Is this guy for real? Let me get this straight…George Clooney makes fun of Abramoff’s son’s name during his acceptance speech at the Golden Globes, and it rocks the foundation of the Abramoff family. Please. This is just a taste of what the Abramoff family is in for. It may not be pleasant for the Abramoff children to experience the attention their father’s actions have brought them, but it sure as hell isn’t George Clooney’s fault. Was it the wrong time and place to make such a joke? Maybe. But ya gotta admit, it was funny as hell.

What I wanna know is where does Frank Abramoff get the audacity to characterize Clooney’s little joke as an “effort(s) to destroy him (Jack Abramoff) and our family.”? Well, I dunno Frank. I think your little Jackie’s doing a pretty good job on his own to destroy the family and besmirch his sacred name. Seriously, the guy is not only under investigation, HE’S CONFESSED!!! Maybe Jack should have a sit-down with his little girl and explain that Daddy’s done some very bad things and people are going to say stuff about him and do things that might make her cry. Like calling him a thief. And sending him to jail. And taking away that Barbie dream house she got for her birthday so they can auction it off to pay Daddy’s legal expenses.

Frank Abramoff tells us that "One day the truth about my son will come out …” Well, now’s as good a time as any to speak the truth, Frank. Maybe you should have taught Jack about that a long time ago. And you might want to lock up all the grandkids when the truth does come out, because sometimes the truth makes you cry.

Ya know, I was thinking, why would anybody name their son Jack…

Next time use the drive-thru

So I'm starting a new blog, moving some stuff from the old one here and leaving the old one for family stuff.

Hey, keep an eye out for Chris and Casey's excellent blogging adventures as they learn their ways through Stellenbosch and London. Chris trades one Cape for another and Casey travels from New England to old. I'll put links to their blogs when they're up and running.


So here's my latest adventure in pharmacopia...

The other night I went to my local Walgreen’s to pick up a few prescriptions, as I am wont to do…every freakin’ week. Anyway, I had a couple of other items to pick up (doesn’t everybody buy their milk at the drugstore?) so I went inside instead of using the drive-thru. I take my place in line at the pharmacy check-out. In front of me is a big ol’ Bubba splayed out across the counter discussing cold remedies with the cashier. Nice butt crack! Thanks for sharing.

Anyway, Bubba is proudly regaling the cashier with memories of colds past, like the time he used an expectorant to relieve his cough, only to develop a stuffy nose, necessitating yet another trip to the drugstore for yet another expectorant. This was fascinating stuff. And to think I might have been home watchin’ Jordan solve yet another murder the Boston police had been unable to solve for twenty years – I woulda missed the adventures of Bubba’s mucosa!

But I gotta hand it to Bubba. He can really spin a yarn. And he was so convincin’ the old geezer in line behind me started in with the coughin’ and the hackin’. I’m not sure if that was sympathy wheezin’ or if Bubba’s cough holds the same subliminal power of suggestion as a yawn but whatever it was, it was workin’ on Granpa.

So Bubba’s goin’ on and on and on about how when he lies on his left side, the left side of his head gets all stuffy. He figured out how he could relieve the stuffiness by rollin’ to his right. But sure ‘nuff the right side’d get all stuffy and he’d have to roll to the left. Bubba ain’t never heard of no Isaac Newton, and maybe if the durn fool haidn’t been asleepin’ under the apple tree he mightn’a got conked on the head. Anyway, should I buy this expectorant or that there one? I’m getting’ kinda tired o’ payin’ ten dollars a box for these here cold remedies.

Well, here’s a thought for ya, Bubba…Stop getting medical advice from the cashier. The cashier is NOT a health care professional.

So finally the cashier and Bubba finish their consultation and decide which expectorant would be right for Bubba’s little affliction, and she asks for his name so she can retrieve his prescription and check him out. I kid you not, Bubba says “I ain’t from around here, I’m from Ashtabula. I’m just visitin’. My prescription’s at the drugstore in Ashtabula. Where I’m from.”

Have a nice day!