Dead Cat Sees The Future
"Hey Harve, how's it goin'?"
"Oh, got this pain in my back. Doctor thinks it might be another kidney stone."
"That's too bad. Say, how 'bout this rain, huh? I heard the girl on the weather say this might be the rainiest March in history. How 'bout that? Man, I can't remember the last time I saw the sun shine."
"We used to get rain like this back in Core-eah. Snow too. Colder 'n a sonofabitch. Man, was I glad to get out of there. "
"You never got rain like this in Core-eah. Not like this. I swear it's been raining so long I can't even remember what the sun looks like. How 'bout you? You remember what the sun looks like?"
"The sun?"
"Yeah, the sun. You remember what it looks like?"
"Let me see...yeah I think so. It's been a while though. Let me see...yeah, it was this big yellow thing that used to rise in west each morning and turn the sky blue."
"That wasn't the sun."
"Sure it was. Big yellow thing."
"The sun wasn't yellow, it was orange. And it didn't rise in the west, it rose in the east. Anybody knows that."
"What are you talking about. Don't you think I remember what the sun looked like? Every morning it used to rise right over there by the ocean and make the whole sky blue."
"It SET over the ocean. It used to RISE over there by them hills and at night it would SET over there by the ocean."
"Weren't no sun out at night. What's wrong with you. I'm telling you I remember it as if it was yesterday and I say the sun..."
(We interrupt this blog to bring you this financial report)
"Hello everyone, and welcome to Business on Business, the business show where business reporters talk to business people about business. I'm Rebecca Powerhair and tonight I'll be speaking with Peabody S. Cummins, Chief Analyst with E.C. Pickens Advisors, a Wall Street investment firm. Mr. Cummins, welcome to the show."
"My pleasure Rebecca. It's fun being on TV."
"Yes. Now Mr Cummins we had..."
"Hi kids!"
"Excuse me."
"I was just saying hi to my kids back home in Connecticut. 'Hi kids', hee, hee, hee."
"How incredibly cute. Now Mr. Cummins, as you know the Fed issued a statement on the economy and raised interest rates another 25 basis points. What does this mean for the economy?"
"Well I think this latest move was widely anticipated by the markets, Rebecca. Furthermore, I think the markets anticipated that this would be anticipated and therefore anticipated that others would anticipate the anticipation as well. Of course, everyone anticipated this so they were not suprised that further anticipation would result and that this too would be anticipated and..."
"MR CUMMINS! Sir, if you don't mind. What does this mean for interest rates? Are we likely to see further hikes?"
"Yes, another 25 basis points in May, perhaps, and then we'll probably take a little breather."
"Interesting. Did anything else come out of the March meeting that caught your attention."
"Well, I did see a picture in one of the local papers of Mr. Bernanke picking his nose."
"Yes I saw that too. Do you think he was signalling the markets."
"Well, that's always possible. Of course it might also have been a case of him not realizing that the camera was there, but I don't think so. This was clearly a deliberate signalling on his part."
"I see. What can we expect?"
"Clearly the markets have become congested lately and need to open up."
"And you think Mr. Bernanke intends to do that in the months ahead?"
"Well, Rebecca. You know there's an old saying that the problem is not picking your nose, but what to do with the booger."
"That's unbelievably vulgar and disgusting Mr. Cummins. Frankly, sir, I'm suprised that you would think that the CNBC network or this show would stand for such a comment."
"Oh, am I on CNBC? My apologies Rebecca. I thought this was FOX."
"Mr. Peabody Cummins. Thank you for talking with us tonight."
"My pleasure."
(We now return you to the normally scheduled blog already in progress)
"Bill Schmidt. You remember Bill Schmidt?"
"Sure, Bill Schmidt. The little german fellow who had a stroke while he was riding the casino bus up to Tahoe."
"No, no, no. That was Larry Mays. Larry Mays had the stroke. I'm talking about Bill Schmidt. The guy who used to work at the bowling alley. "
"No, doesn't ring a bell. Don't think I ever met him."
"Sure you did. He used to work at the bowling alley."
"I wasn't much of a bowler, and besides, I never knew any Bill Schmidt."
"Well Bill Schmidt told me once that sometimes he wouldn't get out work until early in the morning and he'd go sit on one of the benches down by the pier and just watch the sun come up. Bill Schmidt told me that. He'd sit right there on the bench and watch the sun come up. So I know I'm right. The sun rises in the west."
"Did he say it rose over the ocean or over the hills."
"He said he sat on that bench down by the pier and watched the sun rise."
"Over the ocean? Did he say it rose over the ocean?"
"You're not listening to what I'm saying. Bill Schmidt was the fellow from the bowling alley and he told me that he sat on a bench by the pier and watched the sun rise."
"Yeah, but did he say it rose over the ocean?"
"Well, of course it did. He was sitting right there on the pier. Of course it rose over the ocean."
"Well it could of rose over the hills, you know. You can see the hills from the pier too."
"He didn't say nothing about no hills. "
"And I'm telling you that the sun rises in the east. It don't rise over the ocean and I don't care what Bill Schmidt says. "
"Well, he's dead now."
"He is?"
"Yeah. Heart attack. Couple of years ago. Poor ol' Bill."
(We interrupt this blog to bring you this important political announcement)
"Now we bring you highlights from Senator Jones' speech on immigration reform given earlier today."
"Friends, I know you're down. You're asking yourself 'What have I done Lord to deserve this?'. Well, I'm here to tell you that you've done nothing to deserve any of this. The problem isn't you, friends, it's Them."
"Them" murmurs the crowd.
"Ask yourself 'why is everything so expensive?' Well, I'll tell you. It's Their fault. Ask yourself 'why are all the factories shutting down?' Let me tell you again. It's Their fault. Ask yourself 'Why is there so much violence and crime? Why can't I feel safe walking down the street? It's Their fault, my friends. They're the ones doing this to you."
"It's Their fault" answers the crowd.
"That's right friends. Why are our soldiers dying in foreign lands? Why aren't we winning this war? It's because of Them. It's because this country cares more about Them than it does the lives of it's own citizens."
"It's Them, it's Them" roars the crowd.
"Yes, my friends. They're the ones who are sucking this country dry. It's Them that are bleeding away our resources. It's Them that are taking your jobs, it's Them that are ruining your schools, it's Them that are stealing the future from the mouths of your children."
"Them, Them, Them, Them" chants the crowd.
"So what are we to do? What are we to do about Them?"
"We'll hang 'em from the old oak tree" one woman cries.
"Are we going to let Them take our jobs?"
"No!"
"Are we going to let Them take our country?"
"No!"
"Are we going to let Them take the food from our babies mouths?"
"Get Them, get Them, get Them, get Them" the frenzied crowd screams.
"That's right, friends. I'm with you. But you know there's an election coming up and some people think a new fella ought to take this job. Someone who won't feel the way I do. Someone who'll coddle to Them. Someone who'll give in to Them. Someone who'll give Them your job and leave your family with nothing."
"We want Jones! We want Jones! We want Jones!"
"Thank you friends."
(And now we return you to the regularly scheduled blog in progress)
"Of course after Cora died I just didn't have the energy to do things anymore. Didn't matter much to me whether the sun was shining or not. I tried travelling but I didn't like going places by myself. And I tried gardening for a while, but then the arthritis starting getting worse and worse. Most days I'd just sit and watch the TV."
"Didn't your daughter come by and help?"
"My daughter? You mean Susan? Sure she'd come by every now and then and clean up the place a little. But most of the time she was too busy with her work to come and spend any time with me. Too busy jetting around the country and going to her fancy meetings to spend any time with her old dad. My daughter. Huh."
"Oh, c'mon now. I met Susan and she seemed very nice. And she's always worrying about you and asking how you're doing. I wish I had a daughter like that to come look after me."
"She's the one who put me here you know. Took me out of the house I spent my whole life working for, the house I planned to live out the rest of my life in. The house me and Cora bought and raised a family in. That was our house. She had no right to take it away from me."
"She shouldn't have done that. Better to let you die than do that."
"That's right. Better to die in your home than in a place like this. Don't mean nothing to them. People die here all the time. Better to die in you own home."
(We interrupt this blog once again for some important tech news)
"Hello, and welcome to Apple headquarters in Cupertino, California where Apple CEO Steve Jobs is scheduled to make an important announcement. We have a few minutes before the speech is slated to begin so perhaps we should take some time to interview some of the Apple faithful in attendance. Hello, what is you're name?"
"My names Zach."
"Can you tell us why you came here today?"
"To see Steve Jobs. Man, this is just so incredible."
"What are you expecting Mr. Jobs to announce? Any ideas?"
"The path, man."
"The path?"
"Yeah, you see Steve loves me."
"He loves you?"
"Yeah, I know it sounds weird, 'cause, like, you know, I'm just a nobody and all. But Steve Jobs loves me. I know he does. He loves all of us, man, and that's why we come here to hear his message. It's because he loves us and wants to show us the true path."
"Are you sure? Because, honestly, I think he just wants to sell you stuff."
"No, man, he loves us. It's like we're all put on this earth with no clue, no idea of where to go next. And Steve, he comes and he shows us the next step. He knows where to go, and we follow. Without these announcements, we'd be, like, lost, you know. Steve shows us the way."
"I see. I've heard that Apple has kind of a cult following but I wasn't expecting anything quite like this."
"Apple is the word, and Steve is the prophet."
"Yeah, ok. By the way, what's that say on your T-Shirt? 'Think Different'. Is that what that says?"
"Yeah, 'Think Different'. It's kind of like our slogan, you know. We all wear the T-Shirts."
"You mean you all wear T-Shirts that say 'Think Different'. Doesn't that seem a little strange to you? Everybody wearing the same shirt that says 'Think Different'".
"You don't get it, man. Apple gets it. Nobody else gets it, but Apple gets it."
"Yes, but it seems contradictory, you know. 'Think Different' and everybody wearing the same thing."
"Apple just gets it, man. You don't get it. Apple get's it."
"Well it looks like there's been some kind of delay down here at Apple headquarters so we'll throw it back to you in the newsroom. Hopefully, we'll have something for you a little later in the newscast."
(We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog in progress)
"Well, whatever way the sun rises it doesn't look like we're ever gonna see it again. Least not in our lifetimes, eh Harve? Harve? Hey Harvey, you asleep?"
Zzzzzzzzzzzz....
"Yeah, looks like you dozed off. I'm feeling pretty tired myself. Hey Nurse. Nurse. I'd like to go back to my room now."
"So soon? Did you and Mr. Cznewski have a nice little talk?"
"We argued. For an hour and a half we argued. What do you expect from a couple of old goats."
"What we're you arguing about?"
"The sun."
"?"
"Don't ask. Listen, I'd like to go back to my room and lie down for a little while."
"Okay, I'll ask Joaquin to take you back up."
"Tell him to hurry, will you. I don't know how long I can hold my bladder."
"He'll be right out. Just wait right there."
"Sure I'll wait here. Where am I gonna go? Down to the Copacabana for a little cha-cha-cha?"
"Joaquin, can you take Mr. Myers back to his room."
"Sure. All tired out from your long day, Mr. Myers."
"I gotta pee."
"Well, try to hang on till we get you back to your room, ok. Joaquin don't mind wheeling you around but he sure don't want to do any mop duty today, ok?"
"Yeah, yeah. Just hurry up will you."
"Have you there in a jiffy. How about Harvey? You want me to wake him up so you can say goodbye?"
"No, let him sleep. I got nothing to say to him anyways."
"You're the boss. Hang on, now. We wouldn't want to lose you in the elevator."
"Save the jokes and hurry it up before I make a mess down here, ok?"
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Sunday, March 26, 2006
No Post Tonight, Just Pretty New Faces
No Blog tonight. I'm too busy reading Michael Gordon's new book Cobra II. Finally a book that looks at the Iraq War from a macro perspective. No personal memoirs or political axes to grind, just the events as they occurred both in Washington and in Baghdad. If you ask me, anyone who starts giving you their opinions about that war that hasn't read this book is just blowing a lot of hot air our their...
Be that as it may, this book should be on the bestsellers list. The fact that it isn't just shows me that there are a lot of people who made up their minds about this war a long time ago and aren't interested in what really happened. Either that or they just wish the war would go away. I'm about a third of the way through and I can't put it down.
But like I said, no blog tonight. I just wanted to test out this new Hilary Hahn banner ad thingy that hopefully is appearing somewhere in the right hand column. I thought my blog needed a little youth and beauty to kind of brighten the atmosphere so I added it to the template. And no, Deutsche Gramaphone isn't paying me for running the spot. Which really pisses me off! Hey, DG, you know Walmart pays their bloggers.
No Blog tonight. I'm too busy reading Michael Gordon's new book Cobra II. Finally a book that looks at the Iraq War from a macro perspective. No personal memoirs or political axes to grind, just the events as they occurred both in Washington and in Baghdad. If you ask me, anyone who starts giving you their opinions about that war that hasn't read this book is just blowing a lot of hot air our their...
Be that as it may, this book should be on the bestsellers list. The fact that it isn't just shows me that there are a lot of people who made up their minds about this war a long time ago and aren't interested in what really happened. Either that or they just wish the war would go away. I'm about a third of the way through and I can't put it down.
But like I said, no blog tonight. I just wanted to test out this new Hilary Hahn banner ad thingy that hopefully is appearing somewhere in the right hand column. I thought my blog needed a little youth and beauty to kind of brighten the atmosphere so I added it to the template. And no, Deutsche Gramaphone isn't paying me for running the spot. Which really pisses me off! Hey, DG, you know Walmart pays their bloggers.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Happy Birthday Bennie!
As Americans we are intimately concerned with the culture and history of our neighbors to the north and south. That's why on this 21st day of March we join with our Mexican brethren to celebrate and honor the birthday of Benito Juarez. Happy birthday Bennie! Which brings us to today's quiz question:
Benito Juarez? Who the hell was that?
He was a
A. Mexican Bandit
B. Mexican President
C. Mexican General
D. Mexican Priest
E. All of the above
Ok, that was a trick question. Let's face it, except for The Brady Bunch, the disco craze, and that British moptop group that grandma used to listen to, most Americans are only dimly aware of their own history, let alone Mexican history. It's a little much to expect them to know who Benito Juarez was. Here's a brief summary.
Benito Juarez was a Zapoteca Indian born in 1806 in Oaxaca region of southern Mexico. Although born into poverty, in 1831 he graduated school with a law degree and quickly began a career in politics that was to take him from local judgeship to the Mexican presidency in 1861. Upon finding the Mexican government broke he suspended debt repayments to major European powers inviting the invasions of 1862 and 1863 which forced him from office and put Maximilian on the Mexican throne.
After Maximilian's execution in 1867 Juarez was once again elected president of Mexico and served in that position until his death in 1872. During his life, however, Juarez became known not only as a great Mexican patriot but also a great reformer who sought to secularize and modernize Mexican society. He seized church lands, supported equal rights for the Indians, built railroads and schools, and drafted laws which guaranteed basic freedoms for all Mexicans. His birthday is celebrated each year in Mexico and he is remembered as one of Mexico's greatest heroes.
There, now you know a little about him, and as you can see he doesn't really look like Paul Muni at all (that's a movie joke). On second thought, maybe just a little.
Anyways, after Juarez's death came the dictatorship of Porifiro Diaz and the invasion of Mexico by foreign business interests. You know, corruption and bandits and lawlessness and all those things we associate with modern Mexico today. Not that any of that was Juarez' fault, so why not celebrate his birthday just the same.
Speaking of Mexico, the Murky News had a story just today about drug gangs that are shooting up the city of Nuevo Laredo. It's a big problem that's been going on for quite some time. Presidente Fox promised to clean up the town and sent a General and troops from the PFP (Federal Preventative Police) to restore order, but unfortunately the General has mysteriously disappeared and once again we are hearing stories of police corruption on both sides of the border.
The American response to all this violence has been to scold the Mexicans about thier drug problem and build a wall. Actually, we haven't built the thing yet but we're getting ready to. The wall is seen as a concession to those Americans who see the border problem best solved by sending 12 divisions of armored infantry down to the border and shooting Mexicans on sight. Cooler heads have prevailed, however, and the wall is seen as a better solution, and less bloody too. Many Americans feel let down by all this and find the idea of less blood disappointing, but our brave leaders in Washington have been looking at the demographics and have come to realize that pretty soon there's gonna be more hispanics in this country than white folk. Not a good time to go hating Mexicans, it's said, and so they have turned to hating Arabs instead. (In case you weren't following the news a couple of weeks ago, it's ok to hate Arabs now. Congress has made it official).
So there you go. We're gonna build this wall and that's gonna take care of all our border problems. No more illegal immigration and no more drug wars. And it's not as if we haven't chided the Mexicans on this. "Holy cow" we've told them, "if you'd stop having all those illegal drugs over there then we wouldn't have to be spend all this money buying 'em". Of course now we've got this wall and I guess that means there won't be anymore drug problems in America. Hallelujah. If the Mexicans wanna go on murdering each other then that's there business. Just leave us out of it.
Actually, we're not building the wall to keep the drugs out. I just made that up. Wall or no wall, we want our illegal drugs. No, we're building the wall to keep poor working people out of our fields and office buildings. This part I'm not making up. We're gonna build this wall and then no more illegals will be crossing the borders and that'll free up jobs so that all those laid-off factory workers and customer service reps can start living in migrant camps and picking our strawberries. Congress has got this all figured out.
Well, not quite. There's also the problem of illegals who are already here, but Congress has a solution for that too. They're proposing legislation that would make it a crime to assist an illegal alien. I'm not sure what they mean by "assist" but I assume it would include things like food and water and a place to sleep. That's what some Catholic preists think, anyways, and let me tell you they're not too happy about it. They feel it is their duty as christians to give comfort and aid to the needy and they're threatening civil disobedience if this law passes (it'll pass). So now Congress is faced with the prospect of jailing priests and bishops as well as illegal aliens if the law is enacted (it'll be enacted).
Oh brother, what a mess. And to top it all off who do we see at the front of this charge to criminalize comfort and aid to the needy? Who is that standing shoulder to shoulder with these anti-alien neocons? Why it's none other than Lou Dobbs(?), that's who. Yeah, no kidding. That Lou Dobbs. Guess he just hates it when someone gives a working man a drink of water.
Well, what can you say. It is the pressing social problem of our time, this immigration thing that is. Nothing else comes close. Take this article I was reading in the New York Times, for instance. Apparently, someone has done a study of different socioeconomic groups in America and found that of all the different groups they studied only black males are failing to progress up the economic ladder. Whites, hispanics, asians, even black females are all gaining ground, but black males are going in the opposite direction. A greater share of them are unemployed, a greater number of them are going to prison and a greater number of them are dropping out of school.
Yeah, I know what you're saying. This whole black-white thing is so sixties. Well, maybe, and I don't claim to have any answers. But it is a problem. Inner city poverty and crime and drug use and all the rest of it does have an effect on society. It would be nice to find out why black males, exclusive of every other socioeconomic group, are falling behind and dropping out of society. But then again what is any of this compared to the immigration problem. I'm sure the crew cleaning our offices every night is much more of a problem for society than poverty, crime and overcrowded jails.
Yeah, let's build a wall.
As Americans we are intimately concerned with the culture and history of our neighbors to the north and south. That's why on this 21st day of March we join with our Mexican brethren to celebrate and honor the birthday of Benito Juarez. Happy birthday Bennie! Which brings us to today's quiz question:
Benito Juarez? Who the hell was that?
He was a
A. Mexican Bandit
B. Mexican President
C. Mexican General
D. Mexican Priest
E. All of the above
Ok, that was a trick question. Let's face it, except for The Brady Bunch, the disco craze, and that British moptop group that grandma used to listen to, most Americans are only dimly aware of their own history, let alone Mexican history. It's a little much to expect them to know who Benito Juarez was. Here's a brief summary.
Benito Juarez was a Zapoteca Indian born in 1806 in Oaxaca region of southern Mexico. Although born into poverty, in 1831 he graduated school with a law degree and quickly began a career in politics that was to take him from local judgeship to the Mexican presidency in 1861. Upon finding the Mexican government broke he suspended debt repayments to major European powers inviting the invasions of 1862 and 1863 which forced him from office and put Maximilian on the Mexican throne.
After Maximilian's execution in 1867 Juarez was once again elected president of Mexico and served in that position until his death in 1872. During his life, however, Juarez became known not only as a great Mexican patriot but also a great reformer who sought to secularize and modernize Mexican society. He seized church lands, supported equal rights for the Indians, built railroads and schools, and drafted laws which guaranteed basic freedoms for all Mexicans. His birthday is celebrated each year in Mexico and he is remembered as one of Mexico's greatest heroes.
There, now you know a little about him, and as you can see he doesn't really look like Paul Muni at all (that's a movie joke). On second thought, maybe just a little.
Anyways, after Juarez's death came the dictatorship of Porifiro Diaz and the invasion of Mexico by foreign business interests. You know, corruption and bandits and lawlessness and all those things we associate with modern Mexico today. Not that any of that was Juarez' fault, so why not celebrate his birthday just the same.
Speaking of Mexico, the Murky News had a story just today about drug gangs that are shooting up the city of Nuevo Laredo. It's a big problem that's been going on for quite some time. Presidente Fox promised to clean up the town and sent a General and troops from the PFP (Federal Preventative Police) to restore order, but unfortunately the General has mysteriously disappeared and once again we are hearing stories of police corruption on both sides of the border.
The American response to all this violence has been to scold the Mexicans about thier drug problem and build a wall. Actually, we haven't built the thing yet but we're getting ready to. The wall is seen as a concession to those Americans who see the border problem best solved by sending 12 divisions of armored infantry down to the border and shooting Mexicans on sight. Cooler heads have prevailed, however, and the wall is seen as a better solution, and less bloody too. Many Americans feel let down by all this and find the idea of less blood disappointing, but our brave leaders in Washington have been looking at the demographics and have come to realize that pretty soon there's gonna be more hispanics in this country than white folk. Not a good time to go hating Mexicans, it's said, and so they have turned to hating Arabs instead. (In case you weren't following the news a couple of weeks ago, it's ok to hate Arabs now. Congress has made it official).
So there you go. We're gonna build this wall and that's gonna take care of all our border problems. No more illegal immigration and no more drug wars. And it's not as if we haven't chided the Mexicans on this. "Holy cow" we've told them, "if you'd stop having all those illegal drugs over there then we wouldn't have to be spend all this money buying 'em". Of course now we've got this wall and I guess that means there won't be anymore drug problems in America. Hallelujah. If the Mexicans wanna go on murdering each other then that's there business. Just leave us out of it.
Actually, we're not building the wall to keep the drugs out. I just made that up. Wall or no wall, we want our illegal drugs. No, we're building the wall to keep poor working people out of our fields and office buildings. This part I'm not making up. We're gonna build this wall and then no more illegals will be crossing the borders and that'll free up jobs so that all those laid-off factory workers and customer service reps can start living in migrant camps and picking our strawberries. Congress has got this all figured out.
Well, not quite. There's also the problem of illegals who are already here, but Congress has a solution for that too. They're proposing legislation that would make it a crime to assist an illegal alien. I'm not sure what they mean by "assist" but I assume it would include things like food and water and a place to sleep. That's what some Catholic preists think, anyways, and let me tell you they're not too happy about it. They feel it is their duty as christians to give comfort and aid to the needy and they're threatening civil disobedience if this law passes (it'll pass). So now Congress is faced with the prospect of jailing priests and bishops as well as illegal aliens if the law is enacted (it'll be enacted).
Oh brother, what a mess. And to top it all off who do we see at the front of this charge to criminalize comfort and aid to the needy? Who is that standing shoulder to shoulder with these anti-alien neocons? Why it's none other than Lou Dobbs(?), that's who. Yeah, no kidding. That Lou Dobbs. Guess he just hates it when someone gives a working man a drink of water.
Well, what can you say. It is the pressing social problem of our time, this immigration thing that is. Nothing else comes close. Take this article I was reading in the New York Times, for instance. Apparently, someone has done a study of different socioeconomic groups in America and found that of all the different groups they studied only black males are failing to progress up the economic ladder. Whites, hispanics, asians, even black females are all gaining ground, but black males are going in the opposite direction. A greater share of them are unemployed, a greater number of them are going to prison and a greater number of them are dropping out of school.
Yeah, I know what you're saying. This whole black-white thing is so sixties. Well, maybe, and I don't claim to have any answers. But it is a problem. Inner city poverty and crime and drug use and all the rest of it does have an effect on society. It would be nice to find out why black males, exclusive of every other socioeconomic group, are falling behind and dropping out of society. But then again what is any of this compared to the immigration problem. I'm sure the crew cleaning our offices every night is much more of a problem for society than poverty, crime and overcrowded jails.
Yeah, let's build a wall.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Old Dogs and New Tricks
Thank you ladies and gentlemen. Tonight's topic will be "New things I've learned while listenening to podcasts." As you know I'm quite a fan of this new internet phenomena called podcasting and I'd like to share something interesting I heard while listening to one of those podcasts today. The name of the particular podcast I'm referring to is The Rosary Army Catholic Podcast, and before you get up to leave let me just explain that it's not what it sounds like. Yes, it's a podcast but they aren't saying the Rosary, they don't have an Army, and you don't have to be a Catholic to listen. It's just a twice weekly show done by the husband and wife team of Greg and Jennifer who spend a half hour or so rambling on about whatever's going on in their life.
(Can you imagine anyone wanting to listen to someone ramble on and on about whatever's on their mind? I hope this sort of thing doesn't spill over into the blogosphere)
So I was listening to the Rosary Army today (that would be the March 14, 2006 broadcast for those of you taking notes) and I learned something I never knew before. Did you know that...
Well, maybe I should give a little background first. Greg and Jennifer have 2 sons that they talk about and share the podcast with from time to time, and, well, sons being sons I guess it's fair to say that they get a little rambunctious at times. Now I have some experience with this being that I used to be a son myself, and I remember quite well the many times that my brothers and I used to drive my mother crazy. I think that's all just a normal part of the mother-son relationship, and I think it was always accepted as such. Accepted, that is, until what we came to what has been called the "era of modern parenting".
I don't want to bore anyone by talking about the good ol' days here, but let's face it - parenting used to be different. Especially a hundred years ago when I was coming up. Back then whenever I would drive my mother crazy she would, as most mothers would, yell and scream and tell me to "knock it off", only my mother was japanese so she wouldn't use the words "knock it off" but their somewhat ruder japanese equivalents. Anyways, that was the way it was. Mothers didn't try to reason with their sons back then, they didn't coax or cajole or apologize to their sons for all of life's inequities. Mothers simply asserted their authority and that was the end of that.
Needless to say mothers don't do that anymore. Not in the "era of modern parenting". Let me tell you a little story.
Back when I was around 12 or so I got into a rock throwing contest with my friend D. Across the street from my house there was an empty lot and behind the lot there was small cliff, and my friend D and I were standing in the street and throwing rocks over the empty lot and over the cliff to see who could throw the highest and the farthest. It wasn't the most fun I've ever had in my life but it was something to do on a Saturday afternoon.
I should also explain that there was a house on top of the cliff and both D and I were very careful not to throw any rocks towards the house but rather to the empty area that sat beside the house. What we didn't know at the time but would learn later was that the owner of the house, Mr. O, had a son who happened to be visiting that day. What we also didn't know was that Mr. O's son had a little sports car that he had parked beside Mr. O's house while he was inside visiting. And of course what we never could have imagined was the kind of temper Mr. O's son would show when he heard something hit his car and found that someone had put a 3 foot crack in his windshield.
Of course, it didn't take Mr. O's son very long to put two and two together and figure out who did it, and to make a long story short he found out where the both of us lived and had a talk to our parents. And here's the point of my little story. My father, being the old-fashioned sort was none too pleased and, after writing a check for the damage, told me that as far as he was concerned Mr. O's son now owned me. That is, I was told to go up to Mr. O's house and tell his son I was sorry and ask him what I could do to work it off. Only after I had worked off the damage I had done could I return to him and ask to allowed back into the bosom of the family. That's the way it was done in the old days.
And that is why I spent the next weekend cleaning out Mr. O's garage as penance for my carelessness, and let me tell you if you could have seen Mr. O's garage then you might understand how high a price that was to pay. Personally, I think I would have rather just bought him a new windshield.
Anyways, as I was cleaning out Mr. O's garage who should I see standing across the street but D, my co-conspirator, sitting on his lawn and smoking a cigarette. D was two years younger than me but his parents let him smoke cigarettes in the house. My parents didn't let me smoke in the house until I was 17, and then they'd always give me grief for it. But D's parents were cool. He was only 10 but they'd still let him smoke in the house and his mom would even go out to the store to buy him cartons, but that wasn't until a few years later.
So like I said, there I was cleaning out that stinking junkpile of a garage and there was D kicking back on his lawn and smoking a cigarette because his parents didn't make him apologize to Mr. O's son or offer to work it off. That was because he had cool, modern parents, not the old fashioned ones like I did. I always resented him for that, but that was just the modern way. And nowdays, sheesh, if some kid breaks your windshield and you go up to his parents to tell him what he just did, they aren't going to get mad at the kid. They're going to get mad at you for making the accusation and you'll be lucky if they don't call the cops or take you to court and sue you.
"How dare you show anger towards my perfect child. Get out of here before I call the police."
That's the way it is, I'm telling ya'. Work it off? Are you kidding me? Just as an epilogue to my little story I should say that because of my old-fashioned parents I grew up to be a responsible, hard-working member of society and D grew up to be a lazy, indolent bum. I should say that but I don't think it's true. I mean it could be, but I don't know. You see D dropped out of school when he was 15 and was married with 2 kids (she had their first kid back when she was in high school) by the time he was 19, so his parents bought them a house in Tracy to kind of get them started, and that was the last time I ever saw any of them. Knowing how housing prices have gone up in California, I think it's a fair bet that D's doing just fine.
Now, where was I? Oh yeah, modern parenting. Like I said, I was listening to the Rosary Army Catholic Podcast and Jennifer (the mother) started talking about these 2 boys of hers. She said she had been worried that they always played so rowdy and rough so she decided to take them to something called a "Play" therapist.
Have you ever heard of that before?
I know I'm out of the loop on this stuff but do they really have therapists these days that teach children how to play? Oh brother, the things you learn by listening to podcasts. These poor kids. No sooner do you get them home from the hospital than you have to call the clinic and get them in to see their therapist. I mean you have to do that soon, don't you? Kids start playing pretty early on, don't they? I'm sure you don't want them playing on their own. Not without proper treatment first.
"Hi Sally. How's your little boy?"
"Oh he's wonderful."
"How old is he now?"
"He'll be four months on the 21st."
"Four months? Does he have a therapist yet?"
"Oh yes, we took him to see the shrink right away. We didn't want to wait, you know. We both thought the sooner the better."
"Well, what does the therapist say?"
"She was a little worried at first. She saw the way the baby was playing with the pacifier and thought he might be internalizing a little too much, you know? But we tried some exercises and everything seems to going ok now."
"Oh good. Better to nip it in the bud."
"Yeah. We're excited. In fact just last week the therapist told us that if all goes well with the rattler then it might be ok to start him in with his first rubber ducky in about another month or two."
"So soon?"
"Oh I know. I think we'll hold off a little while before we do that. Maybe get a second opinion."
"Good idea."
Oh well, they're not my kids so who am I to start talking. If Greg and Jennifer want take their sons to a "Play" therapist then more power to them. I kind of get the feeling that this is more Jennifer's idea than Greg's though. Don't you? You kind of get the feeling Greg's only going along with it because he doesn't want to argue about it anymore. That's the way it is with husbands sometimes. Wives just seem to wear them out.
Anyway, that's what I've learned while listening to podcasts. I want to thank you all for attending and have a safe drive home.
Thank you ladies and gentlemen. Tonight's topic will be "New things I've learned while listenening to podcasts." As you know I'm quite a fan of this new internet phenomena called podcasting and I'd like to share something interesting I heard while listening to one of those podcasts today. The name of the particular podcast I'm referring to is The Rosary Army Catholic Podcast, and before you get up to leave let me just explain that it's not what it sounds like. Yes, it's a podcast but they aren't saying the Rosary, they don't have an Army, and you don't have to be a Catholic to listen. It's just a twice weekly show done by the husband and wife team of Greg and Jennifer who spend a half hour or so rambling on about whatever's going on in their life.
(Can you imagine anyone wanting to listen to someone ramble on and on about whatever's on their mind? I hope this sort of thing doesn't spill over into the blogosphere)
So I was listening to the Rosary Army today (that would be the March 14, 2006 broadcast for those of you taking notes) and I learned something I never knew before. Did you know that...
Well, maybe I should give a little background first. Greg and Jennifer have 2 sons that they talk about and share the podcast with from time to time, and, well, sons being sons I guess it's fair to say that they get a little rambunctious at times. Now I have some experience with this being that I used to be a son myself, and I remember quite well the many times that my brothers and I used to drive my mother crazy. I think that's all just a normal part of the mother-son relationship, and I think it was always accepted as such. Accepted, that is, until what we came to what has been called the "era of modern parenting".
I don't want to bore anyone by talking about the good ol' days here, but let's face it - parenting used to be different. Especially a hundred years ago when I was coming up. Back then whenever I would drive my mother crazy she would, as most mothers would, yell and scream and tell me to "knock it off", only my mother was japanese so she wouldn't use the words "knock it off" but their somewhat ruder japanese equivalents. Anyways, that was the way it was. Mothers didn't try to reason with their sons back then, they didn't coax or cajole or apologize to their sons for all of life's inequities. Mothers simply asserted their authority and that was the end of that.
Needless to say mothers don't do that anymore. Not in the "era of modern parenting". Let me tell you a little story.
Back when I was around 12 or so I got into a rock throwing contest with my friend D. Across the street from my house there was an empty lot and behind the lot there was small cliff, and my friend D and I were standing in the street and throwing rocks over the empty lot and over the cliff to see who could throw the highest and the farthest. It wasn't the most fun I've ever had in my life but it was something to do on a Saturday afternoon.
I should also explain that there was a house on top of the cliff and both D and I were very careful not to throw any rocks towards the house but rather to the empty area that sat beside the house. What we didn't know at the time but would learn later was that the owner of the house, Mr. O, had a son who happened to be visiting that day. What we also didn't know was that Mr. O's son had a little sports car that he had parked beside Mr. O's house while he was inside visiting. And of course what we never could have imagined was the kind of temper Mr. O's son would show when he heard something hit his car and found that someone had put a 3 foot crack in his windshield.
Of course, it didn't take Mr. O's son very long to put two and two together and figure out who did it, and to make a long story short he found out where the both of us lived and had a talk to our parents. And here's the point of my little story. My father, being the old-fashioned sort was none too pleased and, after writing a check for the damage, told me that as far as he was concerned Mr. O's son now owned me. That is, I was told to go up to Mr. O's house and tell his son I was sorry and ask him what I could do to work it off. Only after I had worked off the damage I had done could I return to him and ask to allowed back into the bosom of the family. That's the way it was done in the old days.
And that is why I spent the next weekend cleaning out Mr. O's garage as penance for my carelessness, and let me tell you if you could have seen Mr. O's garage then you might understand how high a price that was to pay. Personally, I think I would have rather just bought him a new windshield.
Anyways, as I was cleaning out Mr. O's garage who should I see standing across the street but D, my co-conspirator, sitting on his lawn and smoking a cigarette. D was two years younger than me but his parents let him smoke cigarettes in the house. My parents didn't let me smoke in the house until I was 17, and then they'd always give me grief for it. But D's parents were cool. He was only 10 but they'd still let him smoke in the house and his mom would even go out to the store to buy him cartons, but that wasn't until a few years later.
So like I said, there I was cleaning out that stinking junkpile of a garage and there was D kicking back on his lawn and smoking a cigarette because his parents didn't make him apologize to Mr. O's son or offer to work it off. That was because he had cool, modern parents, not the old fashioned ones like I did. I always resented him for that, but that was just the modern way. And nowdays, sheesh, if some kid breaks your windshield and you go up to his parents to tell him what he just did, they aren't going to get mad at the kid. They're going to get mad at you for making the accusation and you'll be lucky if they don't call the cops or take you to court and sue you.
"How dare you show anger towards my perfect child. Get out of here before I call the police."
That's the way it is, I'm telling ya'. Work it off? Are you kidding me? Just as an epilogue to my little story I should say that because of my old-fashioned parents I grew up to be a responsible, hard-working member of society and D grew up to be a lazy, indolent bum. I should say that but I don't think it's true. I mean it could be, but I don't know. You see D dropped out of school when he was 15 and was married with 2 kids (she had their first kid back when she was in high school) by the time he was 19, so his parents bought them a house in Tracy to kind of get them started, and that was the last time I ever saw any of them. Knowing how housing prices have gone up in California, I think it's a fair bet that D's doing just fine.
Now, where was I? Oh yeah, modern parenting. Like I said, I was listening to the Rosary Army Catholic Podcast and Jennifer (the mother) started talking about these 2 boys of hers. She said she had been worried that they always played so rowdy and rough so she decided to take them to something called a "Play" therapist.
Have you ever heard of that before?
I know I'm out of the loop on this stuff but do they really have therapists these days that teach children how to play? Oh brother, the things you learn by listening to podcasts. These poor kids. No sooner do you get them home from the hospital than you have to call the clinic and get them in to see their therapist. I mean you have to do that soon, don't you? Kids start playing pretty early on, don't they? I'm sure you don't want them playing on their own. Not without proper treatment first.
"Hi Sally. How's your little boy?"
"Oh he's wonderful."
"How old is he now?"
"He'll be four months on the 21st."
"Four months? Does he have a therapist yet?"
"Oh yes, we took him to see the shrink right away. We didn't want to wait, you know. We both thought the sooner the better."
"Well, what does the therapist say?"
"She was a little worried at first. She saw the way the baby was playing with the pacifier and thought he might be internalizing a little too much, you know? But we tried some exercises and everything seems to going ok now."
"Oh good. Better to nip it in the bud."
"Yeah. We're excited. In fact just last week the therapist told us that if all goes well with the rattler then it might be ok to start him in with his first rubber ducky in about another month or two."
"So soon?"
"Oh I know. I think we'll hold off a little while before we do that. Maybe get a second opinion."
"Good idea."
Oh well, they're not my kids so who am I to start talking. If Greg and Jennifer want take their sons to a "Play" therapist then more power to them. I kind of get the feeling that this is more Jennifer's idea than Greg's though. Don't you? You kind of get the feeling Greg's only going along with it because he doesn't want to argue about it anymore. That's the way it is with husbands sometimes. Wives just seem to wear them out.
Anyway, that's what I've learned while listening to podcasts. I want to thank you all for attending and have a safe drive home.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Raindrops Keep Fallin' On My Head
Well the weather has been crap around here. Yeah, yeah, I know. A couple of weeks ago I was posting pic's of sunshine and blue skies on this here blog thing, and ever since then the weather has gone straight downhill. I guess I was asking for it, but geez - rain, wind, hail, ice, snow...you name it, we've had it. It's like Mother Nature decided to cram a hundred years of weather into just two lousy weeks. So much for California Dreamin'. And in case you're wondering, the forecast for tomorrow is another storm moving in.
It's alright though. I don't mind. At least the air is clean and the hills are green and at nights you can look up and see the little stars twinkling in the heavens. Ahhhhhh....
Other than that there's been nothing happening in California. And I mean NOTHING. A couple of months ago the politicians were making speeches up in Sacramento, telling everybody that this was a new day in California, that there was a new spirit of cooperation, that the governor and the legislature were ready to roll up their sleeves and get California pointed in the right direction and all that.
Right.
Of course no one believed them, and to our credit we haven't been disappointed. I'm sure they were sincere when they said it (right), but unfortunately 2006 is an election year and both parties seem preoccupied at the moment. I guess that "getting California pointed in the right direction" stuff will have to wait.
What we have now is kind of an eerie calm, a sort of political void if you will. I don't know exactly how to describe it except to say that it's like we have two great armies camped out on either side of a river. As each side huddles around its fires and plans its strategies there is this sense of forboding hanging in the air. Oh sure, every now and then someone will make a speech and the other side will attack it and correspondents will scribble it all down, but this is mere skirmishing. There is a great battle planned for the morrow and we can only wait and watch as each side probes the other's weaknesses.
Who's gonna win? Beats me. At this early stage all the polls are showing a large undecided vote in the state. Personally, though, I think Arnold should call his agent and see if there are any movie offers for 2007. Hate to say that because I thought he had some good ideas, but in the end he proved too politcally green behind the ears to really make a go of it. In fact, his had to be the Titanic of political careers. I mean he started out so fast and strong and looked so unsinkable, and then he hit that iceberg called "the California public employees unions" and, man, I've never seen a politician take on so much water or sink so fast. Of course there are some pundits who say he can still mount a comeback but I don't see how. Not when the Democrats hate his guts and when the Republicans aren't really sure and when he's got his bow buried in 100 feet of sand at the bottom of the ocean.
Oh well, stranger things have happened.
Let's see, I've talked about the weather, I've talked a little politics, hmmm...what else is going on in the ol' Golden State. Oh yeah, the Mercury News. The San Jose Mercury News, our little local gazette, was bought by the McClatchy Group this week, whereupon they promptly put it back on the auction block to be sold again. They haven't found a buyer yet but I'm sure they're working on it. I'd suggest taking out an ad in the classifieds but then who reads the classifieds anymore. Better to post it up on Craigslist, eh?
No, no, no, I don't want to kick 'em when they're down. I've always thought it was a fine paper and certainly a hell of lot better than that pink and green thing they read up north, but these are hard times for the newspaper business. Actually it's not the "news" part that's having such a hard go of it, it's more the "paper" part. Seems like more and more people are getting their news from the internet these days and don't see much value in paying the papers 50 cents for day old news, not when they can get the up-to-the-minute stuff off the Net for free. Frankly I don't know what the newspapers can do about it. About all I can suggest is www.blogspot.com, although the pays not so good.
The real problem is advertising, of course. Advertisers want that "targeted" advertising like you can get on the internet, and they aren't real enthusiastic about newspapers anymore. Which brings up an interesting point. Namely, I see Google Adsense ads all over the place but I can't recall the last time I ever clicked on one. In fact, I don't think I've ever clicked on one except by accident. Now I know I'm not normal this way, and that all of the rest of you out there surfing the net are clicking on these things like crazy and that's why Google's stock is going up and up and it's market cap is soon going to be larger than the combined market caps of the entire S&P 500, but I just think it's strange. All you new economy analysts and Web 2.0 pundits out there - are you really sure this Adsense thing is the miracle it's been touted to be? I guess it is, but I'm not sold on the idea yet. Maybe one day I'll click on one of these ads and it will all make sense.
Adsense, that is.
Anyways, it's a tough time to be in the newspaper business. If it's any consolation to you newspaper people out there let me say that I still read the paper sometimes. Don't get me wrong, most of my news comes over the internet but I still need the paper for the state and local news. For all it's advantages that's something the internet has never been very good at. It's great if you want the time, date and weather in Bangladesh, but it's not so great if you want to know about corruption down at City Hall. Not that you can't find that information on the net, but only if you're searching for it.
So that's the business news. Anything else I left out. Oh yeah, the Sports. Hey, how about those Forty-Niners!
Come to think of it, maybe I'll just skip the sports.
Well the weather has been crap around here. Yeah, yeah, I know. A couple of weeks ago I was posting pic's of sunshine and blue skies on this here blog thing, and ever since then the weather has gone straight downhill. I guess I was asking for it, but geez - rain, wind, hail, ice, snow...you name it, we've had it. It's like Mother Nature decided to cram a hundred years of weather into just two lousy weeks. So much for California Dreamin'. And in case you're wondering, the forecast for tomorrow is another storm moving in.
It's alright though. I don't mind. At least the air is clean and the hills are green and at nights you can look up and see the little stars twinkling in the heavens. Ahhhhhh....
Other than that there's been nothing happening in California. And I mean NOTHING. A couple of months ago the politicians were making speeches up in Sacramento, telling everybody that this was a new day in California, that there was a new spirit of cooperation, that the governor and the legislature were ready to roll up their sleeves and get California pointed in the right direction and all that.
Right.
Of course no one believed them, and to our credit we haven't been disappointed. I'm sure they were sincere when they said it (right), but unfortunately 2006 is an election year and both parties seem preoccupied at the moment. I guess that "getting California pointed in the right direction" stuff will have to wait.
What we have now is kind of an eerie calm, a sort of political void if you will. I don't know exactly how to describe it except to say that it's like we have two great armies camped out on either side of a river. As each side huddles around its fires and plans its strategies there is this sense of forboding hanging in the air. Oh sure, every now and then someone will make a speech and the other side will attack it and correspondents will scribble it all down, but this is mere skirmishing. There is a great battle planned for the morrow and we can only wait and watch as each side probes the other's weaknesses.
Who's gonna win? Beats me. At this early stage all the polls are showing a large undecided vote in the state. Personally, though, I think Arnold should call his agent and see if there are any movie offers for 2007. Hate to say that because I thought he had some good ideas, but in the end he proved too politcally green behind the ears to really make a go of it. In fact, his had to be the Titanic of political careers. I mean he started out so fast and strong and looked so unsinkable, and then he hit that iceberg called "the California public employees unions" and, man, I've never seen a politician take on so much water or sink so fast. Of course there are some pundits who say he can still mount a comeback but I don't see how. Not when the Democrats hate his guts and when the Republicans aren't really sure and when he's got his bow buried in 100 feet of sand at the bottom of the ocean.
Oh well, stranger things have happened.
Let's see, I've talked about the weather, I've talked a little politics, hmmm...what else is going on in the ol' Golden State. Oh yeah, the Mercury News. The San Jose Mercury News, our little local gazette, was bought by the McClatchy Group this week, whereupon they promptly put it back on the auction block to be sold again. They haven't found a buyer yet but I'm sure they're working on it. I'd suggest taking out an ad in the classifieds but then who reads the classifieds anymore. Better to post it up on Craigslist, eh?
No, no, no, I don't want to kick 'em when they're down. I've always thought it was a fine paper and certainly a hell of lot better than that pink and green thing they read up north, but these are hard times for the newspaper business. Actually it's not the "news" part that's having such a hard go of it, it's more the "paper" part. Seems like more and more people are getting their news from the internet these days and don't see much value in paying the papers 50 cents for day old news, not when they can get the up-to-the-minute stuff off the Net for free. Frankly I don't know what the newspapers can do about it. About all I can suggest is www.blogspot.com, although the pays not so good.
The real problem is advertising, of course. Advertisers want that "targeted" advertising like you can get on the internet, and they aren't real enthusiastic about newspapers anymore. Which brings up an interesting point. Namely, I see Google Adsense ads all over the place but I can't recall the last time I ever clicked on one. In fact, I don't think I've ever clicked on one except by accident. Now I know I'm not normal this way, and that all of the rest of you out there surfing the net are clicking on these things like crazy and that's why Google's stock is going up and up and it's market cap is soon going to be larger than the combined market caps of the entire S&P 500, but I just think it's strange. All you new economy analysts and Web 2.0 pundits out there - are you really sure this Adsense thing is the miracle it's been touted to be? I guess it is, but I'm not sold on the idea yet. Maybe one day I'll click on one of these ads and it will all make sense.
Adsense, that is.
Anyways, it's a tough time to be in the newspaper business. If it's any consolation to you newspaper people out there let me say that I still read the paper sometimes. Don't get me wrong, most of my news comes over the internet but I still need the paper for the state and local news. For all it's advantages that's something the internet has never been very good at. It's great if you want the time, date and weather in Bangladesh, but it's not so great if you want to know about corruption down at City Hall. Not that you can't find that information on the net, but only if you're searching for it.
So that's the business news. Anything else I left out. Oh yeah, the Sports. Hey, how about those Forty-Niners!
Come to think of it, maybe I'll just skip the sports.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Standing On The Shoulders Of Giants
I'm marking this date down. Monday, May 8, 2006. What's the significance you ask? Simply, that two months from today I am making a promise to myself to check the sports pages and see if anyone still cares about this whole Barry Bonds doping scandal. My prediction is that this story will disappear long before then, but I'll give it 60 days just for good measure.
Now, I realize that folks from outside the Bay Area see things differently from people around here. As a matter of fact, Giants fans could turn on their TV's and see live pictures of Barry Bonds shooting up in the dugout and still not believe in his guilt. "He's never failed a drug test" is what they'd say, and they'd be right. But just as no one actually saw the Titanic hit an iceberg, that didn't stop people from talking about it and coming to their own conclusions.
But this whole steroids and baseball thing, though, I don't know. Give it another month or two and it'll all fade away. Sure, there is plenty of criticism now. I even read one sportswriter who asked "Where does Barry go from here?" Are you kidding me? I'll tell you where he goes. He goes to the ballpark and swats home runs into the San Francisco Bay, that's where. Barry knows that. He knows that the more baseballs he hits out of the yard the less credible his critics become and the more adulation he receives from the fans. Do you think Barry's worried?
No way. Like I said, another 60 days and no one will be talking about steroids. They'll be talking about the record. That's what the sportswriters will be writing about, that's what the sportscasters will be talking about, and I wouldn't be suprised if that's what they'll be promoting on the cover of Sports Illustrated.
Think I'm wrong? Just check back here in 60 days.
As for this other question about Barry's place in the Hall of Fame, well, I'm already on record as saying I think he should go into the Hall but with one qualification. That is put him in the Hall but alongside the photos and the uniform and the record breaking bat and ball be sure you also display the syringes, the vials, the creams and pills and everything else that went into his record-breaking achievement. I think if Baseball is going to accept the dollars that come from it's drugged atheletes, then it should at least be honest enough to own up to the fans and admit it. I mean, it's not like people don't know what's going on here. And yes, that includes those freckle-faced little kids too. Believe me Mr. Major Leage Baseball, they aren't as dumb as you think they are.
And finally, for all the purists and dewy-eyed baseball romantics out there who are horrified that a cheater should be allowed into the baseball's holiest shrine I say "get over it." Sports is a business and under those terms what is really wrong with what Barry has done. Like any go0d businessman he has merely taking some idle cash and reinvested it in new technologies to increase his productivity. More importantly, he gave the fans what they wanted, generated above average returns for his investors, and, in the end, that's all that matters. What the purists don't understand is exactly what Bud Selig and Peter McGowan and Barry Bonds have understood all along. Namely, if the fans don't care then why should they.
Be sure to check back in 60 days.
The Literary Life
Geez, it's Wednesday already and I haven't blogged about the big awards ceremonies last week. I guess it's old news by now but the winner wasn't really that much of a suprise. I'm talking about "The March" by E.L. Doctorow, of course, which has just won the 2005 National Book Critics Circle Award for fiction. (Oh, you thought I was talking about that three and half hour borefest they had in Hollywood last Sunday, didn't you? No, I TIVO'd that sucker and fast-forwarded my way through most of it)
Yes, "The March" won and I went out and bought it last week. I haven't finished it yet but so far I'd say not bad, not bad. Right now we're marching through North Carolina and the narrative is beginning to lose a little steam, but there have been some moments of brilliance along the way. If you haven't read the book then I should explain that it's a historical novel recounting the famous march of General William Tecumseh Sherman through Georgia and the Carolinas back during the Civil War. It's one of those sprawling epic type of books where you drop in out of the lives of various characters and follow them as they weave and intersect their way through an unfolding drama wrought with sex, violence and unlikely coincidence .
Well, something like that.
Think James Michener or Herman Wouk, although Doctorow is probably a better writer than those other two. All in all it's a good read and since I haven't read any of the other nominated books yet I guess I agree with the judges decision. Not that anyone's asked me.
Anyways, it got me to thinking about my own great literary opus. You know, that one I'm going to write someday. I'd like a National Book Critics Circle Award too and sooner or later I'm going to have to get going on it. Problem is I don't know where to start. There are probably thousands of topics I could write about like...like...well,
Actually, I'm not sure if I want to be a literary giant. Sure, the critical acclaim and the praise and the honorary doctorates and all that other stuff would be nice (and the money - let's not forget the money). But you know what happens to you when you became a famous author, don't you? That's right, they make you go out on book tours. Geez, there you are. Ten o'clock at night in Tuscon, Arizona signing books for a lot of blue-haired old ladies that have nothing better to do on a Tuesday night than come out to the local Barnes and Noble and listen to some bore read a couple of pages from his latest masterpiece. No thanks.
And of course the worst part, as every author knows, is that your signature doesn't really become worth anything until you're dead. A book signed by a living author is worth about $1.95, but a book signed by a dead author is worth two-and-a-half, maybe three bucks. So as the line slowly moves past an author knows these people are all wondering the same thing.
"When is he gonna die?"
It's true. I've been to a few book signings and I know how these things work.
"Oh Mr. Jones, I just loved your last book."
"Well thank you very much. It's always nice..."
"Oh, and my sister Clara. She's read all of your books and she just thinks you're the best writer she's ever read. She even likes you better than that Will Shakespeare 'cause, she says, you're not so fancy with your words and such. It's true, I can hardly understand that Shakespeare myself but I always understand your books because they're so simple."
"Well, thank you."
"Yeah, and in that last book of yours. That Custus. Where'd you ever come up with a character like him. So mean all the time and yet so gentle with Cassie when they got married. I mean at first, of course, before that Deborah come and stole him away."
"Actually, that wasn't my book. I think you must have me confused with Foster Simons."
"Oh, my lord, I think you're right. You know, you two write so much alike."
"Thank you."
"Could you sign that 'To Ethel and Clara'. Clara's my sister but she couldn't be here tonight. She has the gout, you know, and the doctor told her..."
"To Ethel and Clara?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Ok, where would you like me to sign it. Here, inside the front cover be OK?"
"Yes, that'd be wonderful. Clara will be so thrilled when I tell her I talked to you tonight."
"Well that's wonderful. Give Clara my (oooooohhh...)"
"Are you alright."
"Yes, it was just a little pain that's all."
"A pain?What kind of pain? Are you alright?"
"Yes.It's nothing really. I think my arm's a little stiff from signing books all night, that's all."
"The pain is in your arm? Is there pain in your chest or your shoulders too?"
"No, it's just a little stiffness, that's all."
"Oh, that's too bad."
"Excuse me."
"I mean, that's too bad you're having pain."
"Thanks. I'll be alright."
"You're not a smoker are you? Or a drinker? I know a lot of writers are heavy smokers and drinkers. You know, like that William Faulkner."
"No, I don't smoke or drink. I try to stay healthy. You know, eat light and exercise everyday."
"Oh, that's too bad."
"I'm sorry."
"I mean that's too bad for William Faulkner. He was only 64 when he died you know. To die at such an early age. That's really too bad. By the way, do you mind my asking how old are you? I mean, if you don't mind my asking."
"Oh, I'm not so old as Faulkner. Don't worry, the doctor says I have lot's of good years ahead of me."
"How many?"
"How many what?"
"Years."
(pause)
"There's your book Ethel. I hope you enjoy it and it was a pleasure meeting you."
"Oh no. Thank you, Mr. Jones. It was so nice to talk to you."
"Okay, who's next?"
"Oh, me. I'm next. It's such a pleasure to meet you Mr. Jones. I've read all of your books."
"Thank you."
"Oh, you're such a wonderful writer. Would you mind if I asked you for a small little favor?"
"Sure. You want to take a picture?"
"Well, no. Actually, would you mind if I took your pulse?"
I'm marking this date down. Monday, May 8, 2006. What's the significance you ask? Simply, that two months from today I am making a promise to myself to check the sports pages and see if anyone still cares about this whole Barry Bonds doping scandal. My prediction is that this story will disappear long before then, but I'll give it 60 days just for good measure.
Now, I realize that folks from outside the Bay Area see things differently from people around here. As a matter of fact, Giants fans could turn on their TV's and see live pictures of Barry Bonds shooting up in the dugout and still not believe in his guilt. "He's never failed a drug test" is what they'd say, and they'd be right. But just as no one actually saw the Titanic hit an iceberg, that didn't stop people from talking about it and coming to their own conclusions.
But this whole steroids and baseball thing, though, I don't know. Give it another month or two and it'll all fade away. Sure, there is plenty of criticism now. I even read one sportswriter who asked "Where does Barry go from here?" Are you kidding me? I'll tell you where he goes. He goes to the ballpark and swats home runs into the San Francisco Bay, that's where. Barry knows that. He knows that the more baseballs he hits out of the yard the less credible his critics become and the more adulation he receives from the fans. Do you think Barry's worried?
No way. Like I said, another 60 days and no one will be talking about steroids. They'll be talking about the record. That's what the sportswriters will be writing about, that's what the sportscasters will be talking about, and I wouldn't be suprised if that's what they'll be promoting on the cover of Sports Illustrated.
Think I'm wrong? Just check back here in 60 days.
As for this other question about Barry's place in the Hall of Fame, well, I'm already on record as saying I think he should go into the Hall but with one qualification. That is put him in the Hall but alongside the photos and the uniform and the record breaking bat and ball be sure you also display the syringes, the vials, the creams and pills and everything else that went into his record-breaking achievement. I think if Baseball is going to accept the dollars that come from it's drugged atheletes, then it should at least be honest enough to own up to the fans and admit it. I mean, it's not like people don't know what's going on here. And yes, that includes those freckle-faced little kids too. Believe me Mr. Major Leage Baseball, they aren't as dumb as you think they are.
And finally, for all the purists and dewy-eyed baseball romantics out there who are horrified that a cheater should be allowed into the baseball's holiest shrine I say "get over it." Sports is a business and under those terms what is really wrong with what Barry has done. Like any go0d businessman he has merely taking some idle cash and reinvested it in new technologies to increase his productivity. More importantly, he gave the fans what they wanted, generated above average returns for his investors, and, in the end, that's all that matters. What the purists don't understand is exactly what Bud Selig and Peter McGowan and Barry Bonds have understood all along. Namely, if the fans don't care then why should they.
Be sure to check back in 60 days.
The Literary Life
Geez, it's Wednesday already and I haven't blogged about the big awards ceremonies last week. I guess it's old news by now but the winner wasn't really that much of a suprise. I'm talking about "The March" by E.L. Doctorow, of course, which has just won the 2005 National Book Critics Circle Award for fiction. (Oh, you thought I was talking about that three and half hour borefest they had in Hollywood last Sunday, didn't you? No, I TIVO'd that sucker and fast-forwarded my way through most of it)
Yes, "The March" won and I went out and bought it last week. I haven't finished it yet but so far I'd say not bad, not bad. Right now we're marching through North Carolina and the narrative is beginning to lose a little steam, but there have been some moments of brilliance along the way. If you haven't read the book then I should explain that it's a historical novel recounting the famous march of General William Tecumseh Sherman through Georgia and the Carolinas back during the Civil War. It's one of those sprawling epic type of books where you drop in out of the lives of various characters and follow them as they weave and intersect their way through an unfolding drama wrought with sex, violence and unlikely coincidence .
Well, something like that.
Think James Michener or Herman Wouk, although Doctorow is probably a better writer than those other two. All in all it's a good read and since I haven't read any of the other nominated books yet I guess I agree with the judges decision. Not that anyone's asked me.
Anyways, it got me to thinking about my own great literary opus. You know, that one I'm going to write someday. I'd like a National Book Critics Circle Award too and sooner or later I'm going to have to get going on it. Problem is I don't know where to start. There are probably thousands of topics I could write about like...like...well,
Actually, I'm not sure if I want to be a literary giant. Sure, the critical acclaim and the praise and the honorary doctorates and all that other stuff would be nice (and the money - let's not forget the money). But you know what happens to you when you became a famous author, don't you? That's right, they make you go out on book tours. Geez, there you are. Ten o'clock at night in Tuscon, Arizona signing books for a lot of blue-haired old ladies that have nothing better to do on a Tuesday night than come out to the local Barnes and Noble and listen to some bore read a couple of pages from his latest masterpiece. No thanks.
And of course the worst part, as every author knows, is that your signature doesn't really become worth anything until you're dead. A book signed by a living author is worth about $1.95, but a book signed by a dead author is worth two-and-a-half, maybe three bucks. So as the line slowly moves past an author knows these people are all wondering the same thing.
"When is he gonna die?"
It's true. I've been to a few book signings and I know how these things work.
"Oh Mr. Jones, I just loved your last book."
"Well thank you very much. It's always nice..."
"Oh, and my sister Clara. She's read all of your books and she just thinks you're the best writer she's ever read. She even likes you better than that Will Shakespeare 'cause, she says, you're not so fancy with your words and such. It's true, I can hardly understand that Shakespeare myself but I always understand your books because they're so simple."
"Well, thank you."
"Yeah, and in that last book of yours. That Custus. Where'd you ever come up with a character like him. So mean all the time and yet so gentle with Cassie when they got married. I mean at first, of course, before that Deborah come and stole him away."
"Actually, that wasn't my book. I think you must have me confused with Foster Simons."
"Oh, my lord, I think you're right. You know, you two write so much alike."
"Thank you."
"Could you sign that 'To Ethel and Clara'. Clara's my sister but she couldn't be here tonight. She has the gout, you know, and the doctor told her..."
"To Ethel and Clara?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Ok, where would you like me to sign it. Here, inside the front cover be OK?"
"Yes, that'd be wonderful. Clara will be so thrilled when I tell her I talked to you tonight."
"Well that's wonderful. Give Clara my (oooooohhh...)"
"Are you alright."
"Yes, it was just a little pain that's all."
"A pain?What kind of pain? Are you alright?"
"Yes.It's nothing really. I think my arm's a little stiff from signing books all night, that's all."
"The pain is in your arm? Is there pain in your chest or your shoulders too?"
"No, it's just a little stiffness, that's all."
"Oh, that's too bad."
"Excuse me."
"I mean, that's too bad you're having pain."
"Thanks. I'll be alright."
"You're not a smoker are you? Or a drinker? I know a lot of writers are heavy smokers and drinkers. You know, like that William Faulkner."
"No, I don't smoke or drink. I try to stay healthy. You know, eat light and exercise everyday."
"Oh, that's too bad."
"I'm sorry."
"I mean that's too bad for William Faulkner. He was only 64 when he died you know. To die at such an early age. That's really too bad. By the way, do you mind my asking how old are you? I mean, if you don't mind my asking."
"Oh, I'm not so old as Faulkner. Don't worry, the doctor says I have lot's of good years ahead of me."
"How many?"
"How many what?"
"Years."
(pause)
"There's your book Ethel. I hope you enjoy it and it was a pleasure meeting you."
"Oh no. Thank you, Mr. Jones. It was so nice to talk to you."
"Okay, who's next?"
"Oh, me. I'm next. It's such a pleasure to meet you Mr. Jones. I've read all of your books."
"Thank you."
"Oh, you're such a wonderful writer. Would you mind if I asked you for a small little favor?"
"Sure. You want to take a picture?"
"Well, no. Actually, would you mind if I took your pulse?"
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Dead Cat Is Playing With His Cellphone Again
Seems like people from California are always talking about the weather. Well, can you blame us? I mean, what else is there to brag about. The sky high prices, the clogged freeways? The weather is really the only thing we have going for us out here and it turns out most of you agree. In fact I heard that about 3 million more of you are expected to move here in the coming years. Frankly I don't know where we're going to put you all but I've got a spare bedroom if you think that'll help.
Anyways, it was another spectacularly beautiful day here in the Golden State so I thought this would be a good time to get out my camera phone and finally figure out how to use it. I remember I tried it once when I first bought the phone and the pictures were horrible, but still it was worth another chance. Unfortunately, my first impressions were right on the money. This thing takes terrible pictures. A couple of 'em turned out ok, though, so here goes.
This first shot is the trail where I go walking everyday. Well, most days that is (geez, I hope my doctor isn't reading this). No, honest doc, I'm eating right and walking every day just like you told me to.
Notice the blue sky and sunshine. You might also note the green trees and purple flowers.
Just a typical California winter.
Actually, if my camera phone hadn't managed to screw up the contrast and wash out all the colors you'd see just how pretty a day it was.
That's a jogger in the foreground in case you were wondering. I know it looks like she's hopping up and down on one leg but that's just an optical illusion.
Well, that certainly was exciting.
This next shot is supposed to be a bridge. Unfortunately, my camera phone only has a wide angle lens on it so it wound up looking like a big pile of weeds instead.
Still, if you look real carefully towards the right side of the picture about a quarter of the way down you can see this gray thing kind of sticking out to the left. It kind of looks like a pipe but it's actually the side of the bridge over Los Gatos Creek.
All in all, though, I guess it's not a terrible shot. Kind of existential, in a way.
I had took about 6 or 7 more pic's on my walk but these are the only ones that are worth looking at. I think next time I decide to take photos I'll bring along my regular camera instead. In another month or so the flowers should really start blooming and I should be able to get some nice shots. Until then that's all I have for today.
Actually, I do have one more. Here's a picture of Lionel Barrymore.
There, that's better.
Seems like people from California are always talking about the weather. Well, can you blame us? I mean, what else is there to brag about. The sky high prices, the clogged freeways? The weather is really the only thing we have going for us out here and it turns out most of you agree. In fact I heard that about 3 million more of you are expected to move here in the coming years. Frankly I don't know where we're going to put you all but I've got a spare bedroom if you think that'll help.
Anyways, it was another spectacularly beautiful day here in the Golden State so I thought this would be a good time to get out my camera phone and finally figure out how to use it. I remember I tried it once when I first bought the phone and the pictures were horrible, but still it was worth another chance. Unfortunately, my first impressions were right on the money. This thing takes terrible pictures. A couple of 'em turned out ok, though, so here goes.
This first shot is the trail where I go walking everyday. Well, most days that is (geez, I hope my doctor isn't reading this). No, honest doc, I'm eating right and walking every day just like you told me to.Notice the blue sky and sunshine. You might also note the green trees and purple flowers.
Just a typical California winter.
Actually, if my camera phone hadn't managed to screw up the contrast and wash out all the colors you'd see just how pretty a day it was.
That's a jogger in the foreground in case you were wondering. I know it looks like she's hopping up and down on one leg but that's just an optical illusion.
Well, that certainly was exciting.
This next shot is supposed to be a bridge. Unfortunately, my camera phone only has a wide angle lens on it so it wound up looking like a big pile of weeds instead.Still, if you look real carefully towards the right side of the picture about a quarter of the way down you can see this gray thing kind of sticking out to the left. It kind of looks like a pipe but it's actually the side of the bridge over Los Gatos Creek.
All in all, though, I guess it's not a terrible shot. Kind of existential, in a way.
I had took about 6 or 7 more pic's on my walk but these are the only ones that are worth looking at. I think next time I decide to take photos I'll bring along my regular camera instead. In another month or so the flowers should really start blooming and I should be able to get some nice shots. Until then that's all I have for today.
Actually, I do have one more. Here's a picture of Lionel Barrymore.
There, that's better.
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