Straight Guy With Girly Dogs

How's Herman Doing It?

2011-10-28T18:55:00.001-04:00

People are scratching their heads at Herman Cain's rise in popularity in the battle for the Republican nomination. Yes, it's the same Herman Cain, who said he'd sign a constitutional amendment banning abortion, and in doing so showed his complete lack of understanding of how our government works. Then he went on national TV and flip-flopped on the issue. Seems rather wishy-washy; I recall other candidates in years passed being called to the carpet for changing stances on less divisive issues.

So how is he connecting with so many Americans? I'll answer that by quoting Herman himself. It's because, as he so eloquently put it, "...there are a lot of stupid people ruining America".

A West Coast Transplant's Guide to Visiting New York

2011-09-04T14:43:00.002-04:00

I've been living on this coast for almost four years now. While I'm no renowned expert, in that short time, I believe I've learned a thing or two about hanging out in the "Big Apple." My perspective isn't that of a native, but rather that of someone who started as a visitor, became a nearby resident and now works there daily. Take it for what it's worth or not. But if you're visiting this great city, there are a few things you should probably consider.

First, let's talk about walking down the street. This seems to be a fairly easy thing to do; so it's a bit of a puzzle to me that so many can't seem to properly master it. Sidewalks aren't of infinite width. People need to travel in two directions: to and fro. If you're with a group of people walking four abreast down any street, you're blocking traffic and making someone late for something. You're also pissing people off and are lucky they don't smack you as they zig-zag around you. Speaking of having to dodge people, step to the side of the walkway if you're unable to text and walk at the same time. People will let you slam into them just to help jolt you back to the reality that you're not at home on your fucking couch. Pay attention; it's a city fergawdsakes.

And while I know I've touched on this before, if you're sightseeing, take all the picture you want. Just remember that when you stop in the middle of the street to take a picture of a big building, you run the risk of being trampled. The tramplers aren't being rude, you are. They're walking on a sidewalk. You're blocking them and not giving a crap. So step to the side and snap away. (Pictures, that is; snapping other things that publicly, well that could be trouble.)

Speaking of getting around, you'll probably be in need of a taxi at some point. First of all, those guys in the town cars trying to get you to ride with them? They're not taxis. Many are legitimate limo drivers looking for fares to fill the day. Many are guys with town cars looking to overcharge you for a five minute trip. Stick to the yellow taxis. If when you get in it smells like a middle eastern deli mixed with incense and body odor, you're in a regular NYC taxi. The driver will probably be yelling into his cell phone in Farsi/Hindi/Malay/Arabic/Swahili/Portuguese/Urdu/French/Italian or one of six thousand other languages. This is OK. He can drive with one hand, while flipping someone off and talking on the phone with the other. I suggest not paying too much attention to the traffic or how he is driving however. Instead, look to the sides and up and all around - just not forward. If you get there in one piece, be sure to tip; and don't be a cheap prick and give a one dollar tip for a $20 cab ride.

Speaking of tipping, when you're in the restaurants, if service is good, tip appropriately. 20% is the STANDARD for good service. Tip more if it was exceptional. Some people still think 15% is standard. That was standard back in 1979 when my mother insisted that 10% was fine. Don't be a tight-ass. Budget the tips into your trip planning.

And of course, this brings us to dining. Every major city has Applebee's, TGI Friday's, The Olive Garden, Red Lobster, Ruby Tuesday and so on. Anybody visiting New York City caught eating in one of these places ought to be taken out and sent home on a plane immediately. That's it, vacation over. There are so many good restaurants in the city. Why would you insult your palette with Applebee's? Really? Why? Make websites like Chowhound and Urban Spoon your friends before you travel. Find some places that aren't chain restaurants and that have some character - and good food. By character, I'm not referring the trendy touristy places - though definitely do some touristy stuff while visiting. Just remember that the best Chinese food isn't necessarily in Chinatown; and the best Italian food isn't necessarily in Little Italy. Do a little research, ask locals for recommendations - and I don't mean the Concierge who gets kickbacks from sending people to Planet Hollywood in Times Square. And if you're planning to eat at a deli, read this first.

So come on out. Enjoy yourself. Don't get too upset at the sticker shock when you eat and do touristy stuff. But above all, follow a few simple rules, don't be a douchebag, and everybody wins.

Healthcare Solution: Plain and Simple

2011-08-24T06:17:00.001-04:00

People are bitching about "Obamacare," as they call it. A major sticking point is whether it's OK to require people to purchase insurance. So to get around that, here's what we do. They can either buy insurance or sign an opt-out form. Once that form is on file, they can be denied treatment, even in emergencies, if they can't prove ability to pay for the services. This could be a boon for the surety bond business, if done right. Give people a choice, and let the consequences affect them directly, without it costing any taxpayer dollars. Plain and simple, like I said. Though the "smart" folks up in Washington will never go along.

Ready for Change - and Calmly for Once

2011-08-21T15:21:00.000-04:00

The last time I visited the corporate mother ship in Ohio, there was a big banner saying, "Be ready for rapid change!" Well, I made good on that claim when I gave notice a few short weeks ago; and now I'm preparing for the new adventure to start tomorrow.

Normally, I'd be nervous as shit with a new job starting - especially in a new sector and working in an office again with real people. Add to that the (at least) two hour commute door to door, and I should be more uptight than Michele Bachmann's ass-lodged head. But for some reason, I'm oddly calm.

Perhaps it's the anti-anxiety cocktail my doctor and I have landed on over the last few months. Or maybe I'm just getting older and have been through this enough to know that it's nothing to be stressed-silly about. I don't know, maybe it was the doses. Whatever the reason, I'm enjoying my newly found calmness and looking forward to tomorrow with eager anticipation for the new things that await.

One thing I know for sure: I'm sofa king happy to no longer be responsible for hitting a monthly sales quota. Quite possibly, that alone was enough to replace the usual stress with patient happiness. Now, assuming we have this anxiety thing under control, we can look at my attention deficit dis, discord, distemper, dis, dis...discussions, that's it, discussions can be fun and interesting if both people are into the topic. Speaking of topics, what was I just saying?

An Open Letter to My Vicodin

2011-08-19T09:54:00.000-04:00

If you can't tell from the title, they're just now starting to work.

Dear Satan's Analgesic,

I don't believe in Hell or the Devil - but you come pretty damn close to being either or both. You make me feel dependent on you after only a few days use, and then make me feel sick, like going-through-withdrawal-sick. You're evil and should be avoided at almost all costs.

That said, please hurry up and work faster. My back is fucking killing me, and I really need your pain-killing magic and your very enjoyable interaction with horticulture! Nap-time awaits; so please do your thing.

Sincerely,
G

Evolving and Reflecting

2011-08-17T11:00:00.000-04:00

I opened an email from AAA today. It was the quarterly newsletter - the one I used to receive via snail mail. The one that, upon arrival, went straight to the bathroom for later perusal. As I looked at the PDF, with options to save to my desktop, I began to realize that changes are creeping into my life whether I want them or not.

Now as many of you know (as I delude myself into thinking that "many" people still read this), I'm not technophobic - far from it. And as someone who embraces technology, I've been looking at adding a tablet to my arsenal of stuff - primarily for the train ride on my new commute. But this AAA thing has opened my eyes to the fact that reading as I know it is about to change.

I'm sure as hell not taking a laptop into the restroom - that would be kinda weird. But if I can no longer have my customary reading materiel where I'd like it, perhaps I need this tablet for more things than I originally thought. And this isn't a post about reading on the can, though the old newspaper under the arm is a time honored tradition passed down from fathers to sons for generations.

With that in mind, I wonder what my dad would think of all of this. This past Monday would have been his 89th birthday. Technology was never something dad was able to fully embrace, as I've mentioned before. He lived in a world where the VCR always flashed "12:00." I can't begin to imagine him trying to navigate online banking and billing, or having to look things up on the Internet instead of just calling the company and asking a helpful customer service person the question. Reading the newspaper from a tablet? Pshaw!

Dad was a people person. He hated those voice prompt systems, possibly as much or more than I do. I think he genuinely enjoyed talking to some of these CSRs on the phone. It gave him contact with the world in a comfortable way...not like all that newfangledcomputertechnologycrap.

I'm guessing that if he were here, he'd look at it all, shake his head and smile, and then fall asleep while I was answering whatever he had just asked.

Happy belated Birthday Oldtimer, I miss ya!

Do They Teach About Passing Lanes in Massachusetts?

2011-08-06T14:57:00.001-04:00

Now I know that not everyone from Massachusetts is a Masshole - in fact, many take exception to the term, perhaps rightly so. But if anecdotal examples were somehow empirical proof of things, then I would come to the conclusion that the concept of multiple lane theory is missing from the Massachusetts drivers' instruction handbooks.

At least twice today I was stuck behind a line of cars in the passing lane, only finally get around (by passing on the right) to see those damned white plates. Each time as I passed, I gave the driver the "What the fuck?" look; and each time they stared back indignantly, as if I were the miscreant for my irritation with them. So for the Massholes out there, and anyone else who doesn't get it, let me exfuckingplain it to you.

The left lane is for passing people on the right only. There is no cruising in the left lane. Period. That's fucking it. You ride in the right or middle lane. When someone in front of you is moving too slowly for you, put on your damn signal, get in the left lane and pass them. Then, after you've passed them, you get the fuck back into your original lane as quickly as possible. If there are three lanes, and you want to go more slowly than the flow of traffic, get your ass into the right lane.

It's all pretty easy. Follow these simple rules, and the traffic will flow and we'll have road harmony. Ignore them, and some asshole like me, with much less patience and far greater anger issues, may just make your their hood ornament.

Lemminging: The Next Big Thing

2011-07-26T18:47:00.000-04:00

Hey Kids. You've tried planking and you've tried owling. That's yesterday's news. The next big thing is lemminging. It's really simple. First, you need a group of at least 30 people. Second, you need a very high place - a mountain top or even a mountain ledge will work beautifully. Once all are assembled, the leader (identified by his/her yellow rain coat) will begin running toward the ledge. The rest of the people just follow him, no matter where he takes them...even if it's over the ledge. Participants should carry video cameras and have them running when the event begins. Ideally, the cameras should be tightly packed so they don't explode on impa..., um, impulse, yeah, that's it, impulse. The event organizer waits at the bottom of the mountain and collects the videos, edits them together and posts them online. Team whose video is voted best by online viewers gets major props for their great job done!

So whaddaya think? Viable?

Great Music, Great Friends, Great Vibes

2011-07-26T05:32:00.006-04:00

The 2011 incarnation of Gathering of the Vibes has come and gone once again without disappointing. This past weekend I spent three glorious days in the nasty CT heat and humidity to enjoy some truly memorable musical performances. Last year, I only attended the Friday night show and was brooding all weekend about the great acts I'd missed. I would not let that happen again.

Things started off on a great note when I ran into someone who I'd met last year - part of the group of people who adopted me for the day during my first solo Vibes show. It's always fun meeting new people at shows; and it's even better when you get to see them again. It was definitely fun hanging out with them - I think they're a good influence to get me to more shows, not to mention it's always great to have more people to experience new music with. Also, big thanks to my local friend who brought me a chair and possibly saved my leg during the shows!

The scene was very mellow again. No fighting or grief. Even the wookies seemed well behaved....perhaps the enhanced police presence in campgrounds had something to do with that. Reason #256 why I stayed in a hotel. Shower and A/C being reasons 1-255.

There was so much to take in. I had my first experience with Dark Star Orchestra - the ultimate Grateful Dead cover band. And Wow! If you close your eyes, you can almost hear Jerry, and Donna sounds on-key. Beyond that there was so much more to see. Two early standouts were Infamous Stringdusters - a really talented electric and acoustic bluegrass band that even covered the Police's Walking on the Moon, and Ivan Neville's Dumpstaphunk. This band featured two bass players and a Neville Brother - how can you go wrong with that combo? They funked it up good and dirty!

Friday's lineup was filled with all sorts of good fun. Taj Mahal played a super set and had the place dancing. And Levon Helm with his band were amazing as always, and the perfect segue for the big finale of the night: Furthur. Those guys can still bring it hard and keep it fresh. Heard some stuff I've never heard live before, so that was fun, albeit Jerry-less.

Perhaps the surprise of the night for me was a band from Baltimore called "The Bridge." My friends were telling me that this would be the best band I'd never heard - and they were right. A skillful mix of blues, bluegrass, rock and jazz, these guys can do it all. They played a balls-to-the-wall set at the "Green Vibes" stage and had the crowd screaming for more. Unfortunately, this was one of their last performances, as the band is preparing to break up. It's truly sad that such talented musicians and songwriters can't sustain a living doing what they love. Really a shame - because these guys really rock!

Saturday was a full day for me. I got there early to hear the McLovins - you HAVE to Google them if you haven't heard them yet. These guys are still in high school and are freaking amazing. I also had my first Assembly of Dust set and was hooked by the second song. They play around here a lot, so I know I'll have some good opportunities to see them again.

I finally got to hear Tea Leaf Green live. I was having leg problems (which I now know to be a fracture of the somethingorotherIBIA), so I was sitting through their set in the shade - actually lying down with my leg up for most of it. But it was fun, though not as great as I'd hoped. Maybe my leg had something to do with that, I don't know. I returned to the main stage area to see the end Max Creek's set. I really liked them! And they were followed by a CT favorite, Deep Banana Blackout (from Bridgeport). After them came "moe." I first saw them back in the mid-late 90's during the first Furthur Festival. Damn, they rocked it hard and had some sick-sweet jams. Sadly, I was benched and couldn't be up in the crowd during their set - but it was all good. I'm sorry I've missed them when they've been through before, and will definitely make the effort to get to see more moe.

The headline was shared by Elvis Costello and Jane's Addiction. While I've always loved Evis' music, his recent political bullshit toward Israel, and his solidarity with the "poor Palestinians" crap, makes me less into him. But I will give him credit, he and his band played a solid set and had the whole arena moving. Jane's Addiction, however, was so off-the-hook-on-fire, they practically made the place explode. I guess since they quit heroin they've gotten their shit together. This was one of the best performances I've seen. Not sure if this was a one-off or if they're back together for real; but if you get the chance to see them, do it. Steven Perkins' drumming fueled the band through a high-energy set, filled with typical Perry Farrell performance art.

All in all, it was a great festival. I missed Sunday as we had previous plans. And as much as I wanted to see some of the acts, I'm not sure my leg would've done too well, so it's really for the best. But to say I'm hooked on this festival is an understatement. The people, the energy, the music and the great vibes have me counting down the days until next year. I don't care where you live - this is one worth the trip - and you can take "trip" any way you like.

Pyro-Douchebags and Independence Day

2011-07-04T10:03:00.001-04:00

An open letter to a select few of those living around me:

Dear Shitheads:

In case you haven't noticed, we live in a fairly rural part of town. We live on hills with many trees and brush. Within these trees and brush live many cool animals who just want to wake up in the morning and not find their homes burned away by reveling idiots. Near those trees, brush and animals are actual homes with actual fucking people living in them. Speaking for them, I think it's safe to say that they want to wake up and find the same thing.

You live in a town where fireworks are illegal. Shooting rockets into the sky from here is not only really illegal, but very stupid. Aside from the fact that your fireworks freak our border collie into a frenzy, look around douchebag - these hills in which we live are basically a forest. Granted, we call it the Lyme Disease Forest - but it's forest/woods by any perspective. So what does that tell you? It tells you that lighting off explosives, how ever well intentioned to celebrate our independence, is too fucking dangerous for this neighborhood.

I know this is probably hard for you to understand, what with it being 10 AM and you probably already drunker and dumber than Mel Gibson was during his infamous Malibu Sheriff's office tirade. But damn it assholes, put your fucking fireworks away so you don't burn down my fucking neighborhood.

Go to a fireworks show or watch one on TV, I really don't care. Go to a friend's house in a town that allows fireworks (like the one five miles west of us). But please, go blow your shit up somewhere safe and get it, and for that matter your dumb ass, out of my neighborhood.

Thank you and have an enjoyable Fourth of July - you prick-fucks!

Sincerely,
G

Of Vampires, Franchises and Crappy Movies

2011-07-02T08:09:00.006-04:00

Or, I'll Take "What is Twilight?" for $2000, Alex

Maybe I'm old. Maybe I just don't get it. Ah Hell, I am old and there are a lot of things I don't get. Now here's one more to add to the list. Last night we tried to watch the movie "Twilight," On-Demand. Fortunately it was free and not Pay-Per-View. I say tried, because we got not quite halfway through it and couldn't take it any more.

Can someone explain to me how this is a popular movie, let alone a fucking hit franchise? It's a bunch of kids with silly make up staring across the screen at each other. Sometimes there's no dialogue - just the brooding stares. Is that the whole point of the movie? Young girls who like to look at male eye candy? Aren't there enough pictures of good looking guys on the Internet that you don't have to subject yourselves to a slow-moving story-less movie that would put a brick wall to sleep? The plot (what there seemed to be of it) and acting were so bad, it was like watching a porno flick without the sex or good music!

Seriously, the story and the character interaction were so damn boring, the mosquitoes in my house were committing suicide by flying into walls rather than having to endure that drivel while sucking our blood. I mean, "Really!?" I know I have friends and relatives who like this crap. Will one of you please explain this phenomenon to me? How was this a popular movie, and why the hell do people like it so much that someone needed to spend money on sequels? Perhaps the world really is coming to an end!

Music in the Digital Age and a Holiday Weekend

2011-07-01T16:45:00.001-04:00

I must say that there are a lot of perks to living in the digital age. For music lovers, the sheer multitude of ways to access music and information is high among them. A few years ago a friend told me about "NugsNet", a site where you could download all sorts of live shows. It's since grown into LiveDownloads.com and features quite a library.

I never got into the downloading thing until now. As I type, I'm listening to the Radiators' show I attended in New York City June 3 of this year - their last ever New York show. I'm being transported back to earlier in the month and reminded of an amazing night of music. I think I've always enjoyed listening to shows I've attended. I don't know if it's some kind of nostalgia thing, or just that I like to hear something a second time and remember having heard it live - the scorching lead, the drummer hanging in the pocket all night - the groove, the sweat of the people dancing around to me. I often forget how important music is to me, and how much it's given me over the years.

As i sit here on early parole from work, long weekend beginning, I can't help but smile as the beat goes on. Now it's time to celebrate the birth of our nation with charcoal, meat and drugging the dog so the fireworks don't make him go apeshit. And this year, I'm going to be sure not to forget the music!

A Lesson from Dad

2011-06-19T00:41:00.001-04:00

I've been doing a good deal of soul searching lately. A large portion of it involves coming to terms with the fact that I may indeed be more affected by ADD than I even possibly imagined. In retrospect, I think my dad may have had it too. He was easily distracted, had CRS* from a very young age, had the temper and a lot of the other signs. But he also had something else, something I'm learning can also be a big part of this "ADDemeanor": He was able to stay positive, no matter how much it seemed to him as if he had failed. No matter how down he might get, it was only for a short time. Then he was back up, positive and on top of the world.

No matter how tough things got, Dad always had that attitude that they would indeed get better someday, somehow - even if he didn't know how. It was this unyielding faith that got him up in the morning after failed business ventures that forced him back to working for someone else, for less than he was worth. It was what kept him going for years during my mom's long bout with Multiple Sclerosis. No matter how clear it was to everyone she would never get better, he held out hope. I often scoffed at this behind his back. "How could anyone be so naive?" I'd wonder. But I think that was really a case of seeing something in him that I had inside myself and didn't feel comfortable with at all. And I somehow found enough compassion in me to resist the urge to share my observations with him - something he probably couldn't have done himself were the situations reversed. He needed that faith to survive.

My mom used to always tell me to take their good traits and examples and live by them; and toss out the stuff they do that doesn't work for me. Very practical advice, despite the passive-aggressive guilt trip that would often accompany it. I've made a concerted effort over the years to do that - often with good results, many times without. My dad's little example taught me something. I may get down about things from time to time. I most certainly get frustrated with things - very easily, in fact I have since I was a kid. I have been known to vent on and on about something that just ticks me off - something that probably isn't bothering anyone else. I can be in a desperate place in life, yet despite it all, I can't help but awake the next day and feel somewhere deep down inside that things will get better. They have to.

For this gift Dad, and many others, I love you and thank you. And as I think back over the times we shared (like this one, and this one, and this one and the last Father's Day we spent together), I miss you.

*CRS = Can't Remember Shit

First Thing We Do is Kill All the Looters and Rioters

2011-06-16T18:24:00.002-04:00

I've said similar things before about taggers - you know, those fucks who trash other people's buildings with their silly little "signs". But even worse than tagging is a phenomenon that has grown over the last 10-15 years or so. And congratulations Vancouver, you're the latest city to be overrun by groups of Citizen Douchebags, Hell-bent on burning and destroying.

This usually happens when a city's team has won a major sporting event. Detroit was famous for it in the late 80's and early 90's. LA joined the club a few years ago after a Laker championship win. Vancouver fans were rioting because they were angry about losing the Stanley Cup. Either way, rioting mobs are nothing more than scared little jackholes who get their courage from the booze and the momentum of the crowd. In other words, they're human waste in jeans and athletic shoes.

The solution is quite simple, though I'm sure Canada won't jump on this bandwagon. Hell, most of America won't....maybe Texas. Anyhow, here's my plan. If you can document the mob (i.e., show video of them rioting/looting etc.), you have a legal right to fire a weapon into the mob. In fact, you should have a legal right to fire multiple rounds into the mob until every rioting dipfuck is dead, incapacitated or has run away like the sorry-ass coward he or she really is.

I know it sounds harsh. And I'm generally a non-violent guy who is opposed to governments shooting citizens. That's why individual citizens should be able to do it too! I was in LA for the Rodney King riots. That was some scary shit. I've seen the mobs destroy towns "celebrating" their team's victory. This is the dumbest way to celebrate. What kind of idiots wreck their town and the property of their fellow citizens to celebrate? Hell, what kind of morons do it because they're sore losers? I'll tell you: The kind that need to be eliminated from the gene pool.

So write your representatives in Congress and the Senate. Tell them it's time we developed a real zero tolerance policy for rioting scum.

Thanks for reading and have a pleasant rest of your day!

You Say Wiener, I Say Weiner

2011-06-07T07:56:00.001-04:00

So what's really in a name?

This whole "scandal" with Anthony Weiner sending dick pix through Twitter has me thinking. Weiner is supposed to be pronounced "Whiner", like a crying baby. Wiener is usually pronounced "Weener", like the hot dog. I've known people whose name was Wiener, but they pronounced it Weiner (Whiner) so the kids wouldn't get shit on in school. On top of everything else, he's gone out of his way to pronounce his name like another word for schlong. Is it just me? Or does anyone else find his lifetime of foreshadowing incredibly funny?

A Penny Earned, is Income Uncollectable

2011-06-06T17:27:00.000-04:00

I finally broke down a while back and tried that "ad sense" thing. It puts ads on my Blog in hopes of enticing you into clicking them for their amazing products and deals. Not being permitted to click my own ads, I couldn't tell you what happens when they are clicked; but I'm guessing it's warm and soothing and would require a 20 dollar tip in an Asian massage parlor. But as I said, I don't know for sure.

Now that I'm part of the Internet ad-commerce world, I went on and checked to see how quickly those little passive income generators at the end of my posts are speeding up my retirement. And to my surprise, I'm starting to profit! Yep, that's right, I've earned one cent! Yeah, one fucking cent. Isn't that amazing? And all I have to do is earn another 9,999 more of them to be able to collect my first paycheck!

At this rate, I'll be ready to retire with my (now 24 year old) niece. Thank you Internet for this wonderful opportunity to get rich online! Am I lucky, or what?

Too Late for Funny

2011-06-05T15:51:00.002-04:00

After years of soul searching, I think I've finally figured out that my true passion in life is being a smart ass. I only wish I'd realized it 26 or so years ago. Right now, that and 25 cents won't get me a local call on a pay phone.

With Age Comes...

2011-05-31T23:18:00.000-04:00

...the realization that sometimes it is just fun to laugh at other people....especially when they do dumb stuff or look like caricatures of themselves.

Apocolapse Now

2011-05-24T19:23:00.001-04:00

Apparently, when Harold Camping said there was no chance that the Rapture wouldn't happen on May 21st, what be really meant was that May 21st was the judgment day, with Hell, Fire, Brimstone and all that crap happening around October of this year. So we still get Father's Day, the Fourth of July and even Labor Day. Sorry kids, no trick or treat this year though.

To be honest, when I read about the "Rapture Wine" he was sending to his flock (see,: "Those who paid him for it."), I had a feeling it was going to be a Guyana-type KoolAid concoction that would have raptured everyone who drank it on the spot. Fortunately, that wasn't the case; and mass suicides haven't been reported. But his followers are dumbfounded. These sad sacks seriously can't understand why it didn't happen. I read about one guy who let his credit card bills pile up, because he figured the rapture would make everything OK. Apparently, for some of the "Faithful", accepting Jesus and the Gospel According the Profit Camping gave them the right be financially irresponsible.

Are Camping and Jesus going to replace the college funds that were cleaned out to make billboards? Now I'm not a Christian, and I don't pretend to know Jesus. But from what I know of his teachings, I don't think he'd have been to happy with Harold. In fact, I wonder. What if Old Man Rapture had been right, and the whole thing went down as planned on May 21st. Do you really think that people who borrowed money with no intent of repaying it are the kinds of people Jesus would want to beam up with him? Again, I don't know Jesus, but as a fellow member of the same tribe he once belonged to, we generally frown on that practice.

The truly sad part will be seeing how many sheeple from his flock stay faithful, despite the obvious signs that ol' Harold is about as believable as Mel Gibson trying to convince Hollywood that he's not Anti-Semitic. Who really needs to be saved here, anyway?

The Social Media Conundrum

2011-05-23T20:35:00.000-04:00

Hundreds of friends - and nobody to talk with.

Proximity

2011-05-22T17:05:00.000-04:00

I owe a lot to the Internet. I found a cousin and have reconnected with wonderful friends who I never would've come across any other way. I've even met someone with whom I fell in love and moved across the country to be with. Yeah, this online shit is pretty cool.

Sometimes though, I really miss having my good friends close by. Just being able to meet up for a little dinner, or hang out when things get too crazy - it's the little things like that. I'm still loving where I'm living. There a just bunch of really special people who are important parts of my life - and sometimes I just miss 'em a lot.

May 21st Faithful: What to do with Your Money

2011-05-18T06:31:00.004-04:00

For those of you living under a rock, Family Radio founder Harold Camping has predicted with absolute certainty (from his perspective) that the world will end on May 21, 2011. He and his ardent faithful believe that on that date, all those who have accepted Jesus as their savior will be "raptured" up to Heaven. The rest of us will be left to exist on what will be "Hell on Earth".

I'm not going to debate the merits of this belief. Many are already doing that. No, I offer something different. I offer the faithful a way to get rid of some of their worldly possessions and leave this world as free as when they came into it. We all know money is something we need to survive in this world. And many see it as an instrument of the Devil for the way it can drive people to unspeakable acts. So to the May 21 Faithful, I make you this generous offer:

Leave this world free from the burden of the money you've accumulated during this life. Rid yourself of the evil that permeates every dollar bill you own. Distance yourself from the greed-sucking vortex of the dreaded currency for which you believe you'll have no use after this week. I'd normally say donate them to charity. But any charity worthy would probably be raptured right along with you. So I have a better idea.

Since you don't need it anyway, put your money where your faith is and let me have it. Things are a little tight in this economy and once you're all gone, and Hell on Earth begins, it may come in handy to have some kind of currency to negotiate for things, bribe demons and just basically survive amid all that fire and brimstone and stuff.

All you have to do is go to your PayPal account (or open one at PayPal.com if you don't have one already). Then be sure your PayPal account is linked with your bank account. Then send us a gift of all of the money you won't need after this week. It's very simple, just address it to this PayPal account: (Removed - post rapture-fail.)

While your gift isn't tax deductible, it doesn't matter because you'll be raptured. And since you're all so sure this is going to happen, you have nothing to lose, right? We'd be very grateful for your gifts and promise not to embarrass you by returning them if the end of the world doesn't happen.

So please, help a couple of God's chosen people, while helping yourself prepare for the end.

Thank you and God Bless!

A Radical Notion About Fixing Welfare

2011-04-24T09:12:00.002-04:00

The pendulum usually swings from one extreme to the other, with nobody ever looking for a real compromise somewhere in the middle. Well, I have it. Many of you won't like it, will think it too invasive into people's lives. The solution seems pretty simple to me, and may come as a shock to some of my conservative and liberal friends. First, let's not gut welfare and aid to the needy - there are people who really need it, some temporarily and some longer. The real problem is people who have decided that living on the dole is a lifestyle choice rather than a necessary fix to be eliminated as soon as possible. The problem isn't people receiving aid, but people receiving aid and then producing more people to receive aid, thus perpetuating a never ending cycle of families on welfare.

So here's what we do. First, sorry Religious Right, you have to give up the "Kill Roe v. Wade" schtick. Use tax dollars (state/federal aid, welfare money etc) to pay for abortions when someone is just not ready to have a kid. It's far more cost effective to spend a few hundred bucks removing unwanted fetal cells before they become a real baby than it is to pay for the care of a child for 18 or more years. And by the way, many of you abortion foes out there also want to kill welfare or cut aid to the poor. So in essence, you're saying don't spend tax dollars to let 'em abort if they're not ready to be parents, but don't help them with social programs and education either. Let their children suffer and grow up to follow in their footsteps. Punish another generation of children for having stupid parents.

Second, and more importantly, nobody on welfare should be allowed to produce children while receiving aid. Women would need to get on some kind of long term birth control as a condition for receiving their checks, and would have to prove that they are receiving it as required. Give them incentives if they get their tubes tied. For men, while we can't force vasectomies, we can offer incentives. And we can say that any man who is found to have fathered a child while receiving government aid will lose all future aid and have to repay the aid he received. When girls are old enough to reproduce, they must be on birth control to receive aid. Anyone who becomes pregnant on welfare, must abort or lose benefits: end of story. And to help track thngs, we require a DNA sample from anyone receiving this aid.

Third, with the exception of elderly, infirm or mentally ill, welfare must come with strings attached in the form of education and training to move people toward self sufficiency. See, this is where job training and federal money to help create employment opportunities helps. This is also where organizations like Planned Parenthood play vital roles. Training provided must include mandatory ongoing sex education for both parents and children...especially the children. Provide condoms to all and free sterilization surgeries to those adults who want them. Remember, if you keep 14 year old kids from reproducing, they stand a better chance of making it.

It's really about a lot of compromise - very uncomfortable compromise. Contrary to what many of my friends believe, I believe that as a civilized society we do have an obligation to help the under served, the less fortunate -- the under class as Warren Buffet may call them. Yet I don't believe we have an obligation to finance three generations or more of a family on the dole. Compromise is often painful to all sides. We have a problem in this country. Ignoring it and gutting its resources won't help. And neither will perpetuating a failing status quo.

The interesting question is, which would be easier: Implementing all of this, or getting the wealthiest American citizens and corporations to pay their fair share of taxes?

The Ghosts of Passovers Passed

2011-04-18T16:22:00.002-04:00

Tonight begins the time honored Jewish tradition of retelling the story of how we were once slaves in Egypt, but then led to freedom by God - on a 40 year trek through the desert. Traditionally this means having a "Seder", or Passover Dinner where the story is retold. It also involves eating matzoh, the constipating bread of affliction our forefathers ate on their exodus. The Seder consists of ritual and symbolism, some prayers, and paramount among it all for many Jews, the wine. During the Seder four cups are sucked down at prescribed times, each time emptying the glass. (And for any Jewish readers, yes I know this isn't what it's all about. I'm just trying to keep the Goyim reading. OK?)

I have many memories of Passover Seders at our home, most of them not filled with tons of holiday joy. But there is one thing that stands out for me, and is a "go to" memory whenever I think of Passover: My mom and the sweet wine.

My mother wasn't a drinker by any stretch of the imagination. And as such, she had no appreciation for the finer wines. The wine she knew growing up was Concord Grape - the wine of choice of Jewish institutions and for years, the only Kosher wine you could find - especially at Passover time. Now for those of you who have never "enjoyed" Concord Grape wine, imagine grape juice laced with alcohol....very, very sweet grape juice laced with alcohol. As wines go, it's really good grape juice. For years I thought that all wine was made my Manaschiewitz and tasted so sweet you could almost puke from the sugar. And let's just say Mom really liked her Concord Grape wine; and Passover was about the only time she drank it. So when she did, she made sure to get the most out of it.

There is a prayer that is said before every cup of wine - four times during the Seder, as I mentioned above. Mom would pick up her glass at random points during the Seder and burst into the wine prayer. She'd then take a big swig or two from her glass...and top the glass back off. So as the Seder would roll on, Mom would get more and more "shickered" - that's Yiddish for shitfaced. Not wanting my mother to drink alone, I would join her each time she raised the glass. Invariably, she and I would start cracking jokes and pissing-off my father who was running the Seder. One year, I remember sitting at one end of the table with Mom and a good family friend. The three of us were hammered about a third of the way into the Seder, and were cutting it up good. Dad, to his credit, exhibited amazing patience (for him anyway) before finally instructing us to knock it off...not that we listened. He was pissed, but damn if we weren't having fun.

I'd usually be so pinned by the end of the evening that it was all I could to to get to bed and pass out without getting sick. After a day spent dusting the legs of chairs, pulling the "good dishes" from cabinets and setting up chairs and tables, I felt it was a respite well earned.

While I won't be Sedering this year, as I raise the first glass of wine tonight with dinner, I'll be remembering the Passovers of days gone by. And thanks to Mom, and an early developed love of drinking (which I subsequently lost by the time I hit 30), I'll be remembering only good times.

America and Perspective

2011-04-10T15:42:00.002-04:00

So let's see if I have this right. If I'm in favor of spending our tax dollars on corporate subsidies and tax breaks for the uber-wealthy, I'm a good patriotic American - kind of like those Tea Party folks. If I'm in favor of cutting spending on those items, and instead would rather spend the money on programs to help poor and under-served members of our society, then I'm an evil Socialist in favor of bringing down America. Is that about right? As proud as I am to be an American, if the above assumption is true, call me Lucifer, dust off Marx's "The Communist Manifesto" and give me a fucking sledgehammer.

An Open Letter to the Religion of Peace

2011-03-14T08:32:00.007-04:00

Dear Muslims of the World,

So often in the media I hear your religion referred to as the "religion of peace". In light of recent events, most notably the brutal murder of an Israeli family - including the children - I have to wonder what is meant when the term "religion of peace" is tossed about. Just as all Jews aren't Zionists, I understand that not all Muslims are radical extremists - in fact, I keep hearing that most are not. So to the billions of you peace-loving Muslims out there, I have a question: Where is your outrage?

I see on TV - often a rebroadcast of Al Jazeera - Muslims of the world protesting against the US and Israel, often with such vitriol that if words could destroy, both countries would be obliterated in the blink of an eye. I saw pictures of people in the Hamas controlled Palestinian territory handing out candy in celebration of the murders of young children. I saw no videos or pictures of anyone there crying for these children and for the peace that is nowhere to be found. There were weak words by the PA leadership, but nothing of substance from the world Muslim community,

Where is your outrage that your fellow followers of Islam bastardize what you call a peaceful religion in the name of your god? With billions of Muslims in the world, where are the voices of condemnation for brutal murder? People of many faiths, Jews included, wept and spoke out when Muslims of Bosnia were massacred during the now infamous ethnic cleansing that took place not so long ago. Where are your cries of outrage when your religious brethren want to do the same thing to the Jews? Where is the outrage indeed?

I find it interesting that during Israel's War for Independence, when Jews bombed the King David Hotel and killed innocent people, David Ben Gurion, then the PM, ordered those responsible rounded up immediately. And he ordered that anyone who resisted was to be shot on site. Yet what do they do in Gaza? They glorify and martyr the mass murderers who kill innocent children. And the billions of members of the Religion of Peace around the world stay silent.

Palestinians and much of the Arab World want to see Israel destroyed before they can live in peace with Israel. A bit of a contradiction, don't you think? Israel is the only country in the region that allows Muslims, Christians and Jews to be citizens, hold office and pray freely without fear of persecution. How many churches or synagogues are there in Saudi Arabia, Iran, or even the PA? Yeah, you guessed it. For the extremist Muslims, peace can only come with Israel's destruction. And if that means killing Israelis one family at at time, it would seem that is acceptable with most of the billions of Muslims of the world. It must be acceptable, because with few exceptions, they've remained quiet.

I've tried to be one who is open to peace and negotiations - and as painful as it is from time to time, concessions - if they'll bring about true peace. But the Palestinians have demonstrated again and again that they not only negotiate in bad faith, but that they truly don't want peace with a Jewish Israel. They want Israel destroyed the Jews banished or killed and her land to be theirs. I can only assume the countries of the Arab World are in agreement about this, as those who don't openly support these terrorists remain silent, and say and do nothing. I can only assume the billions of peace loving Muslims in the world want the same thing as well. They sit silently waiting for Israel's destruction. That's all it can be. I see no other logical answer for their silence and inaction.

Muslims of the world, I ask you again: Where is your outrage? Where are your protests to stop the violence against families while they sleep? Where are your cries to stop bombing innocent people in public places? Where do you stand up to the extremists among you and tell them you've had enough? Why aren't your leaders making more noise, and rallying you to support a peaceful solution and end the violence? When you remain silent, you leave us no other conclusion but that you support the violence and the jihads and the murderous rampages that kill innocent civilians. If you are truly the religion of peace you claim, why do you not band together with your fellow peace loving Muslims and use the power of billions of people to bring an end to terror and bloodshed in your god's name? If you don't, you are no better than the Europeans who turned their Jewish neighbors over to the Nazis during the Holocaust, or sat in silence while others did. If you stay silent, you're no different from the southern white people in America who pretended not to notice when Black people were strung up from trees just for being Black.

Yet you claim to be different. You claim to be a peaceful people. So, my peace loving Muslim friends, I ask you this: How long will you sit on your hands while people murder in the name of your God and call it righteous? How long will you quietly support Anti-Semitism and the destruction of Israel by saying nothing? How long until you stand up for your fellow man, regardless of his religion? And most importantly, I ask you one last time: Where is YOUR outrage?

Sincerely,
A Concerned Jewish Blogger

StreamofconsciousnessSunday

2011-03-06T10:33:00.008-05:00

I think a friend, a true friend, is someone who can call you on your bullshit without it impacting the relationship. A true friend can tell you you're behaving hypocritically, your expectations are delusional or you're behaving like a fire breathing douchebag, and when it's all hashed out, go out for a drink or dinner like nothing happened. I think that's what's wrong in a lot of friendships. Some people think their friends are the ones who will have their backs by telling them what they want to hear. That's NOT having your back. That's actually them not wanting do deal with your stupid, childish reaction when they tell you how you look to the rest of the world. And as much as it hurts to hear that stuff, I'll take the friends who are willing to tell me over "yes men" any day of the week.

For those of you on Facebook, what is it with people who post the "poor me" statuses just to get the "awwww" and the "poor baby" responses from their friends? Seriously, we all have shit that brings us down, and not everyone has people they can immediately share with. And when that happens - and it does happen to me, perhaps more than you might think - it sucks. But c'mon. Enough with all the "...world is out to get me and it's not fair" crap. Tell it to your therapist, find someone to share with privately, or suck it up and just fucking deal.

And on that same topic, I'm getting sick of people who blame the world for their bad lot. You know, like, "Waaaah, I can't pay my rent because I spent all my money on booze and hookers, I couldn't help it", or something like that. Awww, poor baby. Give me a break!

When I lived in LA, I used to hear how rude the east coast was by comparison. Having lived on the east coast for over three years now, let me say that's utter bullshit. If anything, it's the opposite. People (and by that I mean strangers, retail folks, people on the street, in restaurants etc.) in LA might have smiled and said "have a nice day" more. But I find people on the east coast to be genuine and more approachable. LA is no more laid back than anywhere else. I love the town and the people, and it will always feel like my "hometown". But it's full of stress and phonies just like any big entertainment town...it's just got better weather, Del Taco and legally available pot.

I find it ironic that the "humane" thing to do when an animal's quality of life gets bad is to let the animal die with dignity. We "put it to sleep". Yet for human beings, that same "humane" action is a felony.

I could really go for a fucking Chipotle burrito right about now. *Sigh*, guess I'll have to wait on that one.

And you're allowed to share this and other posts from here with friends - as long as my ex-wife isn't one of your friends.

Another Reason NOT to Cut Funding for Sex Ed and Planned Parenthood

2011-03-02T22:57:00.003-05:00

We encountered a woman and a baby at dinner tonight. Forget the fact that her kid was screaming in a restaurant and she was doing nothing to assuage him. Forget for a minute that the restaurant was loud, full of loud people and loud music - 80's pop music, to be exact. Forget that despite all his crying, for over 30 minutes she did nothing. But when she finally took him out of the restaurant section and into the BAR to quiet him down, she just showed one more reason why Congress CAN NOT END TITLE X FUNDING, especially the sex education and Planned Parenthood components.

Seriously. Do ya really think advertising on cars going around in circles so NASCAR can line their pockets is more important than preventing asshats like this from reproducing? Do you think lining billionaire executives' pockets with the tax breaks is more important than stopping idiots like this before they cost us more money paying for the care of their screwed up children? I'll quote Ron White again and say, "you can't fix stupid." But with sex education and available birth control, you might keep some of it in check a little longer.

Number 4 on Google!!!

2011-03-01T19:27:00.000-05:00

I just typed "girly dogs" into a Google search; and I came up as number 4 on the list of returns! Fucking wow man. Not a lot of regular readers any more, but people looking for info on girly dogs find me...and are probably very disappointed at everything but the picture of my girly dogs. So I looked into it and found a few other search terms that will bring you to here. And here are a couple:

"May I moo moo dogface in the banana patch", and some of its variants scores me a #1. Thank you Steve Martin
"Real Men don't get pedicures" will show me at the top of the list as well...even though I've since broken that old rule, and have even blogged about it.

However, the most disturbing for me is "girly dogs porn", which shows up as #6 on the list! #6 on a porn search? Me? Really? And the weird part is how many times I see this show up as a search criterion. How many sick fucks are out there looking for porn with girly dogs? Seriously.

Personally, I'll take all the traffic I can get. Perhaps I should look into those ads that pay you every time someone comes to you site. If there are enough bestiality nut jobs out there, I just might make enough for that vacation to Hawaii we've been eying. Keep a good thought, will ya?

80s Flashbacks - The Bad Kind

2011-02-26T08:33:00.016-05:00

Warning: This is a fucking rant. It's laced with a bit of obscenity, and from an (arguably) unenlightened perspective, shits on values some of you may hold dearly. No apologies - just a friendly fucking warning, despite my cranky need-to-gripe. You're welcome to disagree, no matter how fucking wrong or stupid I think your opinion is...just like you're welcome to stop reading at any time if you like.

There's a lot of shit going on in this country right now - a lot of divisive shit. I'm flashing back to the end of Jimmy Carter's presidency. As brilliant a guy as Jimmy is, he isn't known for being one of our most beloved leaders. Inflation and unemployment were at all time highs, and to top it off, Iran took hostages in our Embassy there, in a showdown that lasted a very long time. So long, in fact, that it was incoming President Reagan who had a hand in the release - or at least that's how the media played it.

For some reason, people just loved Ol' Ron. Not to say he didn't have some notable accomplishments, I mean the whole Berlin Wall thing was pretty impressive. But here in America, where people talked about how much "better" things were with Reagan in office, there was an evil undertow sucking Americans into its self righteous vortex of bullshit. Anybody remember Jerry Falwell and the "Moral Majority"? How about Nancy Reagan's "Just Say No' to drugs campaign. I still remember putting those "Just Say No" stickers on bongs, but I digress.

Unions were under fire then too - in fact, it was Reagan who broke the Air Traffic Controllers' Union. Like they have high stress jobs and need protection anyway, right? There was an insidious campaign underway throughout this nation to return us to the black and white days of the 1950's: where boys had crew cuts and girls went to college for MRS. Degrees. I was there in the 80's. I remember that time. And it was a horribly oppressive America if you weren't in step.

What the fuck have we done to ourselves that we're heading down that road again? Doesn't anyone else see it? We're on the verge of undoing years of social progress. There are a lot of people in this country - many who scream for smaller government, and government out of our lives - who want to regulate your morality. They want to tell women what they can do with their bodies, and the extreme among them kill the doctors who try to help those women legally. They want to tell Gays and Lesbians that they don't have the right to marry people they love, because they're unnatural according to some religious mythologies (and yes, this includes people from my own religion as well). And THAT is a big part of the problem, in my opinion. Many in our country can't fathom the meaning of Establishment Clause of the First Amendment. You remember it; it calls for no establishment of a national religion - or as we've come to call it, separation of church and state. Can someone tell me why this is so damn hard to understand?

I read recently about a politician in Texas who was facing recall because he is Jewish. Seriously. His opponents felt he didn't represent the "Christian Values" of the community. MotherfuckingGoddammit! You want to live by a religious doctrine - wonderful. It's your right. It's not your right to force your shit on the rest of those around you, even if the majority share your beliefs. Public officials shouldn't have to justify whether or not they believe we'll all go to this mythical place called "Hell" if we don't accept the god of the majority. And by the way, the above comments are not attacks on Christianity. They're aimed at the extremists who think this is a Christian nation, as opposed to a nation of mostly Christians. Very BIG difference.

My good readers - or are we down to "reader" now, I'm not sure - you have to let your voices be heard. It goes beyond religion, though religion is often the justification, whether de jure or de facto, for the "family values" bullshit that many extremist conservative pundits and politicians spew. The family values soapbox is a smoke screen to push a socially conservative agenda that could set us back decades!

Don't let the self-appointed morals police persecute people for loving someone of the same gender. Don't let them deprive needy Americans of health care (Planned Parenthood) so they can spend money advertising with NASCAR. Don't let them gut programs that provide valuable services to the community, while rewarding big business with tax breaks that only line the pockets of their shareholders and top executives. I see nothing moral about that. It doesn't matter what religious mythology you believe to be right - or if you believe in one at all. It matters that you don't just sit on your ass and let them bring back the 80's with all the Draconian glory. We need to move forward, and we can't do it if we let ourselves, and the things that really matter, get paved over like yesterday's potholes. As a nation, we have to recognize that not everyone shares the same values, religious beliefs or points of view. And that's OK; it's what makes us a great country.

Personally, if given a choice between tax breaks for big business and the wealthiest one or two percent, and "tax and spend", I'll choose tax and spend. Either way, I'll end up paying. But at least with the latter, someone will benefit who really needs it, and hopefully without plunging us into a deficit.

Stand up to the religious fanatics who don't respect you if you don't believe in their god. Recall THEM from office if they hold them! Stand up for equal rights for all Americans, regardless of who they sleep with or how much money they make. Don't let the unions that protect hard working people be destroyed, when they can be reformed. Stand up to those who pander to big business. Warren Buffett has even acknowledged the class war, and he says his class is winning. Don't be fooled by the bullshit, or be party to it. When you think about rising above the influence, it's not drugs you should be worried about, as the anti-drug-propaganda-commercials would have you believe. The influence you need to rise above is all around and far more dangerous than any drug. And it's loud, and it's strong, and it will trample us to death if we let it.

Time and Perspective

2011-01-22T13:22:00.001-05:00

I find it interesting that with time, you can learn to see the beauty in some, where perhaps you didn't believe you could see before. And you can find ugly in others, where you only knew the good. Time yields a harvest of perspectives. It's a small reward for making it this far and not getting oneself eaten by a lion, or embarrassed by falling into a water feature while texting.

I was thinking about this recently while looking at pictures. I was remembering someone who my childhood recollections tell me was loving and caring. Yet time has shown me that for some, the need to hold others to one's own standard can make even the most loving and nurturing person seem cold and distant.

And at the same time, I saw another person who as a child I didn't know well, but about whom I had formed opinions based on the battles and biases of other people - people with whom it was important to agree in order to survive. I saw genuine happiness for loved ones when I looked into her eyes. I could feel a caring and loving soul emanating from the photos, reminding me of the compassion she showed me when I was grieving, sad and alone. And for that compassion, I will be forever grateful, and forever changed as a person.

It's important to remember that how things once were - or may be at any given moment- aren't how they have to be forever.

Brain Scramble Soup

2011-01-21T13:27:00.001-05:00

Ever have one of those days when everything seems to be swimming around in your head and won't stop? And then you learn something that has no effect on you directly, but tweaks some hot button and scrambles your shit even more? Yeah, it's kind of like that...except with spotty Internet access and dumb crap to deal with.

Personal Responsibility

2011-01-20T19:29:00.002-05:00

I'm sure by now, many of you have seen the video of the woman who walked into a mall fountain while texting. If you haven't, here's a link to an ABC News Online article with the video. Basically, you'll see her walking, texting and not paying attention as she lands in a fountain. She then gets up like nothing happened and goes on about her business.

Now first, let's get this out of the way. The security people who released this probably aren't the sharpest spoons in the drawer. But then nobody forced this woman to come forward and identify herself. She probably could have gotten away with it if she had not admitted that it was her. I mean, they replayed it, showed it from different angles and put it on YouTube. But she did come forward and admit it was her; and now Cathy Cruz Marrero is becoming a celebrity in the worst of ways. She's become a poster child for Stupid.

Sure, the security people never should've released it; and those responsible for doing THAT ought to be fired. But Cathy's hired a lawyer, and is investigating legal action. She feels security should have done something to help her. What should they have done? She got up out of the fountain and kept on going. She didn't stop and ask for any assistance. She got her ass out of the way and into a store where hopefully she could escape the gazes of onlookers who might have witnessed her stupid mistake, and even worse, recognized her!

Legal action? You don't use the courts to assuage your personal humiliation, especially when you caused it your own damn self! As a friend pointed out, it's like that whackadoodle who sued McDonald's - and initially won - for the coffee being too hot, after she put it between her legs while driving. The gene pool should file suit against Cathy for pollution! Seriously. If she has reproduced, it's a crime against humanity.

New Word of the Day: Virtriol

2011-01-12T17:53:00.003-05:00

That's right, the new invented word of the day is: Virtriol (n.). Defined as: speech, writing, etc., displaying rancor, vituperation, or bitterness directed by one person's online persona at another person's online persona, where neither party knows each other in real life.

Example:
A recent visitor and commenter to my Blog felt I displayed vitriol in my post where I mentioned him less than favorably. Since I don't know this guy personally - only his online persona - and since Mr. G is my online persona for this Blog, I actually exhibited virtriol.

I guess I do sometimes get a bit virtriolic - and sometimes even vitriolic - in some of my little childish rants. And the educator in me, along with my penchant for stupid stuff, felt the unnecessary need to point out the difference.

Happy Wednesday to both my readers. Stop by the gift shop on your way out!

An Open Letter to a Piece of Trash

2011-01-09T18:06:00.001-05:00

Dear Amber:

I don't usually watch your reality show, "Teen Mom", because I have a life and low threshold for stupid people. But for some reason today, perhaps there was nothing better on, I've been watching a few shows in a row. It must be an MTV Train Wreck Trailer Trash Marathon or something.

What the hell is your problem? You kick your baby daddy out, and then tell your daughter, "Your daddy's leaving you again." Bitch. You physically abuse your baby's father. Your piece-of-shit trashy-ass ought to be arrested and locked up for domestic abuse. You're a verbally and physically abusive piece of garbage, who should have had her tubes tied at birth.

Go get yourself some therapy, anger management and maybe even a little bit of class - if that's at all possible. It's not your baby's fault you got pregnant and decided to try to raise a child before you were ready. Stop punishing her, and everyone else, with your childish crap. If you can't put your kid first, time to give her up before your neglectful selfishness and uncontrolled anger do her some real damage.

Seriously, get the fuck over yourself. You decided you were ready to play grown-up. Now it's time to grow up and act like it.

Sincerely,
G

StreamofconsciousnessThursdayNIght

2011-01-06T22:56:00.000-05:00

I'm watching the Jersey Shore right now, and apparently there is a new person this round. Hard to tell because they're bitching and moaning at each other like 12 year olds...just like in Round 1 and 2. Yet they keep coming back for more. I guess the money must be really good.

I've also come to realize how hard it is to make real connections in a new place, especially when you work from home. As much as I enjoy the independence, I sometimes miss the office environment and the interaction. I'm a rather social being by nature, and sometimes I just miss the network of friends I had back in LA. In many ways, they are as much my family as the people to whom I'm related.

I actually started writing lyrics again a few months ago. I was just really inspired, and over a few days wrote four or five songs. The frustrating part is, I can hear the melody in my head for some of them, yet I'm not an accomplished enough musician to produce it on an instrument. Some of these are, in my less than humble opinion, among the best stuff I've written. Yet at the moment, it seems they may never see the light of day.

For the life of me, I can't understand why anyone would put themselves in a reality show like Millionaire Matchmaker, Real Housewives of Wherethefuckever, 16 and Pregnant and Celebrity Rehab, just to name a few. I've had my bouts of "look at me". But damn people, why would anybody want their private lives THAT public.

I wonder if anybody still stops by and reads this.

I"m really looking forward to seeing Wicked this weekend. New Jersey next week - not quite as much.

God Hates Fred

2010-12-13T21:36:00.000-05:00

I was just thinking. How much fun will it be when Fred Phelps of the Westboro Baptist Church dies, and we can all go to the funeral to protest holding signs that say "God Hates Fred"?

My Bucket List

2010-11-20T08:11:00.000-05:00

Bucket Seats
Bucket of Water
Hell in a Bucket
Hyacinth Bucket
Bucket Hanging Clear to Hell
Bucket and Mop
Bucket Walrus Saga
Bucket of Chicken
"Better get a bucket"

StreamofconsciousnessSaturday

2010-11-06T07:49:00.000-04:00

I find it interesting that when I started this Blog, it was a completely anonymous way to vent and express whatever was on my mind. When there was nobody to talk to, I could write it here. Now, I find myself in that weird place of having friends and acquaintances who read this. This is, of course, in addition to the people who find me accidentally while looking for bestiality porn sites, and the one or two people from my original Blogging days who still pop by. So now I have a bunch of people who know my name and the fact that I write this...and I hope they keep it among themselves, and don't share it with anyone who might make trouble.

This also presents me with the dilemma of writing about "anything", and saying something that makes me look like a douche to people I know - not to mention having to refrain from saying certain things altogether, and not always being able to express what I'm feeling. I've thought about coming "out of the closet", so to speak. But I've written about too many things that would give prospective customers, employers and relatives a reason to run in the opposite direction when I come a knockin'.

And tonight, we turn the clocks back one hour, so when stress comes calling in the wee hours, I can get up an hour earlier then usual. Life's a fucking trip some days, isn't it? At least the Giants won the World Series.

Baseball Memories

2010-10-28T22:51:00.003-04:00

As I sit here watching my Dad's beloved Giants play in the World Series, I can't help but to think back. Now as both of you who still read this Blog may remember, I don't always remember the good stuff from childhood - not that it's intentional mind you, but there was just a lot of crap that stood out. As I get older, certain things stir memories. And watching baseball, especially seeing our team the World Series, definitely brings back some good ones.

I've told the story before of why I grew up a Giants' fan in Los Angeles. But beyond the Giants, baseball was the basis of a special bond for Dad and me, and one that I cherish to this day. Baseball was always a part of my life growing up. My dad, having given up the offer of a professional baseball contract to quit high school and work, always did whatever he could to peak my interest in the sport. And as a child, eager to like the same things as my dad, it wasn't a hard thing for him to do. Though I must say, I do believe that at a certain point he may have become disappointed that I didn't quite inherit his athletic ability.

When I was 10 years old, Dad was 52. He worked in East L.A., about a 45-60 minute (or more on a bad day) drive from home. He left early in the morning, and usually returned around dinner time. As a young boy, I remember him being so exhausted coming home, that within minutes of arrival he'd be crashed out on the Laz-E-Boy. But once I showed an interest in baseball, he seemed to get a second wind. As summer approached and the days grew longer, I'd eagerly await his arrival from work. I couldn't wait for him to rest up a bit and change, so we could walk to the park to play ball.

Dad would pitch to me, hit me grounders and fly balls, and on those special occasions, let me pitch to him. He had me throwing junk when I was nine years old. By 10, I could throw a curve ball without breaking my wrists. By eleven I had as breaking ball that dropped into oblivion. I was an exceptional fielder with a strong throwing arm. The only problem, and sadly, the biggest problem, was that I couldn't bat my way out of a wet paper sack with a chainsaw! Try as he might, Dad couldn't get me to get over my fear of the ball and relax enough at the plate to make contact. I knew the theory inside and out; I just couldn't apply it to save my life. And as good as I could pitch, I had no fastball - so my baseball career was short lived: two years of little league.

Despite his disappointment, and his reconciliation of the fact that I would never live his baseball dreams, I still remember how Dad would drill the fundamentals of the game into me. Even after the little league days, we'd still go out to the park and play. If I didn't use two hands to catch the ball, he'd get pissed, yell at me, and threaten to pack it in for the day. But then again, he taught me to play catch with those old-school mitts that were flat and didn't close - you HAD to use two hands! I think of this every time I see a player one-hand a fly ball or grounder, when he could have easily used two hands. I can picture Dad scowling and saying something like, "I don't care how much better the gloves are today. You use two hands, you make double sure you have the ball, and you're ready to throw, so you can cost a runner a step or two." I can still see him shaking his head in disgust, and me laughing at how silly it seemed, only making him shake his head in disgust even more.

I, however, took pity on the gene pool, and didn't go swimming. And as such, I never got to yell at my own kids for not keeping the ball in front of them, or for swinging too late. Hell, I don't even follow my beloved Giants as closely as I used to...actually, I hardly follow at all during the year. But as i watch tonight, I can't help but remember the man who taught me to love the sport, and miss him just a little.

Aargh, If Only I'd Known!

2010-09-19T21:35:00.001-04:00

High Holy Days falling around the (secular calendar) anniversary of my dad's death are bound to stir some emotions for me. It was five years ago today that, to paraphrase Monty Python's Dead Parrot Sketch, Dad ceased to be, kicked the bucket, hopped the twig, bit the dust, snuffed it, breathed his last....well, you get the idea. Actually John Cleese opened Graham Chapman's eulogy in similar fashion, so I suppose I'm in good company.

What I didn't realize five years ago, was that my father, not really known for his keen sense of "funny", apparently had enough sense of humor left to die on "International Talk Like a Pirate Day". I'd never heard of this "holiday" until last year. And at the time, I didn't realize it fell on September 19th. But remembering the Dead Parrot Sketch, it does make me wonder.

What if I'd known five years ago? Perhaps I might have started the eulogy with "Ahoy mateys! Thank ye all fer comin' aboard to bid fare-ye-well to a man who has at last walked that final plank". And if I had, would it have been completely lost on the crowd? Yeah, probably.

But I've had a really good laugh thinking of all the ways to work pirate talk into a eulogy. And I think even my dad would've found that amusing on some level. Miss ya Dad!

Oh, and if you have any good suggestions on fun ways to work pirate talk into a eulogy, please share!

What's a Good American Anyway?

2010-08-22T16:45:00.005-04:00

In case you missed the headlines, we live in a country with a two-party system and an electoral college. For years, I often pondered the need for both. Now, I don't wonder so much.

There have been times throughout our history when it was considered our patriotic duties to question authority - remember that whole Revolution when we won our independence back in the 1770's? Our founders knew that having one ruling party was a bad idea. They knew that only through differing, and often divergent perspectives, could we rise above totalitarian rule, and truly have a government by, of and for the people -- ALL PEOPLE.

As I've written here before, I have friends from all parts of the political and religious spectra. We don't agree on everything; but we're tolerant of each others' opinions. And this is something that many people don't seem to grasp: The notion of tolerance. Tolerance doesn't mean you have to agree with what someone else does as a life choice for yourself. It simply means that you can accept that they have a right to live that choice, as long as they don't hurt anyone else. For example, I often read nasty, angry rhetoric, where people justify their intolerance for Gay people to be entitled to the same rights that they enjoy. Some go so far as to assert that homophobia isn't intolerance, it's just an opinion. Totally mind-blowing bullshit if you ask me. And um, Newsflash: that is intolerance. But some people feel the need to vocally oppose others' rights to live the way they choose, and say it's perfectly OK to do that. I wonder how the American Family Association would react to a vocal and influential movement that branded them as terrorists for forcing arbitrary morals on people who don't want to be exposed. Just one of those things I'd love to see one day.

But the bashing isn't limited to issues about Gay rights. I've seen both sides of the political spectrum attack each other viciously - both blaming the other for all the ills in this country. And THIS, my friends, is the true issue that is tearing this country apart. I've read people ranting that we need to "..get rid of all the Liberals",so "real Americans" can save their country. I've read both sides proposing to plug the oil leak in the gulf with members of either side. We've seen wingnuts praying for the death of our President, because they disagree with his political ideology. Both sides have their extremist nut cases - I've written about it here before.

One of the wonderful things about America is that, theoretically, we can disagree on politics, and still be good, proud Americans. Sadly, this notion seems to be sorely lacking in many of the debates and discussions taking place in the media, and between people online. The dominant type of discussion goes something like this:
Person 1: "My way is right. Those who don't agree, aren't good Americans and should leave this country."
Person 2: "No, my way is right. You're a nut, and ought to be shot."

Folks, to be a good American, you don't have to walk a party line. You don't have to agree with everything your friends and family say. You're allowed to have an opinion, even if others think it's stupid. And in general, your having stupid opinions isn't enough to require us to toss you out of the country, or downgrade your status to "bad American"....well, if you're in the KKK maybe it should, but that aside, you can be a Democrat, and still love this country. You can be a Republican and still be capable of compassion and empathy.

The enemy is not an ideology or opinion that is different than yours. The enemy is the extremist who can't recognize the validity of an idea that is different than his or her own. So for those of us who really love this country, and don't want to see all the wonderful progress we've made since 1776 wiped out, we have a job to do. That job is to remember that we're all Americans, even those with whom we disagree politically. The hard part of that job is to learn to work with each other for the greater good of the country, to assure a healthy future for all. Personally, I'm very liberal on some issues, and conservative on others. On some, I could easily be branded a Libertarian. I don't fit neatly into one camp, so for me, the back and forth attacks vilifying each other are mindbogglingly narrow minded, and have to give way to some semblance of reason.

One of the hardest things to remember is that any extreme that lasts for too long will eventually need to balance out. Think of it like a teeter-totter. If four people hold one side down with someone in the air, eventually that person has to come down. If the four people just let go suddenly, or worse, let go by throwing their end up in the air with all of their energy, the person in the air will most like slam painfully to the ground. Pendulums, like teeter-totters, don't have to only stop at one extreme, and then bounce back to the other. If the four people holding the one end down, slowly lower the teeter-totter until it is balanced, the other person can safely climb off. And if we all slow down just a little, and realize that a differing opinion does not necessarily make for mortal enemies, we may have a chance at finding that elusive balance, sometime in our lifetimes. At least I pray we do.

Why Dad Never Went Digital

2010-08-15T23:05:00.002-04:00

My dad would've turned 88 this weekend. And I got to thinking about what he'd think of all the blogs and social networking sites. Then I remembered the time that he decided he wanted to buy a computer.

I don't recall what year it was, but it was definitely before he died. I'm guessing late 90' to early 2000's. Dad decided that friends and relatives were all doing the email and computer thing, so he wanted to get one. I told him to wait until I came out for a visit and we'd take a look together.

When I got to the folks' place, Dad had a number of adds cut out from the paper, and was asking which was best. I told him, "Before we buy anything, let's take a test drive". I drove him to his local library, and we went inside. They had several private rooms with computers that could be checked out for an hour at a time. So Dad signed up for a library card,and we waited our turn.

Not more than a few minutes later, we were ushered into a small room. It had a desktop computer and monitor, and a chair. We brought in a second chair for me. I got us logged on, and brought up an Internet page - I think Yahoo. I showed my dad how to work the mouse and click on things, and how to type something into a search engine. I think I even had him send someone an email from my account.

In the end though, Dad played it true to form. See, Dad was the guy who could ask you a question, and be fast asleep in front of you before you finished your answer. He tried to work the mouse, but found it rather challenging. He did a little clicking; and then I noticed nothing was happening. I looked over and saw him sawing logs - and even drooling a bit - mouse still in hand. He ultimately decided that a computer might not be a good purchase for him.

So what would he have thought about all this social networking stuff? I'm guessing he'd be snoozing right through it. Happy Birthday Dad!

A Few More Signs You May Be A Douchebag

2010-08-06T16:18:00.003-04:00

Because I Apparently Missed Some

After some private comments and some other stuff, I sort of got thinking. I may have left some things out of the last post. In case you missed it, you can find it here. So onward we go in the quest to out douchebaggery where it tries to masquerade as cool or mildly acceptable.

Once again, if any of these apply to you or someone you know, fix it or get the fuck away from me please.

You're a nicknamer
You have to have a nickname for everyone, even people who don't have or want nicknames. And you use them way too frequently, and often in inappropriate ways. You're the guy at the office who calls everybody by something that is amusing only to you, and you expect them all to laugh. The guy from Texas is "Cowboy". The intern from southern CA is "Beach Babe". A guy has a date and you find out about it, suddenly you start calling him "Romeo" or "Casanova". Even worse, you use that lame high school locker room talk. You call people, Big Guy, Stud, Sport, Chief, or my favorite, "Meat"! As in, "Hey meat. What's up?" Who the fuck calls another guy "Meat"? This is all typical douchebag behavior. If you do any of it, please stop, before douchebaggery is a punishable offense under HR guidelines. Besides, despite your cluelessness, nobody you work with respects or likes you. Seriously - can the crap, Hoss!

You're a Racist Ass
You belong to the KKK, or some other such hate group. There is no way to be a Klansman and not be a douchebag. Plain and simple. They ought to hand you a "Hello, I'm a Douchebag" name tag when you join.

This isn't limited to white people. If you're Black, and you blame every white person you meet for any problems you have, not to mention the general state of Black people in the world, you are a douchebag. Not every white in America is responsible for slavery. Some of our ancestors were too busy being persecuted in Europe and other places. Give it a rest already. Don't forget what happened. Teach your children and their children, so it never happens again. But the blame shit - douchey.

And to my own people. Any Jew who makes pejorative comments about other groups is a disgrace to us all. When you make the cracks about all the "Schvartzas" in such and such a neighborhood, or all the "Mexicans" over here, you're a douchebag, and an embarrassment to us all. We've been shit on for centuries just for being different. Don't make it worse by acting just like the anti-Semites in the world. It doesn't make you relevant or funny. It just makes you look douchey. Besides, your mother will be very ashamed, so stop it already!

You don't live on the same planet as real people
You're a successful executive who makes millions a year. Good for you,by the way, you've earned it. But if you can't fathom that the people who toil at your behest for less than a 20th of what you make have lives outside of work, you're a fucking douchebag. Give people their weekends and evenings off. Don't expect people to be at your beck and call 24 hours a day, unless it's in their fucking job descriptions. This makes you look like a supreme douchebag and will make everyone who works for you hate you...not that you care what they think anyway.

You're rude to waitstaff
Are you someone who barks orders to your server like the server is your personal slave? Do you think that people who serve you in restaurants are beneath you? Do you snap your fingers and shout, "Hey, you, waitress!"? Then you are a douchebag. These people work hard. Maybe they don't earn as much as you. Maybe they don't own a big fancy house. Maybe they live in fucking trailers - who cares? They're people! Say please, and thank you, like your fucking mother taught you. And if your mother taught you to be rude to servers, she's a fucking douchebag too.

You're a paparazzi or a dip-shit reporter
Your job is to take picture of famous people who don't want to be photographed. You climb neighbors' trees, wait in front of restaurants and cause traffic mayhem. You blind people with flashbulbs and disorient them when they try to go out to dinner. And then you sell this crap to douchebag emporiums like TMZ. If this is how you make your living, you pretty much suck. You probably are a no talent hack who couldn't make it as an artist/actor/waiter whatever. So now you take your angst out by getting paid to be a professional stalker. In other words, you're a douchebag.

Oh, and if you're the reporter in this video, you're a major douchebag:

A Few Signs You May Be a Douchebag

2010-08-04T22:45:00.004-04:00

Since most douchebags aren't very self aware, consider this a public service. In no particular order,here are some of the signs of douchebaggery. If you exhibit one or more of these, you should seek help. If you exhibit them all, perhaps you should run for office.

You like to refer to yourself in the third person.
Nothing says "I'm a douche", like referring to yourself by your own name. Let's take, "Roger doesn't roll that way", for example. If someone else says it, fine. If Roger says it, he's a douchebag. Even worse is referring to yourself by a nickname. There's this guy on Chowhound whose screen name is "JFood". He writes things like,"JFood really liked the service; but JFood didn't like the atmosphere." I have no idea who JFood is in real life. But if I had to put money on it, I'd say JFood is a douchebag.

And how about that Enzo from "Big Brother", who keeps referring to himself as the "meow meow". WTF? Referring to yourself as something that sounds like a code name for "pussy" doesn't make you sound cool. It makes you sound douchey.

You wear your Polo shirt (or similar trendy brand) with the collar up, and think it looks good.
Outside of a polo club in the Hamptons, or some uber ritzy estate on a European mountainside, people will look at you and think you're a douchebag. OK, so you have a lot of money. Then you're a wealthy douchebag. But you're still a douchebag. Put your collar down like a normal person.

You're a white guy from the suburbs, your parent is a doctor or lawyer or successful executive, and you try to look and sound like you're from the street.
If your name is Sheldon Blumsteinowitz and you decide you want people to call you "S-Dog" or something stupid like that, you're a poster child for douchebags. And you make the rest of us Jews look bad, so fucking stop. As for the rest of you who do it, you're still douchebags, even if your name is Miles Griffin and you want to be called "Rappin' MG", and you refer to all your friends as "My Homies", you're a douchebag. And if while you're doing all that you start trying to "bust some rhymes", you're a primo douchebag supreme. Seriously, stop it. Buy some pants that fit, pull them up and get off of your mom's couch already.

You wear anything by Ed Hardy
This shouldn't need much explanation. If you really have to ask, you may want to check the collar on your polo shirt, assuming you didn't cut the sleeves off to show off your Ed Hardy fake tattoos. Friends don't let friends become Ed Hardiots. Enough said.

Well, there's my short list. Got any of your own? Please share. It'll make my night, and make people think I still have readers!

Schwillers and Wookies and Pirates, Oh My!

2010-08-04T16:43:00.002-04:00

As I wrote in my last post, I had a wonderful time at the Gathering of the Vibes festival. Overall, the vibes were insanely good. However, I spent a little time recently perusing the message board/forum for the Gathering of the Vibes. They apparently have quite a vibrant online community. And while 99% of it was all good, like with anything else, there is always dark side. I was especially fascinated with some discussion by attendees who had been camping for the multiple-day festival.

Among the most interesting discussions was that about pirates. Yeah, pirates. Apparently there's a game that goes on in the campgrounds. If you fly a Jolly Roger flag, you have to be prepared to defend it, as others will steal it, and as the "rules" dictate, fly it. If you don't get your flag back by the end of the festival, it's gone. How fucking wild! Though apparently some people flying their Jolly Roger flags weren't clued in on this game, and were really, really pissed! I just thought this was kind of interesting, not that you'd see me playing anytime soon.

You see, camping for me is a Super 8 motel with no cable TV. But if I were to camp, I can assure you I'd have the basics with me: shelter, water, food, herbal supplements, towels and soap - among others. Apparently, that ain't how we all roll.

And apparently, according to the discussions, there are plenty of people who just show up with a sense of entitlement to other people's stuff. While this is no new phenomenon, I found it most amusing that these people are referred to as "Wookies" or "Wooks". That's a new term for me, though sadly accurate if you check out some of these sad sacks.

I'm guessing "wooks" are what we used to call "schwillers": Disheveled, filthy people, usually in the 15-25 age group, who bum EVERYTHING they need, from food, cigarettes and booze to a place to take a crap in a campground. They emerged from the Phish scene in the mid to late 90's. These "wooks" apparently were going into people's camps, and using their campsites when nobody was around. In some cases, food and beverages were taken; and in others, some chairs were missing. Some of the "wooks" were even coming up to people in their campsites and asking for things. When denied, they were threatening to come back and slash tires.

People were even suggesting hanging soap and job applications around the camp site to scare them off. It just might work!

WTF people? Now I'm a veteran of some Dead shows and couple of festivals here and there. But I've never gone on any tour I can't afford. In fact, I've never done a real tour - because I've always had a fucking job and responsibilities! That's called being an adult. Sadly, that is apparently lost on many of these degenerates as well. When we used to go to shows, we stayed in hotels, showered after the shows and ate real food. I know many who camped out and brought all of their supplies with them - more than I was willing to sacrifice, but it works for them. Bottom line is, if I couldn't afford the expenses of the show, I didn't go. And as a result, I missed a LOT of great shows.

I have a hard time understanding why people show up to a festival with absolutely no resources whatsoever. And to top it off, where do they get the nerve to be pissed when people won't act as their local welfare system?

So where does this sense of entitlement come from? Why are so many of these young concert and festival goers so arrogantly expecting that they be treated like royalty? I say it goes back to the crap about everyone getting a trophy for showing up - the playing soccer without keeping score. "Hey, we lost, let's go out for pizza! "Everybody's a winner!" You know, after teaching for several years, and living for quite a few more, I've learned that everybody isn't a winner. When someone wins, someone else loses. It's called life experience - you're supposed to learn from it. But thanks to so many helicopter parents and over-zealously well meaning teachers trying to pump everyone's self esteem by giving trophies for putting on a uniform, many haven't had those opportunities. This is reactionary horseshit that has taught children to equate losing with being a loser. And as a result, we have a subset of an entire generation who believes that the world owes them something. And this is truly sad, because in essence, we all end up losing.

I'm not a parent. But I have tried and failed at different things many times. And those failures have taught me things. I may not be the most successful guy around - hell, right now I'm far from it financially, that's for sure. But I don't give up. Failing or losing are always options, if we learn from it, and can take that knowledge to better ourselves. Being a loser, on the other hand, is different story altogether - regardless of whether you're a schwiller or a wookie, or just an overindulged diva in tie dye, with an overinflated sense of self importance.

Aftervibes: A Gathering of the Thoughts

2010-07-31T16:42:00.002-04:00

After a stressful work year with little vacation time, I was feeling the grind. In desperate need of some kind of break, I was blessed with the gift of a Friday day ticket to Gathering of the Vibes, an annual music festival held in Bridgeport, CT. Friday's line up had a lot of acts I really wanted to see, and Fiancee surprised me with a ticket. And for that, I can't say "Thank you", enough -- especially since she isn't into the scene or the crowds, but still encourages me to go

It was a beautiful summer day - a rarity in CT. Low humidity, sunshine with intermittent cloud cover, temps in the 70s-80s, with breezes coming off of Long Island Sound. Seaside Park was transformed into a magical kingdom of music lovers, trippers, tweakers, freekers, and children playing Frisbee, as others lounged and snoozed in strollers. It was a perfect day for a festival! I entered the music area, found a nice spot in front of the soundboard for the first set, and got ready to rock.

The day opened with the Radiators, a New Orleans band that has been playing together for over 30 years - and is still rocking as hard as ever. I've wanted to see them for years, but just never got to it. So this was a big treat. They didn't disappoint. From the opening riffs of "I Like it Like That", all the way to the end, they brought the heat, and got the day off to the proper start.

It was after the Rads set, that I went to get some lunch, and in doing so made some new friends who would end up making my evening. After asking a woman if a seat at at picnic table was open, I sat down to eat. Being the social guy that I am, we started talking - and actually found out she (or her employer) is one if my customers! We were just shooting the shit, both of us waiting for friends to arrive. Hers got there first. After meeting them, they heard I was a festival orphan, and invited me to hang out with them.

When you're flying solo at shows, something that I think I have down pretty well, you can have a lot of fun. But one major drawback at a big outdoor festival like this is that you can't set up a "base camp", a place where you can leave your stuff, and somebody will be there while you go to the restroom, the food vendors, or just wander and check out the freak show. So you travel light - backpack, a towel for your ass, some sun screen and maybe a sweatshirt in case it gets cold. Finding cool people with whom you can hang during a show can really up the enjoyment factor. And fortunately, these were very cool people - some local, some from out of the area -who met through their shared love of New Orleans Jazz Fest, and now get together and go to music festivals.

Feeling very honored to be welcomed aboard for the day, I followed them to a spot by a nice shady tree, where we set up base camp. Someone even had a blanket, so my little white towel never had to leave the backpack again. And from there, the party just got cranking.

We caught most of Jackie Greene's set from the picnic tables, and could see it on the big screen monitor that was thoughtfully provided for the people in the back of the arena. I'd seen Jackie before with Phil Lesh & Friends, and with Levon Helm, but never solo. His set kicked ass - seriously good stuff. Once Jackie was done, we moved closer to see Steve Kimock.

Kimock's set was one of the best sets of music I've ever heard live. He had legendary keyboard player Bernie Worrell with him, as well as bassist Bobby Vega, who is funky as all hell, and one of the best bass players around. Kimock's 21 year old son John was the drummer: and that kid was in the pocket! They melted the faces off of the crowd! Sick (the good kind) is the only word I have to describe the collective music genius collaborating as one on stage. Steve Kimock is one of the best guitar players in the world. I highly recommend any music fan who hasn't seen him, to do so when you can. I can only imagine what a religious experience this set must have been for the kids who were tripping. It was like therapy for me, and gave me a much needed release of tension and stress. I don't know how to describe it, except to say download it when you can - it will be worth every penny, and you'll hear some groovy shit - including Bernie Worrell belting out a scorching "Red Hot Mama".

After Kimock, we grabbed some dinner and then went back to hear Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings. They were really cool - R & B and some serious jamming.

We took a little walk toward the end of their set, and went over to the "Green Vibes" stage - the small stage for upcoming acts. We saw a really cool quartet - fiddle, two guitars and a double bass. They were playing some tasty funkified bluegrass and acoustic rock that had the crowd dancing by the shoreline. They even did a ripping cover of The Talking Heads "Psycho Killer", in kind of a speedy-bluegrassy style. It fucking rocked hard. And while at the other stage, we met up with another of their friends, with whom we all headed back to the main stage just as Robert Randolph was coming on.

Randolph does some crazy shit with that pedal steel guitar, and was in great form last night. They jammed hard, and were the first band all day to be called back for an encore. The stage was now set for the headliner: Furthur.

I was bummed earlier this summer that I would miss them this round; and I'd heard so many wonderful tales from the road. Well, they're all true. They really do the music justice; and if you close your eyes, fake-Jerry's guitar playing sounds just about like the real thing. In fact, it's almost creepy. They played two solid 90 minute sets, and encored with a full version of Terrapin (like 25 -30 minute encore). Phil Lesh was sounding like the Phil of the early to mid 1970's, playing a smoking lead-bass that drove the rhythm and kept everything moving up and down the way it should. At some point he was playing like a man possessed - like he'd stopped at the Crossroads on his way to the gig. Phil was back in the Zone! And his vocals didn't suck either.

All in all, it was truly a magical day by the water. New friends, good food, altered states, a roving freak show and some smoking-hot music. Yeah, this was definitely the break this vacation-starved man needed. Again, BIG THANK YOU to Fiancee for the ticket to paradise. You really know a way to this man's heart. And a big THANK YOU to my new friends for the day, for making me feel like part of the group. I hope you're all enjoying the rest of the festival and gathering lots of great vibes. Hope to see you all again at one of these things soon!

Shit My Brain Thinks

2010-07-23T16:49:00.000-04:00

I'm generally happy when friends do well. I'm not one of those people who constantly begrudges others' successes, even in the absence of my own. I grew up around that, and hated seeing and hearing it. Yet of late, I find it harder and harder not to go down that road. And I really don't like feeling this way.

Maybe it's a lot of frustrations coming together at the same time. Perhaps it's the recurring cycle in which I again find myself - knowing intellectually how to break it, yet feeling as if I'm physically and spiritually unable. Maybe it's just plain old karma kicking me in the ass. Or maybe it's some combination of all of the above. Whatever it is, I've noticed that my frustration and anger levels tend to elevate when learning of good things happening to others, specifically on the career front. Where I'd normally feel truly happy that a friend has done well, or has achieved something notable, I feel initial reactions of jealousy and anger. And of course, those initial reactions are followed by guilt, shame and then a feeble attempt to center and spiritually "right" myself.

It almost feels like my mind is spinning, I'm fully aware of what's happening, but powerless to stop it. Yet I'm not out of control. I manage to get up and work each day - though I admit, today was a bit hard to focus. I bust my ass, and just feel like in some ways, I'm back where I was 25 years ago.

Granted, things are much better now. I have people in my life I didn't have then - people who mean the world to me. And at the same time, there are people from back then who are gone forever. I guess I'm at an age now when the notion of mortality starts to weigh in on self-examination. And I find myself taking stock of things, and looking at the "what ifs" - yeah, I know, not very constructive. But at the same time, it's like that accident on the side of the road where you just "have to look". I almost can't help myself...almost.

After the initial reaction and subsequent internal freak-out, I eventually relax and find focus again, along with some semblance of balance. The challenge is, and always has been, finding and maintaining that balance regularly. Too often, we tend to look outside of ourselves. We look for others to validate us, to tell us we're wonderful and that everything is going to be OK. I know I've done my share of this. But as we all know, love and friendship are conditional; so it's best to learn to look inside for validation and support. In the end, you can always count on you - at least you should be able to, right?

And the truth is, it all will be OK - in fact it all IS OK. But knowing it intellectually and truly internalizing it into practice are two totally different animals. The really hard part is finding the inner strength to pat oneself on the back, give oneself a hug and reassure oneself that everything is just fine, and in doing so, striking that balance that is so important to survival.

I guess that's been my struggle for over 40 years now. Probably time I learned my lesson.

The Great Double- Marijuanaka Camp Miracle of 1980

2010-07-18T22:03:00.001-04:00

As my friends talk and write of sending their children away for summer camp, I'm reminded of some memories of my own, from summers long gone. Here's one now!

It was 1980. I was 15 years old, and enjoying my second, and last time, at a summer resort for rich Jewish kids. I was fortunate enough to qualify for half-scholarships both the year before and this one; so I got to spend four hard core Jewish weeks, in beautiful surroundings, surrounded by some of least Jew-friendly denizens of southern California. But this isn't about them, it's about two miracles: The Ceramic Pipe Resurrection, and the the matches that were only enough for four hits, but somehow lasted for two whole bowls - and getting away with it without starting a forest fire.

This camp was rather unique, as summer camps go. In addition to the traditional arts and crafts, hiking and swimming, we also had Hebrew School and regular prayer services. So it wasn't some hippy commune with free love flowing wild....well, not for me anyway. Hell, back then I couldn't have bought love with all the Israel Bonds I got for my Bar Mitzvah. But that was then - and at least I could do one thing well.

What is that one thing you ask? Was I a stellar hiker? Star athlete? Star performer? No. But I did make one hell of a pipe in the ceramics class. I told them it was a pipe for my uncle - like my non-toking uncle would've been caught dead with a small ceramic pipe! But the Israelis who ran the ceramics room either believed me, or were happy to support my budding explorations - pun intended.

I had completed the pipe just before Visitors' Day. I had stained it, but not fired it yet. So it was sitting in the locked ceramics room when my visiting friend informed me we that needed to get it. With the help of a friend of his who was on camp staff, we got inside, temporarily liberated the pipe, used it and went to put it away. That's when it crashed to the floor and broke in two. Totally panicked and really bummed, I'd given up. But my buddy had an idea: Glue it back together, and put it back on the shelf. When it fires, it will fuse and be one pipe again.

And I'll be damned if he wasn't right. The only problem was that instead of the cool green or blue or whatever color it was supposed to be, it was banana yellow...and it had a visible crack line where it had broken. But aside from that, it was solid, worked well, and had a bowl big enough to fit a small car. And now that it was fired, I was free to take it home - to give to my uncle, of course. That was Miracle #1.

Miracle number two was far more impressive and came as camp was winding down. Still in possession of the gift my buddy had brought to visitors' day, and "my uncle's pipe", I was determined to enjoy both before I went home. I remember running into a friend, someone whose name I won't tarnish here, but he may be reading. Somehow, between the two of us, we managed to find four matches - the kind you could light by striking anything. Ready to get our buzz on, we headed up a hill in the general direction of the reservoir.

When we were sure nobody was nearby, we loaded the bowl and lit the first match. We were able to make that match last for at least a couple of hits each. We were lucky enough to repeat the process with each of the four matches. One or two burned so long we got even more! What should have lasted four hits, lasted many - and got us two full bowls, which was all the stuff I had left. As the last match burned out, we finished the last of the herbal delight. We watched the last cherry ember turn to ash, and then looked around. Shit, the grass was dry everywhere! One mistake, and we could have sparked the whole place up very quickly....especially with the winds that had begun to blow, pretending to cool down the oppressively hot summer day.

Fortunately for us, and for all of the unsuspecting campers down the hill, all was well. We were lit up like Christmas trees on December 24th, and ready to face the any song or Hebrew class they could throw at us!

I had that pipe until I married Respondent in 2000, and gave it to a friend on my wedding day, when I quit for a while.It's kind of funny. I don't have a lot of specific memories about those camp days. I remember some names and faces, a few of the songs, and one or two funny stories. But the pipe and match miracles have endured time, and my sporadic memory.

Happy Summer Everybody!

An Open Letter to Elvis Costello

2010-06-01T09:46:00.005-04:00

Dear Elvis,

I've been a fan for years. Growing up in suburban Orange County California, your music was part of the soundtrack of the 1980s. And upon learning that besides making great music, you're also a Deadhead, I had gained a whole new level of respect for you...until now.

You recently cancelled concerts in Israel, as I understand, to show solidarity with the "poor Palestinian people" who are being so terribly "oppressed". Really? Growing up in the UK, I know you were exposed to a media that tended to glorify the Arab world and vilify Israel at every opportunity. I would hope that as a world-traveled adult, your mind would be open to the truth. Apparently, it isn't.

Imagine Elvis, if children growing up in Carlisle had to continually worry about rockets being fired at them from Gretna, with similar behavior along other borders. How would England have responded? How would any country respond to repeated attacks aimed at their citizenry? The answer is, they'd do whatever it takes to stop the attacks, and probably wouldn't be too keen to engage in negotiations with the terrorists perpetrating the attacks.

Well Elvis, that's what's been going on in Israel for longer than you or I have been alive. These "poor Palestinians" about whom you feel so bad, were refugees from Arab countries long before the world knew or cared of them - and that includes the Arab world who wanted nothing to do with them until Israel became a country. Then, and only then, did the "plight" of the "poor Palestinians" become an issue for Arab nations.

The Palestinian people have a long history of terrorism against Israel. I've seen the pictures of the anti-aircraft weaponry that Arafat had his armies place in school yards, so that if Israel returned fire, they could be accused of shooting at children. The lawful government of Gaza is a terrorist organization - Hammas! They didn't just seize power, they were elected! And central to Hammas' mission is the idea that Israel has no right to exist and must be destroyed.

Let's see if I understand your position Elvis. An elected terrorist government who is sworn to the destruction of the ONLY democratic and free country in the region is part of the good guys? They can launch all the rockets they want, send all the suicide bombers to Israel they wish and they can even hide arms in aid ships if they like. If Israel tries to defend themselves against the attacks, or protect itself by enforcing a blockade - enforcement of which would NOT HAVE stopped the food and other humanitarian items from reaching Gaza, they are the villains.

It's truly a shame that celebrities like you, Annie Lennox and others of anti-Semitic ilk feel the need to vilify Israel further by standing with her enemies, while refusing to let your fans within her borders enjoy your music. Like with most of the world media, I guess it's easy to blame the Jews again, and ignore the horrible travesties perpetrated against us and our homeland for years.

On your Web site, while referring to the Israeli cancellations, you said, "One lives in hope that music is more than mere noise, filling up idle time, whether intending to elate or lament." What the hell does this mean? Apparently, your music is something to be enjoyed only by those who share your narrow view of right and wrong. Perhaps it's not just the radio that's in the hands of fools trying to anesthetize the way we feel - perhaps it's the media as a whole. And perhaps you've been sleeping for way too long, and have joined the sheeple against whom you once railed.

Whatever the case, Elvis, I can assure you of one thing. As it stands now, this Jew won't be spending a dime of my money to see you, or buy any of your music. I won't be listening to your music either, as it has lost something for me. For one who believes he's standing tall as a sign of peace, you're only standing with hatred and fear. This was no accident Elvis; we all know what you've done.

All the best,
G

Breathe, Relax, It's Just a Freaking TV Show

2010-05-24T20:53:00.002-04:00

There's a good chance I'll catch a lot of crap for this post - whether here or through other channels - but something has to be said, and I'm just the thoughtless ass to say it. But before I do, let me say this. I have long been a fan of television. I've had many a favorite show come and go over the years. From MASH, to Barney Miller, to Hill Street Blues, Dead Like Me and now Law and Order (to name only a handful), I've enjoyed many favorites that have gone the way of the dinosaur, never to be seen again -- save for syndication.

Now, that being said, I have a newsflash. Lost and 24 are only television shows. Jack Bauer isn't a real guy. He's played by an actor who wears a fake handlebar mustache when he shops, so nobody will recognize him. I've shopped along side of him at Howe's Market in Malibu. He's a freaking actor; so if Jack Bauer is run over by an exploding steamroller, Kiefer Sutherland will still be able to wear his fake mustache and drive his Range Rover up and down PCH. Don't worry - he'll be fine; and so will you.

Those Lost people? They're actors too! Yeah, really. It's just a show with writers and everything. None of it is real, got it? So if Locke turns into a giant sea monster, and Hurley tries to eat him to save the island, but chokes and fails, so everyone except the bearded dude and the blonde chick disappear for 700 years into a vapor mist...nobody will really get hurt or die. It's just fiction, people.

I understand really liking a TV show. But the level of obsession so many people seem to have with these fictional characters really makes me scratch my head and say, "WTF?" Can anybody explain this to me? Seriously, all kidding aside. What is it about TV characters that makes people go so apeshit? And don't get me started about those stupid reality TV people who think they're celebrities because Bravo or TLC follows them with cameras....topic for another rant. I honestly want to know what motivates this obsession with the fictional to the point of discussing in great detail what these fictional characters may or may not do in the next episode, or better yet, what it would be like to hang out with said character and have a picinc on the moon or something equally realistic. I've been a fan, but never been so fanatically obsessed with a show to care THAT much. So if you can explain it, I'd really love to be enlightened.

Until then though, put down the remote, take a step away from the TV and take three very deep breaths. Now remind yourself that there is a whole wide wonderful world waiting for you out there. Then go check your email, Twitter and Facebook to make sure you didn't miss anything.

Happy Mothers' Day

2010-05-09T00:01:00.009-04:00

And that's not apostrophe abuse, I assure you.

Being that fiance's mother is in another state, and my mom's condition has remained relatively unchanged since she died five years ago, we don't do much on Mother's Day. In fact, we generally try to avoid the popular restaurants, as you know how much we both love spending mealtime around screaming children.This year I'd like to mention some of my other mothers - and no, we didn't live on a commune - really, they're not Dad's other wives a'la some "Big Love" thing. No, they're very special people, who have always treated me like family.

As part of my cramming four years of college into six and a half, I transferred schools within the Cal State system during my fourth year. (And notice I didn't say "senior" year. Even living at home, I had worked since I was 13, often with work taking precedence over school when money was tight.)   I had moved a little over an hour away to get out of my parents' house, and get a little of that college experience I so desperately wanted. One can only see his parents watch Mac Guyver and Matlock so many times, before something has to give.

As my folks got older, there weren't any major family gatherings to attend anymore, anyway. And they moved, first to a condo near our old house, and later to Las Vegas.  We lived far enough away from each other, that visits weren't that frequent. And with Mom being ill, they didn't do anything special for special occasions any more; so there was nothing to "go home to", so to speak, during these special events. While I was always welcome, their home wasn't "home" any more. That was neither good nor bad, it just was what it was.

But no matter where I was, I always had a seat at a Seder, Thanksgiving dinner, High Holiday dinner or Break the Fast - if I wanted it. And many years, I had several places from which to choose. There are four wonderful ladies who really stand out in my memory.

Freddie was one of my mom's closest friends for many years, and in many ways, I look at her as a second mom. Our families vacationed together to Vegas, and we spent holidays together, more times than I can remember. And to this day, I know that I have a standing invitation at any holiday meal she is putting together, not to mention a standing invitation to call and get some motherly advice anytime I need it - and I have called!

Paula and Carole are mothers of two very good friends. And between the two of them, when I lived in the Valley, my Chanukahs, Passovers, Thanksgivings and High Holidays were always spent with family - maybe not my family, but with family nonetheless. And they both always treated me like family when I was there.

I live in another part of the country now, far from the friends and family with whom I grew up and came of age. Yet thanks to Ilona, the mother of one of my oldest and dearest friends, I spent my first two Passovers on the east coast at Seders with family. She's always treated me like part of the family since I was a kid; and she's made it clear that if I'm ever nearby and need a place to stay, and don't call her, she'll be insulted - as any good Jewish mother would, no doubt.

So here I sit, miles away and years later.  I cherish and honor these special women who always made sure I was surrounded by family, when I couldn't be with my own.

To them, and all mothers everywhere, Happy Mother's Day.

Arizona - You Suck!

2010-04-25T08:30:00.007-04:00

I grew up in southern California. I have spent most of my life listening to people bitch and moan about illegal immigration across the Mexican border. I also believe that we as a nation (not as individual states) need to address the situation. Arizona, that bastion of tolerance that was at one time the only state not to recognize Martin Luther King day, has passed a new law making it legal for authorities to question anyone whose immigration status is, well, questionable. Not only does it allow this, it requires them to ask if they feel someone might be in the country illegally. And it passed by an overwhelming majority of legislator votes.

Is it just me -and millions of other people who aren't stupid enough to get elected to office in the barren desert state - or does anybody else see what is inherently wrong with this law? This was written to give police leeway to proactively harass Hispanic people. I mean, let's face it, Mexico is the "launch pad" for most of our illegal immigration. People in Arizona, like those whacko Minutemen - have long been bitching about the illegal immigration problem as if it's an organized military attack on the good white people of America. There, I said it.

This is about white people trying to retain status over brown people with Hispanic accents. Seriously, who else will they be hassling? If a white guy with a British accent gets drunk and belligerent in public, and the police are called in, how will they deal with him? Will they ask him to prove that he's here legally, and cart him off and involve ICE if he can't? Doubtful.

If a white lady who happens to say "eh" and "aboot" is giving a witness statement, and police surmise she's Canadian, will they ask for documentation to prove she is in the country legally? You bet your ass they won't.

And how about people of Mexican (or South/Central American) descent, who may have slight accents? Will they be hassled too? What if they were born here? Do they now need to carry proof of citizenship with them that white people wouldn't need.? Sadly, the answer is probably, "Yes". The definition of probable cause is not very clear, and rather subjective to the individual inquisitor; and THAT is what's really scary.

In America we allegedly are innocent until proven guilty. Yet what constitutes probable cause to check legal residency status? Do they have to be suspected of having broken the law first? Do they have to be convicted of something first? Or can police just hassle anyone who doesn't "talk right"? Unfortunately, it seems that latter will likely be the way this is applied. And while I appreciate the concern of Arizona's lawmakers to keep people from coming here to pick fruit at slave wages that no US citizen would want, this is a ridiculous law, and further proves how dangerous some of these scared white people can be.

Isn't that really what's going on? It's fear. Sure, not everyone who comes across is a good person. Much like not everyone who gets elected to office has integrity. But is the way to combat the immigration problem to make it legal to profile? Unless you're willing to profile EVERYBODY, it's just a racist attack on Hispanics.

And THAT's my point! This was meant to target people who speak Spanish. So don't worry Asian human traffic smugglers, they're not looking for you. You are free to continue to provide workers for massage parlors and Japanese restaurants to your hearts' content. People from Ireland on that student visa that expired a year ago, no worries, your accent and white skin will keep you from harassment. But if you're grandfather came here legally from Mexico, and your family has been here for 80 years, and you have a slight accent, be very afraid. You will be screwed with, as sure as the desert sun will rise.

Internet Rumors and the Notion of White Culture

2010-03-27T13:41:00.018-04:00

I received an email from a friend recently very similar to the one debunked here on Snopes. The gist of it is that Andy Rooney supposedly said a bunch of stuff that could be considered racist, and CBS supposedly let him get away with it. Let me reiterate, this is horse shit; Andy Rooney DID NOT say this stuff.

From where I sit, It's a white-centric perspective, which in and of itself can be considered inherently racist. It is rife with generalizations that appeal to people emotionally, but actually just spew disgruntled intolerance - and easy enough to attribute to Andy Rooney without looking past the surface.

Among the comments from this gem were:

'I don't think being a minority makes you a victim of anything except numbers. The only things I can think of that are truly discriminatory are things like the United Negro College Fund, Jet Magazine, Black Entertainment Television, and Miss Black America.. Try to have things like the United Caucasian College Fund, Cloud Magazine, White Entertainment Television, or Miss White America ; and see what happens...Jesse Jackson will be knocking down your door

I don't know about you, but I've known Black people who have been pulled over by police for being, as my friends described to me, "Nigger on a sunny day." And I think that most every subgroup with a shared culture has their own magazines and organizations. Speaking for my own sub-group of American Jews, B'nai B'rith Messenger, Jewish Journal ,United Jewish Appeal and Jewish Federation of "insert city here", are among some of ours.

"Caucasian" is not a subgroup with any kind of shared cultural heritage. I'm Caucasian, and I share virtually no common culture with mountain Gentiles from the Appalachians. But I do have things in common with people who grew up Jewish in suburban Maryland or Nebraska, just like many of my Black friends share cultural commonalities with Black people from other areas.

I've also been in groups of white people who love to make pejorative comments about Blacks, Mexicans and other minority groups. Are you honestly saying that that attitude doesn't carry over to situations like interviews, where Black applicants are passed over because of latent bias? It happens every day. Minorities are victims of more than just numbers. That neither excuses bad behavior by some of them, nor negative stereotyping by some of us.

Despite Martin Mull's humorous assertions, there is NO white culture in America...thank God! How the Hell do you define it? By whose standard? Hood-wearing, cross-burning racists? "Men of God"like Pat Robertson who blame the devastation in Haiti on a pact with "The Devil" a mythological creature by many standards.

And related to that topic:

I have the right 'NOT' to be tolerant of others because they are different, weird, or tick me off..

Well, we all have the right to feel any way we feel about anyone or anything. We can have intolerant feelings. But how we deal with them is another matter. Suppose I grew up in a predominately Vietnamese community, and was shunned for being white. Does that give me the right to be so intolerant that I discriminate against Vietnamese people in the work place? Does it give me the right to be intolerant of all Asian people, because I didn't fit in with one pocket of one sub-group? I'd have to say it doesn't. But that doesn't stop people, many of them from my own white, Jewish sub-group, from referring to all people with Hispanic accents as "Mexicans", and often doing so pejoratively, as if being Mexican is somehow bad. When I call them on it, they usually backtrack or say they didn't mean anything. What they really mean is, they didn't realize that I don't share their narrow-minded views, and would rather be hanging out with a house full of Mexicans, than one of two intolerant white Jews who hold on to that antiquated hatred.

Here's another gem from this piece of mental masturbation:

I think that if you feel homosexuality is wrong, it is not a phobia, it is an opinion.

Well now, I suppose on some level that is correct. If you believe Homosexuality is wrong, than by all means, don't engage in it. But to believe it's wrong for other people based on what's right for you is an ego-driven stretch of self-important bullshit. Personally, I find snake-handling in the name of God to be rather unsettling. But I sure as Hell don't believe snake handling Pentecostals should be barred from the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, just because I find their practices unsafe or unholy by my personal standards (whatever those happen to be). But for some reason, there are straight people who enjoy stripping those rights from Homosexuals. And even stranger, it's quite often in the name of a god who supposedly loves everyone. But then again, isn't that why most wars start?

And one more:

I was asked to send this on if I agree or delete if I don't. It is said that 86% of Americans believe in God.. Therefore I have a very hard time understanding why there is such a problem in having 'In God We Trust' on our money and having 'God' in the Pledge of Allegiance. Why don't we just tell the 14% to BE QUIET!!!

Are you kidding me? We also have a thing here called "Separation of Church and State". Anybody who believes in God is free to worship their concept of God. They can build churches and synagogues and mosques and whatever other halls of worship and prayer they can devise. They can worship in their homes, at the beach, in the woods - take your pick. But religious belief is a very personal thing too. I've always had a problem with "under God" being in the Pledge. Not all Americans believe in God. And telling them to "be quiet", just because they are a minority, is basically the same as saying "All men who believe in God are created equal. The rest of you can go screw yourselves." It's about as Un-American as you can get! Freedom of religion should include freedom from having state sponsored religious beliefs of any kind. And that has NOTHING to do with my personal religious or spiritual beliefs. I can separate what I believe, from what I expect others to believe. Why can't we do that as a nation?

I found this piece to be a bunch of divisive drivel, designed to make the uneducated sheeple faction of the tea party set say, "Rah Rah". But I find it more disturbing that a year after it was debunked, and Andy Rooney expressed his concern that this was attributed to him, it still circulates. And it is circulated by intelligent, educated and often very spiritually aware people, who simply choose not to see beyond the hyperbole.

Palin and Abortion Lingo

2010-03-06T14:06:00.017-05:00

Or, Two Strangely Related Odds & Ends For a Saturday

There is a scary group of people in our country - people who seriously want Sarah Palin to become our next President of the United States. Why are these people so scary? Because, in my humble opinion, Palin is a two-bit nut job who got in over her head. I mean, anybody who has to resign as Governor so she can focus more attention on her pending law suits and corruption scandals, is not someone I want running my country. She does make for a good story though. This time, Fox News (that bastion of fairness and balance) reported about how her "Pro-Life" commitment was tested having a child with Down Syndrome, and her daughter's "unexpected" pregnancy.

First, let's get this out of the way. Sarah, your daughter had unprotected sex. How does that make this pregnancy unexpected? Well, I suppose if the only sex education she received was "wait until marriage", maybe she really didn't know what to expect. And if that's the case, it's less a testament to a "Pro Life" commitment, than it is to keeping kids from learning the facts with "abstinence only education". Maybe if you'd spent less time with the "You betchas" to hoards of rabid trailer trash with third grade educations, and more time teaching your daughter how to use a condom, the "unexpected" pregnancy might never have happened. And yeah, we heard the story about the condom breaking. Seriously, what would YOU say if you had been her? Enough with your daughter already.

And while we're discussing unwanted pregnancies, am I the only one who doesn't understand how the terms "Pro Life" and "Pro Choice" are the accepted names for the camps in the abortion debate? Who decided that these terms are opposites anyhow? I'm in favor of a woman's right to choose what she does with her own body. And when faced with a choice of life or death in a personal situation, I'm most likely to choose life. The two phrases have nothing to do with each other. And by the way, any of you ladies who support Palin, remember that she'd rather see you raise and screw up a child you don't want, or have you go to some back-alley coat hanger practitioner, than abort fetal cells legally and safely. How about calling the abortion debate what it is: Pro-Choice/No-Choice. THAT would be truth in advertising. And I only use the abortion issue as an example - this is not a rant on that topic (at least not much of one).

We often forget that when voting for President, there are issues to consider other than the economy. A woman's right to choose is an important issue for me, when I vote for the person who can appoint Supreme Court Justices. Regardless of where you stand on the abortion issue - I know that's a hot button for many - be sure you choose someone for all the right reasons. It's more than just tossing out phrases that make him/her sound like "one of the regular people". It's about so much more. As you look toward 2012, regardless of your party affiliation, stand behind someone who is intelligent, articulate and is capable of understanding that Korea was split into two separate countries many years ago.

Why Can't Americans Teach Our Children How to Speak...Let Alone, How to Write

2010-02-26T23:26:00.000-05:00

It's astonishing; and it's not just the children to whom I'm referring. People don't talk no good no more, to put it in the vernacular of many of this country's residents.. I'm truly amazed by how many people - many of them seemingly educated - seem to lack the basic rules of using the English language - even the American version of the English language.

When I look at a Blog that educators will be reading, and see words like "alot" and "awhile", I cringe. (And thats awhile as in, "It's been awhile since we spoke".) When I hear people say something like, "Either Jim or myself will take care of it." I wince. That's actually the one that's making me nuts right now. I seem to hear it all the time. A lot of the people with whom I deal professionally use it like it's going out of style....well, actually the 'utilize' it like it's going out of style. But that's a rant for another day.

Back to me, myself and I. One of the biggest "myself" offenders actually had the nerve to question my use of "me" in the sentence, "Thanks for letting Mr. Clueless and me visit you this week". "Shouldn't it be Mr. Clueless and I?" He asked. I showed him how if you remove Mr. Clueless and from the sentence, and then read it with I, it makes no sense. He then told me he's never been good with grammar. So why criticize? That would be like me criticizing how an Olympic curler sweeps the ice with those broom things.

The one that really makes my skin boil and my blood crawl, however, is "orientate(ed)". As in, "...we gotta get you orientated on all the company policies". Or "G. I want you to orientate the new guy on how we do stuff." The verb orientate, means to face toward the freaking Orient. The verb "orient" means to acquaint oneself with something (like how to fill out a time sheet). I always swore the next time a boss asked me to "orientate" someone, I'd sit them in a chair facing east. Sadly, I've not had the chance to do it yet. But I still imagine the look on a supervisor's face as I explain that I have the guy facing east like he asked. Maybe someday...

Stir Crazy

2010-02-26T08:23:00.002-05:00

Fucking Aaaaarrgh! So THIS is cabin fever. Climbing the walls and longing for human interaction and barely able to focus for two minutes at at time. Spring,where the hell are you?

Score One for the Fish Lips Post

2010-02-19T22:25:00.002-05:00

Because of the "Fish Lips" post, someone found this blog by typing, "women with fish lips" into Google. I knew I was on to something...

Birthdays

2010-02-17T21:03:00.007-05:00

I get a little introspective this time of year. I have a birthday coming, which may be cause for celebration and/or reflection - depending on one's mood or perspective. I think in general I tend to lean more toward the reflective side of late, less by conscious choice and more by learned behavior or rather, learned reaction. I think I've also started to associate my birthday with my mom dying - it was the day after my birthday when they called to tell me she was in the hospital, and from then, she was gone in about two weeks.

Even as a kid, I don't recall big birthday to-dos, save for my Bar Mitzvah. Of course, as I've written here before, and as my mother was always quick to point out, I tend to remember the bad and forget the good. Well, actually I tend to remember the bad and the average tends to fade away...and most of growing up was just average. I always felt like an outsider, wherever we lived or wherever I went to school. So having a big party with all my friends was never something I really explored very deeply.

And now as an adult, most of my closest and oldest friends are far away and scattered around the world -- as is bound to happen when we get older. I've long given up on the idea of people wanting to get together and celebrate my birthday; in fact, it takes a lot of the pressure off during the "what do you want to do for your birthday" questions that usually arise around now.

So as I prepare to turn 45, what do I really want? The truth is, not a lot. At this point in my life, it's less important to celebrate a day than to be happy about how far I've come and the good things I have. It's about enjoying the special people in my life every chance I get, because nothing lasts forever. Things could've gone differently, and my life could be a lot different - maybe not for the better.

I survived the divorce and got to keep my dogs. I moved 3000 miles and managed to find work. I've reconnected with more old friends than I realized I had. I found a beautiful woman with whom I plan to spend the rest of my life. I think that should be plenty good enough to enjoy a nice birthday and have a great year.

Fish Lips

2010-02-06T23:55:00.004-05:00

Is it just me, or is anyone else noticing a disturbing trend in women posing for photos? Some women seem to be under the mistaken belief that pursing your lips like freaking carp makes you look sexy. Ladies, it doesn't. It makes you look like you've had a collagen overdose - or like a whiskerless catfish. Seriously stop. And now young girls are emulating this train wreck of a model.

I mean really. It's not the least bit sexy. And any guy who tells you it is is either:
a. some guy you met who wants to get into your pants.
b. some guy with whom you're in a relationship who wants to stay in your pants.

That's it. Trust me. Pose for a picture where you make fish lips. Show it to a guy who is in a stable relationship and has no hope or desire of banging you. Now ask him if it's sexy. If he's honest, he'll tell you to ditch the flounder-face. If he doesn't, he probably wants to get into your pants - or at least leave the option open in case current situations change.

I think I've made my point. Keep pursing your lips, and it's only a matter of time until some smart ass tosses a hooked worm in your direction. And when it happens, don't say I didn't warn you!

Man of God - My Ass!

2010-01-16T15:39:00.023-05:00

In case you missed it, Pat Robertson is at it again. With Anita Bryant too shriveled up to help him stomp out homosexuality wherever it rears its head - like when Senator Craig goes to a public restoroom - Pat has a new target: the people of Haiti. Yes, you read that correctly. Jesus's own little mock journalist and former presidential candidate actually had the audacity to blame the earthquake and devastation in Haiti on a pact with the devil made by the Haitian people.

This nutjob must have a brass set to spew the crap he just did - on national television. I can't even begin to slam him enough, as it's hard to know where to start. It just irks me to no end when people use their own religion as barometer to assert moral superiority over people they perceive as different than them. I know that as an evangelical Christian, he believes he needs to spread what he believes is God's word - I get that. But what real man of God would say crap like this?

Check out the video below of Pat's comments, and a reply from a Haitian. The reply is so dignified, it shows just what a small-minded, dimwit Pat Robertson actually is. The scariest part is that there are legions of faithful followers who would jump off a bridge in the name of God if Pat told them to.

Attention Two-Parent Families: Costco is NOT a Theme Park

2010-01-10T07:03:00.019-05:00

Warning: This is a rant. It is written to vent and make me feel better. If you're over-sensitive, have no sense of humor, or are so self-rightous you take everything as a personal attack, I'm sure there's an "Eight is Enough" rerun on somewhere - but not here.

First, I know what you're thinking - "G, what the hell were you doing at Costco on a Saturday?" Sometimes ya just have to go. That aside, let's get to the point. As both of my remaining readers know, we've decided to remain child-free by choice. (Notice that's "Child-Free" and not "Child-Less" -- we don't feel there's anything missing.) And as a former teacher, I love children. I also don't have much patience for kids running wild in inappropriate places.

So back to Costco yesterday. First, the place was so crowded I almost had to go to a Park-N-Ride and wait for a shuttle! Once I managed to park, brave the long walk through a cold and windy parking lot and enter the store, I was treated to a sea of people wandering aimlessly with no clue that other people were behind them, and children running, screaming and stopping mid-aisle for no apparent reason.

Now, for my single parent friends, I get it. You often have no choice other than to drag your children with you to places where they'd rather not be. This is not directed at you. You don't have the luxury of choice. Neither is this directed at two-parent families who are attentive to their children's needs and do their best to manage them, taking them OUT when there is a problem. No, this is directed at the two-parent families who think a shopping trip should always be a family affair and time for the kids to frolic to their hears content. Listen up dipfucks, it shouldn't! Someone, please someone tell me why people feel the need to bring small children to places like this, when there is an option of one parent staying home and watching them?

For example, I stepped into Costco's ginormous walk-in refrigerator to get some green beans. I was immediately followed by three or four children, all under the age of six, running, chasing and screaming as they entered, with no regard for anyone else there. Yes, I know, that is VERY age appropriate behavior. But it isn't public-appropriate behavior; and the asshat parents were laughing at how cute it was, rather than disciplining. One of those fucktards could have stayed at home, played games with the children or done something to keep them occupied in a place where they can behave age-appropriately without pissing anyone off. But no, they chose to pack up the whole family and go play at Costco. WTF?

People, listen up. YOU and your demon-spawn aren't the only selfish dillweeds to occupy this planet. There are other people with whom you share public space. Some are inconsiderate pricks and twats like you; but others just want to go about their days without being harangued with screaming and running. If I go for a walk in the park, I expect to see people running and playing -- that's what parks are for. When I go shopping at a store like Costco, I should expect to see people shopping, not running and screaming like they're in a Chuck E. Cheese.

In general, it seems that basic respect for those with whom we share public space may be close to extinction. Between obnoxiods who shout on their cell phones so loud you can't hear the person next to you, the idiots who stop in the middle of aisles like nobody else is there and the nasty, disgusting pigs who chomp their gum open mouthed with no regard for how gross they really are, (like 2/3 of the checkers at ShopRite in my CT town,) public is fast becoming a place I'm enjoying less and less.

So please, for the love of sanity, if you have children for whom shopping at a Costco or a market is not the ideal public activity, and you have the option of someone staying home with them --- leave the kids at the fucking house. You'll get your shopping done more quickly, and some poor beleagured soul like me won't have a coronary - or snap, and run your obnoxious, loud, inconsiderate family down with an over sized, overstuffed Costco shopping cart and an evil smirk.

Goodbye House, Hello the Rest of My Life

2010-01-04T12:17:00.007-05:00

Or: Santa works for RE-Max

Yes, I know there's a Mercury Retrograde in progress that's supposed to screw up communications and well-laid plans. But I got some news today that can only make me smile and think that despite a few glitches here and there, 2010 is off to a rocking start. Why am I so happy? Well, I finally sold my house in California! Truth be told, I short-sold it...or got a lot less than it was worth. In fact, the house sold for less than half of what I owed. And it's a damn nice house too, into which I put a lot of work and money. But I'm still happier than a dung beetle in Newark.

So why am I so happy about still technically owing a bank several hundred thousand dollars that I don't have? Why am I so happy about the black mark on my credit? Well, this is the final material tie to Respondent, my ex-wife. And I just have to believe that whatever energy of hers that was still lingering through that house, is now washed away from me forever. I can truly release the bitterness and anger I had toward her for not letting us sell when we could still be profitable, and just let it go and look happily ahead. Bad energy, Be gone; Good stuff, c'mon in!

Yes, there are still residual messes to be encountered and cleared. But this feels like a major burden has been lifted. It's kind of like taking the leaking tanker out of the bay, so the real clean-up and complete healing can finally move forward. I now have more room for happy times and lots of good fortune. So as the song says, time to "...get in the groove and let the good times roll!"

My Holiday Discovery: All Latkes Aren't Inedible Hockey Pucks

2009-12-26T10:09:00.006-05:00

I've been a bad Jew at Chanukah time for years. I've avoided latkes like Jon's been avoiding Kate. For any of my gentile readers - assuming I still have readers - latkes are potato pancakes (or in the Quayle house, potatoe pancakes, but I digress). The batter is made from shredded or mashed or whipped potatoes (depending on the recipe), there may be some matzoh meal in there, I really don't know, and of course the central vegetable to any fried Jewish food - the onion. They're fried up in oil, and most people like them with apple sauce or sour cream.

For years we'd host the annual family Chanukah party while I was growing up. This was a chance for relatives to get together and enjoy some family friction. Mom would make mountains of latkes, and everybody seemed to love 'em. And I never understood why. I ate those damned things at Dad's insistence each year, so Mom wouldn't be offended. But yuck! They were little black pucks of disgust, and they towered over me in piles on the counters. It was like a cartoon, and I was trapped in Latkeville, with the evil chef trying to poison me with charcoal pancakes.

I never understood - and still don't to this day - why everyone liked them. Were they pretending to make Mom happy? That would suck to go through all that work for something nobody liked. Well, a cousin has recently confirmed that they were indeed good. And this got me thinking.

So today, well after Chanukah has passed, my fiancee made latkes. I decided, "what the hell. let's give it a shot". And as it turns out, they were damn good! I don't dislike latkes...I just couldn't stand Mom's latkes! And the really funny thing is, she couldn't either.

Shortly before she went up to that big nickle video poker machine in the sky, she told me she made them because she knew everybody loved them; but she couldn't stand them, no matter how much apple sauce or ketchup or anything she put on them. I told her how I could barely stomach them and forced two or three down each year so as not to offend her. She thought was THAT was the funniest part of all.

So here I sit, a latke convert. All those years of therapy, and the big childhood fear I overcome is potato pancakes. I guess if it's not one thing, it's your mother. Happy Birthday this coming Tuesday Mom. I love you and miss you.

Games People Played

2009-12-17T17:54:00.012-05:00

A friend posted a question on a social networking site recently. He asked about games or toys we remembered from childhood. People remembered their Slinkies - I mean c'mon, it walks down stairs, alone or in pairs. I had a Slinky, but sadly no stairs. We just had a few front porch steps and that got old really quickly.

I even recalled the Wheel-O I got one year for Chanukah. A silly little toy by today's standards, but I had hours of fun watching the red wheel go around and around. I really wanted a Wheel-O that year, and was excited that 8th night when I opened it.

A toy like Wheel-O would be lost on children of today. Their expectations for bells and whistles to keep them occupied would quickly leave them bored after the first time around. Between the Tickle-Me-Barbie, Fondle-Me-Elmo and Dora the Newly-Pubescent Explora --or whatever they're called, I have no kids so I really don't follow that stuff -- the toys of our youth seem like stick figures compared to their 3-D graphic images.

That is, until you remember Lawn Darts. For the uninitiated, Lawn Darts are just as they sound. They were big darts that you played with on the lawn. The Lawn Dart set came with a paper target that you placed on the lawn. The instructions very clearly said to toss the darts underhanded, and try to get as close to the bulls-eye as possible. They even had cute little drawings of people playing, showing them properly tossing the darts toward the target, with all players safely behind the throwing line.

Now let's talk reality. It was the very early 1970's. Major toy makers were among my father's customers, so he used to bring home all sorts of cool stuff back then. I actually had one of the 1st Superballs, and got to test Nerf balls before they came out...but I digress. Among the cool toys I had was a set of Lawn Darts - I think a leftover from when my brother and sister were younger. I remember taking them out to play with some of the neighborhood kids - all of whom were older than me.

Let's just say, it didn't take long for the darts to be turned into dangerous projectiles that could easily "put an eye out" to quote most Jewish mothers of the day. Imagine a 4 or 5 year old trying to tell a slightly off-balance 7 or 8 year old friend to take a large dart and toss it upside down to be safe. Yeah, right. I'm lucky I still have both eyes and don't have any permanent scars.

Needless to say, it took even less time for my mom to confiscate the darts, never to be seen again. And that's something kids today with their helicopter parents will never be able to appreciate: The joy of surviving crazy neighbor kids and quasi-deadly toys. Ah, the carefree days of childhood!

29 Years Ago

2009-12-08T15:31:00.006-05:00

I remember where I was. My friend and I were sitting in his car, in the parking lot of the miniature golf/arcade complex that was a hangout for local teens. We were either drinking or getting high - quite possibly both - and listening to the radio before heading inside to play Asteroids and Missile Command, while trying to look cool for the local girls. It seemed odd that they were playing a lot of Beatles songs - one after the other. I even joked, "I wonder who died".

It was about 10 seconds after I made this comment that the song stopped. That was when I heard it. Jack Snyder, a big burly man's man and local radio legend was on that shift on one of the local LA stations. There was a pause, and I heard crying. Jack Snyder was crying on the radio! That was when we heard the unbelievable. "For those of you who haven't heard, and I don't know how you could've not heard. John Lennon was killed outside of his apar...." The words faded away.

As a tear-filled Snyder sniffled and stammered through what was not only the lead rock story, but the lead news story, we sat in sobering shock. Whatever we'd ingested was having no effect - reality was hitting hard. It was impossible to fathom that anybody could possibly kill such an amazing human being, let alone one of the greatest musicians and songwriters of all time. I don't even remember if we went inside. I don't remember much of what happened in the next few hours. I just remember feeling numb and tears welling up.

Now, 29 years later, I'm in my mid-40s, and my memory isn't what it used to be. But whenever I think of December 8, 1980, I get a shiver. That night comes back to me like mental whiplash. And in retrospect, it feels like it was a sign of times to come. The 80's and Regan's reign weren't the glory days for my family and me. The 80's were a decade full of emotional pain, family illness and grief, financial and job issues and a general downer in a lot of ways. For me, this was not only a seminal event in history, looking back, it seemed to be the start of a lot of bad times to come.

We've come along way since 1980. We've had smatterings of world consciousness raising that have been inspirational - and we've had our share of darkness too. We've seen our status as a great nation of the world both ebb and flow. We have returned to fighting wars that nobody wants to fight and that possibly can't be won. We again see ourselves faced with the kinds of world and national issues for which John Lennon was often a voice, and more importantly, helped give others the courage to stand up and speak out.

As we remember the anniversary of his death today, 29 years later, let's not forget his legacy. And by that I mean not just his musical legacy, which in itself is more than enough. Let's remember the man of peace Lennon was. And let's hope our world leaders have half the vision he did for what this world can be. Imagine all the people...

The Vegas Turnaround

2009-10-24T13:35:00.007-04:00

Growing up in southern California, the lure of Las Vegas was ever so close. I remember bus companies used to (and probably still do) offer "Turnaround" trips to Vegas or Stateline (what they now cal "Primm"). The bus would leave LA, make the four to five hour trek through the Mohave Desert, stop at a few casinos and then head back. Elapsed time: 24-36 hours max.

Back in my early 20's, the Turnaround bus trips never appealed to me. First, the majority of the travelers were seniors on a budget looking to play video bingo. And, let's face it: who the hell wants to ride a bus with a bunch of grungy strangers, and be put on someone else's schedule. So we'd do the only thing young, bored and occasionally stupid guys do: We'd do our own turnaround trips, without the added grief of a busload of potential whack-a-doodles.

The trips were usually uneventful. We'd go, play for a few hours, and then come home and crash out for a day or so. In fact, it was one of my fraternity brothers in Long Beach who actually took me on my first turnaround. And I was hooked on the concept. I mean, we'd leave in the early evening when it was cool, get there around midnight. Play until a little before sunrise; and then we'd be home in time to still call the meal a late breakfast.

There is one trip that does stand out. I had moved to the San Fernando Valley to finish college, as I felt working three jobs and cramming four years of schooling into six and half was the most productive use of my time. Anyhow, my roommate and I had decided that the best cure for a dead Saturday night would be a Vegas run. So we hopped in my Toyota Corolla, with its manual air conditioning, and off we went.

Now if you've read my blog for a while -and considering my laziness writing lately, you probably haven't - you know that back then, no road trip would be complete without herbal accompaniment. And having virtually none, the idea of the trip was feeling a little less fun.

As I headed in the usual direction, my roommate starts barking commands. "Turn here and go this way." He said. "Why?", I ask. "I have to run an errand on the way", he replied. Now I'm thinking, Saturday night, errand, WTF? But he was bigger than me and probably a little "more amped than your average bear", so I figured what the hell, I might as well listen.

It was a round 7 or 8 PM, and we were heading to a neighborhood I never wanted to be after dark. "Where are we going?" I would ask. "Just drive", was the only reply I'd get. Finally, I was told, "Turn here", a few times, and found us stopped in the projects of Pacoima. "Wait here", were the instructions as he exited the car and walked across the street. I saw him talk to some guy in a wife-beater T, long dark shorts and knee high sweat socks. They seemed to shake hands or something, and before I knew, he was back in the car saying, "Drive."

We got on the road, with what I now learned was the missing herbal supplement, and we made it to Vegas around midnight. We headed straight for the Stardust Hotel and Casino. I sat down at a blackjack table, and promptly lost all the cash I had on-hand in about 20 minutes. And this was before all ATMs were on a network. It was a merciless run of bad cards and bad plays. I got up, and found my roommate at another table, where he seemed to be doing well. I told him I was heading to the car to take a nap, as I was tapped out.

So after less than a half hour in the air conditioned oasis of the casino, I was back in my car, windows open, seat back, sleeping in the Vegas summer heat under the glow of parking lot lights. It was probably around 3:30 AM or so when I heard the car door open. "C'mon," he said. "I'm buying breakfast". I groggily raised my seat, and drove toward downtown - then home of the really cheap late night meals. Fortunately, where I had lost my ass, he had done rather well. Pre-dawn steak never tasted so good, and was just the pick-me-up I needed to get back on the road home.

That was the last successful turnaround I ever pulled. (By successful, I mean I made it there and back within less than 24 hours.) The next time I tried, I had to get a hotel. And that was the first, "I'm getting older moment" I ever recall having. But that's also a story for another day...maybe.

The Last 20 Years - the "Cliff's Notes Version"

2009-10-19T17:37:00.010-04:00

Through the miracle of social media networking, I've been re-connecting with all sorts of people from lives past. It's been pretty cool, and always interesting to hear what people have been up to, especially when it's things you'd never expect. You know, who was all gung ho to be a business tycoon and ended up a yoga instructor? I'm sure I blow a mind or two when I share my story - much of which can be found in this Blog, by the way. And I digress to point out for any new readers, if you choose to peruse the archives, 2005 was a great year for writing - bad year to be one of my senior citizen relatives - but a good year for writing anyhow.

So I figured I'd throw up a little post about what I've been up to for the last 20 years or so. That way:
1. I have something new to post here
2. I have a reason to think people might come here and read this
3. I don't have to retype the same stuff every time I connect with someone new

So at the risk of sounding like an all-about-me narcissist, here we go. And I'll keep it as brief as I can for people who, like me, have the attention span of a gnat on mescaline.

After six and half glorious undergraduate years across two of California's finer state schools, I earned a BA in Sociology and no clue what I wanted to do with my life. Having worked through college at a private school, I thought maybe teaching would be it. But after a year as an Assistant Teacher, and being unable to complete the "Why do you want to teach" section of the grad school application, I decided something else was in order.

I've always been a natural salesman. I even sold souvenirs at major league ballpark for years, so I sort of had it in my blood to some extent. I sold sheet metal fabrication in a defense industry slowdown - so much fun. I sold copiers - one step above selling off-shore auto insurance. I sold off-shore auto insurance - yeah, really scraped the barrel on that one. And I sold high-speed floor care invented by a Hillbilly who sold it off for millions and blew it all. And all of that, I found about as rewarding as masturbating with sand paper. You can produce something, but in the long run, it's a painful process.

So after a layoff, while considering a couple of offers, I was doing some substitute teaching at the same place I'd worked in college. Maybe it was a few years in the work world, maybe it was a few too many Dead shows, but something clicked. I knew I wanted to teach. So I enrolled in an expensive private program, took out student loans and got my CA credential. Along that road I substituted in probation camps and a few other much nicer places, before spending a year in inner-cityish suburban district in South LA. From there I went to another district in south east LA that paid a lot more and had fewer convicted felons below the 6th grade level.

While in suburbia, I got my MA in educational technology from East LA's finest university - an institute of higher learning because it sits on a hill - but it was alright nonetheless. I did some district work coordinating instructional technology, and then left to consult to districts around LA. At the time, I was married to Respondent, who I had met in 1997 or so. Long story short, we were married in 2000, she started showing her true colors shortly thereafter. The day I was planning to confront her with a bunch of stuff, she called from the doctor's and was at the start of what turned out to breast cancer and lots of treatment. After her recovery, it wasn't long before she was back to her old shenanigans. And by 2006 I left, moved to Malibu for a year of much needed R&R. I eventually won custody of my Pomeranians, and met a wonderful woman with whom I started a long distance relationship.

Every two to three weeks one of us would be on a plane - her flying to LA, me flying to CT. Eventually, I decided to make the move. So the girly dogs and I headed east. That was two years ago; and I feel like this is home. It's like I was trapped in an east coast body and living in the wrong place for 42 years. But here I am. And despite some financial setbacks from the divorce (understatement), life is wonderful.

We've been engaged for a little over 2 yrs now, with no plans for a date. We've both been down that road before, and are in no rush. We'll likely end up going away some weekend and coming back married. Between us, we have five animals, my girly dogs, her border collie & two cats. And we've decided to remain child-free. We looked into it, and apparently, you don't have to pay college tuition for dogs and cats - who knew? So as long as we don't buy a Chrysler minivan - where they throw in a free kid and a car seat - we should be ok.

So that's my story; and I'm sticking with it. What's yours?

American Idiots

2009-10-16T12:46:00.007-04:00

I'm proud to be an American, but I must say, some of my fellow countrymen blow my mind. The uproar over the Nobel Peace Prize being awarded to President Obama is truly amazing. This vocal minority of right wing fanatics is getting more attention than a new whore in an Alaskan fishing port. And they're the most hypocritical group of malcontents I've seen in some time.

I remember during the 2nd Gulf War - amid the scandal of Weapons of Mass Deception - hearing the Limbaughs of the world calling anyone who criticized the president as 'Un-American" and "Un-Patriotic". I remember being chastised by Republican friends for my own criticism, being told that during these tough times, the president needs the support of all Americans; and criticizing him is like spitting in the troops' faces - or something along those lines. Yet these same 'Proud Americans' seem unable to support their president when he's honored for his commitment to such a subversive concept as "World Peace".

So to the right-wing extremist - and to the loud-mouthed pundits like Limbaugh and that idiot Glen Beck - I say this: If supporting the dolt who sat in the Oval Office for eight years was every American's patriotic duty during a time of crisis, why doesn't the same rule apply when someone who doesn't share a brain cell with his vice-president sits in the same office? How can anyone chastise people for not supporting the guy who helped bring about the worst economic disaster in most of our lifetimes, and then dole out venomous attacks on a president who hasn't even had a year in office and time to accomplish anything yet?

Republican extremists are pissed. They lost, and are among the sorest losers around. If the presidential election had been a baseball game, they'd have taken their bats and stormed home, pouting. They're bullies and overgrown children who refuse to play, if the game doesn't go their way. Yet for some strange reason, these loudmouthed hate-mongers seem to resonate with certain groups of people. They use words like "socialism" to scare ill-informed Americans into believing that Obama has some hidden agenda to take over private industry. They exaggerate claims about health care reform to scare the easily manipulated into believing that health care reform will end quality care for everyone. They jump to wild conclusions that their weak-minded followers won't even dream of questioning.

They pounce on anything they can, and make big deals out of nothing. They spread lies about fake birth certificates; and they insinuate that our president has lied about his religion to hide a secret "Muslim" agenda. And the idiots who follow them, American Idiots, continue to spread the venom like gospel. And this is all despite the fact that the president isn't promoting socialism, isn't trying to ruin health care, was born in America and has no hidden Muslim agenda - just a middle name that seems to scare the weak.

These people ought to be glad that Obama is in the White House and not me. Because personally, I think the greed that has plunged us into the financial nightmare is truly the devil at the center of it all. The cure? Introduce a little bit of socialism to America! That's right, I said it. And to be honest, socialism isn't the "evil" some would have you believe.

See, when America was founded, we were a small nation of independent states. Things were different - our needs as a nation were different. With growth, there must be change, or the growth will be more harmful than good. We can't reverse the growth we've had in America over the last 230 years or so. But we can change how we do things in order to best deal with what we now have. Years ago, Karl Marx said that capitalism left unchecked would result in revolution. And if we hadn't introduced some checks and balances recently, we might've been heading in that direction. The "free market" has proven time and time again it WILL NOT regulate itself. Industry WILL NOT impose rules, when rules could hamper profits.

And this is the real problem. Our corporate giants are not content to make a profit. They have to make a killing. Rather than scale back profits in a bad economy to keep more people employed, how many companies did we see lay thousands off, only to then be praised. And how many of those companies are still awarding their top executives large bonuses -- bonuses that could have helped keep the unemployment rate down. And how many of those same companies received tax breaks during the Bush years, only to have those breaks translate to executive compensation, rather than to create new jobs and keep people working? Just like we can't simply trust people not to murder and steal, we need rules to protect us from industrial greed that can ultimately ruin those not blessed with the right status.

The cure my friends, is getting Americans - all Americans, even the American Idiots - to understand that change is OK. People in America don't have food, shelter, and access to health care. How can we even think of increasing corporate bottom lines when we continue to ignore this? Big business keeps getting fat. And rather than use some of that fat to help a struggling economy, the preference is to build more fat and not let it leave their tables. We as a nation have an obligation to the people who are our "have-nots". And if the businesses that drive our economy don't want to be a part of that obligation for fear of being less profitable, then we as a nation need to make an adjustment. As a "civilized" nation, we can't continue with business as usual, when so many need so much. (See, less profitable doesn't mean "not profitable".)

If we still did everything the same way we always did, women wouldn't have a vote, a Black man would count as a fraction of a white man and everything would be closed on Sunday. When a society grows and its needs change, ideas have to change too. Or we end up no better than the people we're currently fighting on two war fronts.

Holiday Traditions, Dogma and What's Really Important

2009-09-27T16:53:00.012-04:00

Tonight at around 6:00 PM, Jews all over will be gathering for the start of Yom Kippur - the Day of Atonement and the "capper" of our High Holy Day season. Tonight begins with the "Kol Nidre" service, where we ceremoniously and solemnly ask God for a clean slate on all vows, oaths and promises from the previous year. It also follows a 10-day period when we as Jews are supposed to think deeply about the year past, and seek forgiveness from those we've hurt or offended.

I find myself filled with mixed emotions this year, as I am most years of late. As boy and a young man, it was a no-brainer: Holiday With Family. But now, with family dead and scattered, I often find myself exploring different perspectives on the High Holy Days, and the concept of atonement and being sealed in the Book of Life for one more year. And as with some years past, I find myself reevaluating what is important.

As Jews, we're taught that this is a solemn time, a time to fast, abstain from pleasure and atone for a year's worth of sins with focused prayer. Attending the Yom Kippur service as an adult was a big deal to me when I was married to my starter wife - a Gentile. Perhaps it was hidden guilt for having the trappings of a Jewish wedding - Ketubah and all - and not really living very Jewishly. During my separation, it was important because I was in a new community and wanted to feel part of something. And let's face it, I'm sure a part of me was hoping I might even meet someone. Certainly though, most of the memories of this time of year involve family.

This year I'm reminded of an event from adolescence that has stuck with me. My cousin had moved to CA from the east coast and was living with us. We were going to be late to synagogue and miss the beautiful "Kol Nidre" service, as my dad had to work late. My cousin was very upset because she'd never missed a Kol Nidre - in fact, she went without us. Mom and I waited for Dad to come home, and begun the holiday with a nice family dinner. I don't even remember if we made it to the synagogue that night or not. But we were together as a family - and that felt more right than going to synagogue on Erev Yom Kippur without Dad.

Now, I'm living with my fiancee - who is also Jewish. We're not overly observant or scholarly dogma experts. But just being in a loving relationship and living with someone who "gets it", has been far more spiritually and emotionally grounding for me than all the services I attended when married to my ex. That's not to say that I don't need it anymore - in fact, I will most likely go tomorrow. I'll beat my chest during the "Confessional" and the "Al Chet"; I'll solemnly ask God to forgive my sins and transgressions; and I'll say the memorial prayers for my parents during the "Yizkor" service.

But tonight? Tonight I will miss the Kol Nidre service. And I'll miss it intentionally, with no malice or anger or regret. I'll have a nice dinner with my beautiful fiancee, and look together optimistically toward a year of good health and good things. I've learned something about Dogma: it is important. It's been a part of our people for centuries, and it's a large part of what holds us together as Jews. For me though ,the really important things are being with the people you love, loving them authentically for who they are, forgiving their shortcomings and mistakes with love, and just generally treating them with love and respect. And more than just doing it one time of year -the really hard part is making the effort to do it all year round. That is my goal for this year and one I hope I can do happily for years to come.

A good year to all. Shana Tova.

Another Bout o'Block

2009-08-03T21:50:00.005-04:00

Seems like sometimes the creativity is just not flowing. Often it's the stresses of life combined with who the hell knows what - either way, it aint' flowin' now. I've dreaded even coming to my Blog, as I'm reminded of how much fun I've had writing, and how at one time people actually read it regularly. And then I feel badly about not keeping it up regularly like part of me really, really wants to. And then it reminds me of how frustrated I am and that the creativity just isn't there...and the cycle continues. Hopefully, I'll break it soon and be back to at least semi regular, and possibly semi literate, posting.

Clay Maniken

2009-07-05T08:30:00.004-04:00

Is it just me? Or is something creepy going on here?

Perhaps Barry went to his plastic surgeon and said, "Make me look young again to sing Daybreak". And the surgeon was a little distracted and heard "Claybreak"...and there you have it.

26 Things I've Come to Believe - In No Particular Order

2009-07-01T14:54:00.017-04:00

While I don't like peanut butter, I recognize it's important use as a pill-delivery-mechanism for dogs.
I'll probably never get used to the way people in Connecticut pronounce words like "mountain" and "button". As in, "I lost my bu'un on the moun'ain". Grrrr.
It's rude to type on your computer or surf the net while sitting with someone and having a professional conversation.
It's even worse in a phone meeting when you're typing feverishly and forget to mute your phone.
"It's not you, it's me", often actually means: "It's me, not knowing how to tell you what's wrong with you."
No matter how hard I try to not let it bother me, the smell of bananas makes me gag.
If you're six years old and you've brought home the potato plant project you grew in a glass in school, and decided to plant it in the backyard, be sure to tell your clueless mother so she doesn't think someone planted pot in her garden.
I can communicate with dogs ....really basic stuff, but no shit, I believe this - and I'm not heavily medicated. (at least not for that)
No matter how many premium channels you have on your cable/dish service, there is nothing worth a damn on when you want to watch something. And the free movies are never the good ones.
Most big telecom companies (and a good portion of the little ones too) are just plain evil.
All big insurance companies are evil - regardless of how nice some of their customer service reps might seem.
As sales managers go, many who reach that title are really good sales people - but can't manage a trip to the grocery store without screwing it up and getting people under them fired.
"He's just not that into you" has become really overused. And many women still don't grasp the concept.
If you have children, or mentor any, don't kill their dreams, no matter how impractical they seem to you. Find a way to help them reach for them realistically, instead of using your own fears and failures to push them to claw toward the safety of mediocrity.
The older I get, the less tolerance I have for stupid people.
The older I get, the less tolerance I have for trashy people who smack their gum wherever they go - especially when they're working at a restaurant.
Stupid trashy gum smackers ought to be deported to somewhere in the Utah desert - let them set up their own stupid trashy gum-smacking town away from civilized people.
I've said this before, but if women came with teleprompters, relationships would be so much easier for guys. Just because we don't take obscure hints, doesn't mean we're stupid; it doesn't mean we don't love you; it just means you didn't communicate clearly.
Restaurants should offer a Quiet Dining Section where no screaming or bellowing is allowed.
No matter how hard I try, I can't teach my dog to scratch my itch on command.
People on the east coast are no less laid-back than people from California.
Sex is a great cure for stress. But sadly, I hear the converse can also be true.
Ryan Seacrest has been secretly infused with Dick Clark's DNA - just watch him over the next 20 years, it's going to get freaky.
I have a hard time trusting anyone with no sense of humor, and an even harder time liking them.
Anybody taking this list too seriously, needs to take a step back and a deep breath.
Don't worry about #25, there's nobody here reading this anyway.

Holier Than Whom?

2009-07-01T01:02:00.005-04:00

I came across this article about Swingers in the Orthodox Jewish community. It got me thinking about religion and values. If we're lucky, we grow up with parents who teach us how to create good value system for ourselves. Hopefully, they do this by modeling good behavior. Ideally, they practice this good behavior when the kids aren't around.

But like anything, nobody is perfect. And parents have to sometimes ask their children to do as they say, not as they do -- especially with things like smoking, drinking and sex. But parents aren't the only role models or the only ones who try to lead by example. The list includes politicians, religious leaders, and within certain communities, the defacto leaders. By the nature of the roles they accept or the lives they choose, they agree to live by example.

I was raised in Conservative Judaism, but have known many Orthodox Jews who were far more observant than me. I made a personal choice not to embrace the Orthodox lifestyle, as it didn't mesh with my lifestyle; and I'd feel a hypocrite trying to fit in where I didn't belong - where I really wasn't worthy, due to my personal practice. Reading this article makes me really wonder against what standard I was holding myself.

It also makes me think about people who say they lead by example, but are often exposed otherwise. People like Elliott Spitzer who crusaded against prostitution as an Attorney General, but was a customer himself - people like Ted Haggard, a family man and leader of a large church who preached to thousands about, among other things, the sins of homosexuality and drugs. Turns out, he was doing meth with gay prostitutes -- soemthing about these people really gets to me.

And what gets to me is not their morality - I don't judge - I've got enough skeletons in my glass closet that I'm not throwing ceramic coat hangers. What gets me is the hypocrisy. Nobody forces someone to enter and remain in public life. And many who are drawn to it have egos the size of Canada. Often it's those very egos that push them to talk the talk, but not always walk the walk. They feel invincible, and often it's a rush to see how far they can push it.

That aside, these people are, I believe the technical term is, "douchebags". If you going to get on a soapbox and crusade, don't go do the very thing against which you're screaming "Bloody Murder". Political or community leader, religious leader, member of group that holds itself above others -- it's all the same. Don't sign up for the tour of duty of you can't handle the action. If your job involves people using you for a moral compass, you need to point true north all the time - not just when they're watching. If you expect your children to embrace the religious values of your strict community, you need to live them yourself, every day.

There are many reasons I left the K-12 classroom. And actually this was one of them. Among other things, elements of my lifestyle don't lend themselves to "good role model"; and I often felt like a hypocrite when certain subjects came up. When I left the classroom, that was like a burden lifted from my shoulders. I knew I'd never be a politician or a religious activist...too much commitment I wasn't willing to give.

So ego aside, why do people in these positions feel the need to challenge the strict boundaries they teach their children or followers to hold dear? What compels someone who lives a particular lifestyle to vigorously pursue a role that is diametrically opposed to how he appears to live? I don't get it. If anybody is still reading this, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Some Days

2009-06-27T19:41:00.002-04:00

Some days things feel light and fun. And sometimes, like this moment in time, I just feel lonely and sad and can't really talk to anyone about it. So there...I got it off my chest for whatever it's worth. Hopefully I can start acting happy again before anybody notices.

Happy weekend everybody. (I said "everybody", like there are still THAT many readers that EVERYbody might apply...)

:=)

Thank You For Interviewing, May I Have All of Your Passwords Please?

2009-06-19T17:49:00.011-04:00

Bozemnan Montana has gone way over the line. It seems that for years, they've been requiring applicants for city jobs to not only provide the URLs for any social networking sites to which they belong, but to also fork over the usernames and passwords. Is it just me, or does anyone else see anything wrong with it?

Well according to something I read here, it seems an Internet poll of Montana residents showed 98% thought this was an invasion of privacy. Um, you think maybe?

Aside from it violating terms of service of just about every social networking site, it seems it would give them access to information that is protected under federal laws. You know, the stuff they're not allowed to ask you in interviews.

But what I found fascinating was how they justified it. The city official quoted said they needed to do their "due diligence". He cited how it helped keep a man from getting hired by the fire department due to "illegal activity" they discovered - which he says is all they're really looking for.

Hey Bozo Montana, listen up. Here's an idea for ya....by all means do your due diligence. Go to Facebook and do searches for potential applicants. Try to get them to friend you. If they don't agree, you're shit out of luck. You have no right to know what someone writes on his own time, especially if it's not under his own name! Even if it is, if it's a private profile on a site that can only be viewed by people he allows - than it's none of your business. If someone's dumb enough to make something stupid public, have at 'em. But the private stuff? C'mon!

This is as bad as mandatory pre-employment drug testing for non-safety-sensitive jobs. Employers have found legal ways to get people to submit bodily fluids in order to get hired. And now people just turn over passwords like listing the last place they worked. What the hell happened to this country?

What's next? Turn over your personal computer and PDA for pre-employment inspection? Give prospective employers access to your ISPs online records to see where you go and what you view online? Maybe they should also be allowed to require you to submit a year's worth of your credit card statements and shopping receipts, so they can determine if you make purchases that might compromise your integrity as their valued employee.

We need to wipe the privilege of intrusive violation from the hands of the HR nimrods who thought it up. Make pre-employment drug screening illegal, except in certain cases where public safety is a concern. Make it illegal for a company to run a credit check on a prospective employee. In this economy, a lot of people have taken hits. Let's not axe them out of the market for that, when everything else checks out fine. Check for felony convictions? OK, I'll give in on that one. But listing social networking sites to which one belongs, let alone asking for confidential login information - we have to say "hell no".

If they want to do their due diligence, then let them work for it. Let them hire investigative teams to run background checks. Let them spend time and money interviewing neighbors if that's what they have to do. They can require everyone to submit multiple references and check everyone of them thoroughly. But stay the hell out of people's bodies; and if you can't find them online yourself, chances are your customers and the public won't either.

Girly Dog vs. Border Collie

2009-06-04T19:27:00.000-04:00

The tug of war is on. Get your bets in...the classic David vs. Goliath battle....except without a slingshot, and nobody gets killed. No dogs or chew toys were harmed in the making of this video.

Perhaps There's Justice in The World After All

2009-05-30T15:53:00.008-04:00

After all the posturing, pleas of innocence and more bad hair days than Bjork, Phil Spector was finally sentenced to 19 years to life for killing Lana Clarkson. And thank God he's finally going away.

Spector may be one of the all-time great producers in the history of music - no argument here. His "Wall of Sound" was far ahead of his time. But the same guy reportedly pulled a gun on the Beatles to get them to finish a recording session. He's a nutcase who finally got is just desserts. And after OJ Simpson had to be acquitted because the glove couldn't fit, it's nice to see that celebrity status doesn't necessarily come with carte blanche to be a lunatic killer.

And I suppose Karma being the bitch that it is, even OJ couldn't escape jail, albeit for lesser charges. I guess it all goes to remind us of a very important lesson about reaping what we sow. And as we transition from eight years of pandering to the special interests of the rich and blameless, to what will hopefully be a more socially and morally responsible America, the timing is pretty damn good.

"Whichever way your pleasure tends, if you plant ice, you're gonna harvest wind."

Robert Hunter/Jerry Garcia

California: The Golden Stain

2009-05-27T20:32:00.018-04:00

I was always proud to be a California boy. It was a wonderful state in which to grow up in many ways. I used to get pissed when people from other states trash-talked my state. I never understood the hatred. And now I could not be any more disappointed in, and ashamed of, my home state. I can actually say I'm proud not to live there right now.

Equal rights are supposed to mean equality for all. If straight people can marry, so should homosexuals if they choose. It's rather simple. Nobody is asking any church to sanction it or require any clergy to perform a ceremony with which they're uncomfortable. Once again, it's fear rearing its ugly head - the fear d'jour: Homophobia.

If same sex couples want to commit themselves to marriage and all that it entails, why the hell would anybody care? The detractors condemn the homosexual lifestyle - as if all homosexuals are out there screwing on lawns on their way home from bars. (I actually remember that being an issue in West Hollywood a few years back when sex clubs were closing. Which still makes me wonder why someone's apartment, hotel room or car won't work. But that's another story.) Anyhow, these zealots tend to lump all non-heterosexuals into the camp of "deviant lifestyle" or "not moral" or "destined for hell".

They often use religion as the basis for their intolerance. They use the fear of God to convince sheeple to follow along and vote for ridiculous things like Proposition 8. That's one of the things that bugs me - the idea that this should have anything to do with religion.

This is about people who love each other, and make a commitment to each other, wanting to be married to each other - just like other people - where the only difference between them is the gender of the person to whom they're attracted. Like I said before, nobody said anything about any religious organizations having to perform these ceremonies. If your religious group is uncomfortable with it, then they don't have to participate. It doesn't demean or lessen the value of existing heterosexual marriages, as I've heard opponents complain. If anything, it would be their own insecurities and fear of differences that are demeaning them.

I've heard the argument that the purpose of marriage is to build a family unit. So using that logic, I guess since my fiancee and I aren't having children, we have no right to get married. These same people will tell you that same sex couples will be a bad influence on their children, and are often afraid they'll "turn the children gay". Hello? How many gay people came from Norman Rockwell-Brady Bunch homes? I'll go out on a limb and say that there are fucked up people in all walks of life. There are married family men out there molesting their children...but I guess as long as they are married to women and ask God to forgive them, they'll be forgiven and all will be well. Bull shit!

What's next? Do we go back to "only property owners get to vote"? Next it will be only white people, and then only white men. After that we can start demonizing religions we don't like. We can bring back the hideous glory of the "Don't Say No" Regan years, and ride that straight into prohibition and "whites only" restaurants. Won't be long after that and they'll start talking about how slavery isn't such a bad idea. Yeah, I know...makes me sound like a raving lunatic, right? No more ravingly loony than not allowing same sex couples the same right to a legal marriage that heterosexual couples currently enjoy (or decry, as the case may be).

If all people are created equally - and if we're all entitled to the pursuit of happiness, why shouldn't that actually apply to everyone? I have yet to see one good argument in favor of banning same sex marriage. If you have one, please bring it on; because I really don't believe there is one. And I'd love to hear it if you've got it..

Land of Intolerance and the Home of Hypocrisy

2009-05-27T17:58:00.009-04:00

I hate to say it, and as proud as I am of so much of America and our accomplishments over the years, in some ways, we're so far from having it together that it's downright scary. In this article from the NY Times Magazine, we learn that apparently integration hasn't come as far as we might have thought, since the 60's.

Apparently, there is a high school in Georgia that doesn't sponsor its own prom. Instead, there are two private proms set up: A white students' prom and a Black students' prom. White prom is only open to white kids. Black prom is open to anybody. And did I mention that this is going on in 2009?

Freaking astonishing. And obvious why the school doesn't sponsor its own - they'd have to include both groups. In fact, a school administrator was interviewed and said something to the effect of they had tried it, but turnout was poor, so they're not considering sponsoring one again.

Now here's the truth. The white parents at this Montgomery County Georgia school are racist pigs who can't seem to fathom the idea that the only differences between Black and white students is the color of their skin. They'll say they're not being racist, and that it's just a tradition. We've always done it that way!

I think anyone whose read my older posts knows how I feel about that defense. It's horseshit! Tradition is no excuse for defacto racism and exclusion. I have friends in and from Southern states; and I know not all southerners feel this way. But what the fuck is wrong with this contingent of bigoted asshats who can't seem to get past the hatred and fear?

That's it - fear. The kids even said they wanted an integrated prom, but their parents won't allow it. Their parents are afraid of having a mixed dance, because it was "wrong" when they were growing up, and they're too closed-minded, self-involved and ignorant to realize how completely messed up this is. Perhaps they feel it will promote their white children getting too close with Black students -- like it doesn't happen behind their backs all year long anyway!

Perhaps most disturbing were some of the comments I read by morons agreeing with this practice. "Well they have Black only beauty pageants and stuff, so we should have ours too", or something like that. Look: There is no "White" subculture - Martin Mull made a lot of $$ lampooning it, but it's not real. There is Black culture, as any time you have sub group that has to struggle for equality, there are bound to be some shared subculture that develops, and with it, its own music, art and so on.

But white people? C'mon, we're the majority in this country and have never been oppressed because of our color. There is no White Culture - unless you consider drinking beer on the front lawn and listening to country music while your wife/cousin fixes dinner to be a cultural activity. The white supremacists who say there is, or there should be, are just scared little children with bald heads and/or hoods, who can't come to terms with their own lack of American Dream fulfillment. They need to blame anyone who appears different than them. So anyone non-white becomes bad, and suddenly "White America" is under "attack". These people and their hatred are the real problem in this country; but what do we do?

Well, here's my solution. No federal education funds for any school districts whose schools support segregated activities like this, even if not paid for with school funds. The school is implicitly agreeing with hatred, racism and bigotry by allowing this crap to continue. So since federal funds are stretched enough, let the hate mongers fund their children's education out of pocket. If parents want to behave like ignorant children, let's hold them accountable for the bad examples they set for their own.

The Seat Swings Both Ways

2009-05-26T15:43:00.011-04:00

Not that it's a problem in my home, but I thought with summer more or less upon us, it's time to address an etiquette issue that's bound to come up as people visit one and others' homes. How should a toilet seat be left at rest: Up or Down?

That seems to be a major sticking point for many, and a sore spot in many relationships. I've known women who are militant about the seat being left down with the lid open. Their argument is often that in the middle of the night, when it's dark and they're too tired to check, they don't want to "fall in". And don't close the lid in those houses, because they are unable to discern the absence or presence of the hole, and may just piss all over the lid.

OK lazy ladies, listen up; because your seat-down-mentality is full of, um, holes. First, if we have to be paying enough attention in the middle of the night to move the seat, so should you. It swings up and down, so we can both pay attention equally, and adjust as needed. I mean c'mon, is it that hard to lift and lower a seat? You give us so much crap, but with a piece of TP in your hand, it isn't that tough or that messy for you either.

And why the hell can't you pay enough attention at night to tell whether it's up or down? Why? Why? Why? This has puzzled me for years, and nobody has ever given me a reasonable answer. Get a nightlight if you must, but for heaven's sake, don't blame us because you were too lazy or stupid to check first. If I pee on a closed lid without checking, that's MY fault - not the person who closed the lid - and I need to clean it up without bitching at anyone else.

Secondly, and I honestly don't do this, but most guys won't lift the seat to pee if it's down. Yes ladies, I know that sounds gross. But it's reality. If you insist it stay down, most guys will just leave it that way, do their business and move on. You'll be lucky if they take some paper and wipe up any spillage. Personally, I use the seat too, and would rather not soil it; so I always lift. But most guys don't think that far into the future.

So here's my solution, and it seems to work pretty well. On any shared toilets, the lid and seat BOTH go down after each use. That way, we both have to lift, and we both have to check before use. And as a bonus, the big dog doesn't have another water bowl, and the little dogs won't jump in and get stuck looking for treats.

Whaddaya think? Anyone? Bueller?

Four Years, And A Lot To Remember

2009-05-25T13:48:00.008-04:00

I've been thinking about how long it's actually been, and how quickly the time seems to have gone. It's been four years (almost to the day) since the Memorial Day BBQ when my father visited me in Los Angeles for the last time ever. March was four years since Mom checked out. I still smile, a bit sadly, when I think of her comment, "...when I die, your dad will be gone within six months". It was six months and two weeks to the day. I think perhaps because Memorial Day falls between Mother's Day and Father's Day, I tend to think about them today.

It's kind of weird; I think about them more today, than on their anniversary or birthdays. Maybe because besides this being a day about remembering those who died for our freedom, it's become a defacto time for gathering with friends and loved ones, and just having a good time with those special to us. And despite the obligatory grief that parents and children often give each other, there were a lot of good times...and sadly, probably more than I can remember.

My mom used to tell me that what got her through some really dreary times, was to just remember the good, and let the bad fade away. I always kind of envied her ability to do that, as I have been one to hang on to the negative memories and let them ruin something otherwise good...or as the song says, to "...find the fatal error in what's otherwise alright". Not that I'm a pessimist - far from it. But I never understood how she could do that so easily.

I've learned that I tend to look back at the good times as "read", and most of them don't stand out unless there was something extra special. The bad shit, however, sticks out like Natasha's Adam's Apple on this past season of "Rock of Love: Skank Bus" (or whatever it was called). I'm not sure why that is; perhaps I'm just wired that way. But it's days like today that make me really think about the good stuff, and try to let it outshine the bad.

For me, today is a day to remember the good things I have, and the huge leaps I've taken since "Death in the Desert - Tour 2005" (shirts still available in some areas). I'm on the east coast - back where it all began when my grandparents emigrated here in the early 1900s. In a way, it's like a coming full circle, which can also be like starting anew - as I've done here.

I think back to the events that helped shape me and helped me make me who I am today. And I can't help but smile at the great lessons my parents helped me learn. I'm truly fortunate to have had them in my life for as long as I did, and recommit myself to being the best I can at whatever I do. I know they were proud of me, so it's not to please them. But perhaps one of the most important lessons they imparted - whether directly, indirectly or through guilt and the subsequent therapy - was to live to make myself proud of me. It's a lesson I often forget, and it comes like a much needed loving kick in the ass today.

Yes, today is really about remembering people who fought and made the ultimate sacrifice for us; I know that. But as I've also learned, anything can be what you make it, if you really want it to be that way badly enough.

Happy Memorial Day.

Better Sleeping Through Chemistry & Gardening, My Ass!

2009-05-23T05:03:00.002-04:00

It's five am, and after ativan, tradazone and other things, I actually got around four hours before waking up about an hour ago. I actually thought I was finally sleeping through the night. At least it's a holiday weekend where I have nowhere to be until noon today...yeah, it's freaking today already. Not sure what else we have going on this weekend, but to anybody reading this, have a great Memorial Day weekend. Here's wishing everyone lots of fun and sleep!

Speaking of which, I feel something kicking in so time to attempt recrash.

Oh Those Whacky Poles and Their German Porn

2009-05-21T19:48:00.005-04:00

Someone from Poland actually found this blog by typing "Biggerman Porn" into Google. Not sure how, but it pointed them to this ol' post about a childhood flu-induced hallucination.

Hey, what do I care? As long as SOMEONE shows up here now that I'm posting again.

One of those days, er weeks,er whatever...

2009-05-19T19:11:00.003-04:00

Ever just feel like you've been kicked in the gut, and your whole body is shaking on the inside? That's kind of how I've felt these last couple days. I flash back to being a kid in school and feeling out of place - left out of the crowd. I remember that sad, sick feeling in my stomach - and just wishing someone would come over and just smile at me, maybe even, God Forbid, talk to me kindly for a minute. It feels kind of like that - though I think unrelated....I mean, my colleagues are 500 miles away and my friends are scattered, mostly in CA. It's not like I have any fitting in issues with any groups. Maybe I'm just a bit nutty.

I don't know.....it just feels crappy and I hope I can get a handle on it quickly.

Focus

2009-05-19T17:06:00.000-04:00

...ain't all it's cracked up to be, right? Who needs focus anyhow?

Walking in Footsteps

2009-05-18T20:45:00.007-04:00

I love my dad a lot and miss him terribly at times. I have a world of respect for him on so many levels, it would take several posts to address. But Dad certainly wasn't perfect. And when it came to business, there were always struggles

At one time he actually owned his own business, and enjoyed a good deal of success. But it became too overwhelming at a certain point. He always tried - he was never afraid to take the risk - to make a better life for us. If that meant taking a promotion to a job he hated, he tried it. If it meant quitting and investing his retirement into an auto detail shop, which he sold to buy a sandwich shop, he tried it. But sadly, these ventures flopped and landed him back at square one. If he hadn't sold his house when he did, he'd still be working -- and he died in 2005.

One of my biggest fears my whole life has been that I'd follow in those footsteps. And I've had plenty of jobs and experiences where I know that hasn't been the case. But I've also had my what ifs and if onlys. Right now I'm working hard trying to build a territory in a fairly new area...where I don't really have any of "my contacts"....it's like starting from scratch.

Considering that, and from what my colleagues tell me, I'm doing fine. But I set a higher standard for myself than just doing "fine". I expected to be doing better by now and of course, in my fucked up brain, I start worrying about following down "that path". What if I don't hit my targets? What if it takes longer than predicted? Will they stick with me? Will my fiancee be patient with me? Will I stress myself so stupid about it that I can't function? Will I ever stop wondering "what if"?

Well, I think work is going to keep my around. They seem to recognize what I'm doing and feel that in time I'll build this up nicely...and I have to agree. I have faith that my fiancee will be patient, as she has been to now. I know women who would've been putting a ton of pressure on me about now; and she's been great. Besides, I put enough pressure on myself for my boss and family together.

As for whether I'll stress myself stupid so I can't focus, that's happened a few times. I have to find a good "ground"...a way I can refocus my self-support mechanisms,, and direct myself properly and at the right pace, without giving in to the distracting conversations I'm prone to have with myself about everything. The curse of a brilliant mind....hehehe, g'head, laugh at that.

Anyhow. Life is good. I'm grateful to have a job and a home and my family (fiancee and the fur kids). So my house in LA won't be mine soon.......and at best, if it goes well, it won't cost me anything more. My credit may have gotten fucked up by divorce aftermath, but I can rebuld that in time.

Life goes on and focus get better with chemistry, rest and a lot of deep breathing and relaxing. Either way, I know I'm walking in my own footsteps, so I still have some control of how the story goes. And while I can't say that I'll ever stop wondering "what if", I'm still walking toward a happy ending, and smiling whenever I can.
(Cue Gene Autry...."Happy trails to you, until we m...."

Red Ones, Yellow Ones, Orange Ones and Green Ones

2008-10-19T21:02:00.009-04:00

Or...Fall is way bitchin!

I'm talking about leaves. Yes, it's fall in the northeast again, and it's been gorgeous! We took a trip to Mohonk Mountain House this weekend. Amazing place! It's up in an area of New York called "New Paltz", about 90 miles north of Manhattan - or "Upstate" as the NYC locals like to call anything north of the Bronx.

The vistas and landscaping were truly breathtaking. The stately house was beautifully appointed - especially if you like a classic look. Very classy place, and the brunch buffet was quite filling. I was thinking, for what they charge, it ought to be...but considering the view from our window table, and the really tasty prime rib, crispy bacon and waffles with Heaven-sent maple syrup, I have absolutely no complaints. Well, we didn't see all there was to see. I guess we'll just have to go back!

Enjoy the little video if you like. The full size pics are much more vibrant, but this is still pretty cool. Now I get why people who don't live in California love fall....Fall is way bitchin!

Happy New Year and All that Good Stuff

2008-09-29T15:48:00.007-04:00

You may recall that last year I rang the Jewish New Year in with a post called, "Shana Tova is not a Stripper." In case you missed, feel free to check it out. I'm actually kinda proud o'that one!

Anyhow, this is the time when we ( and by we, I mean those of us who learned from a young age not to buy retail) ring in the new year. I always get a little sentimental this time of year. I've been eating a little more deli when I can, and thinking about years past. Rosh Hashanna, which literally means "Head of the year", starts it off. Then in around 10 days, Jews all over the world fast for the Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur.

For me, it's a bit of a mishmosh at this point in my life. I don't practice my religion like my family forefathers. I was Bar Mitzvahed at 13 and spent years beyond that in the synagogue. My best friends today are people I know from a regional Jewish youth group to which I belonged in high school. But the ritual practice, and the dogmatic adherence to the rules of the religion, are things that just haven't been a part of my adult life.

On one hand, there's the traditional Jewish guilt. But to be honest, that's more or less over. At this point I think I'm trying to find where Modern Day G fits as a Jew in 2008. On one hand, I love the traditions of my religion. I love going to synagogue and hearing the beautiful chanting of the services, the familiar melodies of my childhood. They are comforting, especially in these difficult times.

But when I stand back and look at religion as a general concept, there is a part of me that sees how if we all could rise above our religious doctrines, and simply embrace loving each other and the world around us, we would have what Jews say they've been looking for all along: Meshiach, or the coming of the messiah - which many feel will be more of a messianic age, rather than a kingdom under a ruler or judge.

So many rules, so much history, and so many interpretations, it can boggle the mind.

So I will head to synagogue this year, don my yarmulke and talit (prayer shawl), and chant the ancient calls to praise, glorify and later to atone. And as I do, and despite what might seem a cynical outlook on religion, I take comfort. The melodies and the prayers take me back to another time and place. Just hearing the sound of the High Holy Days brings a chill down my spine and sense of, "it's going to be ok." It's the feeling that I'm in a place where I feel like I fit in. A place with family and friends. A wonderful, comfortable and, despite it not being my "home synagogue", a familiar place to start over.

Shana Tova everybody. And to my Gentile friends, especially those in large metropolitan areas where many Jews live. Enjoy the light commute!

Who Owes What?

2008-08-31T13:50:00.006-04:00

Or, Don't go out to eat, if you can't afford the seat!

It's great to have people to get together with. Personally, when getting together involves food, it's even better. I'm fortunate that when we get together in a restaurant with friends - as we did last night - it's a lot of fun. And just as important, we seem to be able to resolve who pays how much, without bloodshed; albeit sometimes with a little initial confusion. (And no, my guilt-bred Jewish friends with whom I just dined....this post isn't at all about you!)

But it makes me think of meals past - ones shared with large groups of people, who for some reason can't seem be able to figure out how much they should pay. This is why when dining in large groups, I have adopted a custom which used to drive me nuts: split the bill evenly by the number of diners.

Years ago, this method of payment allocation really irked me. I was usually the guy who had dinner and a soft drink. I was always pissed when people expected me to foot the bill for my share of their five cocktails! But I've also come to realize that when it's "everybody pay for his own share", people can't estimate the cost of their meals and drinks to save their lives. In fact, I'd say when it comes to estimating fair share, most people are about as bright as a 10 year old refrigerator bulb.

So for those of you who eat out a lot and wonder why, when you return to restaurants, the waitstaff fights over who gets stuck with you, let me share some words of wisdom.

Let's briefly discuss the tip. I know the word tip comes from "to insure prompt service". But now we give it after service is rendered; and if service was good, we should tip generously. Now some of you who have never worked in a service industry will disagree with what I'm about to say...but then you're probably a cheap-ass bastard who needs to be bitch-slapped.

If service is good, and you tip less than 20% - fucking shame on you! If you get good service and actually calculate 15%, because that's what some cheap relative told you back in 1974....double fucking shame on you. This is 2008. These folks work hard, for little up front money. If they take care of you, take care of them. If you can't fathom at least a 20% tip, please limit your dining to Denny's and McDonald's.

OK, back to my point. I've been in countless large groups where I've seen people order multiple cocktails, a $15.00 meal and dessert. And then I've watched them throw 25 dollars into the pot and say, "This should cover me."

What the fuck is wrong with people that they can't take two minutes to actually estimate accurately? A cocktail today in a decent restaurant can be $8-$20! I know this, and I don't even drink! I can't begin to tell you how many times I've shelled out extra money, because people in my party are too damn cheap, too stupid, too lazy or some combination of the three, to figure out how many dollars worth of food and beverage they actually shoved down their loud mouths.

I remember a few years ago, I actually stopped going to a restaurant I loved - and where they treated me well. This was all because a friend with whom I dined for lunch one day, asked if he could put it on plastic, and I just give him cash. I gave him enough to cover my share and about a 30% tip. I had no more cash in my pocket! And my Lansman friend, with his obviously Jewish last name, did what makes Gentiles worldwide say we Jews are cheap: He left a fucking one-dollar tip!

Since that lunch, I've been on a mission to educate both the clueless nimrods, and the cheap-ass bastard alike, about how to dine with a group and not be an asshole. Sadly, in doing so, I usually come off like a know-it-all, sinister, control freak who wants to be in charge of the money - even when it's not necessary.

Know-it-all? Depends on your perspective. Control freak? Well, maybe you've got me there a little. But sinister? Want to be in charge of the money? Hardly. It just galls me to see people so clueless that they can't figure out that if a drink costs eight dollars, and dinner was $15, and dessert was six - then $25 just ain't cutting it! And after seeing it so many times, I can be prone to grab the bill, and start barking out requests like a damned drill sergeant. And yeah, people just love when I do that....well, not really. But the control freak in me has to be sure the server is being taken care of, and that everything's covered.

So I babble on here; not that it really matters. And again I pledge to try to be a little nicer when reminding people of how much they should put in...at least until the next asshole at my table tries to leave a $1.00 tip for a $20 food and drink tab.

Etiquette and the Out of Place Diner

2008-08-21T19:22:00.004-04:00

I've been thinking about this since my Carnegie Deli post a while back. Have you ever been dining in a restaurant, or the home of someone from another country, where you felt about as clueless as a hooker at a eunuch convention? I certainly have. But rather than focus on my insecurities or faux pas, it's much more enjoyable to turn the attention to, and make fun of, others.

The Carnegie Burger Incident reminded me of lunch in a deli several years ago. I was working for the school district and was sent, along with a guy from the Data Processing department, to a conference or training or some such event. The event was in Santa Monica, a place with which my "colleague", let's call him Skip, wasn't overly familiar. So being a good Jewish "host" - meaning I'll recommend a great restaurant, but sure as hell will not be buying him lunch - I suggest Izzy's Deli, a Santa Monica mainstay for years, that I believe may now be sadly gone.

Skip hears deli and is probably picturing a sandwich shop where bologna and prosciutto live side by side with white bread and mayonnaise. That wasn't Izzy's! Izzy's was your typical Kosher-style deli that at one time catered to the large Jewish population of LA's Westside/Santa Monica area. So imagine Skip's surprise when he sees four different types of mustard on the table and asks incredulously, "Dude. Where's the mayo?"

All this got me thinking about doing a public service for some of my gentile readers and providing a bit of "deli etiquette", should you ever happen upon one for lunch. I won't bore you with too much detail, but here's a few good rules of thumb for my Goyishe friends (that means people who buy retail) to consider when planning a trip to the deli:

White Bread. Even if they tell you after asking them several times that they have white bread, don't order anything on it. You can usually get by with a Kaiser roll, and possibly get away with wheat or sourdough, depending on the sandwich. But as as general rule, the "bread de jour" of the deli is Rye Bread every day. Sometimes you'll get to pick between corn rye and wheat rye. My mom used to love corn rye and would have me bring it to her when I'd go visit. Really, it's a matter of individual taste. And some places have better bread than others. But if you order something on white bread, you will be laughed at in back and sneered in front. Your food most likely won't be spit on; but still, it won't be put together with much love...stay away from the white bread.

The Sandwich: As you already know from the earlier post, don't order a burger in a deli. It's like ordering PB&J at Spago. If you're not a vegetarian (and if you are, WTF are you doing in a deli?) and you eat red meat, you have two basic choices: corned beef or pastrami. You can tell a good deli from the quality of its corned beef and pastrami; these are the staple meats of the deli and of most of its patrons. Corned beef is usually a bit leaner and milder. Pastrami can have a kick and can be fatty if you don't go to the right place. The two mixed together can be nearly orgasmic for a hard core carnivore. And since Kosher-style delis aren't usually actual Kosher delis, you can even get them with cheese! Personally, I prefer swiss with the rye bread toasted.

And to reinforce what should by now be obvious, if you order your pastrami on white bread, you run not only the risk of everyone working at the deli harassing you, but you also open yourself up to potential mob pummeling. Pastrami on white bread is such an offense to the senses, that I think there's actually a law in New York City prohibiting it in restaurants. Pastrami on white bread with Mayo - you take your life into your hands, and your homicide will be legally justifiable. In fact, a deli owner was recently acquitted of the murder of a patron who did just that. Not only did he get off, but the city threw him a parade.

Mayonnaise. I don't recall ever buying the stuff until I was married to Respondent, who was gentile. As a general rule, Jews don't use it - except to make egg salad or something similar. But dammit, we NEVER put it on sandwiches! So, since Kosher-style delis catered to people with "Jewish tastes", mayo is something you often have to specifically ask for. Sometimes they'll give it without a second glance. Sometimes they'll look at you like you took the sandwich, threw it on the floor, spit on it and then danced on it while eating a Chicken McNugget and humming Wagner. The latter is the kind of deli I prefer, because the pastrami is probably so damn good it melts on its way to your mouth, even though it costs so much it comes with a complimentary triglyceride test after three stamps of your "Cholesterol Club" card.

Interesting Items. If you're big on Haggis, you just might enjoy some kishka - it's basically stuffed intestine, and I'll spare you the details of how it's stuffed (everything's Googleable nowadays). Try not to confuse it with a knish - a pastry of sorts that has more starch than a laundry supply house. Ever try knaidlach? Well, if you've had Matzah Ball soup, then you have. Knaidlach is the Yiddish word for Matzah Balls. (Knadle, being singular, so if they give you one Matzah Ball and call it knaidlach soup, you've been ripped off.) And be sure you don't mix it up with another great soup favorite, kreplach - these are beef-filled dumplings of delight that can give you heartburn and put on 10 pounds just from looking at them. And my advice to a deli novice is to avoid the borscht - unless of course you're particularly fond of cold beet soup.

OK, now I've shared just a few of mine. I want to hear yours. What interesting rules have you observed in different restaurants. Maybe it's "Don't stand your chopsticks straight up in your rice." Or if you don't go to restaurants, places where you eat. What stupid things have you done while dining to embarrass yourself in front of friends, neighbors or family-to-be? Please share. Your embarrassment is our pleasure, er I mean, a learning experience for us all.

And as a bonus, I still allow anonymous posts. So c'mon all you lurkers, I know you're out there. And you've all done or seen something apropos; so make up a name for yourself, and share! Let us live vicariously through you just this once!

Pausing to Reflect

2008-08-16T13:01:00.014-04:00

I know it's been a bit since I've posted. And it also seems that nobody has noticed. And that's alright - I really wouldn't expect any less. But I have been rather slammed. New job is great and keeping me busy.

A lot has gone on in the last few weeks - the details of which I'll spare you. But I was having a conversation recently, and for whatever reason, I was reminded of an event from adolescence. It was something that had hurt so badly that I'd blocked it out for quite a while. But in discussing it recently, I came to realize just how profoundly it has affected me.

I don't have fond memories of high school. I mostly attribute it to moving to a new place in 3rd grade and never really fitting in with the locals. The truth is, most of bad memories stem from two major incidents that ended up defining me for years, and still touch me more than I'd like. One happened in high school; and the other happened when I was a young child.

At 14, life is tough enough for most kids. I had friends - two of whom had been my best friends since sixth grade, and the third, one of my best friends since junior high. Stupid me, I was very naive about true friendship. One day, while walking down the one of the hallways at school, my three good friends ran abruptly down an adjoining corridor. Not knowing what we were running from, I followed. I soon discovered that they, were running from me.

As one of my good buddies explained a couple days later, they were embarrassed to be seen hanging out with me. The way I dressed and wore my hair, the acne I struggled to get rid of, and just me in general was apparently enough to endanger their social standing or something. So, rather than helping their friend to fit in better - something I'd desperately wanted to do, but never could - they basically said "fuck you".

I remember just feeling numb. I didn't want to go home that day; but I had to. My mom saw that something was wrong, but couldn't get it out of me - ever. In fact, I don't think I ever told my folks about that - just that I wasn't hanging with those guys any more. It was too embarrassing. I sure as hell didn't want my folks to know! Inside, however, I wanted to die. It felt like everyone at school knew and was laughing at me as I walked by. I can't explain it, I know it sounds paranoid. But it was how I felt at the time. And in time, I came to believe that no relationship was secure.

I mean, my folks disowned my brother because of things that were said. We weren't even allowed to talk about him - I wasn't allowed to ask questions about him. That was it. So if home wasn't secure, and my "best friends" weren't there when I needed them, I started to question whether anybody ever could be. I began to feel like an island. And I found it easier to be an island than to try to fit in where I knew nobody wanted me around. It hurt like hell to always feel like I was standing on the outside looking in - but it hurt less than the fear of total humiliation. I couldn't bear that again; so withdrawing was the most sensible choice. I'd come out and interact as needed; and I'd put on a good act at home, and in public, when I did. But inside I couldn't wait to get into my room, so I could shut the door, and shut away the outside world.

I've come a long way since then. I worked through a lot of the issues that held me back, and have what I think most would consider a normal life. I'm in a relationship, I'm social, I have friends - some very good friends, who have been there when the chips were down. But deep inside, no matter how good things are, there is a part of me that is still afraid. There's that part of me, deep in some dark part of my soul who is still afraid that something I say or do will end a friendship or relationship.

I know it sounds silly - maybe even stupid. And no, I'm to trying to sabotage with paranoia. Believe me, I've worked on this for years, and continue to do so. But sometimes, something will happen to trigger this insecurity; and I go into "mode" without even realizing I'm doing it. If I've wronged, or really angered, someone close to me, I can't rest until I make it right - or at least know that we're OK. I try not to overdo it, but sometimes the moment gets the better of me. Especially if I am not able explain what happened and try to make amends.

I flash back to my mother - right after my brother left. And after the requisite time for questions, I remember being told to "Drop It". That was it. No more questions - don't ask, don't discuss, go away, I don't want to hear it. That theme repeated during various events in my life - teaching me that I'd better get to say my piece when I have a chance, or I may never get to. This can be a source of aggravation for me, and others, as well.

I guess that now, as a semi-adjusted adult, I still sometimes unwittingly replay the video, so to speak, from way back then. It's like a primitive reaction where I go into what is almost a panic to fix whatever I did, so I don't get sent away. It's a momentary lapse into insecurity. It's not like I'm a total insecure mess most of the time or anything. It doesn't usually last long, but it does rear its ugly head now and then. Like I said, I know it sounds stupid. But it's truly amazing how things from our past can influence how we behave so much later in life.

So, I continue to work on it. - now with a little more awareness of why I do it. And hopefully I can make some progress without doing any permanent damage. Enough of my personal introspection.....not that anybody is still reading anyway. ;-)

Cleveland, The Rock and Roll of Fame and Irwin Guitars

2008-07-30T20:16:00.020-04:00

In addition to heading to Ohio for training, I also got to take a little side trip to meet the parents. After being together for over a year and a half, I finally met Fiancee's parents, grandmother and uncles. I enjoyed meeting the family. But what really got me going was our only real touristy-type activity while in Cleveland.

Now I've heard a lot of Cleveland bashing over the years. And I have to say, after spending a few days there, it may well be unwarranted. I found it to be a great town with some very cool neighborhoods and good stuff going on. For me, however, a major highlight was the legendary Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I won't post a pic of the building, you can find it online. But it's a totally bitchin design with lots of steel and glass.

Inside is a valley of treasure for a music fan. In the 2-3 hours we were there, I got a great overview. But I really want to go back and look at a lot of things in more detail. They had original lyrics for the Allman Brothers songs Ramblin Man and Blue Sky, in Dicky Betts' handwriting. They had Jim Morrison and Duane Eddy's report cards. There were letters written from Pete Townsend of The Who, and so much more.

For me the highlight was the display of some of Jerry Garcia's custom-made guitars. Including some of the Irwin Guitars. For the uninitiated, Doug Irwin was a guitar-building virtuoso who built Jerry some bad-ass guitars.

I've been a fan of these guitars for years, but have never seen one up close. These are true masterpieces. To see them was a rare treat.

Though not an Irwin, it was also a treat to see the Steve Cripe guitar, "Lightning Bolt". It's the guitar that Jerry played during many of the shows I saw, including the Vegas '95 shows - the last shows I ever saw him play.

The hall doesn't allow pictures, but I was able to snap a few cell shots. So if you're into it, enjoy. If not, hey, I guess it's not for everybody. But for this amateur hack-musician, this was something I'll remember for a while to come.

While not an Irwin, this guitar made by Steven Cripe is still pretty cool. I believe it is called, "Top Hat".

This one and the two above it are of the Irwin masterpiece, "Rosebud". Click on the picture to enlarge and check out Jerry's name behind the strings. The link goes to another site with more info on this guitar.

This was the guitar Jerry played at my last Dead shows - Lightning Bolt.

In-body tuning. Sweet design - don't believe Jerry ever played it. I am pretty sure this was an Irwin piece called, "Headless".

Back and Then Off Again

2008-07-29T18:50:00.002-04:00

Back from Ohio. Great trip, job looks great, and I met Fiancee's family. More to come, but I'm fried and have to leave early Wednesday AM for Boston.

Another day or so...and to quote the Governator "I'll be back".

I Went Back To Ohio

2008-07-23T19:04:00.003-04:00

We'll, it's not like I'm from here or anything. Though I was here once before for the interview.

Day one ended yesterday after a marathon drive from NYC to Ohio. At least I did get to grab a Mamoun's schewarma for the road. It hit the spot and made a mess of my shirt! Though I wish I had ordered one more - they're so freaking good!

Today began early, considering the late arrival yesterday. I had my head overfilled with all sorts of stuff - more to follow tomorrow. Overall, I'm extremely excited. This appears to be a great company with lots of great stuff happening. I feel fortunate to have this job and am ready to kick some serious ass and make us both (them and me) some money.

I'm dealing with the non-smoking Marriott-owned property as best as I can - freaking Marriott fascists. At least I found out I can generally book my own travel going forward. So far, so good. A couple more days here and then it's the stairway, er highway, to Cleveland for a few days of family stuff and a pilgrimage to the "Hall".

More Asshats soon will come at the other place - I'm just getting started.

Happy Wednesday everyone.

Eating My Words and Job Training Travel Prep

2008-07-21T09:07:00.005-04:00

And they don't taste as badly as I originally thought.

Sometime back, I did a post about how real men don't get pedicures. Well, with the new job starting (I drive to Ohio tomorrow for training after an on-the-job-learning-opportunity in NYC), I figured I should be well groomed. So, I decided to try a manicure. And it was pointed out that my toes could use some work too, so what the hell.

To be honest, it wasn't anywhere nearly as bad as I thought it might be. In fact, it was kind of nice. I mean, they give you a foot massage and a hot stone treatment and truthfully, they do a much better job of cutting my nails than I ever could. I guess I've always had a "thing" about getting this done. Rather silly now that I've tried it.

And now that I have the grooming adventures out of the way, today is prep for the trip. I was supposed to leave today, but the new "boss" called and told me we have an appointment in NYC, which would be a great learning opportunity. So he'll fly in for the day, I'll meet him in Manhattan for a couple of hours, then continue on to Ohio for three days of training.

All in all, I'm pretty excited to be starting a new gig. Especially since it includes a regular paycheck, something that's been sorely missed! And to add icing to the cake (something I never do, but that's my meat tooth talking), I get to go with well trimmed finger and toenails. Just please help me keep this grooming thing in check. Please promise me that if you ever see me use the word "exfoliate" to refer to anything other than someone who used to be a foliate, slap me, will ya? Thanks!

Leonard

2008-07-18T00:01:00.001-04:00

As some of you may know, my fiancee and I have chosen to remain child-free. Nothing against kids, just our choice. But I still have lots of fond memories of my days teaching. And with those, there are those not-so-fond memories of students who inspire you to remain child-free. Or at the very least, if I were to replicate, I know a few names I'd never give to my spawn.

One of those names is "Leonard". This particular Leonard was in my third grade class, my second year teaching for the suburban Los Angeles County district where I worked for years. His name was actually Leonardo, but when he was making his desk name card, he ran out of room, so I thought he routinely went by the name Leonard and began to call him that.

Leonard is the student who, the day before "Back to School Night" inspired me to tell the teacher next door, "If you see his head come through the wall, just stick some antlers on it and tell everyone you shot it hunting."

I will admit that I actually felt a little badly for him after getting to know his parents. They were enabling lunatics who felt school was too restrictive and didn't give him a chance to explore on his own. Hey, I'm all for constructivist learning. But pure discovery learning is a load of crap unless done properly; and I was in no position to change the district curriculum. Really, they had a problem with anyone telling their precious Leonardo to behave. And have you ever noticed how closely the spelling of "precious" and "precocious" are? Coincidence? Doubt it.

Anyhow, Leonard was a handful, but could be a real character. He would ask me questions out of the blue about my birthday, my dog's name, my girlfriend's name etc. I figured out pretty quickly that he was trying to guess the password for the secure places on my computer. He was freaking nine years old!

My favorite story, though, was about Leonard and the bathroom. Another student returned from the boys room right after Leonard. The other student confided in me that Leonard had trashed the place. This student wasn't a tattler. I think he didn't want to get blamed for something he didn't do - especially when the culprit was someone who drove most of the kids nuts.

I waited a bit and then pulled Leonard aside. "What happened in the bathroom, Leonard?" I asked him quizzically. "Uh, nothing." He replied.

"Did something happen in there? Something get messed up?" I asked.

"It was like that when I got there." He quickly retorted.

"Oh, I see." I said to him in earnest. So if I go take the video tape out of the hidden camera, what will I see? You DO KNOW we have those right?"

He nodded affirmatively, though his expression was one of shock and near disbelief. He replied, "Yeah, I know about those".

"Well?" I asked. "I could go back and slowly look through hours of tape and get really angry about all the time I have to waste to do it. Or you could just spare me all that work and step up to the plate and tell me the truth."

"Alright." He said breaking into tears. "I did it. I threw toilet paper all over the bathroom and messed it up. Sob sob, snort, snort."

I had the little shit dead to rights. The only thing missing was a taped confession. Of course I didn't need that; this was elementary school, not federal court. So he got sent to the office, served whatever punishment was given out and was later probably consoled at home and told how we didn't nurture his creative and artistic side. Stupid parents.

Anyhow, at least I took solace that for that moment anyway, I was smarter than a third grader.

Early Morning Musings

2008-07-17T02:45:00.005-04:00

It's almost 3:00 AM, and I've been up for around an hour. As I get older, I sometimes have to get up in the middle of the night - I guess that's to be expected. But this time, I couldn't get back to sleep.

As I lay there in bed, my mind kept whirring about everything that's been going on. New job, trying to rent out the house in CA and thinking of all the money spent on getting here over the last couple of years. Believe me, it wasn't where I wanted to be mentally, but rather it's just where I was. And I felt unable to just breathe and relax.

I guess I just need to step back, and be grateful for the things I do have, which include: my health, a great lady, my girly dogs and their new step-siblings, good friends, a new gig with lots of promise, chocolate covered bacon and a roof over my head. Oh yeah, I'm also grateful for the Ativan - which I believe is finally starting to kick in.

Nite all!

Maybe I Like Southwest Airlines

2008-07-15T12:12:00.008-04:00

You may recall a post I had a few days ago about a flight I took from LA to Hartford with a screaming gaggle of children. Well, I've been sent this article and wanted to share. Check it out, it's pretty cool. (Thanks Babe, you're the best!)

Apparently, Southwest Airlines removed two woman and four children and left them in Phoenix, because the children were so disruptive on the plane. Not only were the children disruptive, but the two adults did nothing to control them.

Hallefuckinglujah! It's about freaking time!

These adults got pissed because they were stranded with four kids and no money in AZ. Who the fuck in their right minds takes a trip over 2000 miles from home with four children and no money? File these idiots under "too dumb to realize they shouldn't have taken the trip" or another victory for the chid-free and the people who actually teach their kids proper behavior.

And perhaps the best part of the article were the more than 150 comments! Most of them are in support of the airline. It's about time we started holding parents accountable - but I've said that already. I just had to share the story. Sometimes we don't need to feel validated. And then sometimes validation kicks ass!

Playin' to the Tide

2008-07-15T09:59:00.007-04:00

Sunday was gorgeous! The sun was out, no rain could be seen and Phil Lesh and Friends were playing a concert at the Nikon at Jones Beach Theater. I've been to quite a few stellar outdoor venues: The Greek in LA, Santa Barbara Bowl and of course Shoreline Amphitheater in Mountain View, CA to name a few. But I think I have a new favorite to add to the list: Jones Beach - right on the freaking water on Long Island. (In fact, years ago, the beach and water used to separate the stage from the first rows of seats. They called it "the moat".)

The day started with the Levon Helm Band doing a great folk/bluegrass/bluesrock set. I missed the beginning and was wandering a bit during most of Levon's set; but it sounded fantastic. He was in fine form on vocals, drums and whatever else he was playing. It was definitely a fun set, culminating with a great version of "The Weight", a classic song by his old group, The Band. This was definitely a great way to warm things up for Phil.

Phil and Friends took the stage around 7:30ish and played about a one-hour plus first set. The first set was great, but nothing like the more than two hour second set that was laden with one show-stopper after another. Since Jerry's death in 1995, the various incarnations of offshoot bands have been putting their own spin on the music. Phil has shown himself once again to be a master arranger and master resurrector of many old and nearly forgotten songs.

The second set featured, among other things, "St Stephen" into "The Eleven" into an amazing version of "Unbroken Chain" followed by an equally amazing and adventurous "Dark Star" into "Born Cross-Eyed" and back to "Dark Star". While this means nothing to most if not all of you, had this been an actual Grateful Dead show with Jerry and the boys, this set would have been one of legend. The St. Stephen was a bit of a highlight for me, as I've always wanted to see that song live. I got a tease in Oakland once where they actually started playing it, but then went into the Stones' "Last Time" instead (same basic chord structure).

The encore featured a newly arranged version of the classic "Attics of My Life" - beautifully done in perfect harmony, and then back into a "Playing in the Band" reprise to finish the show starter. Truly a great show (more info here if anyone is interested).

All in all it was a blast. I flew solo, as my fiancee isn't into the whole crowd scene, but is very supportive about me going to see my shows. And that was cool - I used to do it all the time at Dead shows in the west, and I usually make friends wherever I land. This time it was a couple of real estate guys from Philly who have been heads for like 30 or 40 years, and catch as many shows as their schedules and wives will permit. I always love the stories people have to tell about how they got where they are - just one more facet of the experience.

Combining the beautiful evening, the venue literally sitting on the water, the kind crowd and great music, you couldn't have asked for a better night and a better show experience. Thank you, Phil! I wish you many, many more to come - and hope I get to see a few of 'em!