Bye Ray, Take Roger with You

     The Baltimore Ravens released Ray Rice on Monday after the security cam video of him decking his then fiancé in an elevator was posted online by that paragon of journalistic integrity known as TMZ.Apparently the word from the Ravens and the NFL is they had never seen that video until today. Right, and I'm the friggin' Easter Bunny.


     The notion that NFL security and the Ravens team security was never allowed access to it smacks of absolute bullshit. If these security guys can't get their hands on stuff like this, which makes no sense to me, then they need to be replaced. Seriously, you want those of us with more than half a brain cell to believe that TMZ can get this video and league security couldn't? False. The entire situation was handled poorly from the start by the league and the Ravens and both are now backpedaling and standing behind the " We didn't know" defense. No na na na no, false. I have to give Goodell credit he is the consummate politician and marketing huckster, not since P.T. Barnum has anyone been able to stack bullshit that high. This guy needs to go. This was a whiff of epic proportions, way beyond any swing and a miss from the Bambino or Reggie. He hasn't been good for the league since he came aboard and the sour notes just keep playing a tune that rivals fingernails on a chalkboard.


     Anyone who has ever watched sports, especially the NFL knows that these guys generally are not choir boys. They basically are paid a lot of money to kick the crap out of the guy in front of them for 3 hours every Sunday. Granted these guys all live in a fishbowl, but the other 6 days of the week they have lives outside of work and like the rest of should adhere to the rules of society. Goodell is like the marketing guy that puts " New and Improved" on the packaging without changing a thing on the inside. Most of the fines and suspensions dished out the last few years have been about protecting the brand, and promoting the image of the league as caring about important issues like player health and personal responsibility, which ofttimes comes across as a misdirection ploy. The NFL has been and always will be run by a bunch of rich old white dudes, though one would think there must be one or two with a social conscience in there somewhere. Then again, I may be just a dreamer after all. By the initial consequences dished out by the league after this incident it essentially went on record saying that domestic violence is acceptable, now they are going to get tough after the public outrage. Hey Roger maybe you should suspend yourself for moral indifference. Anyone out there think this was handled well? Didn't think so.

Somedays Life is a Bob Seger song

Over the past 24 hours or so around here I’ve felt like I was living the last verse of the Bob Seger  song, Night Moves; you know the line that goes,” I woke last night to the sound of thunder", and I woke last night to the sound of thunder and I woke last night to the sound of thunder; Sensing a pattern here? “How far off I sat and wondered…” Hell, I didn’t wonder how far off it was, it was right over my damn house. Living in the desert we don’t often get thunderstorms that last and last like this one. Thank you Norbert for this extremely big and extremely wet storm, which gave us the highest rainfall total in one day since weather records were first kept in 1895 for the Phoenix area. The morning commute was interesting to say the least. Most of the streets in the cities around the valley are either 5 or 7 lanes with 2 or 3 lanes each way and a center suicide lane for left turns. Today most of them were all 3 or less because there was so much standing water. The storms drains are so not equipped to handle it and that is partly because they are usually clogged with road debris or palm fronds and other tree parts that fly around when we have dust storms.  Some entire districts cancelled school; others made it optional or asked students to come in late.  I was so glad I didn’t have to be on the road at rush hour after watching the news this morning. We had a lot of callouts where I work due to road closures and flooding. The morning here was akin to waking to a massive snowstorm overnight and the city almost ground to a halt.  Some cities weren’t hit as bad, kids went to school and the world wasn’t coming to an end, it only felt like it.

     When it came time for me to brave the elements I was more concerned about the other people on the road than the rain itself. I decided to try to get some pics of what was happening on the way in. Since I solo commute I knew it would be a challenge though I figured I’d at least get an opportunity when I hit my usual traffic light or two on the way in. The other part of that equation has to do with my cell phone camera. We have a hate –hate relationship, I hate it and it hates me back. It will only take decent pictures outside, forget indoors, even with every light in the room on they just come out dark. And no I’m won’t be getting a new cellphone my alarm clock is just fine thank you. I laughed like hell later when I had a chance to see the pics I managed to take this morning at the traffic lights I was stopped at. Line up the shot, ready to click and the light turns green and we’re off again,  so they didn’t really come out very good, but I’ll let you decide.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Is it any wonder no one asks me to take pictures since I have a tendency to cut off the tops of peoples heads too?

 

 

Here are some links to some better shots of what went on around here this Manic Monday and Google images for Arizona Record rainfall has some real good ones too. 

 

http://www.azcentral.com/story/weather/2014/06/10/arizona-monsoon-photos/10308627/

 

http://www.azfamily.com/news/Up-to-100-homes-in-Mesa-threatened-by-floodwaters-274415111.html

 

I think they these folks have a better relationship with their camera then I do. I wonder if counseling would help me and my cellphone cam work through our issues?

 

 

Find Yours

It has become a ritual around my house the last few years whenever I start to tell a story my wife will stop me short before I really get started and ask the all-important question: “Is this guy dead?” Apparently I know, well I knew a lot of people that are no longer with us and stories being what they are the people in them sometimes are just not around anymore. I don’t sit around contemplating why them and not me, I’m just glad I’m around to tell stories.  Well here goes another one, sort of.

I was watching one of the little tribute videos that have been plastered all over Facebook since Joan Rivers passed and was struck by something she said at the end of the one I watched. Joan Rivers kicked the door off its hinges to pave the way for the great woman comics that followed her. Just by being herself no matter what the subject she could be sarcastic, abrasive, and unflinchingly opinionated though she never apologized for who she was.  Not everyone appreciated her humor all the time, though I ‘m sure the biggest stuffed shirts laughed until they cried at many of her jokes. She mentioned in this little video that for a comic doing comedy was a calling and it is what we do, we make people laugh.  It was spoken in such a way that I knew it come from inside the heart of who she was. One should be so lucky to find a calling in that way, the internal knowledge of this is the way I go. I hope you find your calling and I thank you for taking some time to share mine with me.

 

 

 

 

 

Image: http://lifeisaforkintheroad.com/

 

Where Are All the Guys with Rubber Arms?

Yesterday while watching the most over produced show on TV, AKA Sportscenter,I saw the Phillies had 4 pitchers combine to throw a no-hitter.  A no-hitter isn’t a common occurrence, even more uncommon is a collection of pitchers pulling one off. Usually when a guy has a no hitter going he keeps throwing until he either finishes it off or self-destructs. There was mention of the starter reaching 108 in his pitch count so they had to pull him, though I think issuing walks to everyone but the hot dog vendor was an additional concern. The mention of the pitch count got me to thinking and though I don’t follow baseball much and haven’t for a good while, when I hear talk about pitchers the subject of pitch count always seems to worm its way in to the conversation. My question is, if so many pitchers now playing in the majors are closely monitored for pitch count why are so many blowing their arms out in a relatively short period of time?  I look at talented guys like Kerry Wood, Brandon Webb, and Mark Pryor and wonder how come these guys burned so bright and then got hurt and faded away?  With all the science involved in pitching anymore why hasn’t it improved pitchers ability to keep their arm intact and pitch at a high level for a long time? So, okay that’s three questions, math challenged at the moment I guess.  With daily occurrences like the quick hook in yesterday’s no hitter it is no wonder the complete game has almost disappeared from the stats book. Last season two pitchers tied for the most with 4. Four. Only twice in the last 15 years has the major league leader hit double digits in complete games, James Shields in 2011 and Randy Johnson in 1999.  It has almost become a self-fulfilling prophecy for arm trouble by focusing so much on preventing it happening. The complete game has slowly been disappearing from the game over the last several decades and though it is not a great measurement of a pitcher’s ability, it makes the obsession with pitch count all the more baffling.

As these questions were bouncing around the playground that is my mind I decided to do some investigating on when complete games for pitchers started to became a disappearing statistic.  The numbers have dwindled year after year since the early 80’s, with last pitcher to hit twenty in 1986  being Fernando Valenzuela and 15 has only been reached 4 times since then. Pulling up the list of the all-time leaders I noticed it is top heavy with players from the pre-World War I era. There are only 2 pitchers, Robin Roberts and Gaylord Perry that pitched after 1965 in the top 50. The leader is Cy Young, the guy the award is named for, with 749, the current active leader, CC Sabathia, at his current seasonal average would have to pitch 283 more seasons to catch Cy. I’m going out on a limb and guessing Cy's record is pretty safe.  Granted the game was different in those days, though it still doesn’t explain how 100 years ago a pitcher could start 35-40 games a year and complete 80-90% of them and keep doing it year after year. They sure didn’t have all the off season workouts, strength training and other performance sciences developed that we see now. How did those guys manage to have such seemingly tireless arms? Did they pitch drunk everyday so they never felt their arm get tired? I have no idea, do you? I sure didn’t expect to be writing about baseball today. I guess it’s just another of those questions I started with and fell through the hole in the paper.

 

 

Stats mentioned found here: http://www.baseball-reference.com/leaders/CG_career.shtml

 

And a Loose Garment for You

A friend of mine has been in and out of the hospital recently and I went by to visit him today. We spent an hour or so talking about the doctor’s game plan going forward and the possibility he could be there a little longer. While we sat there talking about work and how noticeable his absence is, I was struck by the notion of how lucky I am and the knowing that our roles could easily be reversed in the blink of an eye. We talked quite a while about Faith and Gratitude and how important they are when Life throws you a Koufax style curveball.  We discussed Faith in the outcome, Faith in the good you put out to the world and have it come back to you. Also having the Gratitude for wanting what we have, not necessarily always having what we want. Faith can be a funny thing if I stop to think about it. I ‘m talking about the everyday Faith that is overlooked whether we turn on a light and know it will come on, or getting behind the wheel of a car and having Faith the driver coming in the other direction will stay on his side of the line.  Knowing that and recognizing that makes me grateful for always having examples of things to be grateful for. Where Gratitude gets lost along the way is in not being able to see past the things that occur and forgetting to look at them from another viewpoint; the line at the checkout may be long though I’m grateful I can stand on my own two feet in that line and when it’s my turn be able to the pay the lady and go, or the broken shoelace when I’m already late and instead of getting angry know that I’ve provided myself another pair of shoes as an option, Those are just a couple of the myriad examples that pass through my experience each day. I work at reminding myself each day when I wake in my own bed, in my house, put my feet on the floor and sit up, walk to my own bathroom with running water to wash my face then amble on to my kitchen for a cup of coffee that I am grateful for that and more. Those thoroughly mundane things that if someone was watching a video feed of me in the morning their reaction would probably be, “why am I watching some dude in his skivvies get ready for work, there’s has to be better stuff on this time of morning”, whereas from my side of that lens I see anything is possible today because I can do those things. Some folks aren’t lucky enough to be able do some or any of those things I do each morning; myself I am Grateful that I can.  

            I understand why monks primarily live as they do, as far as possible outside the daily hub bub and white noise we are bombarded with daily; it sure makes it easier to be a thoroughly spiritual individual.  The test for me each day is stay on the right side of Life, Truth and Love and live it out in all my dealings no matters what or who I cross paths with; wearing the world as a loose garment so to speak, which of course is easier some days than others. My wish for you today is that your path includes a loose garment of your own. Namaste.

 

 

Summer's Other Bookend

     Good bye summer, it's been an interesting and enlightening one for sure. Labor Day is upon us once more, the matching summer bookend to Memorial Day, the other day that lets us know its time to switch gears again; another of those waypoints in every year that remind us that change is the only constant. It is amazing how fast another year has gone by and 2014 is 2/3 done already. Summer is winding down, kids are back to school or will be this week, the water in the favorite swimming hole or pool suddenly seems colder than it did two weeks ago and all the plans start for the holidays that will come sooner than we imagine. When I was kid I hated when Labor day was getting close because it meant school was starting. Now this year especially I looked forward to it since I am fortunate to be able to say 3 day weekend. Not everyone is that lucky. Depending on where you live the weather has begun to throw out subtle reminders to let you know change is coming. The nights are cooler, there are more bugs huddled around the back porch light for warmth, the grass is looking a little less brown and a lot more green. Here in Arizona we are slowly moving from frying eggs on the sidewalk days to just plain old hot, though still hot enough to make me glad I no longer have to work outside everyday. The other day my wife and I were in the grocery store and she remarked to me that Halloween stuff is already filling the shelves. I reminded her that before Halloween gets here the decorations will be sharing shelf space with Thanksgiving and Christmas stuff. I laugh when I see the displays hitting the stores two months before a holiday, almost like the retailers think we are going to forget the day is approaching, though I understand the reasoning it still makes me shake my shaggy head. I find I miss New England the most in the fall when the leaves are changing, the days are just warm enough to be perfect for cruising the back roads on a motorcycle, the nights cause you to reach for that extra blanket and the smell of earth rises up to permeate everything that isn't covered by cement or asphalt. It is probably the main reason I prefer taking vacations this time of year if life permits it. Looking forward to spending a few days in upstate New York soon, where the change of seasons will have begun and the trees didn't come on a truck.

    

Seriously, Coffee first

     A typical morning at my house begins with a stumble to the coffee pot. I love the fact it has a timer I can set so its final belch greets me as I make it to the kitchen. Armed with freshly brewed caffeine goodness I head to my office, all of about 8 steps; my house is rather small and plop down at my desk. What do I see? Horrors! The power light for my monitor is dark, not even the orange light it gives me when it's asleep. I flick the power button, nothing happens so of course I spring in to action checking connections, rebooting the computer, trying a different plug, all to no avail. My coffee sits patiently off the side, cooling its heels waiting for me to notice it. My sleep befuddled mind starts to go in to overdrive and hear myself thinking the same things I heard over the phone while doing tech support. "It worked last night! It couldn't have just died! I wonder since its not getting any power what the hell is going on and surmise my used video card took a crap , then realize I would see the No Signal message or at least the power light would be on.  Then I began to make a plan to get myself back in the game by heading to Fry's electronics to get a new one, though that will have to wait until tomorrow which is Saturday. I realize my coffee is starting to get cold so I stop for a minute and slurp some down. Wait! I have my old Gateway laptop collecting dust on a bookshelf right here. I'll fire up that old bugger, that's why I've kept it around just for situations like this. I know it will be slow but at least I can get back to something of my normal routine. Coffee one disappears down my gullet as I impatiently wait for my roachy little laptop to load and I head out for a refill. Finally it loads, I check my e-mail, a couple of pages I like, jot down some ideas for things, though I just get generally frustrated trying to make a computer get with the times that was new when Dubya was in office, before I have to head out to the work space.



     My wife and I work somewhat staggered hours and on any given day our start times and end times are 3 to 4 hours apart. When I'm required to do overtime we can go a few days without seeing each other and came up with the idea of a spiral-bound notebook we leave next to the coffee pot to communicate with. Sometimes serious, though more often silly it's just our way of keeping in touch with the other when they aren't there. My note this morning of course ended up rather long recounting the death of my monitor and ended with the suggestion we head off to get a new one this weekend.



     A few hours later I pulled out my phone and read the following text on my break:

     "Good morning hubby...Good news for you. Your monitor isn't dead. I turned it off last night because I was surprised it was on and I didn't want the image to burn into it. I really didn't look to see what it was I just turned it off....read your note and turned it back on. It works fine...."



     Facepalm.



     My security stuff runs in the wee hours of the morning that is what my wife noticed. Apparently I couldn't figure out how to push the power button this morning. So score one for me on the gooberific moments list while I sit here, grin and shake my head. Moments like this I'm glad I can laugh at myself and those escapades often end in a coughing fit because I laughed so hard, like right  now. Since I don't want to add to the already long list of serious already out there, there is one thing though I for sure will be serious about. Seriously, no more tech support without at least one cup of coffee.

    

Airheads & Egga Muffins

I just read that Longmire on A & E has not been renewed for a 4^th season and I’m pissed though not all that surprised with the state of the entertainment industry these days. Granted, fans like me of the show got 2 more seasons of Longmire than those of us who loved Firefly. Then again that was on the Fascists On Xanax network, so should we really have been that surprised?  As I remember A & E started out as the Arts & Entertainment network, though I think now it stands for Airheads & Egga Muffins, where we are treated to such gripping TV as Duck Dynasty & Storage Wars.  No, I don’t watch that s***, though I do see the promos for it when I fast forward through commercials on my DVR.  I really think the big execs in the entertainment industry see the majority of us a collection of morons. The “reality TV” that fills the airwaves is akin to a greasy burrito fart in a crowded elevator; you can’t get away from it; the endless promos show up no matter what you are watching. That type of show in prime time really got that engine rolling full bore when Survivor hit the airwaves. Is that still on?  The entire genre has snowballed out of control. I tried watching Jersey Shore once and couldn’t stop asking myself, “Why is this mess a TV show?” Maybe I’m a dinosaur, but I do remember when almost every show was only in black & white and TV was not very sophisticated for sure, though now it feels like we are regressing, to what I know not. I marvel, briefly mind you, at the offerings we gobble up as entertainment currently and wonder what is coming down the pike next. I’m sure TV execs are banging on the heads of their writing staff for a dazzling new schlock filled idea to draw on our collective addiction to living vicariously through our TV screens. I wonder, if the people we live with, and that includes ourselves, are we just not interesting enough anymore. How did we get so broken?  End of rant, time for a PB&J and a book.

 

 

 

To My Other half

MIRRORS

 

You are a mirror

of myself.

Pictures, of sunsets, laughter,

books on a shelf.

I've seen the end of the universe

in your eyes.

Motors running top end,

moving to overdrive.

Infinite possibilities

I do fathom and wonder,

taking chances

no fear of blunder.

I feel your heart

when I look in your eyes.

Glittering passion,

soulful sighs.

Two minds well met,

after many tough miles,

the crowd in the room

overlooks knowing smiles.

When I listen to you

I'm hearing me.

The lessons I've learned

or need to see.

You kiss my cheek or

hold my hand,

your love washes over me,

from end to end.

Mindful and grateful,

for the moments we share,

a kiss,  a laugh,

a toss of thick hair.

My mirrors reflection

reminds me to see,

there are no judgments

between you and me.

Pardon My Dust

I've have been fiddling with the look of this blog trying to find something I like for a layout, adding some page gadgets, and just in general making this place look better. I finally realized why I was seeing no comments because of the way I had comments set up. Boing! Oh well live and learn right? A little bit of reading and some experimentation and lo and behold I now have a labels list. The fact that it took so long to get it right I don't really want to admit to, but I think I just did.

To those of who take the time to read what sprouts from the end of my fingers as I bang away at my keyboard I thank you for your support while I continue on with this endeavor and for your patience with the changing face of these pages. Let me know what you think. Thanks for stopping by.

Draft of Fantasy on tap

I somehow managed to score first pick in our Fantasy Football League draft today. It is odd picking first then waiting for 18 picks, then picking 2 back to back , then wait for 18 more picks again, then picking two and so on over and over.  My wife and I play in the same Standard NFL.com league  and only play each other once this year. One league is definitely enough because that takes enough time since I can't seem to stop hunting the waiver wire. Do I promise to not tinker with my lineup so much this year?  That will be an emphatic yes, though you can't see me crossing my fingers behind my back. I am hoping I have a pretty much set it and forget group this year if people stay healthy. We’ll see I guess, here are the culprits:

RB – Jamal Charles, KC

RB- Reggie Bush, Det.

WR- Brandon Marshall , Chi.

QB- Matthew Stafford, Det.

WR – Larry Fitzgerald, Ari.

TE – Greg Olsen, Car.

WR – Marques Colston, N.O.

RB – DeAngelo Williams, Car.

WR – TY Hilton, Ind.

RB- Danny Woodhead, S.D.

RB – Ahmad Bradshaw, Ind.

K – Matt Bryant – Atl.

WR – Golden Tate, Det.

Def. – New Orleans Saints

Def. – Arizona Cardinals

 

 

Off to the Vet

      We took our cats to the vet for their annual checkup and vaccinations. We had to go on Saturday, which made for a long wait. Everyone else that works had to be there too. We saw one of those tear at your heart moments when a guy come in to pick up his dog's ashes in a little wooden box. Pets are part of the family after all and it was tough to see.  Our two are usually not easy to get in the pet carriers before we go. This time when we brought the carriers into the living room their natural curiosity worked to our advantage and we were able to scoop them up and get them inside without a struggle. Of course we were regaled with sounds of discontent due to their incarceration, first with outrage, then fear to finally grudging resignation. When we got to the vets we hardly heard a peep. I’d imagine their experience was like the sensory overload akin to my first and only time in Vegas, occurrences which I know neither of us is in a hurry to repeat.  We had to wait a while for the vet once we got into the exam room.

 

                                              Oh crap , you can see us hiding in here.

                                             

                                           You keep watch over there, I'll handle this direction.
                                         

     We heard the vet working on a cat in another room. It sounded just like he was hollering, "NO!"

                                                      What are they doing to that guy?

     Finally the vet showed up to do exams, which really didn't take all that long.

                                                If we ignore you will you go away?
                                        

    
     They both got a clean bill of health other than some tartar on teeth and news that our two chowhounds are a little overweight. They made themselves scarce for a couple of days sleeping in dark corners while the aftereffects of their shots wore off then it was back to business as usual.

    

Wire and Grit or Something old, something new, something...

...dusty.
       Many nights this past year I`ve wanted something light to read as I drowsed  away the last vestiges of the day in my recliner. Said recliner was my day time hangout spot in addition to being my bed for all of 2016;  I`d would on occasion read one or two of my older blog posts. Sometimes I`d find and do some missed edits or bad grammar.  More than once  I realized  I didn`t remember writing a particular post and was often 3/4  the way through before my memory kicked in. I`d like to think it was because of all the drugs the docs had me swallowing and not my memory. I happened across the post that follows here as it appeared to align with events of the week.  This just passed Sunday ended up being a day to think about old friends; those that are still here and those that have since taken their step.        
Since the 2017 PBR,  the most dangerous and longest 8 seconds in sports, came barging through the gate on to my TV screen a few weeks ago. From the first event many of the riders have worn a patch for one of the young cowboys, he was 25 and died right before the season started.  A dangerous sport that supplies real danger both inside and out the arena, i.e. at work or home.
I reposted what follows here because it just seemed to fit the day Sunday. If any of you have read the rants and riffs that trickle from my fingertips you know that I`m not above doing this if the mood strikes me; I confess to being a rule breaker from way back.




I hope for all of you; your day of 86,400 seconds has been put to good use so each second was filled with lots of good stuff like friends, love and peanut butter. 



Especially peanut butter. 









Robin Williams suicide has continued to be big news all week with the accompanying grief, sorrow, tributes and insensitivity all combining into a giant WTF.  The tributes have been fun to watch, some sparking laughs, others sniffles revisiting one of the world’s great talents.  Those are the type of things we all need to do when someone that touches are lives moves on, to keep track of the good. Of course there are always the insensitive clods that have a burning desire to show their corrupt personalities in public. I’d send these knuckleheads a pallet of asshats, though I refuse to pay the postage. Can you still send stuff COD? When you consider the source why are any of us surprised? I won’t waste digital real estate by using names, anyone that hasn’t been under a rock the past week knows of who I speak.

I’ve had my own experience of being close to someone that did take themselves out and I’m sure more than one of you out there have as well. To say the least this was an experience I do not wish to repeat, even the asshats mentioned even they had a Mom.  I had a running buddy during those days when disco was on life support, the Champ was a shadow of his former self and the Steel Curtain was turning to rust.  If those references are outside the scope of your American history ask someone you know who was around at that time, someone over 40 years old. My good friend was quite a character. Mikey was a sawed-off collection of wire and grit that didn’t know when to quit, whether it was working or playing. I swear he had calluses not only on his hands but his insides too. Lunch was often a bologna sandwich –  just 2 pieces of bologna between 2 slices of white bread, no condiments included - just bologna and bread. This was frequently washed down with an ice tea glass half  full of peppermint schnapps.  If you looked past his leathery face and gapped toothed grin you found a real heart of gold. He was truly one of those guys that would give you the shirt off his back , he would actually take his off and give it to you. He was always willing to lend a hand.  That’s why I hired and later fired him 3 times over a decade of our paths crossing. Our paths would head in opposite directions for a while. Then providence would throw us together again and I`d I hire him because he would work until you made him stop and would be the one individual that had already proven much more than once that he was the most dependable individual I had in the crew. Eventually I would have to let him go, though I would hate doing it when he would go off the rails. I hated to mostly because he was a close friend, always my most dependable member of that decade of Gregg  and the 3rd because he had forgotten more about a particular subject than I would ever now about it. The day I knew he had stopped being dependable, as junkies are prone to do was always a sad day for me. The day of THE talk always took a few days for me to overcome the sadness for doing what I knew needed doing  
I hadn’t seen him for a few months after the last time I had to turn him loose when he called me to borrow a step ladder. He was painting the new place he was settling into with his girlfriend and her daughter.  We spent a couple of hours sitting in front of his fireplace telling war stories and laughing our asses off. It was the happiest I’d ever seen him.  I told him when I left I‘d come get the ladder when I needed it. Several  months went by and I hadn’t heard from him , which wasn’t unusual, so I went out to his place to get my ladder back. When his girlfriend answered the door she seemed a bit out of sorts, which wasn’t out of the ordinary for her – she was often well lubricated with booze. I told her I came to get my ladder and asked where Mikey was.  She looked kind of stunned. “You didn’t know? Michael OD’d last month, a couple of months ago he found out he had AIDS. “  My legs turned to jelly and I was glad the house had a 2nd floor. We sat and talked for a bit about what the hell happened. I was dumbstruck at first, then I realized knowing my stoner brother like I did I knew he wouldn’t say anything to anyone about what was going on inside him.  His brother had died of AIDS a few years before and he told me more than once he wouldn’t go through the same shit he watched happen to his brother. I stumbled around in disbelief for a while trying to get my mind around what happened. I attempted to stay in touch with his girlfriend after, but she disappeared into the nethers not long after and I don’t know what happened to her. Initially I was angry at him for not saying anything to me, then I realized that was selfish on my part. Coming to that place for anyone is extremely difficult and personal. Judging him for his choice because I didn`t agree  it would the carbon copy of pegging that first stone then trying to hide my hand in my pocket. Events like those of this past week bring that all back, with the entire collection of nagging whys and what ifs, along with  the feeling I  wasn’t paying attention to the signs.  I asked his lady friend if she knew a particular glass or coffee mug he used most and if so could I have it. She rattled and bumped around in their kitchen for awhile and returned with a coffee cup. I used it for coffee every day for a couple years until it shattered into 8,000 pieces, give or take a few, compliments a ceramic tile kitchen floor. The man I knew definitely fit the idea that family is often folks you or I don’t’ share the same bloodline with.  I still miss him.

Today, and the days to come, are about the aftermath for the Robin`s family and friends left and their attempt to move forward after an event such as suicide. Eventually the hubbub will slow down and those still on this plane will be left to carry on with all the questions that are tagging along unspoken while they deal with the events of right now.  Little by little,less visitors will arrive at the door carrying coffee cakes and casseroles until you’re left with your their thoughts about what has occurred. It takes effort to focus on the good of what was shared prior, when the rawness of someone you love being ripped from your life and going forward for a time is akin to auto pilot. You know what you need to do and you do it, though you do it with a heavy heart. After a while you string enough of those types of days together and realize Life goes on because that’s what Life does, being  ever mindful of how precious it is.

2012 - Though hard to see it the hat has a propeller on it.

Nanu Nanu

One of the world's great talents is gone. The how and the why will be speculated on and reported about ad nauseam for the next few days. I'm guilty as the next person who gets caught in the train wrecks that splash across the net on a day to day basis, though in this case none of that stuff matters. What matters is Robin Williams has moved on: we will no longer have him to entertain us. I heard a comedian say once, "That being funny all the time is hard work", for the life of me I can't remember who said it, but Robin Williams made it look easy. I've seen all the TV shows and movies he has done and though many of them were really good, to me where he really outshined other comedians and actors was when he did an interview. The interview would typically have some idea, thought or word that could turn on a dime into a riff or rant about something apparently nonsensical and at the same time be right on point, usually with an impression or an accent thrown in for emphasis. At that point the interviewer was totally off point and everyone was in rolling in the aisles with laughter, which I think was HIS point. He made the ad-lib an art form, that to me was his gift to us. Thank you Robin. You will be missed.

The Grocery List

Ask anyone that has known me for any length of time and two things will probably be mentioned. The first, Gregg has his own language and secondly he talks backwards on purpose. This little ditty is about the first of those. After a few years living in Arizona I began working in an antique and collectibles store.  About year or so later one of the owners became very ill and a few days before he passed on he asked me to take over as bookkeeper and to help his partner keep the store going, which I agreed to.  The remaining owner had a bit of an air of a Southern gentleman, though it was frequently more air than gentleman.

          Anyone who has ever experienced the joy that is working in retail knows you have days you can’t stop to piss and others that are deader than Abraham Lincoln.  During one of those cemetery quiet days after I’d straightened, dusted and vacuumed every item in the store within an inch of its life plus sharpened every pencils I found I still needed something to do. I started a grocery list, just a few things to pick up on the way home.  I left the list on the counter and went off to do something in the office only to hear hysterical laughter rolling at me from the other end of the store. Ric, the owner, had the list in his hand.

He looked at it, looked at me, looked at the list again and asked, “What is THIS?” , while waving it in the air.

“It’s a grocery list.”

He threw his head back and howled. “WHAT! A grocery list? This isn’t a grocery list!  There’s things on here I’ve never heard of. Boy you are outta your rabbit assed mind! If you sent ME to a grocery store and I asked for the stuff on this here list they’d take me away in a straitjacket.”  I grumbled to myself that decision had already been made for him. He perused the list again and just continued to screech with laughter until he ran out of breath and had to lean on the counter.

“I sort of have my own shorthand.”

“I’m glad you know what this says cuz I would be absolutely pixilated trying to figure out what some of this shit is if you sent me out of here with this.”

          He put the list down on the counter and walked away shaking his head, occasionally bursting in to a loud cackle. He just went waltzing through the aisles of the store, straightening this and moving that, all the while telling the chairs and lamps waiting patiently for new homes, “The man is crazy.” From that day forward he always wanted to see any grocery list I wrote.  He would look at it and laugh then trot off laughing to himself and muttering under his breath.

          The list probably looked some thing like this:

                                                   

          Now let’s fast forward about 13 years to the first few months of dating the wonderful woman that is now my wife.  At that time we were both living close to the nut and eating berries and bark as our main form of sustenance.  We both like to cook so instead of going out we would take turns making dinner at either her place or mine. One night it was my turn to make dinner and I told her I had to change what I was going to make because I was out of fred brums. It didn’t seem to faze her in the least and dinner was a success despite the change in plans.  Little did I know where that brief conversation would lead.

A few months later Dani was cooking dinner at my house again and asked me if I had any bread crumbs. I reached in the cooking supplies cabinet, grabbed the can, handed it to her and said, “Here ya go, fred brums.”  She took the can and froze, then looked at me. 

          “What did you say?”

          “Um here ya go, fred brums?”

          She stood there with a look of stunned surprise on her face, slammed the knife she was using on the cutting board and said, “OH.MY.GOD.”

          I’m a bit flummoxed at this point and really wondering what is up so I venture a cautious, “Uh, What's wrong?”

Then I saw the look that I’ve grown to adore. Her mouth gets little and her eyes get big for a moment, then the hands start to move in circles and go faster as the story she is telling unfolds.

          What follows next all spewed from her in one breath.

 “You are NOT going to believe this I went to FOUR stores looking for fred brums because I thought it was a spice or something you really liked and used a lot and you said you were out of it So I wanted to surprise you with it one day because I had never heard of it and I thought that would just be something special to surprise you with I even spent almost an hour in the spice aisle in Safeway looking at everything before I asked somebody Now I know why the people in the grocery stores looked at me like I had 4 heads” 

I immediately pissed myself laughing.

          Dinner was delayed a bit while we laughed till our sides hurt though I know dinner turned out okay, they always do.  Anyone listening to the number of times Oh God! was said during those 10 or so minutes would have suspected Billy Sunday was back on the revival circuit and in my kitchen.

          Since then we’ve both had plenty more gooberific moments like this one to laugh at ourselves over. I know I’m definitely way ahead in the count on those types of moments though no one is really keeping score mainly because laughter always wins. That reminds me, I think we're out of fred brums again.

                                                 

         

Bears with Dingleberries

I saw a commercial the other night that made me question evolution. Not the argument between Darwin’s ideas and the Creationists. No I’m talking about something much less volatile though of vital importance to each and everyone one of us. What set my mind adrift in the sea of contemplative nonsense was the evolution in the marketing of toilet paper.  This is big, we all use it many of us have our own special names for it. Some of you know it simply as TP, others are more self -conscious and whisper the words bath issue like they trying to avoid anyone knowing they use it.  Sometime the direct approach can work best so I imagine the words shit paper causes anyone a moments doubt about its use.  Then there are the odd family monikers that are borne from simply sharing space year after year. Often no one knows why it was given its household name, and becomes similar to that crazy aunt who lives in the attic and can only be talked about in code when company is around.  Growing up in my house we called it sheet music, the origin of its birth name lost in the pages of time, though the name still stands as a testament to tradition if nothing else.

I remember my mom telling stories about being the 9^th of 10 kids a in small Connecticut town in the decades after World War I. “We had 14 rooms and a path with the Sears Catalog hanging from a nail inside the door of the outhouse.  When only the shiny pages were left us kids would race to the mailbox when the mailman came hoping the new catalog had come in the mail and then fight over who would get it first.” Living through that period of severe lack during the 30’s she developed an appreciation for “modern” things like automatic washers and soft toilet paper.  

After watching toilet paper commercials for many years I ‘m still surprised that it’s never called that on TV, instead it’s always bath tissue, which to me has always been odd because it implies it’s tissue you use for a bath.  Anyone who has ever had the misfortune of dunking an entire roll knows that you are left with a big wet useless wad of gloppy mess. I’m sure there are some of us who remember how well wet balls of toilet paper stuck to anything and everything in junior high, the only drawback of course was getting caught flinging it. I grew up watching Mr. Whipple feeding his toilet paper squeezing fetish and shooing away anyone else that tried to satisfy theirs.  After many moons of trial and error for softer, fluffier and more absorbent sheets we have finally graduated.  Now to hawk those sheets of softness we have bears with dingleberries. One shudders to think, what would Mr. Whipple say?

 

Finally Football

The long wait is over. It’s August and that means the start of preseason games for the NFL and fantasy football angst will soon engulf the premises. Time to crank up NFL Sunday Ticket and bring on the games!

I watched some of the Hall of Fame induction ceremonies over the weekend and per usual it didn’t disappoint. It was good to see Claude Humphrey and Ray Guy get in through the Veteran’s Committee, which I think was a good idea when it was added to the selection process.  I remember how good a player Humphrey was and I ‘m glad to see him get recognized finally. He suffered the fate of some other really good players that were on lousy teams like the Falcons were in the 60’s and 70’s.  One of those guys played behind him at middle linebacker, Tommy Nobis. It is hard to believe he still hasn’t made it in.  Players on winning teams have always had more air time and ink which definitely helped their chances, especially if they had game. The get Ray Guy to the Hall of Fame campaign paid dividends and that is a good thing. He changed the perception of punters into being more of a weapon and it was about time he got in. 

I’d love to visit the Hall again since the last time I went it was less than 10 years old, the summer after Super Bowl IV and there were only 75-80 players inducted at that time.  I’m willing to bet the gift shop is a lot bigger.

 

 

I Want a Refund on My IQ points

My lovely wife was channel surfing on Saturday and she came across the SyFy channel showing the Sharknado movies back to back. We watched the last 15 minutes or so of the original and laughed our  asses off at how bad it was. Like ridiculously bad, like I will run out of adjectives to describe how bad and no I don't want to type all that mess either. It truly was a train wreck of epic proportion that we couldn't stop watching I'm sad to report. If they were going for a certain look when they made this waste of film they nailed it. I'm sure it will become a cult classic and like with most cults I feel the need to run away, far away. Fifteen minutes of watching this was like a condensed 6 hour Beavis and Butthead marathon, I just felt dumb as a jar of dirt for sitting through it. We looked at each other as the credits rolled and posed a question in stereo, "what the hell was that?  We came to a consensus that we wouldn't be able unsee that and we each had probably lost a few IQ points.  I want a refund.

A Camera, a TV, and a Crowbar

     My Tuesday started off with a trip to the ENT where I had a little bitty camera on a stick stuffed up my nose so the doc could look down my throat. If I said it was a totally whack feeling to know something has been stuck in my head through an orifice that can barely accommodate finger, would you fault me for shuddering a bit once it was removed?  No worries I survived my moment of being creeped out. The doc laughed when I told I couldn't keep my eyes open while he was working that camera since it just felt too weird knowing what he was doing. He gave me some samples and a script and sent me on my way.

     Due to the efficiency of my ENTs office I was in and out of there so fast I still had some time to kill before work so I headed home to indulge in more coffee, peruse the net and I found myself a surprise. I stumbled across an article about a TV recall and thought ours was on that list. We have a 32" TV we bought about 2 years ago to replace the old monster of a set I'd had for about 15 years. The old set was still working when we brought the new one home so we stuck it in a corner of one of the bedrooms. Why we didn't just can it then I don't know. I guess we were guarding against the trend in televisions and other electronics made since the late 80's that are basically built to crap out, though they somehow manage to last just long enough to run out the warranty. Back in the day a television set was kind of a big deal purchase and if you found a good one you hung on to it until it blew up. When I bought the old set I didn't expect it to last as long as it did. I hated to move it. It was one of the picture tube models that had you reaching down to tuck your nuts in your socks after you had to pick it up and carry it somewhere. After biting the bullet to get satellite we decided to finally retire the beast and upgrade to something a tad bit newer. We bought it because the price was right and it definitely was an upgrade to the old set.

     So here I am just piddling around online when I come across a recall article that mentions 32" Coby TVs. Cue the blue air,apparently the sets in the recall have shown a propensity to catch fire. Lovely, I've had this fucking thing in my house for two years with no trouble but did I have a sleeping monster in my living room?  I grabbed my trusty penlight and tip-toed to the TV. Underneath the dust on the back I found both the serial number and model number on our set didn't match the ones mentioned in the recall. Yay for that. The thought of having to fiddle fart around with Fry's or stick a crowbar in my wallet to buy a replacement didn't exactly fill me with dread, though I surely wasn't skipping. The retailers who sold them are handling the recall replacements since company has gone out of business, big surprise there. One little sigh of relief here, though wisdom says keep our options open at this point. I guess I'll need to keep my crowbar handy.


Some other recalled stuff

I decided to include the list even though some of these have been around a while.