The last couple of days have been, shall we say, somewhat eventful. Let me present the timetable for you:
Monday, 9:00 PM: I sit down in my favorite rocking chair to watch the 3rd Period of the Sharks/Kings playoff game. I pick up the latest edition of The Sporting News and start reading.
9:01 PM: The Kings score a goal 18 seconds in to tie the game 2-2.
9:20 PM: My chest starts fluttering and I begin to feel myself getting lightheaded. I stand up, stretch, and try to walk whatever this is off, but to no avail.
9:25 PM: I'm drinking down glasses of water to try and calm myself down, again to no effect. I start to wonder if I am having a heart attack.
9:30 PM: The Sharks score a goal and take a 3-2 lead. I discover that the aspirin in my medicine cabinet has expired.
9:35 PM: The Kings tie the game at 3-3. I have the sound off and the door open to get some fresh air, still no effect.
9:45 PM: The Kings go on a 4 minute power play because of a Sharks penalty. I'm getting into my truck to drive to the pharmacy to get some aspirin.
9:50 PM: I turn around after driving 2 blocks, fearing that I may not make it to the drug store and instead pass out while driving - not a good thing.
9:55PM: I knock on my next door neighbor's door and ask her to drive me to the hospital ER. She immediately calls 911 and finds some aspirin for me. I've stop paying attention to the game.
10:00 PM: The paramedics arrive, followed immediately by the ambulance. There are about 9 paramedics and EMTs in my neighbor's living room; two or three of them are asking me questions, two more are administering me an EKG test, one is shaving my chest for the electrodes, another is putting an oxygen mask in my nostrils, the rest I don't know what they are doing.
10:05 PM: Good news is that the EKG came up negative. Bad news is that my blood pressure is up around 180/100. I'm told that everything is "OK" but that they're going to take me to the hospital.
10:10 PM: I'm loaded up on the gurney and taken to the ambulance. As we leave my neighbor shouts to me to call her from the hospital.
10:15 PM: The ambulance leaves and we're headed for the hospital. I can see out the back but cannot keep track of where we are going. There are 2 EMTs in the back with me, one who puts in an IV and takes my blood pressure, the other engages me in conversation to keep my mind off of what's happening.
10:25PM: My first ever ambulance ride ends when I'm rolled into the ER. One of the nurses thinks she recognizes me. The guy next to me is telling his nurse that he just got out of prison today. After a minute or two in the scary hallway I'm rolled into ER Room C.
10:35PM: The nurses take another EKG and some blood for blood tests. I'm hooked up to a machine that takes my blood pressure every 10 minutes. It's still up around 180/100.
10:40 PM: The hospital administrator comes in to confirm my insurance and emergency contacts. I gave them the cell phone number for my brother, who doesn't know what is happening yet since I've hadn't had a chance to contact him, my parents, or my girlfriend. I say good bye to the EMT, thanking him for not killing me.
10:45PM: The nurse asks me if I have any questions. I asked him about the Sharks and he thinks they won.
11:00 PM: The blood pressure is coming down as I wait for the doctor. Boredom starts to set in since there is no TV and my cell phones are out of reach. I think about my sister and tell her that I'm not ready to be reunited with her yet.
11:30 PM: The X-Ray technician arrives to take a shot of my chest with a portable X-ray that's about the size of a Mini Cooper.
12:00AM: The doctor comes in and with an accent that I cannot identify (South African perhaps) she tells me that everything is checking out OK but they are going to admit me overnight to monitor things and to do a stress test the next morning.
12:30 AM: The blood pressure is down to 130/80. I entertain myself by listening in to the conversation in the room next door and watching the second hand on the wall clock move.
12:45AM: The doctor returns and confirms that the X-ray and the blood tests didn't show anything and that there is a room available.
1:00 AM: The nurse comes in to start the admission process, promising that it'll be done in under 45 minutes.
1:20 AM: Another technician comes in and switches me from the ER monitor to a portable one that makes some very annoying sounds.
1:35AM: The transport guy comes and along with one of the nurses rolls me up to the room. The head nurse lived up to his word with 10 minutes to spare. On the way up we talk about the Sharks and whether or not the playoffs were a best of 5 or a best of 7.
1:40 AM: I'm rolled into Room 3024, a private room (yes!) but with a lousy TV. The view is great but I cannot figure out how to close the blinds so I can sleep.
1:45 AM: The nurse comes in and gives me my hospital gown with pajama pants so I don't have to worry about showing my rear end to the public.
1:55 AM: The late replay of the local news includes a report that the Sharks had won the game in overtime, eliminating the Kings from the playoffs.
2:15 AM: The nurse goes over everything with the room, asks me the usual questions such as whether or not I'm on drugs (standard procedure she tells me). I tell her that I take prescription Ambien so she says that she'll get a pill for me for the night.
2:45 AM: The nurse returns to say that she doesn't want to give me Ambien right now since the cardiologist wants to talk to me first.
3:00 AM: I try to stay awake for the cardiologist by watching the overnight news, which is 90% about the royal wedding, 5% about Lindsey Lohan, and 5% about Libya. I give up, turn off the TV, and try to get to sleep.
3:35 AM: Not able to sleep, I email my colleagues at work that I wouldn't be coming in since I was in the hospital. Multiple messages of well wishes are sent in reply, not immediately of course.
3:45 AM: Still not able to sleep, I roam around my room looking for the chain to pull down the blinds to no avail.
4:30 AM: The cardiologist arrives and back-handededly insults the ER doctor by saying that they have "different priorities," even though he told me the same thing the ER doctor did. He talked about the stress test and his belief that I'll be able to go home after the results of the test are reviewed. He then warns me that it may take a while to review the results because they will be reviewed by a different doctor who may not be there right away. Still he seems like a nice guy.
4:45 AM: The nurse says it's too late to give me Ambien so she gives me Lorazepam instead. I finally get to sleep.
6:00 AM: Another nurse wakes me up to take my blood. At the same time a new nurse comes in with breakfast, only to notice the sign on the door that I'm not to be fed until after I've had my test. Even though there is light coming through the unshaded windows I still fall right back to sleep.
8:30 AM: Another guy from "transport" wakes me up to take me down to do the stress test. I notice as I'm getting up that the water left in the cup when I took the Lorazepam has spilled onto my bed.
9:00 AM: One nurse and two technicians conduct my stress test. One technician pastes a bunch of electrodes on me and comments on all the hair I have on my chest, not counting the hair that the EMT shaved off of course. The other technician does an ultrasound on my heart.
9:10 AM: I hop on board the treadmill and start the test, which is done in four stages of speed and difficulty. The techs and the nurse start pushing me like a athletic trainer to make it through the highest level, which I am proud to say that I did. Immediately after the treadmill stops I'm pushing back on the patient table for another round of ultrasound.
9:40 AM: I'm rolled back to my room to wait for the doctor to go over the results. I call my parents and tell them what is happening. The nurse comes in with breakfast but leaves when she sees me on the phone.
10:00 AM: The nurse finally returns with my breakfast after I pushed the button three times to let her know I was off the phone 10 minutes ago.
11:00 AM: I call my girlfriend and tell her what's happened. We promise to talk again later in the day.
12:00 PM: Time for another blood test. My brother returns my call and we have a three way conversation with the blood test nurse about whether the Sharks goaltender or their defensemen are to blame for all the goals the team has been giving up to the Kings. The nurse thought it was the goalie, my brother and I thought it was the defensemen.
12:30 PM: Lunch arrives, decent roast beef and some other stuff. My nurse ordered coffee even though I was there for a heart condition. I chose not to drink it.
1:30 PM: The dietitian arrives to get my breakfast and lunch orders for tomorrow. When I tell her that the doctor said that I would probably be discharged today she told me that she had been told that the doctor may not be able to see me today so to be on the safe side I should still order breakfast and lunch. She also gives me the information on my new diet restrictions.
2:00 PM: I read the diet restrictions and realize I've probably had my last In-N-Out Double Double.
2:15 PM: My next door neighbor, who works close by the hospital, pays me a visit. We talk about the break-ins that have been taking place in our neighborhood.
2:30 PM: My mom calls for an update on my condition.
3:00 PM: A new doctor comes in and says that the stress test came back negative. The general conclusion of the three doctors is that they were not sure what happened but that they were sure that I didn't have a heart attack. I am prescribed aspirin to thin out my blood just in case. I am also prescribed medication for acid reflux since the doctors think they may have caused the chest pains I've been recently feeling, both the night before and before that. I ask about arrhythmia since my dad suffers from that, and the doctor said that she would check the readouts again and see.
3:30 PM: The doctor returns and says that there was no sign of arrhythmia in the tests, but that I should follow up with a primary care physician. She also says that I'll be free to leave once the paperwork is done. The nurse tells me that she can have the paperwork done by 5 and asks me twice if I would like to stay for dinner. I politely decline.
4:50 PM: The nurse comes back with all the paperwork and again asks if I want to stay for dinner.
5:00 PM: Dinner arrives but since my neighbor was on her way to pick me up I tell the nurse that I can't stay and eat it.
5:10 PM: My neighbor comes and picks me up. I'm disappointed that I wasn't wheeled out in a wheelchair, though I realize that there are a lot worse ways to leave the hospital than by walking out of it.
6:00 PM: I pick up my meds, arrive home, speak to my mom, my girlfriend, and my brother again, and embark on the next chapter of my new reality by throwing out the peanut butter in my pantry.
And, oh yeah, I watched this:
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
My First Birthday Present
It was only a few short hours ago that I learned that my sister Karen passed away. Over the last two years or so Karen’s body began to betray her, first with low platelet production and then with breast cancer. She had been ongoing various cancer and platelet treatments but with little to show for it. As the pain spread so did Karen’s fear that she was not going to be a cancer survivor. Still, neither her nor her doctor were ready to give up trying until just this past weekend, when she was admitted to the hospital because her breath was labored and her body pain was intense. It was only last night that she made the courageous decision to tell her doctor that she was ready to change her care from treatment to hospice so that she could live out the remainder of her days at home and without pain. She knew death was imminent, but she seemed to have made piece with that. In her words: “I’m don’t know if I’m ready, but I know that I’m not not ready.”
Karen was born three days before my first birthday, my first birthday present. From that day afterward we were in many ways joined together and in many ways very different. Except for three years we attended the same school at the same time. We were in band together at Mater Dei, starting with beginning band my sophomore and her freshman year and ending with wind ensemble her junior and my senior year. She used to complain that the teachers we had in common would always ask about me and compare her to me. I do know, though, that there was at least one teacher, Ms. Kearney at Mater Dei, who liked Karen way more than she did me. Come to think of it, I would guess that our band director at Mater Dei, Mr. Corrigan, probably liked Karen a lot more than me too.
Unlike me, Karen was very artistic. She had a natural gift for writing, drawing, and music. Her blog, http://www.lilhateful.com/, was (and still is) clever, witty, and full of a dry humor, even when she was suffering from cancer. I remember one friend saying that she had never thought she would laugh about cancer until she read Karen’s posts. As a kid she used to draw little cartoon figures, cut them out, and tape them to things. I have in front of me an old Taster’s Choice coffee jar with two of those figures taped on to it that I found in a long ago disposed nightstand that used to be in her bedroom.
One year my parents bought her a little electronic Casio keyboard that she would play constantly; so much that we ended up buying her headphones so that we wouldn't have to listen to it so much. She had an amazing ability to play a song that she had heard on the radio only once or twice. Then in high school she was one of the few people to ever transfer from beginning band to wind ensemble in just one year because of her skills with the bells and her ability to learn to play the oboe in just a couple of months. Her skills with the bells also earned her a spot on the competition drum line, which allowed me the use of the family van since my parents didn't want her to come home alone in the dark after all the late drum line practices.
Karen was a free spirit who formed her own path in life. She was the first of us kids to live independent from our parents. She acquired the nickname of “Cheese Lady” in our high school band and took it as a complement. And she always wore that grey felt fedora to high school and on all our band trips. I sometimes wonder whatever happened to that hat. She was the only person I knew who got accepted to 3 different universities but only attended 1 semester of classes, until she succumbed to the peer pressure from her cousin and friends and enrolled in the University of Oregon as a journalism major. This time she made it all the way through and graduated. I could not have been more proud of her accomplishment.
I always teased Karen about being a book snob; how her taste in literature was more Umberto Eco and less John Grisham. She thought that Grisham was a hack but later admitted that he did develop some good stories, poorly written as they may be. Her taste in music was equally eclectic. It was Karen who turned me on to U2 in the early 80’s, only to dismiss U2 when they became popular. It was the same with R.E.M. I remember she bought Van Halen's 1984 album because of the synthesizers and then gave it to me when she quickly got bored with it. I still have that album. I also remember how excited she got when Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” came on the radio, not because she liked the song or Michael Jackson but because she liked Vincent Price’s narrative at the end.
Of course we had our share of sibling rivalries. There were the frequent fights over the TV remote and the middle seat in the car, the day she hit with in the face with a baseball bat, and the day that I demanded that she get out of the car a city block away from our house. But I never felt any long simmering anger towards Karen, and I don’t think she ever felt any towards me despite her being the middle child. I have to admit though that I was always jealous of the fact that she had her own bedroom when I had to share mine with my brother up until high school.
What I will remember most about my sister is her honesty. She was my rock; she was the one I turned to in times of trouble and confusion for honest advice. She did not mince words and did not shy away from telling me the truth. When I was interested in a girl that she knew I would ask Karen if the girl and I would be a fit or not and she would tell me straight out what she thought, and she was spot on with her analysis.
Some of you may remember that I was once engaged to be married. About 5 months before our expected wedding date my fiancée began to stop returning my phone calls and started backing out of dates. Frustrated and worried that something was wrong, I called Karen for advice. Pretty much anyone else that I could have called would have probably told me that everything would be fine and that eventually my fiancée and I would be back on solid ground. Not Karen though, she told me that she thought my fiancée wanted to break off our engagement and that I should be prepared for that. 5 days later that is exactly what happened.
Karen was the most honest person that I have ever known and probably ever will know. That honesty is what I will miss most of all. I will also miss our Fourth of July weekends together. There will never be another July 4 or March 1 that I will not think about Karen and all the times we shared. I take comfort in knowing that she is no longer in pain and that she is now in a much better place than the Springfield hospital bed that I last saw her in. But I will miss her in ways that go beyond words. My last words to her were that I loved her very much. She was asleep at the time but she did stir a little, so maybe she heard me. One day I hope to ask her if she did.
Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for, thou are not so,
For, those, whom thou think’st, though dost overthrow,
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me;
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and souls deliver.
Thou art slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppie, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better then thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more, death, thou shalt die.
- John Donne
Karen was born three days before my first birthday, my first birthday present. From that day afterward we were in many ways joined together and in many ways very different. Except for three years we attended the same school at the same time. We were in band together at Mater Dei, starting with beginning band my sophomore and her freshman year and ending with wind ensemble her junior and my senior year. She used to complain that the teachers we had in common would always ask about me and compare her to me. I do know, though, that there was at least one teacher, Ms. Kearney at Mater Dei, who liked Karen way more than she did me. Come to think of it, I would guess that our band director at Mater Dei, Mr. Corrigan, probably liked Karen a lot more than me too.
Unlike me, Karen was very artistic. She had a natural gift for writing, drawing, and music. Her blog, http://www.lilhateful.com/, was (and still is) clever, witty, and full of a dry humor, even when she was suffering from cancer. I remember one friend saying that she had never thought she would laugh about cancer until she read Karen’s posts. As a kid she used to draw little cartoon figures, cut them out, and tape them to things. I have in front of me an old Taster’s Choice coffee jar with two of those figures taped on to it that I found in a long ago disposed nightstand that used to be in her bedroom.
One year my parents bought her a little electronic Casio keyboard that she would play constantly; so much that we ended up buying her headphones so that we wouldn't have to listen to it so much. She had an amazing ability to play a song that she had heard on the radio only once or twice. Then in high school she was one of the few people to ever transfer from beginning band to wind ensemble in just one year because of her skills with the bells and her ability to learn to play the oboe in just a couple of months. Her skills with the bells also earned her a spot on the competition drum line, which allowed me the use of the family van since my parents didn't want her to come home alone in the dark after all the late drum line practices.
Karen was a free spirit who formed her own path in life. She was the first of us kids to live independent from our parents. She acquired the nickname of “Cheese Lady” in our high school band and took it as a complement. And she always wore that grey felt fedora to high school and on all our band trips. I sometimes wonder whatever happened to that hat. She was the only person I knew who got accepted to 3 different universities but only attended 1 semester of classes, until she succumbed to the peer pressure from her cousin and friends and enrolled in the University of Oregon as a journalism major. This time she made it all the way through and graduated. I could not have been more proud of her accomplishment.
I always teased Karen about being a book snob; how her taste in literature was more Umberto Eco and less John Grisham. She thought that Grisham was a hack but later admitted that he did develop some good stories, poorly written as they may be. Her taste in music was equally eclectic. It was Karen who turned me on to U2 in the early 80’s, only to dismiss U2 when they became popular. It was the same with R.E.M. I remember she bought Van Halen's 1984 album because of the synthesizers and then gave it to me when she quickly got bored with it. I still have that album. I also remember how excited she got when Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” came on the radio, not because she liked the song or Michael Jackson but because she liked Vincent Price’s narrative at the end.
Of course we had our share of sibling rivalries. There were the frequent fights over the TV remote and the middle seat in the car, the day she hit with in the face with a baseball bat, and the day that I demanded that she get out of the car a city block away from our house. But I never felt any long simmering anger towards Karen, and I don’t think she ever felt any towards me despite her being the middle child. I have to admit though that I was always jealous of the fact that she had her own bedroom when I had to share mine with my brother up until high school.
What I will remember most about my sister is her honesty. She was my rock; she was the one I turned to in times of trouble and confusion for honest advice. She did not mince words and did not shy away from telling me the truth. When I was interested in a girl that she knew I would ask Karen if the girl and I would be a fit or not and she would tell me straight out what she thought, and she was spot on with her analysis.
Some of you may remember that I was once engaged to be married. About 5 months before our expected wedding date my fiancée began to stop returning my phone calls and started backing out of dates. Frustrated and worried that something was wrong, I called Karen for advice. Pretty much anyone else that I could have called would have probably told me that everything would be fine and that eventually my fiancée and I would be back on solid ground. Not Karen though, she told me that she thought my fiancée wanted to break off our engagement and that I should be prepared for that. 5 days later that is exactly what happened.
Karen was the most honest person that I have ever known and probably ever will know. That honesty is what I will miss most of all. I will also miss our Fourth of July weekends together. There will never be another July 4 or March 1 that I will not think about Karen and all the times we shared. I take comfort in knowing that she is no longer in pain and that she is now in a much better place than the Springfield hospital bed that I last saw her in. But I will miss her in ways that go beyond words. My last words to her were that I loved her very much. She was asleep at the time but she did stir a little, so maybe she heard me. One day I hope to ask her if she did.
Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for, thou are not so,
For, those, whom thou think’st, though dost overthrow,
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me;
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and souls deliver.
Thou art slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppie, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better then thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more, death, thou shalt die.
- John Donne
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
The 12 Days of Christmas
Has it really been that long since my last post? Every once in a while I've thought about posting something, but then I got distracted by either my work, my family, my travels, my home work, or other little things like the Giants finally winning the World Series. So what finally got me to actually sit down at the keyboard and type something out for the one or two people left in the world who actually care about what I write? Well...
Today the managers of the building that I work in took down all the Christmas decorations that they had in the lobby, and last Sunday my girlfriend found that the radio station that had been playing all Christmas music all the time since around Labor Day had already gone back to their regular sappy music format. Christmas was only a few days ago and already the world of commerce has moved on, and I haven't even worn all the new clothes I received as Christmas gifts.
It used to be that Christmas was celebrated for 12 days, from December 25 to Epiphany on January 6. That's where the song The Twelve Days of Christmas came from. The song wasn't about some person celebrating the fact that his/her true love could afford 12 presents over 12 days, though since those gifts would cost about $96,800 this year (according to PNC Bank) that true love would have to be pretty wealthy. The song, written in 1780, actually describes the tradition of celebrating Christmas over 12 days instead of just 1, including the giving of gifts over multiple days. In England back in the day servants traditionally got the day after Christmas off and were given presents and bonuses in boxes from their master (hence the term "Boxing Day"). Other European traditions including giving gifts on Epiphany to commemorate when the 3 kings/wise men/magi (take your pick) gave gifts to the baby Jesus (see, it wasn't that fat saint in the red suit that started this gift giving business). And then there is the Twelfth Night celebrations on January 5 that include much feasting, merrymaking, and entertainment. Shakespeare wrote Twelfth Night specifically to be performed on January 5, hence the name. In many of these cultures the Christmas decorations stay up until the end of the 12 Days of Christmas, though the culture the owners of the building I work in have is apparently not one of them.
In an age when the first Christmas advertisements begin airing around Halloween why are we so quick to move on from Christmas after December 25? What does this say about our culture? It seems that some of our friends in the commercial world are as anxious to end the Christmas season as they are to start it. You would think that they would want to encourage and promote the 12 Days of Christmas since it would mean more gift giving and thus more gift buying. And it is not as if New Year's Day is a big retail holiday that they would not want to overshadow, unless you happen to be the folks who sell tickets to the Rose Bowl.
So what's the deal? Is this part of that vast anti-Christian, anti-Christmas campaign that the right wing wackos always complain about? Or are we such a driven society that we cannot stand the thought of celebrating something for 12 days when there is so much work to do? Did we not just see A Christmas Carol, It's A Wonderful Life, and all those other Christmas movies that tell us that driven people like Ebenezer Scrooge and Mr. Potter are all doomed to a hellish life unless like Scrooge and the Grinch they see the error of their ways and embrace the celebrations? Maybe these movies should be shown now instead of 2 weeks ago.
Speaking of movies, I would be remiss to not mention 2 Christmas heroes, Martin Riggs and John McClane.
Talk about guys who were driven, these two were the personification of the very word, but even still both of them made sure that they completed their respective tasks before Christmas so they could celebrate the holiday with family and friends. After what they went through I would guess they used up all 12 days.
My mother was right, Lethal Weapon is a Christmas movie. And all this time I thought she was just being ironic.
Today the managers of the building that I work in took down all the Christmas decorations that they had in the lobby, and last Sunday my girlfriend found that the radio station that had been playing all Christmas music all the time since around Labor Day had already gone back to their regular sappy music format. Christmas was only a few days ago and already the world of commerce has moved on, and I haven't even worn all the new clothes I received as Christmas gifts.
It used to be that Christmas was celebrated for 12 days, from December 25 to Epiphany on January 6. That's where the song The Twelve Days of Christmas came from. The song wasn't about some person celebrating the fact that his/her true love could afford 12 presents over 12 days, though since those gifts would cost about $96,800 this year (according to PNC Bank) that true love would have to be pretty wealthy. The song, written in 1780, actually describes the tradition of celebrating Christmas over 12 days instead of just 1, including the giving of gifts over multiple days. In England back in the day servants traditionally got the day after Christmas off and were given presents and bonuses in boxes from their master (hence the term "Boxing Day"). Other European traditions including giving gifts on Epiphany to commemorate when the 3 kings/wise men/magi (take your pick) gave gifts to the baby Jesus (see, it wasn't that fat saint in the red suit that started this gift giving business). And then there is the Twelfth Night celebrations on January 5 that include much feasting, merrymaking, and entertainment. Shakespeare wrote Twelfth Night specifically to be performed on January 5, hence the name. In many of these cultures the Christmas decorations stay up until the end of the 12 Days of Christmas, though the culture the owners of the building I work in have is apparently not one of them.
In an age when the first Christmas advertisements begin airing around Halloween why are we so quick to move on from Christmas after December 25? What does this say about our culture? It seems that some of our friends in the commercial world are as anxious to end the Christmas season as they are to start it. You would think that they would want to encourage and promote the 12 Days of Christmas since it would mean more gift giving and thus more gift buying. And it is not as if New Year's Day is a big retail holiday that they would not want to overshadow, unless you happen to be the folks who sell tickets to the Rose Bowl.
So what's the deal? Is this part of that vast anti-Christian, anti-Christmas campaign that the right wing wackos always complain about? Or are we such a driven society that we cannot stand the thought of celebrating something for 12 days when there is so much work to do? Did we not just see A Christmas Carol, It's A Wonderful Life, and all those other Christmas movies that tell us that driven people like Ebenezer Scrooge and Mr. Potter are all doomed to a hellish life unless like Scrooge and the Grinch they see the error of their ways and embrace the celebrations? Maybe these movies should be shown now instead of 2 weeks ago.
Speaking of movies, I would be remiss to not mention 2 Christmas heroes, Martin Riggs and John McClane.
Talk about guys who were driven, these two were the personification of the very word, but even still both of them made sure that they completed their respective tasks before Christmas so they could celebrate the holiday with family and friends. After what they went through I would guess they used up all 12 days.
My mother was right, Lethal Weapon is a Christmas movie. And all this time I thought she was just being ironic.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Football, South American Style
No, I have not been deliberately neglecting this blog, nor have I started a new blog for America's Got Talent (please send for help if you ever see me do that). I just returned from a trip to Argentina and Brazil. Perhaps I'll post some photos on Flickr, perhaps not. Depends on my mood.
There is nothing quite like being in Argentina and Brazil during the World Cup. We were in Buenos Aires when Argentina beat Mexico and an outsider would have thought that Argentina had just won the whole tournament. The streets were absolutely empty while the game was on, and while there were stores open good luck trying to find someone to ring up a purchase. We found a coffee shop that had locked their doors so that the staff could watch the game, but they were nice enough to let in a couple of Americans to serve us coffee. Then when the game ended people poured out into the streets waving Argentina flags and wearing sky blue and white everywhere they could. The main square in Buenos Aires was packed with fans. Keep in mind this was after a Round of 16 game, there were still 3 more rounds to go. Afterwards the Argentina TV news was full of reports about the game, taking precedence over murders, shootouts, and politics. It was all futbol all the time.
A few days later we pulled into a gift shop on the Brazil side of Iquazu Falls while the Brazil-Netherlands game was going on. In this case the store doors were still open but again it was difficult to find anyone to help with the purchases because the entire staff was watching the game and they were all nervous wrecks because Brazil was behind 2-1 late in the game. Every once in a while there would be a loud gasp every time Brazil came close to scoring, and then when the game ended there was an eerie silence as the realization of Brazil's loss began to set in. Our Argentine tour guides, however, had to try very hard to hold in their happiness until we were safely away from the gift shop. Later on at the airport they had the news on and there were a lot of pictures of people in green and gold face paint crying and weeping. There were also plenty of scenes of Brazilian defender Felipe Melo stomping on a Netherlands defender and blocking the Brazilian goalie on Holland's game winning goal. It's a good thing Melo plays his club ball in Italy after the reaction in Brazil. Not surprisingly, the coach for Brazil, Dunga, announced his resignation shortly after the loss.
The next day we were taking a boat cruise around Guanabara Bay in Rio de Janeiro while the Argentina-Germany game was being played. Our tour guide was a nervous wreck since there was no TV or radio on the boat. However, just as we were pulling into a harbor for lunch we could hear firecrackers and gun shots going off, and since this was around the time the game was scheduled to end our tour guide got very nervous. Sure enough, the Brazilians were celebrating the fact that Argentina lost 4-0. A Brazilian tour guide joined us when we arrived in Rio and was on the boat at the time, and when she heard the result she got a big grin on her face and was high fiving our bus driver and random people on the street. The Brazilian papers the next day had a field day with Argentina coach Diego Maradona, though considering how much of a legend Maradona is in Argentina it'll be interesting to see if he is shown the door like Dunga was.
In my last post I discussed an article that claimed that Americans will never love soccer as much as Brazilians do. While I stand by my position that there is nothing wrong with that, I can attest that the Brazilians, and for that matter the Argentines, do love futbol more than Americans ever will, and thank goodness for that. It made for a lively trip, even though there were no burning cars. I guess they were saving that for when they won like the Spanish are doing in Madrid right now.
I can also attest to my sister's position that American soccer star Landon Donovan does look a lot like actor John Saxon.
If it weren't for the shirts I would have a hard time figuring out which one plays soccer and which one guest starred on Colombo.
There is nothing quite like being in Argentina and Brazil during the World Cup. We were in Buenos Aires when Argentina beat Mexico and an outsider would have thought that Argentina had just won the whole tournament. The streets were absolutely empty while the game was on, and while there were stores open good luck trying to find someone to ring up a purchase. We found a coffee shop that had locked their doors so that the staff could watch the game, but they were nice enough to let in a couple of Americans to serve us coffee. Then when the game ended people poured out into the streets waving Argentina flags and wearing sky blue and white everywhere they could. The main square in Buenos Aires was packed with fans. Keep in mind this was after a Round of 16 game, there were still 3 more rounds to go. Afterwards the Argentina TV news was full of reports about the game, taking precedence over murders, shootouts, and politics. It was all futbol all the time.
A few days later we pulled into a gift shop on the Brazil side of Iquazu Falls while the Brazil-Netherlands game was going on. In this case the store doors were still open but again it was difficult to find anyone to help with the purchases because the entire staff was watching the game and they were all nervous wrecks because Brazil was behind 2-1 late in the game. Every once in a while there would be a loud gasp every time Brazil came close to scoring, and then when the game ended there was an eerie silence as the realization of Brazil's loss began to set in. Our Argentine tour guides, however, had to try very hard to hold in their happiness until we were safely away from the gift shop. Later on at the airport they had the news on and there were a lot of pictures of people in green and gold face paint crying and weeping. There were also plenty of scenes of Brazilian defender Felipe Melo stomping on a Netherlands defender and blocking the Brazilian goalie on Holland's game winning goal. It's a good thing Melo plays his club ball in Italy after the reaction in Brazil. Not surprisingly, the coach for Brazil, Dunga, announced his resignation shortly after the loss.
The next day we were taking a boat cruise around Guanabara Bay in Rio de Janeiro while the Argentina-Germany game was being played. Our tour guide was a nervous wreck since there was no TV or radio on the boat. However, just as we were pulling into a harbor for lunch we could hear firecrackers and gun shots going off, and since this was around the time the game was scheduled to end our tour guide got very nervous. Sure enough, the Brazilians were celebrating the fact that Argentina lost 4-0. A Brazilian tour guide joined us when we arrived in Rio and was on the boat at the time, and when she heard the result she got a big grin on her face and was high fiving our bus driver and random people on the street. The Brazilian papers the next day had a field day with Argentina coach Diego Maradona, though considering how much of a legend Maradona is in Argentina it'll be interesting to see if he is shown the door like Dunga was.
In my last post I discussed an article that claimed that Americans will never love soccer as much as Brazilians do. While I stand by my position that there is nothing wrong with that, I can attest that the Brazilians, and for that matter the Argentines, do love futbol more than Americans ever will, and thank goodness for that. It made for a lively trip, even though there were no burning cars. I guess they were saving that for when they won like the Spanish are doing in Madrid right now.
I can also attest to my sister's position that American soccer star Landon Donovan does look a lot like actor John Saxon.
If it weren't for the shirts I would have a hard time figuring out which one plays soccer and which one guest starred on Colombo.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
The Beautiful Game
Blogger thought my blog layout could use a face lift, so I thought I'd give this a try.
The World Cup started this weekend, so I have a new sporting event to torment my girlfriend about now that the Stanley Cup playoffs are over (but I mean "torment" in a nice way, really). Our boys in blue did a sporting job against our former rulers, and for those of you who think our goal was a fluke because the England goalkeeper messed up I say to you that it counts the same on the scorecard as a bicycle kick from 20 yards out, so there.
I wonder why our team doesn't have a nickname like some of the cool teams do. For example there are the traditional powers:
Brazil: Seleçao (The Select)
Mexico: El Tri (The Three Color)
Italy: La Azzurri (The Blues)
France: Les Bleus
England: The Three Lions
Germany: Die Mannschaft (The Team)
Spain: La Furia Roja (The Red Fury)
Argentina: La Albiceleste (The White and Sky Blue)
Netherlands: Oranje (The Clockwork Orange)
Portugal: Selecção das Quinas (Selection of the Shields)
While most of these are pretty boring, and in the case of Brazil and Germany somewhat conceited perhaps, at least they have a nickname. Then there are the more interesting ones (besides the Spanish, English, and Portuguese):
Montenegro: Hrabri Sokoli (The Brave Falcons)
Czech Republic: Lokomotiva (The Locomotive)
Greece: To Piratiko (The Pirate Ship)
Angola: Palancas Negras (Black Antelopes)
South Africa: Bafana Bafana
Zambia: Chipolopolo (The Copper Bullets)
Cameroon: Lions Indomptables (The Indomitable Lions)
Egypt: Al-Fara'enah (The Pharaohs)
Columbia: Los Cafeteros (The Coffee Growers)
Jamaica: The Reggae Boyz
Iraq: Isood Al-Rafidayn (The Lions of Mesopotamia)
Japan: Samarai Blue
Thailand: Changsuk (The War Elephants)
Australia: The Socceroos
North Korea: Choilima (The Thousand-Mile Horse)
And there are plenty more that can be found here. FIFA also has a nice article on the subject.
There are nicknames for the US team listed, though "The Yanks" is the only one that I have heard mentioned in soccer circles. And to be honest, it could use some improvement. A lot of improvement. Not even the US Soccer team web site mentions it or any other name. C'mon guys, if even the North Koreans can come up with a creative nickname why can't we? The team's fan club, Sam's Army, came up with a decent one for themselves. Shouldn't they be able to find one for our team?
On a similar subject there is this bit of commentary in Yahoo! News from a British ex-pat living here in the USA saying that we will never love soccer, football, whatever you want to call it, like they do in Brazil, England, and pretty much every other nation in the world. Here are some examples of this man's "insight":
"Across Europe, Asia and Africa, advertisers are falling all over themselves to endorse official products and to use players and logos in their spots. But not in America, the richest, and arguably most sports mad, country in the world. Here the desperate hype of those outlets that have the rights to cover the tournament barely makes itself heard over the NBA and Stanley Cup finals."
"... it took almost half a century and the intervention of Henry Kissinger to bring the 1994 World Cup to the United States. And within three years "The Simpsons" was already lampooning soccer as a sport so boring that it bred hooliganism between supporters fighting to leave the stadium first."
As the teams walk onto the field in Rustenberg, South Africa this Saturday, there will be a sizeable viewing audience in America. Perhaps it will be difficult to measure the exact number since American patriots and English expats will crowd into bars to watch the game. But the passion will be for the event, not the game. Although more Americans play soccer than ever before, although the women's team is the reigning Olympic champion and although the MLS is improving quality year by year, America doesn't love the game the way Brazil loves the game.
"America hasn't yet grasped the fact that soccer is much more like baseball than football. It's a game of the head played with the body through a hundred years of history and culture."
Once again we have someone trashing America because we don't love "the beautiful game" like the rest of the world does. Even being a dedicated soccer fan that I am I cannot just sit by and listen to this nonsense. Yes, America doesn't love the game the way Brazil loves the game, but I am willing to bet my Brazil visa (that I'll be using in just a couple of weeks; yes I'll post pictures) that Brazil doesn't love American football, baseball, or basketball the way America loves these games. Different cultures have different loves and there is nothing wrong with that, nothing at all. Great for Brazil that they love futbol like they do but that doesn't mean that America has to or that we are any worse as a nation or as a people for not loving the same game. Since when has soccer become the politically correct game as well as the beautiful game?
The last quoted line really bothers me in that it implies that America doesn't appreciate "a game of the head" with "a hundred years of history and culture." So Americans are a bunch of idiots who only like idiot games with no history or culture. If you don't think basketball is a "game of the head" then how do you explain the creativity that players like Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Kobe Bryant, LeBron James, and so many others have brought to the game, not to mention the strategies of coaches like Red Auerbach, Pat Riley, and Phil Jackson (or even Don Nelson, as wacky as he is). And if want to talk about "games of the head", let me introduce you to Peyton Manning, Bill Belechek, Walter Payton, and so many other players and coaches of the so-called "other" type of football that have shown plenty of mental acuity on the field in a sport that has just as much tradition as the association game. Why do you think both sports are called "football" anyway?
Our sports that we love are just as good as anyone else's, and despite the fact that we do not and may never love soccer as much as Brazil or any other country does we have still managed to put together a pretty good team. Now if we can only come up with a lovely nickname for them.
You think America doesn't care about soccer? Just ask this guy, who used soccer as a means to escape from a Nazi POW camp and won the game for his team even though his English coach didn't think a "Yank" could play the game:
The World Cup started this weekend, so I have a new sporting event to torment my girlfriend about now that the Stanley Cup playoffs are over (but I mean "torment" in a nice way, really). Our boys in blue did a sporting job against our former rulers, and for those of you who think our goal was a fluke because the England goalkeeper messed up I say to you that it counts the same on the scorecard as a bicycle kick from 20 yards out, so there.
I wonder why our team doesn't have a nickname like some of the cool teams do. For example there are the traditional powers:
Brazil: Seleçao (The Select)
Mexico: El Tri (The Three Color)
Italy: La Azzurri (The Blues)
France: Les Bleus
England: The Three Lions
Germany: Die Mannschaft (The Team)
Spain: La Furia Roja (The Red Fury)
Argentina: La Albiceleste (The White and Sky Blue)
Netherlands: Oranje (The Clockwork Orange)
Portugal: Selecção das Quinas (Selection of the Shields)
While most of these are pretty boring, and in the case of Brazil and Germany somewhat conceited perhaps, at least they have a nickname. Then there are the more interesting ones (besides the Spanish, English, and Portuguese):
Montenegro: Hrabri Sokoli (The Brave Falcons)
Czech Republic: Lokomotiva (The Locomotive)
Greece: To Piratiko (The Pirate Ship)
Angola: Palancas Negras (Black Antelopes)
South Africa: Bafana Bafana
Zambia: Chipolopolo (The Copper Bullets)
Cameroon: Lions Indomptables (The Indomitable Lions)
Egypt: Al-Fara'enah (The Pharaohs)
Columbia: Los Cafeteros (The Coffee Growers)
Jamaica: The Reggae Boyz
Iraq: Isood Al-Rafidayn (The Lions of Mesopotamia)
Japan: Samarai Blue
Thailand: Changsuk (The War Elephants)
Australia: The Socceroos
North Korea: Choilima (The Thousand-Mile Horse)
And there are plenty more that can be found here. FIFA also has a nice article on the subject.
There are nicknames for the US team listed, though "The Yanks" is the only one that I have heard mentioned in soccer circles. And to be honest, it could use some improvement. A lot of improvement. Not even the US Soccer team web site mentions it or any other name. C'mon guys, if even the North Koreans can come up with a creative nickname why can't we? The team's fan club, Sam's Army, came up with a decent one for themselves. Shouldn't they be able to find one for our team?
On a similar subject there is this bit of commentary in Yahoo! News from a British ex-pat living here in the USA saying that we will never love soccer, football, whatever you want to call it, like they do in Brazil, England, and pretty much every other nation in the world. Here are some examples of this man's "insight":
"Across Europe, Asia and Africa, advertisers are falling all over themselves to endorse official products and to use players and logos in their spots. But not in America, the richest, and arguably most sports mad, country in the world. Here the desperate hype of those outlets that have the rights to cover the tournament barely makes itself heard over the NBA and Stanley Cup finals."
"... it took almost half a century and the intervention of Henry Kissinger to bring the 1994 World Cup to the United States. And within three years "The Simpsons" was already lampooning soccer as a sport so boring that it bred hooliganism between supporters fighting to leave the stadium first."
As the teams walk onto the field in Rustenberg, South Africa this Saturday, there will be a sizeable viewing audience in America. Perhaps it will be difficult to measure the exact number since American patriots and English expats will crowd into bars to watch the game. But the passion will be for the event, not the game. Although more Americans play soccer than ever before, although the women's team is the reigning Olympic champion and although the MLS is improving quality year by year, America doesn't love the game the way Brazil loves the game.
"America hasn't yet grasped the fact that soccer is much more like baseball than football. It's a game of the head played with the body through a hundred years of history and culture."
Once again we have someone trashing America because we don't love "the beautiful game" like the rest of the world does. Even being a dedicated soccer fan that I am I cannot just sit by and listen to this nonsense. Yes, America doesn't love the game the way Brazil loves the game, but I am willing to bet my Brazil visa (that I'll be using in just a couple of weeks; yes I'll post pictures) that Brazil doesn't love American football, baseball, or basketball the way America loves these games. Different cultures have different loves and there is nothing wrong with that, nothing at all. Great for Brazil that they love futbol like they do but that doesn't mean that America has to or that we are any worse as a nation or as a people for not loving the same game. Since when has soccer become the politically correct game as well as the beautiful game?
The last quoted line really bothers me in that it implies that America doesn't appreciate "a game of the head" with "a hundred years of history and culture." So Americans are a bunch of idiots who only like idiot games with no history or culture. If you don't think basketball is a "game of the head" then how do you explain the creativity that players like Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Kobe Bryant, LeBron James, and so many others have brought to the game, not to mention the strategies of coaches like Red Auerbach, Pat Riley, and Phil Jackson (or even Don Nelson, as wacky as he is). And if want to talk about "games of the head", let me introduce you to Peyton Manning, Bill Belechek, Walter Payton, and so many other players and coaches of the so-called "other" type of football that have shown plenty of mental acuity on the field in a sport that has just as much tradition as the association game. Why do you think both sports are called "football" anyway?
Our sports that we love are just as good as anyone else's, and despite the fact that we do not and may never love soccer as much as Brazil or any other country does we have still managed to put together a pretty good team. Now if we can only come up with a lovely nickname for them.
You think America doesn't care about soccer? Just ask this guy, who used soccer as a means to escape from a Nazi POW camp and won the game for his team even though his English coach didn't think a "Yank" could play the game:
Thursday, June 3, 2010
I suppose that it is about time...
... that I post something here to remind everyone who doesn't read my American Idol blog that I am still alive. Idol is done for the year and I am leaning towards not doing any posts there next season, so hopefully I will again renew my snarky views of life over here.
This oil spill thing, for example. If you can find anything positive about this I'm dying to here it. Here you have President Obama, who promised to change Washington politics, acting like a Washington politician when he says that the only thing the government did wrong was to put too much trust in BP to stop the leak. Is not the government responsible for cleaning up the oil? Where were the booms? Why did it take them a couple of weeks to start the cleanup? And where were the inspectors when the faulty oil rig was constructed and maintained? Instead of being the statesman that we voted for he has morphed into yet another politician looking for some evil corporation to blame and looking to use a disaster to advance a political agenda. His policy to reduce the likelihood of future oil spills is to stop drilling for oil? How about inspecting some more rigs? Having no oil rigs may be pie in the sky thinking but flies in the face of reality.
And then there are the morons at BP who tried to blame the oil rig operator Transocean for a "relatively tiny" oil spill (seriously, their words, not mine), required fishermen who volunteered for the rescue effort to sign a limit of liability contract with BP, and has a CEO who cares more about getting "his life back" than about the millions of barrels of oil his busted pipeline is spewing into the Gulf of Mexico. Oh sure, he apologized later for his comments later, but then his press secretary Randy Prescott says that "Louisiana isn’t the only place that has shrimp.” I love this response from Louisiana: “And BP isn’t the only place that has fuel for my car!” Admit it, gentlemen, you f***ed up big time here and heads need to roll, starting with yours.
And even when BP and the government actually work together on something (which they should be doing all along instead of this finger pointing) they still find a way to muck it up, such as this ongoing public feud BO is having with the EPA about which dispersants to use to soak up the oil. It has gotten so bad that even that wacky Sarah Palin has gotten into the act, claiming that the reason the government and BP have been so slow to respond to the spill is because BP gave President Obama a lot of money in the last campaign, which of course was front page news on Fox because it plays into that vast left wing conspiracy theory that Miss Alaska USA and her comrades subscribe to no matter how unlikely it is that two models of incompetency can somehow conspire to organize something like this.
Here's the deal, the government and BP need to agree on a way to cap the busted shaft and clean up the oil now. Together. One cannot do it without the other, no matter how much they want to. Stop the finger pointing, stop the politics, stop the blame game, stop trying to either downplay or exaggerate the problem to make yourselves look better and the other guy look worse. It didn't work after Hurricane Katrina and the Exxon Valdez oil spill and it is not working here either. This is not rocket science. You want proof of that? Well how about we ask what one of the most successful oil man ever would do in a situation like this...
Now here is an honest oil man if there ever was one, and he didn't take no guff from no government official, that's for sure. When Jed Clampett had an oil spill in his backyard did he point any fingers? Hell no, he sold that spill and provided a better life for his whole clan in Beverly Hills, both in black & white and color. And whenever he had a problem that needed solving ol' Jed would sit on the curbstone of his mansion and whittle until he came up with the answer. Maybe if President Obama and BP CEO Tony Hayward would sit at their mansions and whittled until they came up with an answer they could get this thing cleaned up and allow us to focus on other, more important things.
And yes, I waited all this time to find a blog post topic that I could use Jed Clampett as an example. The photo is from TVLand.com, BTW. I don't want to have to sign a LOL either.
This oil spill thing, for example. If you can find anything positive about this I'm dying to here it. Here you have President Obama, who promised to change Washington politics, acting like a Washington politician when he says that the only thing the government did wrong was to put too much trust in BP to stop the leak. Is not the government responsible for cleaning up the oil? Where were the booms? Why did it take them a couple of weeks to start the cleanup? And where were the inspectors when the faulty oil rig was constructed and maintained? Instead of being the statesman that we voted for he has morphed into yet another politician looking for some evil corporation to blame and looking to use a disaster to advance a political agenda. His policy to reduce the likelihood of future oil spills is to stop drilling for oil? How about inspecting some more rigs? Having no oil rigs may be pie in the sky thinking but flies in the face of reality.
And then there are the morons at BP who tried to blame the oil rig operator Transocean for a "relatively tiny" oil spill (seriously, their words, not mine), required fishermen who volunteered for the rescue effort to sign a limit of liability contract with BP, and has a CEO who cares more about getting "his life back" than about the millions of barrels of oil his busted pipeline is spewing into the Gulf of Mexico. Oh sure, he apologized later for his comments later, but then his press secretary Randy Prescott says that "Louisiana isn’t the only place that has shrimp.” I love this response from Louisiana: “And BP isn’t the only place that has fuel for my car!” Admit it, gentlemen, you f***ed up big time here and heads need to roll, starting with yours.
And even when BP and the government actually work together on something (which they should be doing all along instead of this finger pointing) they still find a way to muck it up, such as this ongoing public feud BO is having with the EPA about which dispersants to use to soak up the oil. It has gotten so bad that even that wacky Sarah Palin has gotten into the act, claiming that the reason the government and BP have been so slow to respond to the spill is because BP gave President Obama a lot of money in the last campaign, which of course was front page news on Fox because it plays into that vast left wing conspiracy theory that Miss Alaska USA and her comrades subscribe to no matter how unlikely it is that two models of incompetency can somehow conspire to organize something like this.
Here's the deal, the government and BP need to agree on a way to cap the busted shaft and clean up the oil now. Together. One cannot do it without the other, no matter how much they want to. Stop the finger pointing, stop the politics, stop the blame game, stop trying to either downplay or exaggerate the problem to make yourselves look better and the other guy look worse. It didn't work after Hurricane Katrina and the Exxon Valdez oil spill and it is not working here either. This is not rocket science. You want proof of that? Well how about we ask what one of the most successful oil man ever would do in a situation like this...
Now here is an honest oil man if there ever was one, and he didn't take no guff from no government official, that's for sure. When Jed Clampett had an oil spill in his backyard did he point any fingers? Hell no, he sold that spill and provided a better life for his whole clan in Beverly Hills, both in black & white and color. And whenever he had a problem that needed solving ol' Jed would sit on the curbstone of his mansion and whittle until he came up with the answer. Maybe if President Obama and BP CEO Tony Hayward would sit at their mansions and whittled until they came up with an answer they could get this thing cleaned up and allow us to focus on other, more important things.
And yes, I waited all this time to find a blog post topic that I could use Jed Clampett as an example. The photo is from TVLand.com, BTW. I don't want to have to sign a LOL either.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
In The News
Gee, I almost forgot that I had this blog. I have been a little bit busy. My tax accountant often tells me that she has no social life from January until April 15 because she is too busy doing tax returns. It has been kind of the same for me since American Idol season started, so if you need a more current fix on my state of mind you can always check out my Idol blog. It'll tell you pretty much everything you need to know about where my mind is at, though filtered through the lens of American Idol. It's raw too since I usually finish writing my posts around 1:30 in the morning and it is difficult for me to keep up appearances at that hour, kind of like what happens in most bars around that time.
Seriously, in addition to my Idol work and my real work (recession? What recession?) I have so many projects going on and a new relationship. Yes, with a real woman. I have been reluctant to talk about her here since she doesn't know about this blog (she knows about the Idol one though) and I don't want her to think that I am posting things about her behind her back to two people that I know and maybe a dozen or so that I don't know. Then again, if I don't write about her then what would I write about that would be even remotely interesting? There is only so many People Magazine headlines that I can comment about (maybe that's why I haven't been paying to attention to this blog). I throw these out and see what you think:
A Look Inside the Life of Jesse James: What is there to see? He's a loser that got lucky until his loserness took control of his brain. Ditching Sandra Bullock for a tattoo model? WTF?
O'Donnell Reportedly Preparing a TV Show: Hopefully it'll be a reality show so it'll kill that genre just like her variety show did. I guess she's jealous that Ellen parlayed her talk show into a seat at the American Idol table and she didn't. Then again, I'm jealous that Ellen parlayed her talk show into a seat at the American Idol table and I didn't.
PETA Wants Animal Planet to KO Proposed Mike Tyson Reality Show: For the first and perhaps last time in my life I actually agree with PETA on something. Armageddon must be close at hand.
Woods Did What He Had to Do: That explains the voice mail and the late night joy ride in the Escalade, but I'm still waiting for the excuse for everything else.
Conrad Murray Did Not Tell Paramedics of Michael Jackson's Drug Dose: Wacko Jacko, the gift that keeps on giving, at least until Tiger Woods did what he had to do.
Court Says No Oil Money for Anna Nicole's Heirs: Well, so much for that conspiracy theory.
Health Care Victory for Obama in House: I've been considering commenting on this for some time now, and I'll be serious for a moment and drop the italics. I agree with everyone who says that our health care system is a bureaucratic mess, but I am not sure that having it taken over by the most bureaucratic institution in this country is the best way to fix it. Just ask anyone who has had to go to the DMV or tried to legally immigrate into this country.
Over the last couple of days I've seen politicians behave very badly around this issue. No one seems to have read the bill, and no one seems to be basing their support on what is in the bill. Instead we have politicians like the Hispanic Caucus, who opposed the bill because it denied insurance to illegal immigrants, and then two days before the vote announced that they would vote yes because Obama promised them that he would push for immigration reform next. Mind you the provision that the Hispanic Caucus was opposed to is still in the bill and cannot be removed by reconciliation, yet they now support it because Obama promised he would scratch their back on a completely different piece of legislation. And then there is Dennis Kucinich, who was opposed to the Senate bill for months because it did not have a public option and then announced that he would vote yes in order to preserve Obama's legacy. Whatever happened to principle? Whatever happened to basing your vote on what is in the bill? Why do we have politicians who only seem to care about making deals and preserving legacies and not on standing on their own principals and/or doing what their constituents want? Not to make it seem like I am picking on the Democrats I should point out that the Republicans who are voting against this bill because they want Obama to fail are guilty of the very same thing.
Where are the Jefferson Smith's? That is what I want to know...
Seriously, in addition to my Idol work and my real work (recession? What recession?) I have so many projects going on and a new relationship. Yes, with a real woman. I have been reluctant to talk about her here since she doesn't know about this blog (she knows about the Idol one though) and I don't want her to think that I am posting things about her behind her back to two people that I know and maybe a dozen or so that I don't know. Then again, if I don't write about her then what would I write about that would be even remotely interesting? There is only so many People Magazine headlines that I can comment about (maybe that's why I haven't been paying to attention to this blog). I throw these out and see what you think:
A Look Inside the Life of Jesse James: What is there to see? He's a loser that got lucky until his loserness took control of his brain. Ditching Sandra Bullock for a tattoo model? WTF?
O'Donnell Reportedly Preparing a TV Show: Hopefully it'll be a reality show so it'll kill that genre just like her variety show did. I guess she's jealous that Ellen parlayed her talk show into a seat at the American Idol table and she didn't. Then again, I'm jealous that Ellen parlayed her talk show into a seat at the American Idol table and I didn't.
PETA Wants Animal Planet to KO Proposed Mike Tyson Reality Show: For the first and perhaps last time in my life I actually agree with PETA on something. Armageddon must be close at hand.
Woods Did What He Had to Do: That explains the voice mail and the late night joy ride in the Escalade, but I'm still waiting for the excuse for everything else.
Conrad Murray Did Not Tell Paramedics of Michael Jackson's Drug Dose: Wacko Jacko, the gift that keeps on giving, at least until Tiger Woods did what he had to do.
Court Says No Oil Money for Anna Nicole's Heirs: Well, so much for that conspiracy theory.
Health Care Victory for Obama in House: I've been considering commenting on this for some time now, and I'll be serious for a moment and drop the italics. I agree with everyone who says that our health care system is a bureaucratic mess, but I am not sure that having it taken over by the most bureaucratic institution in this country is the best way to fix it. Just ask anyone who has had to go to the DMV or tried to legally immigrate into this country.
Over the last couple of days I've seen politicians behave very badly around this issue. No one seems to have read the bill, and no one seems to be basing their support on what is in the bill. Instead we have politicians like the Hispanic Caucus, who opposed the bill because it denied insurance to illegal immigrants, and then two days before the vote announced that they would vote yes because Obama promised them that he would push for immigration reform next. Mind you the provision that the Hispanic Caucus was opposed to is still in the bill and cannot be removed by reconciliation, yet they now support it because Obama promised he would scratch their back on a completely different piece of legislation. And then there is Dennis Kucinich, who was opposed to the Senate bill for months because it did not have a public option and then announced that he would vote yes in order to preserve Obama's legacy. Whatever happened to principle? Whatever happened to basing your vote on what is in the bill? Why do we have politicians who only seem to care about making deals and preserving legacies and not on standing on their own principals and/or doing what their constituents want? Not to make it seem like I am picking on the Democrats I should point out that the Republicans who are voting against this bill because they want Obama to fail are guilty of the very same thing.
Where are the Jefferson Smith's? That is what I want to know...
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