August 31, 2008
LIFE EXPLAINED, PART 157
Many people have a deep fear of snakes and do their best to kill any kind of snake they run across, whether or not it is harmful to humans. Good call. They are slimy and creepy and disgusting. Let me know when they're all dead and just maybe I'll take a walk in the woods.
MS. PALIN, THE ANSWER IS NOTHING
Sarah Palin, John McCain's running mate for the Presidency, said she could not be sure about whether or not she's ready to be Vice President until "Someone explains to me exactly what the VP does every day." Allow me, Sarah. The answer to that is Jack-all. Check the Constitution, lady. The Vice President pretty much hangs around waiting for a tie vote in the Senate, and not much else. So, one supposes you're ready to be Vice President. Hell, Andy Dick is ready to be Vice President.
In your case, however, part of your job will be to humanize John McCain, a man who seems more uncomfortable in his own skin than a snake ready to molt. And then there's his lapses of clarity, when his senility starts showing in the middle of a speech. You may feel obligated to step in and explain what he really meant to say when he starts rambling about nothing in particular, which is kind of a neat opportunity to say anything you feel like since McCain doesn't care much about any sort of consistent message and changes policies mid-sentence all the time. It will be a rare opportunity for a VP to voice any opinion other that "what he said."
On the down side, he may enter you in a biker gang's wet T-shirt contest like he did to his wife. Mrs. McCain wasn't such a good sport about it, but luckily for you you're a bit of a hottie and might win him some votes by showing off your assets. While it would be a lapse of good taste for a potential first lady like Cindy McCain to shake her money maker, to say nothing of the unpleasant mental image her naked bony ass conjures up, there's no dignity at all to uphold in the Vice presidency. There's not a word in the Constitution discouraging outrageous behavior in Vice Presidents. Hell, Dick Cheney shot an old guy in the face with a shotgun and nobody batted an eye! Everybody knows the son of a bitch is a crazy evil bastard and just shrugged it off as Dick being a dick.
So Ms. Palin, you may have stumbled into a job even easier than being Mayor of Wasilla, Alaska, population 5,469 including caribou, who for the most part don't even vote. Being the Vice President is not even a part-time job, it's occasional work at best. Most Vice Presidents invent things to do in the absence of any actual job description, having no flair at all for the sporting life. In the unlikely event that the nation elects the nutty old coot McCain, you have an opportunity to kick back and do zip for four years. You'll be the envy of your fellow hockey Moms when you bring Junior to his game on Air Force Two. You and your family will be given a mansion, a huge staff and a large contingent of Secret Service Agents, although the bodyguards might be a drawback when you go hunting and fishing and they constantly wrestle the forest animals to the ground and frisk them. Might be amusing,though, just like John McCain's choice of running mate.
In your case, however, part of your job will be to humanize John McCain, a man who seems more uncomfortable in his own skin than a snake ready to molt. And then there's his lapses of clarity, when his senility starts showing in the middle of a speech. You may feel obligated to step in and explain what he really meant to say when he starts rambling about nothing in particular, which is kind of a neat opportunity to say anything you feel like since McCain doesn't care much about any sort of consistent message and changes policies mid-sentence all the time. It will be a rare opportunity for a VP to voice any opinion other that "what he said."
On the down side, he may enter you in a biker gang's wet T-shirt contest like he did to his wife. Mrs. McCain wasn't such a good sport about it, but luckily for you you're a bit of a hottie and might win him some votes by showing off your assets. While it would be a lapse of good taste for a potential first lady like Cindy McCain to shake her money maker, to say nothing of the unpleasant mental image her naked bony ass conjures up, there's no dignity at all to uphold in the Vice presidency. There's not a word in the Constitution discouraging outrageous behavior in Vice Presidents. Hell, Dick Cheney shot an old guy in the face with a shotgun and nobody batted an eye! Everybody knows the son of a bitch is a crazy evil bastard and just shrugged it off as Dick being a dick.
So Ms. Palin, you may have stumbled into a job even easier than being Mayor of Wasilla, Alaska, population 5,469 including caribou, who for the most part don't even vote. Being the Vice President is not even a part-time job, it's occasional work at best. Most Vice Presidents invent things to do in the absence of any actual job description, having no flair at all for the sporting life. In the unlikely event that the nation elects the nutty old coot McCain, you have an opportunity to kick back and do zip for four years. You'll be the envy of your fellow hockey Moms when you bring Junior to his game on Air Force Two. You and your family will be given a mansion, a huge staff and a large contingent of Secret Service Agents, although the bodyguards might be a drawback when you go hunting and fishing and they constantly wrestle the forest animals to the ground and frisk them. Might be amusing,though, just like John McCain's choice of running mate.
LIFE EXPLAINED, PART 156
Picking the lesser of two evils is still a lousy choice any way you look at it. At times like those you sort of wish for c.) - None of the above.
DOPOTO REPORTS: SURPRISES IN THE DEAD SEA SCROLLS
Reports have crossed the desk of The Department Of Pointing Out The Obvious (DOPOTO) that the Dead Sea Scrolls will be posted on the internet. The Israeli government, owners of the scrolls, is allowing scientists to digitally scan the ancient parchment and papyrus texts, a process that will take two years before the format for internet posting is decided upon. The Israelis figure that will make the texts widely available to scholars, scientists and researchers and preserve them forever. It is well known that the Dead Sea Scrolls are copies of the Hebrew Bible minus the book of Esther written in ancient Hebrew, Early Greek and Aramaic. Also in the scrolls is a description of the construction of Solomon's Temple, discussions of the rituals of an obscure Jewish sect around the time of Christ and accounts of Jewish life and the lives of early Christians in the first century.
Interesting stuff, to be sure, and DOPOTO has been privileged to take a sneak peak at the scrolls. Not having any Aramaic speakers or ancient languages scholars on the payroll, we were relived to receive an English translation of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Most of them were as expected, faithful renditions of the Old Testament, or Torah, the same stories we've been reading for thousands of years, but with a few twists that have since been edited out of modern scripture. There were some real surprises, which DOPOTO is pleased to share with our readers. Some have to do with familiar books of the Bible, others with the accounts of life back in the day.
The Dead Sea itself was referred to as The Sea.
Christ's disciples called him Jerry.
Moses' mother wanted him to be an lawyer. He figured, lawyer, lawgiver, what's the dif?
The truth was that Job was prone to tantrums and constant complaining about all his tribulations.
Instead of a cross around their necks, early Christians wore a nail.
Solomon's Temple wasn't the nicest building in Jerusalem. It was one of John McCain's houses.
Joseph's coat of many colors was green, yellow and brown.
Jesus had a brother named Fredo who never amounted to much and was an embarrassment to the family. There were rumors of one of the disciples taking him fishing and returning alone.
Noah's Ark had racing stripes and was named "Endless Summer II".
David kept Goliath's severed head, hollowed it out, turned it upside down and used it as umbrella stand. After a few years it was pretty rank but by then he was king and that was that, it was a keeper.
There was an eleventh plague in Egypt; poodles. That's the one that convinced Pharoah to let the Jews go.
Sodom and Gomorra were popular tourist destinations.
Contrary to legend, the forty years the Jews were in the desert were not spent wandering. They sort of liked it there. It did wonders for their sinuses and they were in no rush to move. It was only when God threatened to cut off their manna did they rouse themselves to go to the Promised Land.
When Jesus rose from the dead the first thing he did was beat the crap out of the Roman soldiers who whipped him and hung him on a cross. Witnesses reported hearing him repeat over and over as he pummeled them "Prince of Peace, my ass!"
When Cain slew Abel, he was caught through forensic evidence. Ancient detective Sherlock took a plaster cast of his sandal prints, matched them up and he had to fess up.
Lazarus wasn't too crazy about being raised from the dead. His life was a mess and his wife was having an affair with the goat-milk man.
The only comedy entry of The Bible, Acts of Shecky, was edited out of the final draft.
The reason nobody had a last name in the Old Testament was that no one was allowed to have the same name, which sort of explains Meshach, Shadrach and Abednego.
KIng Solomon's mines were unionized and he paid good wages and benefits. He did, however, prove himself a shrewd negotiator when he promised his workers eyeglass coverage in lieu of a raise.
Jacob didn't look Jewish.
Abraham never completely trusted God again after that Isaac sacrifice stunt.
John The Baptist actually drowned a couple of people, prompting him to move his operation from the river to a shallow stream.
There was a paragraph omitted from Revelations that predicted balloon animals as one of the signs of the Apocalypse.
Interesting stuff, to be sure, and DOPOTO has been privileged to take a sneak peak at the scrolls. Not having any Aramaic speakers or ancient languages scholars on the payroll, we were relived to receive an English translation of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Most of them were as expected, faithful renditions of the Old Testament, or Torah, the same stories we've been reading for thousands of years, but with a few twists that have since been edited out of modern scripture. There were some real surprises, which DOPOTO is pleased to share with our readers. Some have to do with familiar books of the Bible, others with the accounts of life back in the day.
The Dead Sea itself was referred to as The Sea.
Christ's disciples called him Jerry.
Moses' mother wanted him to be an lawyer. He figured, lawyer, lawgiver, what's the dif?
The truth was that Job was prone to tantrums and constant complaining about all his tribulations.
Instead of a cross around their necks, early Christians wore a nail.
Solomon's Temple wasn't the nicest building in Jerusalem. It was one of John McCain's houses.
Joseph's coat of many colors was green, yellow and brown.
Jesus had a brother named Fredo who never amounted to much and was an embarrassment to the family. There were rumors of one of the disciples taking him fishing and returning alone.
Noah's Ark had racing stripes and was named "Endless Summer II".
David kept Goliath's severed head, hollowed it out, turned it upside down and used it as umbrella stand. After a few years it was pretty rank but by then he was king and that was that, it was a keeper.
There was an eleventh plague in Egypt; poodles. That's the one that convinced Pharoah to let the Jews go.
Sodom and Gomorra were popular tourist destinations.
Contrary to legend, the forty years the Jews were in the desert were not spent wandering. They sort of liked it there. It did wonders for their sinuses and they were in no rush to move. It was only when God threatened to cut off their manna did they rouse themselves to go to the Promised Land.
When Jesus rose from the dead the first thing he did was beat the crap out of the Roman soldiers who whipped him and hung him on a cross. Witnesses reported hearing him repeat over and over as he pummeled them "Prince of Peace, my ass!"
When Cain slew Abel, he was caught through forensic evidence. Ancient detective Sherlock took a plaster cast of his sandal prints, matched them up and he had to fess up.
Lazarus wasn't too crazy about being raised from the dead. His life was a mess and his wife was having an affair with the goat-milk man.
The only comedy entry of The Bible, Acts of Shecky, was edited out of the final draft.
The reason nobody had a last name in the Old Testament was that no one was allowed to have the same name, which sort of explains Meshach, Shadrach and Abednego.
KIng Solomon's mines were unionized and he paid good wages and benefits. He did, however, prove himself a shrewd negotiator when he promised his workers eyeglass coverage in lieu of a raise.
Jacob didn't look Jewish.
Abraham never completely trusted God again after that Isaac sacrifice stunt.
John The Baptist actually drowned a couple of people, prompting him to move his operation from the river to a shallow stream.
There was a paragraph omitted from Revelations that predicted balloon animals as one of the signs of the Apocalypse.
August 29, 2008
HELLUVA SPEECH
We all saw history last night when Barack Obama accepted the nomination of the Democratic Party to be their candidate for President of The United States. Or at least the fist step to history. History will be when he gets sworn in as President, the first black man to get there. He showed in Denver he's got the goods. His speech was powerful and no, it didn't make me turn into a worshipper. I've supported him from the time he announced his candidacy, not because he was some sort of Messianic cult leader, but because he seemed like the smartest guy in the race with the best policies and the least amount of vested interest in the Washington status quo.
I don't really get the whole "He's The One," approach to politics. Some of the people in his campaign need to lighten it up with that crap. He's not running as a black man, or a magic man, or a mystical man, but a man. An American man. You hear complaints from people that they're not feeling the magic mojo feelings like they did with Kennedy, or some people oddly enough felt for Reagan, and you have to wonder what they're looking for in a president. More than a president it seems, like what people did to John F. Kennedy and that whole nutty Camelot deal, an ideal no man can live up to. To his credit Obama's not biting and is running only on his policies and his vision for America. Which tells me he's really the right guy for the job, a man who wants to restore sanity and moral standing to America.
He laid out his story, unusual but not unprecedented in this country, and properly praised America for being the only country on earth where a story such as his can lead to a top-notch education, a law degree, public service and even the White House. His politics were shaped by service to the American people, his strength drawn from his wife and children and extended family, much like many of us. Which is not to say he is an ordinary man. I know plenty of guys who are ordinary men. Nice guys too. No reason to make them president. Barack Obama is clearly an extraordinary man; driven, confident, articulate, brilliant, original, moral and possessed of a broad vision for the nation he loves, head and shoulders above most men.
That's the kind of guy you elect President, not somebody who's run-of-the-mill, or worse, sub-normal like Bush The Younger. The idea that the president should be someone you feel comfortable having a beer with is absurd. The past eight years have underlined the fact that bad leadership can be disastrous. Like a lot of people, I wondered exactly how you can be given America, the gold standard among nations, and screw it up. Well, Bush The Younger and the Cheney Administration tried their best to screw up America on every level imaginable and even unimaginable both at home and abroad, and it is apparent at this point that they never intended to run the country as anything but a criminal enterprise, and as time went by they even stopped trying to hide it. When New Orleans drowned, they threw them an anchor and just went about their business of screwing America.
And now John McCain promises four more years of the same. Seems like a no-brainer to me. Elect Obama, not because to elect him will make history and show the world America has grown up when it comes to race, but because he's the best man for the job. The race thing is an added bonus, but only a bonus because the back man in question happens to be an outstanding man. McCain will be Bush/Cheney all over again. Barack Obama made a helluva speech last night, powerful, memorable, crystal clear and a compelling argument for electing him the the Presidency.
But oratory by itself is no reason to elect the man, and he knew this and laid out his program for America. He challenged McCain to do the same and to debate him on specific policy positions, not the phony patriotism questions and fear mongering that clueless Republicans have been using for eight years to smear their opponents in order to hide their lack of any ideas or qualifications. Don't look for McCain to accept Obama's invitation to take the high road. When you're out of ideas, mockery, lies and fear-mongering are your weapons of choice. Let's show these bozos nobody's afraid of them and restore some sanity to America. Vote Obama on November 4th.
I don't really get the whole "He's The One," approach to politics. Some of the people in his campaign need to lighten it up with that crap. He's not running as a black man, or a magic man, or a mystical man, but a man. An American man. You hear complaints from people that they're not feeling the magic mojo feelings like they did with Kennedy, or some people oddly enough felt for Reagan, and you have to wonder what they're looking for in a president. More than a president it seems, like what people did to John F. Kennedy and that whole nutty Camelot deal, an ideal no man can live up to. To his credit Obama's not biting and is running only on his policies and his vision for America. Which tells me he's really the right guy for the job, a man who wants to restore sanity and moral standing to America.
He laid out his story, unusual but not unprecedented in this country, and properly praised America for being the only country on earth where a story such as his can lead to a top-notch education, a law degree, public service and even the White House. His politics were shaped by service to the American people, his strength drawn from his wife and children and extended family, much like many of us. Which is not to say he is an ordinary man. I know plenty of guys who are ordinary men. Nice guys too. No reason to make them president. Barack Obama is clearly an extraordinary man; driven, confident, articulate, brilliant, original, moral and possessed of a broad vision for the nation he loves, head and shoulders above most men.
That's the kind of guy you elect President, not somebody who's run-of-the-mill, or worse, sub-normal like Bush The Younger. The idea that the president should be someone you feel comfortable having a beer with is absurd. The past eight years have underlined the fact that bad leadership can be disastrous. Like a lot of people, I wondered exactly how you can be given America, the gold standard among nations, and screw it up. Well, Bush The Younger and the Cheney Administration tried their best to screw up America on every level imaginable and even unimaginable both at home and abroad, and it is apparent at this point that they never intended to run the country as anything but a criminal enterprise, and as time went by they even stopped trying to hide it. When New Orleans drowned, they threw them an anchor and just went about their business of screwing America.
And now John McCain promises four more years of the same. Seems like a no-brainer to me. Elect Obama, not because to elect him will make history and show the world America has grown up when it comes to race, but because he's the best man for the job. The race thing is an added bonus, but only a bonus because the back man in question happens to be an outstanding man. McCain will be Bush/Cheney all over again. Barack Obama made a helluva speech last night, powerful, memorable, crystal clear and a compelling argument for electing him the the Presidency.
But oratory by itself is no reason to elect the man, and he knew this and laid out his program for America. He challenged McCain to do the same and to debate him on specific policy positions, not the phony patriotism questions and fear mongering that clueless Republicans have been using for eight years to smear their opponents in order to hide their lack of any ideas or qualifications. Don't look for McCain to accept Obama's invitation to take the high road. When you're out of ideas, mockery, lies and fear-mongering are your weapons of choice. Let's show these bozos nobody's afraid of them and restore some sanity to America. Vote Obama on November 4th.
August 28, 2008
LIFE EXPLAINED, PART 154
Music soothes the savage beast. Unless of course it is polka, German opera or fusion. They hate those. Play them at your own risk around savage beasts.
DAZE OF OUR LIVES
Every cloud has a silver lining! That would be the lightning. The sky's the limit! The sky is poison and full of holes. Prosperity is just around he corner. Prosperity is a gated community. The only thing we have to fear is fear itself. And terrorists and tyrants. Every man a king! Speak for yourself, Rex. It is a new dawn for America! How about some of those old dawns, the ones when we still had a Bill of Rights? There's no stopping us now! That's sort of what we're afraid of. Hope is on the way! Hope you've got some kind of plan, Stan. A shining city on a hill! Poor people need not apply. One nation under God, with liberty and justice for all. Leave God out of this, it wasn't His idea to abolish the right to a Writ of Habeus Corpus.
And so it goes in these days of political conventions, where we suspend belief on the one hand and bite the other hand that feeds us fairy tales. You try to check your cynicism at the door but to get to the door you've just had to wade knee-deep through piles of horse exhaust. So you ask questions when our political leaders gather together and anoint a guy as a Messiah to fix all the problems they had a huge hand in creating. Like he's going to wave a magic wand when he's president and stop Congressmen and Senators from loading every law that passes their desks with more pork than a sausage factory. They ask the rest of us to believe that they will keep their word about working together when you know that once the guy's elected they're going to go back to being part of the problem and making his life miserable.
We have ourselves today history in our hands, a black man nominated for the Presidency by a major party, a brilliant and capable man to be sure, but in the end but a man, possessed of no magical qualities and no powers to huff and puff and blow our problems away. That would take cooperation from the two Houses of Congress, those same two houses who have loaded legislation for emergency funding for both 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina with earmarks. When unprecedented national disasters don't prevent you from bellying up to the buffet table of the national treasury, well, don't go all Abe Lincoln on us at the convention, taking about unity, personal responsibility and constructive dialogue. The same two houses of Congress who didn't have to the nerve to defy a complete moron of a president for the past 8 years. And we're supposed to believe them, why?
And the other party, wow! They're even more delusional, nominating a senile old war hero in the hopes that people will elect him because he's not a black guy, and sadly, with decent prospects to succeed. At a time when you'd think no one gives a good crap what color anybody is, well, they do. Never mind that the senile old guy nominates his wife to join a biker gang's wet T-shirt contest, forgets how many luxurious homes he owns and doesn't know his geography, he's the one to lead us out of the nightmare he helped create. How does that work, exactly? The Republicans want you to believe that the guy who voted 95% of the time this past year according to the wishes of our worst president ever is now all of a sudden going to restore the factory settings to America. Maybe we were born at night, but it wasn't last night.
The fact is, though, that the next president is going to pretty much be as busy as one-armed piano player cleaning up the godawful mess left by Bush The Younger. Now that we realize way too late that electing mildly retarded puppet presidents is not the way to go, just maybe we could persuade the rest of our elected representatives that they've got to man the brooms and buckets too. They've got to ask themselves just how dumb they acted to screw up a place as cool as America. That's not easy, you know, it took a lot of effort to fuck up on such an epic scale. Dumbya didn't do that alone, the Congress killed more than their share of the golden goose and slopped the gravy all over themselves and us too.
Don't make our first black president a janitor, at least not the only one. Half these jokers getting up to praise the man as our savior are a huge part of the reason we need a savior in the first place. After November, butt-smoke blowing time is over and the reality will be that America needs to be fixed and it's not a one-man job. So get the high-mineded rhetoric out of your system now and come next January, either be prepared to help or stand aside and let others do what you were afraid to do; stand up and fight for what is ours.
And so it goes in these days of political conventions, where we suspend belief on the one hand and bite the other hand that feeds us fairy tales. You try to check your cynicism at the door but to get to the door you've just had to wade knee-deep through piles of horse exhaust. So you ask questions when our political leaders gather together and anoint a guy as a Messiah to fix all the problems they had a huge hand in creating. Like he's going to wave a magic wand when he's president and stop Congressmen and Senators from loading every law that passes their desks with more pork than a sausage factory. They ask the rest of us to believe that they will keep their word about working together when you know that once the guy's elected they're going to go back to being part of the problem and making his life miserable.
We have ourselves today history in our hands, a black man nominated for the Presidency by a major party, a brilliant and capable man to be sure, but in the end but a man, possessed of no magical qualities and no powers to huff and puff and blow our problems away. That would take cooperation from the two Houses of Congress, those same two houses who have loaded legislation for emergency funding for both 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina with earmarks. When unprecedented national disasters don't prevent you from bellying up to the buffet table of the national treasury, well, don't go all Abe Lincoln on us at the convention, taking about unity, personal responsibility and constructive dialogue. The same two houses of Congress who didn't have to the nerve to defy a complete moron of a president for the past 8 years. And we're supposed to believe them, why?
And the other party, wow! They're even more delusional, nominating a senile old war hero in the hopes that people will elect him because he's not a black guy, and sadly, with decent prospects to succeed. At a time when you'd think no one gives a good crap what color anybody is, well, they do. Never mind that the senile old guy nominates his wife to join a biker gang's wet T-shirt contest, forgets how many luxurious homes he owns and doesn't know his geography, he's the one to lead us out of the nightmare he helped create. How does that work, exactly? The Republicans want you to believe that the guy who voted 95% of the time this past year according to the wishes of our worst president ever is now all of a sudden going to restore the factory settings to America. Maybe we were born at night, but it wasn't last night.
The fact is, though, that the next president is going to pretty much be as busy as one-armed piano player cleaning up the godawful mess left by Bush The Younger. Now that we realize way too late that electing mildly retarded puppet presidents is not the way to go, just maybe we could persuade the rest of our elected representatives that they've got to man the brooms and buckets too. They've got to ask themselves just how dumb they acted to screw up a place as cool as America. That's not easy, you know, it took a lot of effort to fuck up on such an epic scale. Dumbya didn't do that alone, the Congress killed more than their share of the golden goose and slopped the gravy all over themselves and us too.
Don't make our first black president a janitor, at least not the only one. Half these jokers getting up to praise the man as our savior are a huge part of the reason we need a savior in the first place. After November, butt-smoke blowing time is over and the reality will be that America needs to be fixed and it's not a one-man job. So get the high-mineded rhetoric out of your system now and come next January, either be prepared to help or stand aside and let others do what you were afraid to do; stand up and fight for what is ours.
August 27, 2008
LIFE EXPLAINED, PART 153
A friendship that can't survive a serious falling out wasn't much of a friendship to begin with. Friends are people who know what an asshole you can be sometimes but love you anyway, and vice-versa.
THE MIGHTY MIGHTY TASH BROTHERS BAND RE-UNITES FOR A FESTIVAL
Come one come all to the American Music festival in Port Jefferson, New York on Saturday, September 13th. Why, you ask? Well, what better reason than seeing The Tash Brothers Band? The Mighty Tash Brothers have been rocking the blues in the New York City area for the past 30 years and we've got the scars to prove it. These past couple of years I've only been a part-time Tash Brother but the band has still been going stronger than ever. The lineup for the festival will be the latest incarnation of a great band: the original Mr. Tash, the ringleader of this circus and wild showman, Tony Burdo on guitar and vocals, his son A.J. Burdo on keyboards, Gregory Brenner on drums, Hugh Boyle on bass and K. Paule Pachter on vocals and rub board. Rejoining the band for this show will be yours truly, Bob Crespo(.com) on guitar and vocals, the second-best singer, songwriter and guitar slinger in the world.
For many years the lineup consisted of Tony and myself and most of the time harmonica wizard and founding member Steve "Norman Sucka Tash" Greenbaum plus whoever could keep up with our high octane take-no-prisoners-act. We've burned out more drummers than Spinal Tap and have had more bass men than the Yankees. Original member guitarist and singer Bob D'Alessandro moved to the woods about 15 or so years ago, and he still shows up every so often to join the madness. To be a Tash Brother you first have to be an ace musician, then you have to be a lunatic and a showman. We'd take anybody who fits the bill and wanted to play our brand of balls-to-the-wall blues rock, and we've had sax players, fiddlers, pianists, trumpeters, percussionists and even a whole brass section at times. There's even been a couple of Tash Sisters along the way, most notably A.J.'s mom Tricia C.(U. Later), the best looking person ever to be a Tash.
On other occasions the Tash Brothers were Tony and myself on a couple of acoustic guitars, still putting out a mountain of sound and working the audience into a frenzy. I'm bragging but it's true. Come see and hear for yourself if you think I'm bullshitting. As well as the famous clubs like The Lone Star Cafe, The Bitter End and Wetlands to name just a few, we've played street fairs, giant festivals, churches, theaters, parks, American legion halls, biker bars, boats, beaches, along the docks at Sheepshead Bay, the Mermaid parade in Coney Island and every gin joint in the tri-state area willing to get an extra heavy dose of musical reality. The Tash Brothers were even the only band to play in the famous sex club Plato's Retreat. You have a big enough backyard we'd play there too.
This band is no Johnny-one-note outfit either, sounding the same song after song. We do a ton of different material in a lot of different styles, and we can whisper and tease as well as roar. There's 3 lead vocalists to mix things up, Tony Burdo's blues voice deluxe, Paul Patchen's rocking wail and my own voice (as noted above, the second-best singer in the world!). A hurricane is not built on thunder alone, there's the build-up and the calms, and then the lighting and the downpours and the howling wind and then another calm, maybe with the sun peeking through for while before all hell breaks loose again and we leave you loving hurricanes and wanting more.
Come to The American Music Festival on Saturday, September 23 at 5PM at the Harbor Stage and see one of the best live shows of the year. There's lots of other musical acts, some famous, some not, but all of them fine listening. There's none of them, though, as good as The Tash Brothers Band, especially with Bob Crespo(.com) back on board for the night. Check out their website, porthjeffmusicfestival.org for the details of the 3-days of shows or contact them at info@portjeffchamber.com. You can also call them at (631) 473-1414 for directions or to just chat if you're lonely. Chambers of Commerce don't have much else to do so brighten their day with a phone call.
Port Jefferson is on the North Shore of Long Island about an hour's drive from New York City. It's a nice little Long Island town as far as little Long Island towns go and a perfect place to cap one of the last warm weekends of the season with a concert by a band you won't forget and who just might change the way you look at things forever. Be there at the Harbor Stage in Port Jefferson on Saturday, September 23, 5 o'clock sharp! Great live bands don't grow on trees so get your lazy ass out to Port Jeff. Don't spend your so-called life regretting never having seen The Tash Brothers Band!
For many years the lineup consisted of Tony and myself and most of the time harmonica wizard and founding member Steve "Norman Sucka Tash" Greenbaum plus whoever could keep up with our high octane take-no-prisoners-act. We've burned out more drummers than Spinal Tap and have had more bass men than the Yankees. Original member guitarist and singer Bob D'Alessandro moved to the woods about 15 or so years ago, and he still shows up every so often to join the madness. To be a Tash Brother you first have to be an ace musician, then you have to be a lunatic and a showman. We'd take anybody who fits the bill and wanted to play our brand of balls-to-the-wall blues rock, and we've had sax players, fiddlers, pianists, trumpeters, percussionists and even a whole brass section at times. There's even been a couple of Tash Sisters along the way, most notably A.J.'s mom Tricia C.(U. Later), the best looking person ever to be a Tash.
On other occasions the Tash Brothers were Tony and myself on a couple of acoustic guitars, still putting out a mountain of sound and working the audience into a frenzy. I'm bragging but it's true. Come see and hear for yourself if you think I'm bullshitting. As well as the famous clubs like The Lone Star Cafe, The Bitter End and Wetlands to name just a few, we've played street fairs, giant festivals, churches, theaters, parks, American legion halls, biker bars, boats, beaches, along the docks at Sheepshead Bay, the Mermaid parade in Coney Island and every gin joint in the tri-state area willing to get an extra heavy dose of musical reality. The Tash Brothers were even the only band to play in the famous sex club Plato's Retreat. You have a big enough backyard we'd play there too.
This band is no Johnny-one-note outfit either, sounding the same song after song. We do a ton of different material in a lot of different styles, and we can whisper and tease as well as roar. There's 3 lead vocalists to mix things up, Tony Burdo's blues voice deluxe, Paul Patchen's rocking wail and my own voice (as noted above, the second-best singer in the world!). A hurricane is not built on thunder alone, there's the build-up and the calms, and then the lighting and the downpours and the howling wind and then another calm, maybe with the sun peeking through for while before all hell breaks loose again and we leave you loving hurricanes and wanting more.
Come to The American Music Festival on Saturday, September 23 at 5PM at the Harbor Stage and see one of the best live shows of the year. There's lots of other musical acts, some famous, some not, but all of them fine listening. There's none of them, though, as good as The Tash Brothers Band, especially with Bob Crespo(.com) back on board for the night. Check out their website, porthjeffmusicfestival.org for the details of the 3-days of shows or contact them at info@portjeffchamber.com. You can also call them at (631) 473-1414 for directions or to just chat if you're lonely. Chambers of Commerce don't have much else to do so brighten their day with a phone call.
Port Jefferson is on the North Shore of Long Island about an hour's drive from New York City. It's a nice little Long Island town as far as little Long Island towns go and a perfect place to cap one of the last warm weekends of the season with a concert by a band you won't forget and who just might change the way you look at things forever. Be there at the Harbor Stage in Port Jefferson on Saturday, September 23, 5 o'clock sharp! Great live bands don't grow on trees so get your lazy ass out to Port Jeff. Don't spend your so-called life regretting never having seen The Tash Brothers Band!
August 26, 2008
LIFE EXPLAINED, PART 152
The world often seems like a kaleidoscope or a cloud formation: you can see in them what you choose to see. In fact kaleidoscopes are bits of colored glass and clouds are vapor. It's a fun exercise of our imaginations but not much good at discerning reality.
MORE HUMBLE SUGGESTIONS FROM DOPOTO
The Department of Pointing Out The Obvious (DOPOTO) has taken time out from our hectic schedule of monitoring world events to fulfill our function of pointing out the readily apparent. Although that seems like a superfluous undertaking, we have found that it is astounding how often the obvious is overlooked. There are several reasons for this, not the least of which is the vast amount of information coming our way at breakneck speed these days, making it difficult for our neural receptors to process all this data. Then there are the legions of professional spin doctors out there attempting to reinterpret the truth to serve their own aims, either political operatives lying to further a hidden agenda or just for practice, TV commentators seeking to tailor every event and idea to reinforce their delusional world views or business interests simply looking to sell us something in the time honored tradition of making stuff up about their product and passing it off as accepted truth.
The modern world often boggles the mind and threatens us all with sensory overload. This is why DOPOTO was established, to try and help humanity to sort all this information out somehow. It is a daunting task, fraught with the risk of misinterpretation and the temptation to spend our days just laughing our asses off at some of the silly crap people try to pass off as information. But that would be counterproductive and a betrayal of our mandate so we try to keep our fits of maniacal laughter to a minimum and stick to reporting the obvious. Towards that end, we have come up with several suggestions regarding the (Mis)Information Age.
Don't try to read between the lines. - There is nothing but blank space between the lines of any written communication and empty silence between the words of spoken messages, therefore reading between the lines is a fruitless undertaking. Instead, try to pay attention to what is actually being said, unless of course it's a bunch of nonsense, in which case it's best to move on to something else that makes sense. You are under no obligation to pay attention to utter bullshit.
You need not be shocked by the mundane. - Politicians and TV commentators are constantly trying to get people worked up about their pet peeves, very rarely reflecting anything but their own personal neuroses and petty hatreds. Trust your own instincts to figure out what's an imminent threat to the general welfare and what is the delusional rant of some joker with an axe to grind. Let their anger be theirs alone, no matter how skillful they are at lying and the manipulation of statistics. If nothing is in flames and nobody's bleeding, odds are there's no emergency. Don't panic because an idiot does.
Demand to see the badges of the thought police. - When confronted by someone telling you how to behave, what to think, what to smoke, what to eat, who to admire, who to revile, what to believe in, what to hate, what to love and how to raise your own brats, ask to see some official credentials. Let them know in no uncertain terms (Fuck you! works well.) that self-appointed doesn't count. In all of the above situations, instead refer to your own conscience. If you're out of practice in thinking for yourself, well, it's like riding a bicycle; you can always do it again after years of not doing it. Even if you fall off a few times and scrape yourself up, at least they will be your scrapes.
Celebrate the absurd. - A lot of the information careening our way is actually pretty funny. Take some of these made up diseases invented by giant drug companies, like Adult Attention Deficit Disorder. Of course adults don't pay any attention to this twaddle, it's all made-up nonsense to sell gullible fools who never had any attention span in the first place expensive drugs. And damned amusing, too! With no attention span, these people will never know one way or the next if they're cured or not, and they can be talked into thinking they have all sorts of other "diseases" that can be cured by throwing their money away. This is nothing new. Ask P.T. Barnum, who coined the phrase "There's a sucker born every minute," or any snake oil salesman who sold bottles of cheap whiskey as "Magic Elixir."
Or how about that Keystone Kops new branch of our government, the Department of Homeland Security? It sounds and acts like a comic spoof of dictatorships like Fredonia in the Marx Brothers' "Duck Soup" or Tomania in Charlie Chaplain's "The Great Dictator," making our citizens very insecure, removing our Bill of Rights protections, making secret arrests and eavesdropping on law-aiding citizens. Our work is cut out for us to remove these Dr. Strangelove operatives creating fear so they have something to do. Namely, fighting those fears they created. How beautiful is that? Take your comedy wherever you can get it. If we can't laugh at ourselves, don't worry, others will be glad to do so. There's plenty of fun to be had in this world, it doesn't all have to be so grim and dire.
And finally, one last suggestion:
Pay attention to the obvious. - Easier said than done in this blizzard of misinformation we call modern life, but doable. When one nation attacks another nation with whom it has no argument, but the nation being attacked is sitting on a sea of oil, pay no attention to any other reason being put forward for that war. It's the oil, period. Any other arguments are transparent garbage, and when they give a thousand reasons, they doth protest too much and it's about the money. After all, oil is the currency of modern nations. When a government lets one of its major cities drown they are telling you quite clearly that they don't give a rat's ass about its own citizens. When celebrities, politicians and corporate treasury looters get caught doing something bad and then say they are sorry, what they are telling you is that they are sorry they got caught. Their subsequent behavior almost always proves that.
Watch what people do and not what they say for clues. Too often the truth is staring us in the face and we are mesmerized by the shiny verbal objects being dangled before us to keep us distracted. You can help The Department Of Pointing Out The Obvious by keeping your eyes wide open and don't let anybody try to pull any wool over them. The people out there trying to fool you are not exactly master magicians, just snake oil salesmen who have been having a good run of luck lately. As always DOPOTO defers to that font of celluloid wisdom, The Wizard of Oz, and urges you to indeed pay a lot of attention to that puny little man behind the curtain pulling the levers and pushing the butons. You're still in Kansas and the dream was fun but just a dream. You can open your eyes now, Dorothy.
The modern world often boggles the mind and threatens us all with sensory overload. This is why DOPOTO was established, to try and help humanity to sort all this information out somehow. It is a daunting task, fraught with the risk of misinterpretation and the temptation to spend our days just laughing our asses off at some of the silly crap people try to pass off as information. But that would be counterproductive and a betrayal of our mandate so we try to keep our fits of maniacal laughter to a minimum and stick to reporting the obvious. Towards that end, we have come up with several suggestions regarding the (Mis)Information Age.
Don't try to read between the lines. - There is nothing but blank space between the lines of any written communication and empty silence between the words of spoken messages, therefore reading between the lines is a fruitless undertaking. Instead, try to pay attention to what is actually being said, unless of course it's a bunch of nonsense, in which case it's best to move on to something else that makes sense. You are under no obligation to pay attention to utter bullshit.
You need not be shocked by the mundane. - Politicians and TV commentators are constantly trying to get people worked up about their pet peeves, very rarely reflecting anything but their own personal neuroses and petty hatreds. Trust your own instincts to figure out what's an imminent threat to the general welfare and what is the delusional rant of some joker with an axe to grind. Let their anger be theirs alone, no matter how skillful they are at lying and the manipulation of statistics. If nothing is in flames and nobody's bleeding, odds are there's no emergency. Don't panic because an idiot does.
Demand to see the badges of the thought police. - When confronted by someone telling you how to behave, what to think, what to smoke, what to eat, who to admire, who to revile, what to believe in, what to hate, what to love and how to raise your own brats, ask to see some official credentials. Let them know in no uncertain terms (Fuck you! works well.) that self-appointed doesn't count. In all of the above situations, instead refer to your own conscience. If you're out of practice in thinking for yourself, well, it's like riding a bicycle; you can always do it again after years of not doing it. Even if you fall off a few times and scrape yourself up, at least they will be your scrapes.
Celebrate the absurd. - A lot of the information careening our way is actually pretty funny. Take some of these made up diseases invented by giant drug companies, like Adult Attention Deficit Disorder. Of course adults don't pay any attention to this twaddle, it's all made-up nonsense to sell gullible fools who never had any attention span in the first place expensive drugs. And damned amusing, too! With no attention span, these people will never know one way or the next if they're cured or not, and they can be talked into thinking they have all sorts of other "diseases" that can be cured by throwing their money away. This is nothing new. Ask P.T. Barnum, who coined the phrase "There's a sucker born every minute," or any snake oil salesman who sold bottles of cheap whiskey as "Magic Elixir."
Or how about that Keystone Kops new branch of our government, the Department of Homeland Security? It sounds and acts like a comic spoof of dictatorships like Fredonia in the Marx Brothers' "Duck Soup" or Tomania in Charlie Chaplain's "The Great Dictator," making our citizens very insecure, removing our Bill of Rights protections, making secret arrests and eavesdropping on law-aiding citizens. Our work is cut out for us to remove these Dr. Strangelove operatives creating fear so they have something to do. Namely, fighting those fears they created. How beautiful is that? Take your comedy wherever you can get it. If we can't laugh at ourselves, don't worry, others will be glad to do so. There's plenty of fun to be had in this world, it doesn't all have to be so grim and dire.
And finally, one last suggestion:
Pay attention to the obvious. - Easier said than done in this blizzard of misinformation we call modern life, but doable. When one nation attacks another nation with whom it has no argument, but the nation being attacked is sitting on a sea of oil, pay no attention to any other reason being put forward for that war. It's the oil, period. Any other arguments are transparent garbage, and when they give a thousand reasons, they doth protest too much and it's about the money. After all, oil is the currency of modern nations. When a government lets one of its major cities drown they are telling you quite clearly that they don't give a rat's ass about its own citizens. When celebrities, politicians and corporate treasury looters get caught doing something bad and then say they are sorry, what they are telling you is that they are sorry they got caught. Their subsequent behavior almost always proves that.
Watch what people do and not what they say for clues. Too often the truth is staring us in the face and we are mesmerized by the shiny verbal objects being dangled before us to keep us distracted. You can help The Department Of Pointing Out The Obvious by keeping your eyes wide open and don't let anybody try to pull any wool over them. The people out there trying to fool you are not exactly master magicians, just snake oil salesmen who have been having a good run of luck lately. As always DOPOTO defers to that font of celluloid wisdom, The Wizard of Oz, and urges you to indeed pay a lot of attention to that puny little man behind the curtain pulling the levers and pushing the butons. You're still in Kansas and the dream was fun but just a dream. You can open your eyes now, Dorothy.
LIFE EXPLAINED, PART 151
Fiction's easy, a snap. You just make stuff up, try to be a little plausible, add some interesting characters, give them something cool to do, present them with a challenge or two, maybe add a little danger and bingo, you've got a real good story. It's life that's bizarre as can be. There's just no telling what the hell's going to happen one minute to the next, and just maybe it's your ass all of a sudden in a sling. Which is probably why we love our stories so much, the much safer and better deal by far.
THE WORST PRESIDENT IN AMERICAN HISTORY (AND FOREVER INTO THE FUTURE TOO!)
Blessed and lucky will be our 44th president. History will likely record him as looking like a genius in his own time, earning accolades for simply showing up and being reasonably fluent in his native language. That's how low the presidential bar has been set by Bush The Younger, The Worst President in American History and almost surely forever into the future. It just would not be possible to elect a less capable president. The former Worst President Ever, Ulysses S. Grant, was at least a war hero in the Mexican American War and a supremely able General Officer in the Civil War who made the difference in winning that war and preserving the Union, and was an interesting person. Bush The Younger, on the other hand, deserted his post during a time of war as a young man and is a personal cipher.
Not only that, the post he held was stateside in the Air National Guard, ten thousand miles away from any danger! That's how stupid this guy is! As he got older he was set up in business after business by his wealthy and super-well connected family (his dad was President Bush The Elder). He's probably the only man in history to lose money in the oil business, and also made a godawful mess of running the Texas Rangers baseball team. In order to get this bumbling fool out of the family business and prevent him from flushing more money away, they got him involved in politics and safely out of the way.
So they get him the Governorship of Texas and he proceeds to execute more people than the rest of the states combined during his 6 years in office, 152 in all, including a number of mentally retarded offenders. Since he left that office laws have been passed in Texas prohibiting that sort of behavior. Somehow he got himself elected President, with a big assist from widespread election fraud in Florida where his brother Jeb was Governor. For his Vice President he was given Shotgun Dick Cheney, the guy who actually runs the country. Bush The Younger is a puppet, too dumb to admit it and expose Cheney's coup d' etat and just smart enough to keep his mouth shut about it and stay breathing.
The Cheney Administration immediately went about the business of looting the treasury and splitting the proceeds with the nation's super-wealthy elite, cutting their taxes and overseeing the most massive transfer of wealth from the working classes to the the wealthy in human history. Bush The Younger was fine with all that since he is one of the super wealthy who benefited from Cheney's policies. So successful was that transfer that now less than 1% of Americans owns well over 90% of the nation's wealth. Shotgun Dick Cheney and his Hole In The Head Gang had pulled off the overthrow of the United States government without firing a shot. At least not yet.
Then one sunny September morning the world blew up in America's face when 3 airliners took out the World Trade Center and severely damaged the nation's military headquarters in Washington, The Pentagon. As nominal Commander in Chief of America's armed forces, Bush the Younger was informed immediately. First he froze for 7 minutes, then cravenly fled in Air Force One and was incommunicado for 12 hours, leaving the running of the nation completely in Shotgun Dick Cheney's hands during the opening salvos of a war on our nation, one that started with a stunning victory for our enemy.
The world rallied behind America, our reservoir of good will bursting and support for whatever retaliatory measures we pursued assured. Bush The Younger visited the rubble of the Trade Center and promised revenge on Osama bin Laden, neglecting to tell the American people that his family and the bin Laden family had been business associates for many decades. In the weeks following the 9/11 attacks, no one could fly in America, except for the members of the bin Laden family who were flown out of the country one step ahead of Federal investigators who would have loved to interview individuals who's brother has just killed 3,000 people on American soil, the worst such attack since Pearl Harbor.
So the Cheney Administration logically enough attacked Afghanistan where bin Laden enjoyed the protection of that nation's Taliban government. That lasted a while but they never did manage to catch the President's former colleague, letting him slip out of their grasp time and again, all the while planning a war against a different nation, one that unlike poor Afghanistan had something worth looting. That would be Iraq, complete with a cartoon character of an evil dictator and sitting on a sea of oil. The only problem was, he never did anything bad to America and wanted less to do with bin Laden's al Qaeda than we did.
No problem, figured Cheney, we'll lie our asses off and Bush The Younger will swear to it, and our other stooge Colin Powell too. And that's exactly what happened. Cheney and his main henchmen Rumsfeld and Ashcroft got their illegal war and then got busy attacking our own nation's Bill of Rights, cutting taxes to the wealthy again and urging Americans to spend themselves into usurious debt to their credit card billionaire buddies, the exact opposite of what nations at war normally ask of their citizens. As soon as American troops took over Iraq all the gauges and meters measuring how much oil is pumped out of the ground got conveniently broken and still are. It is conservatively estimated that 3 million dollars worth of oil is stolen every single day by somebody. Wonder who?
And so the war goes on and on while Shotgun Dick Cheney and his Hole In The Head Gang steals another election for Bush The Younger and keeps on earnestly transferring working people's money to the wealthy while New Orleans drowns and they throw them an anchor and then start surveying their destroyed neighborhoods for luxury condos. Now they are nearing the end of a very successful run as criminal masterminds, their every crime signed off by the dim bulb who can't put two coherent sentences together but still pretends he's "The Decider."
Any novelist who proposed any of the above as the plot line for a thriller would have been laughed out of his publisher's office. But there it is, officially intercepted phone calls and e-mails, private mercenary armies and our own spies unmasked by the Vice President and more, far more. Like they say, you can't make this stuff up. So, whoever follows this act can't help but come up smelling like a rose, even in the unlikely event that it is not the smart guy this time around but that half-daft old man with his deer-in-the-headlights Alzheimer's stare. At least he's confused and babbling in understandable English, more than you can say for Dumbya. Even if he doesn't make a lick of sense, that's still an improvement over The Worst President In American History. Get Mount Rushmore ready for #44.
Not only that, the post he held was stateside in the Air National Guard, ten thousand miles away from any danger! That's how stupid this guy is! As he got older he was set up in business after business by his wealthy and super-well connected family (his dad was President Bush The Elder). He's probably the only man in history to lose money in the oil business, and also made a godawful mess of running the Texas Rangers baseball team. In order to get this bumbling fool out of the family business and prevent him from flushing more money away, they got him involved in politics and safely out of the way.
So they get him the Governorship of Texas and he proceeds to execute more people than the rest of the states combined during his 6 years in office, 152 in all, including a number of mentally retarded offenders. Since he left that office laws have been passed in Texas prohibiting that sort of behavior. Somehow he got himself elected President, with a big assist from widespread election fraud in Florida where his brother Jeb was Governor. For his Vice President he was given Shotgun Dick Cheney, the guy who actually runs the country. Bush The Younger is a puppet, too dumb to admit it and expose Cheney's coup d' etat and just smart enough to keep his mouth shut about it and stay breathing.
The Cheney Administration immediately went about the business of looting the treasury and splitting the proceeds with the nation's super-wealthy elite, cutting their taxes and overseeing the most massive transfer of wealth from the working classes to the the wealthy in human history. Bush The Younger was fine with all that since he is one of the super wealthy who benefited from Cheney's policies. So successful was that transfer that now less than 1% of Americans owns well over 90% of the nation's wealth. Shotgun Dick Cheney and his Hole In The Head Gang had pulled off the overthrow of the United States government without firing a shot. At least not yet.
Then one sunny September morning the world blew up in America's face when 3 airliners took out the World Trade Center and severely damaged the nation's military headquarters in Washington, The Pentagon. As nominal Commander in Chief of America's armed forces, Bush the Younger was informed immediately. First he froze for 7 minutes, then cravenly fled in Air Force One and was incommunicado for 12 hours, leaving the running of the nation completely in Shotgun Dick Cheney's hands during the opening salvos of a war on our nation, one that started with a stunning victory for our enemy.
The world rallied behind America, our reservoir of good will bursting and support for whatever retaliatory measures we pursued assured. Bush The Younger visited the rubble of the Trade Center and promised revenge on Osama bin Laden, neglecting to tell the American people that his family and the bin Laden family had been business associates for many decades. In the weeks following the 9/11 attacks, no one could fly in America, except for the members of the bin Laden family who were flown out of the country one step ahead of Federal investigators who would have loved to interview individuals who's brother has just killed 3,000 people on American soil, the worst such attack since Pearl Harbor.
So the Cheney Administration logically enough attacked Afghanistan where bin Laden enjoyed the protection of that nation's Taliban government. That lasted a while but they never did manage to catch the President's former colleague, letting him slip out of their grasp time and again, all the while planning a war against a different nation, one that unlike poor Afghanistan had something worth looting. That would be Iraq, complete with a cartoon character of an evil dictator and sitting on a sea of oil. The only problem was, he never did anything bad to America and wanted less to do with bin Laden's al Qaeda than we did.
No problem, figured Cheney, we'll lie our asses off and Bush The Younger will swear to it, and our other stooge Colin Powell too. And that's exactly what happened. Cheney and his main henchmen Rumsfeld and Ashcroft got their illegal war and then got busy attacking our own nation's Bill of Rights, cutting taxes to the wealthy again and urging Americans to spend themselves into usurious debt to their credit card billionaire buddies, the exact opposite of what nations at war normally ask of their citizens. As soon as American troops took over Iraq all the gauges and meters measuring how much oil is pumped out of the ground got conveniently broken and still are. It is conservatively estimated that 3 million dollars worth of oil is stolen every single day by somebody. Wonder who?
And so the war goes on and on while Shotgun Dick Cheney and his Hole In The Head Gang steals another election for Bush The Younger and keeps on earnestly transferring working people's money to the wealthy while New Orleans drowns and they throw them an anchor and then start surveying their destroyed neighborhoods for luxury condos. Now they are nearing the end of a very successful run as criminal masterminds, their every crime signed off by the dim bulb who can't put two coherent sentences together but still pretends he's "The Decider."
Any novelist who proposed any of the above as the plot line for a thriller would have been laughed out of his publisher's office. But there it is, officially intercepted phone calls and e-mails, private mercenary armies and our own spies unmasked by the Vice President and more, far more. Like they say, you can't make this stuff up. So, whoever follows this act can't help but come up smelling like a rose, even in the unlikely event that it is not the smart guy this time around but that half-daft old man with his deer-in-the-headlights Alzheimer's stare. At least he's confused and babbling in understandable English, more than you can say for Dumbya. Even if he doesn't make a lick of sense, that's still an improvement over The Worst President In American History. Get Mount Rushmore ready for #44.
August 25, 2008
LIFE EXPLAINED, PART 150
Quick, who won the Silver Medal in anything these past 2 weeks? A show of hands here? Okay, who won Gold Medals 4 years ago? Anybody? The world remembers only champions, but not forever. Enjoy your triumphs while you can, then get on with living your life, which is more of a process than an event. Some days you win a bunch of gold medals and all the lights are on you, other days you're Togo, going home with with one lousy bronze to show for your trouble. All that running, sweating, straining and leaping over hurdles doesn't mean all that much except to you and yours, and that's fine. You know you're giving it your best shot, and so do your people, so take what you can get and be happy. Such is life.
SUGGESTIONS
Here's a suggestion to the science teachers ordered by the Florida Department of Education to teach the Theory of Evolution to high school students who believe that the Bible is a literal and accurate time-line description of the creation of the universe and life on earth, which they think is 5,768 years old. If they don't get with the program, fail them. Nobody ever asked us whether or not we believed in algebra. We had to solve for that damned X or fail the course. And that's just what we did, at least those of us who wanted to evolve into graduates. And natural selection being what it is, some fell by the wayside.
Offer the Florida students the same option; develop some damned legs and walk among reasoning beings or swim in the ocean of ignorance forever. If the parents who taught these kids that crap object, well, let them. No one expects any different from clue-free zealots, and no one is under any obligation to pay them the slightest heed. They'll be extinct soon enough, of mild interest only to social paleontologists. Meanwhile, educate all our children properly and keep religion and government mutually exclusive like the highly evolved framers of the United States Constitution mandated.
Here's another suggestion, this one for the Barack Oama campaign: The man's running for President, not Messiah. Lose "The One." How about instead being the one who can figure out how to end the Iraq war, catch Osama bin Laden, tax the super-wealthy again, reign in corporate treasury looters, initiate efforts to develop new energy sources, stop the hemorrhaging of American jobs and capital to foreign nations, help the homeless and rebuild America's respected image in the world? How about being that guy?
Start spelling out your plans or risk delivering the nation to that grumpy old man who wants to fight all the wars he can imagine, is surrounded by corporate lobbyists and power brokers and can't recall how many luxurious homes he owns. Biden, help the kid out here! There's too much at stake to keep running a Billy Graham-style evangelical stadium crusade instead of making serious plans. The prospect of President John McCain is just too scary.
A suggestion to John McCain: Talk to those geezers at "60 Minutes," and Larry King, some really old guys who still have all their marbles. Ask them what's their secret. At 72, you're a little young to be getting so senile, but the signs are unmistakable. Take some antioxidants, get some treatment already! You're scaring the children, Senator, and that blank disoriented look on your face when you're out in public is all too familiar to those of us who have a loved one with the same affliction. Nominating your wife to compete in a biker gang's wet T-shirt contest isn't reassuring anybody. Did you even know where you were that day? Are you still sleeping on the couch? Are you trying to make Bush the Younger look good? It won't work, you know, so snap out of it already before you lose even your own family's votes.
A humble suggestion to the Chinese Government: If you want the feel-good glow of the Olympics to continue, offer your mass resignations and call for free elections. You've gotten out of your people's way as far as business and commerce is concerned and they've made China an economic powerhouse, something all the 5 Year Plans and ass-backwards Communist policies in creation couldn't do. Let's see if they can't do better than you have, The Worst Government in The Whole Wide World. Odds are they won't even lock you up or force you to work on farms like you do to 80 year-old grannies. They'll just forget about your pathetic asses and make themselves one hell of a good country while you guys wax nostalgic about your days of torturing and murdering on a grand scale over wistful glasses of rice wine in your retirement homes.
One final suggestion, this one to Bill and Hillary Clinton: Get over it! You're both still rich, famous and influential, and America didn't lose out on a potential FDR or Lincoln, let's not kid ourselves here. The nation's work force is still waiting for the Universal Health Care that Hillary pushed for as First Lady and did nothing about in the Senate and is rapidly shrinking thanks to Bubba's NAFTA treaty, so let's not pretend you two have exclusive rights to the answers here. The Clinton Presidency only looks good because it was followed by the Bush The Younger Administration, America's Worst President Ever. People would fondly remember Herbert Hoover had he preceded Dumbya.
In a race where Hillary was the odds-on favorite from the start, Obama came from nowhere and won fair and square. What does that tell you? It tells the rest of us that people wanted the other guy more than Hillary. These things happen and life goes on. Get behind your party's candidate and work for change already or disappear gracefully. You're either bitter also-rans looking to sabotage the Democratic campaign to set yourselves up for 2012 or responsible leaders bowing to the will of the electorate and trying to rally votes for the people's choice. You can't have it both ways. It's your call, Bubba and Hill. The suggestion here? Get over it.
Offer the Florida students the same option; develop some damned legs and walk among reasoning beings or swim in the ocean of ignorance forever. If the parents who taught these kids that crap object, well, let them. No one expects any different from clue-free zealots, and no one is under any obligation to pay them the slightest heed. They'll be extinct soon enough, of mild interest only to social paleontologists. Meanwhile, educate all our children properly and keep religion and government mutually exclusive like the highly evolved framers of the United States Constitution mandated.
Here's another suggestion, this one for the Barack Oama campaign: The man's running for President, not Messiah. Lose "The One." How about instead being the one who can figure out how to end the Iraq war, catch Osama bin Laden, tax the super-wealthy again, reign in corporate treasury looters, initiate efforts to develop new energy sources, stop the hemorrhaging of American jobs and capital to foreign nations, help the homeless and rebuild America's respected image in the world? How about being that guy?
Start spelling out your plans or risk delivering the nation to that grumpy old man who wants to fight all the wars he can imagine, is surrounded by corporate lobbyists and power brokers and can't recall how many luxurious homes he owns. Biden, help the kid out here! There's too much at stake to keep running a Billy Graham-style evangelical stadium crusade instead of making serious plans. The prospect of President John McCain is just too scary.
A suggestion to John McCain: Talk to those geezers at "60 Minutes," and Larry King, some really old guys who still have all their marbles. Ask them what's their secret. At 72, you're a little young to be getting so senile, but the signs are unmistakable. Take some antioxidants, get some treatment already! You're scaring the children, Senator, and that blank disoriented look on your face when you're out in public is all too familiar to those of us who have a loved one with the same affliction. Nominating your wife to compete in a biker gang's wet T-shirt contest isn't reassuring anybody. Did you even know where you were that day? Are you still sleeping on the couch? Are you trying to make Bush the Younger look good? It won't work, you know, so snap out of it already before you lose even your own family's votes.
A humble suggestion to the Chinese Government: If you want the feel-good glow of the Olympics to continue, offer your mass resignations and call for free elections. You've gotten out of your people's way as far as business and commerce is concerned and they've made China an economic powerhouse, something all the 5 Year Plans and ass-backwards Communist policies in creation couldn't do. Let's see if they can't do better than you have, The Worst Government in The Whole Wide World. Odds are they won't even lock you up or force you to work on farms like you do to 80 year-old grannies. They'll just forget about your pathetic asses and make themselves one hell of a good country while you guys wax nostalgic about your days of torturing and murdering on a grand scale over wistful glasses of rice wine in your retirement homes.
One final suggestion, this one to Bill and Hillary Clinton: Get over it! You're both still rich, famous and influential, and America didn't lose out on a potential FDR or Lincoln, let's not kid ourselves here. The nation's work force is still waiting for the Universal Health Care that Hillary pushed for as First Lady and did nothing about in the Senate and is rapidly shrinking thanks to Bubba's NAFTA treaty, so let's not pretend you two have exclusive rights to the answers here. The Clinton Presidency only looks good because it was followed by the Bush The Younger Administration, America's Worst President Ever. People would fondly remember Herbert Hoover had he preceded Dumbya.
In a race where Hillary was the odds-on favorite from the start, Obama came from nowhere and won fair and square. What does that tell you? It tells the rest of us that people wanted the other guy more than Hillary. These things happen and life goes on. Get behind your party's candidate and work for change already or disappear gracefully. You're either bitter also-rans looking to sabotage the Democratic campaign to set yourselves up for 2012 or responsible leaders bowing to the will of the electorate and trying to rally votes for the people's choice. You can't have it both ways. It's your call, Bubba and Hill. The suggestion here? Get over it.
August 24, 2008
LIFE EXPLAINED, PART 149
You will never know what you are made of until you are challenged. Which is not to say we should seek out traumatic situations, that's just plain dumb. Life presents us with no shortage of them as it is, but when they do occur, facing them calmly and surviving to tell the tale makes us stronger for the inevitable Round 2. And for Rounds 3, 4, 5, 6 and so on and so on.
UNCLE JIMMY WINS THE SILVER MEDAL, 72 YEARS LATER
Last week I wrote about my late great-uncle James Blanco of Manhattan by way of Alecante, Spain. He was a member of the Spanish National basketball team that was to represent Spain in the 1936 Summer Olympics in Berlin, Germany. Hitler's Germany, Nazi Central and a planned showcase for their imaginary Master Race. Well, Uncle Jimmy's trip to the Olympics was derailed by the Spanish Civil War and Hitler's vision of Aryan supremacy was puntured by a poor black American, the son of a sharecropper and grandson of slaves. Jesse Owens set world records winning four gold medals in track and field and was famously snubbed by Hitler. Two years later, another black American, world heavyweight boxing champ Joe Louis put the final nail in that coffin by annihilating German boxer Max Shmeling in less than one round to avenge his only loss in the ring.
More than any expectation of Olympic glory, Uncle Jimmy would have liked to have represented his nation on the world stage and tested himself and his team by competing at the very highest level. He also said he would have enjoyed shaking the hand of Mr. Owens and witnessing the public unmasking of Fascism as bald-faced racism, something he knew about first hand. His own nation was being shredded by 3 fascist armies, that of eventual victor Generalissimo Francisco Franco and his two asshole buddy allies, Mussolini's Italian army and Hitler's vaunted Luftwaffe.
On the other side was the Loyalist forces consisting of Spanish armies aided materially and monetarily by the Soviet Union and Mexico, with a smattering of international volunteers including some Americans called the Abraham Lincoln Brigade. In a rehearsal for World War 2, these armies turned this latest in a series of fairly limited internal Spanish civil wars into a major modern conflict costing 500,000 Spanish lives and causing untold destruction on a scale never seen before.
Well, the world would grow accustomed to large-scale destruction before very long but without a devastated and traumatized Spain as a participant. Good thing for Franco, too, since he was the only European Fascist leader to survive the 1940s. James Blanco fought under his flag and also against him, since the alternative to forced conscription was the firing squad. Most Spaniards cared little for either faction and wanted only peace for sunny Spain. So my pragmatic uncle saw fierce combat on both sides of a war he despised and left Spain forever when the war was over, relinquishing all claims to his property and assets as the price of making an exit from a nation ruled until 1975 by Fascism.
He kept his vow to never return to Spain while Franco drew breath and found happiness and fulfillment in America. He still followed sports and fell in love with American football, becoming a very knowledgeable and astute fan. He of course followed basketball as well, being proud to be a part of the Spanish National Team that laid the groundwork for basketball to become a very popular international sport not only in Europe, but globally. He was under no illusions that by missing the 1936 Olympics he missed out on winning a gold medal, realizing that the American team would take home the top spot in the game they had invented. And they did, outdoing Canada by a score that seems like a typo, 19-8.
The game back then was somewhat different, with guys like my 5 foot, 8 inch uncle being stars, before it became the incredibly fast-paced, physically punishing and high-scoring game of giants. While he lamented that average men could no longer effectively compete, he marveled at the incredible skill level of the modern basketball stars and the modern methods of conditioning all sports afforded their athletes. Never a bitter man despite living through some very traumatic history, he wondered how his team would have fared in 1936, perhaps being the one team that could give the Americans a tough game, pushing the champions and in turn themselves to the highest levels of skill and achievement.
Well, that's exactly what just happened in the gold medal game in Beijing. The American National team, made up of fifteen of the most talented basketball players on the planet, the cream of this nation's professional stars, had been waltzing though opponent after opponent in a ridiculously easy march towards Olympic gold, like gods and giants toying with ordinary mortals. No one gave them much of a battle, including Spain in an early-round 119-82 loss. Fast forward a week to the championship game, and Spain, having done their homework and formulated a solid game plan, came very close to an upset of America's latest Dream Team and fought them tooth and nail down to the wire in an exciting and closely contested game of round ball, the Americans only pulling it out in the final two minutes. It was basketball at it's very zenith, the very best wrested from each competitor.
The Spaniards were magnificent, to use one of my Uncle Jimmy's favorite words, and showed the world why the Spanish National Team has become a powerhouse on the international basketball scene. This tradition was started 72 years ago by a team that was prepared to compete in basketball in its debut as an Olympic sport in 1936. Young men like my Uncle Jimmy were its stars and sports pioneers, forgotten by history in the fog of a decade of hellish warfare that started with the Spanish Civil War. Wherever he is, I'm sure Uncle Jimmy is pleased with the young men who kept the tradition alive and wears his long overdue Silver Medal proudly, perhaps thinking that someday they will unseat the American giants and wear the gold. As Uncle Jimmy said: "One never knows..."
More than any expectation of Olympic glory, Uncle Jimmy would have liked to have represented his nation on the world stage and tested himself and his team by competing at the very highest level. He also said he would have enjoyed shaking the hand of Mr. Owens and witnessing the public unmasking of Fascism as bald-faced racism, something he knew about first hand. His own nation was being shredded by 3 fascist armies, that of eventual victor Generalissimo Francisco Franco and his two asshole buddy allies, Mussolini's Italian army and Hitler's vaunted Luftwaffe.
On the other side was the Loyalist forces consisting of Spanish armies aided materially and monetarily by the Soviet Union and Mexico, with a smattering of international volunteers including some Americans called the Abraham Lincoln Brigade. In a rehearsal for World War 2, these armies turned this latest in a series of fairly limited internal Spanish civil wars into a major modern conflict costing 500,000 Spanish lives and causing untold destruction on a scale never seen before.
Well, the world would grow accustomed to large-scale destruction before very long but without a devastated and traumatized Spain as a participant. Good thing for Franco, too, since he was the only European Fascist leader to survive the 1940s. James Blanco fought under his flag and also against him, since the alternative to forced conscription was the firing squad. Most Spaniards cared little for either faction and wanted only peace for sunny Spain. So my pragmatic uncle saw fierce combat on both sides of a war he despised and left Spain forever when the war was over, relinquishing all claims to his property and assets as the price of making an exit from a nation ruled until 1975 by Fascism.
He kept his vow to never return to Spain while Franco drew breath and found happiness and fulfillment in America. He still followed sports and fell in love with American football, becoming a very knowledgeable and astute fan. He of course followed basketball as well, being proud to be a part of the Spanish National Team that laid the groundwork for basketball to become a very popular international sport not only in Europe, but globally. He was under no illusions that by missing the 1936 Olympics he missed out on winning a gold medal, realizing that the American team would take home the top spot in the game they had invented. And they did, outdoing Canada by a score that seems like a typo, 19-8.
The game back then was somewhat different, with guys like my 5 foot, 8 inch uncle being stars, before it became the incredibly fast-paced, physically punishing and high-scoring game of giants. While he lamented that average men could no longer effectively compete, he marveled at the incredible skill level of the modern basketball stars and the modern methods of conditioning all sports afforded their athletes. Never a bitter man despite living through some very traumatic history, he wondered how his team would have fared in 1936, perhaps being the one team that could give the Americans a tough game, pushing the champions and in turn themselves to the highest levels of skill and achievement.
Well, that's exactly what just happened in the gold medal game in Beijing. The American National team, made up of fifteen of the most talented basketball players on the planet, the cream of this nation's professional stars, had been waltzing though opponent after opponent in a ridiculously easy march towards Olympic gold, like gods and giants toying with ordinary mortals. No one gave them much of a battle, including Spain in an early-round 119-82 loss. Fast forward a week to the championship game, and Spain, having done their homework and formulated a solid game plan, came very close to an upset of America's latest Dream Team and fought them tooth and nail down to the wire in an exciting and closely contested game of round ball, the Americans only pulling it out in the final two minutes. It was basketball at it's very zenith, the very best wrested from each competitor.
The Spaniards were magnificent, to use one of my Uncle Jimmy's favorite words, and showed the world why the Spanish National Team has become a powerhouse on the international basketball scene. This tradition was started 72 years ago by a team that was prepared to compete in basketball in its debut as an Olympic sport in 1936. Young men like my Uncle Jimmy were its stars and sports pioneers, forgotten by history in the fog of a decade of hellish warfare that started with the Spanish Civil War. Wherever he is, I'm sure Uncle Jimmy is pleased with the young men who kept the tradition alive and wears his long overdue Silver Medal proudly, perhaps thinking that someday they will unseat the American giants and wear the gold. As Uncle Jimmy said: "One never knows..."
LIFE EXPLAINED, PART 148
While it is fortunately not a common problem, the backing up of raw sewage into one's home is generally one that takes precedence over pretty much everything else going on at the time. There's not a lot of rest or enjoyment to be had at home until that little oversight is corrected. There's only so much E. Coli one can stand.
HUMANS: BACTERIA HOST TO TRILLIONS
So, a little investigating of the august medical journals and bulletins tell us that within our bodies, our human cells are outnumbered by bacteria 10 to 1. Wow! Doctors and scientists further inform us the amount of bacteria in an average human body would fill a gallon jug. They comprise 10% of our weight, so if you are 150 pounds, only 135 of it is you and you're hauling around 15 pounds of nasty little germs everywhere you go. Disconcerting, to say the least. These colonies of various bacteria within each of us is known as the Human Microbiome, consisting of an estimated 500 to 100,000 different species of bacteria, fungi and archaea, whatever they are. We just do not know the extent of our hospitality. But we do know that a lot of these human flora are absolutely necessary to maintain life.
So you have to wonder, who's in charge here? When our own 50 trillion human cells are outnumbered by the 500 trillion others, are we using them or they using us? We know some things about bacteria, like the E.Coli in our intestines that help us digest food and the bacteria that lives on our skin and shields us from the Sun's most harmful rays and helps our wounds heal, that sort of thing. There's even microorganisms, super tiny dust mites living on our eyelids that consume the dead skin we shed there. Which only leads one to wonder what eats the dead skin on their eyelids. And to realize that what we do know is practically nothing when it comes to the wide variety of living creatures within and upon us.
Scientists admit as much, saying there are vast colonies of one bacteria or another in every part of the body, including our brains, that they have no idea about; how they got there, what they do and what are their ultimate plans for us. And when we take antibiotics to kill disease bacteria that invade our bodies, these host bacteria are unphased and unharmed, perhaps pleased to be rid of rival bacteria gangs encroaching on their turf. Maybe antibiotics were their idea as a means to prevent other bacteria from killing the golden goose, us! So, what was evolution all about, to allow bacteria to stand on the moon? So germs can live in air-conditioned condos, ride around in Toyotas and listen to Ray Charles songs?
And what do we get out of the deal? Life itself, one supposes, since to get rid of these invaders is to die. When we procreate, the most fun we get to have, we share our bacteria with one another, meaning that the bacteria are within us to supervise every step of our embryonic development, partners from womb to tomb. Are we merely along for the ride? Must be, since inhabiting us was was their idea, not ours. So, how much do they dictate human behavior? What about evolution? Do we have bacteria to thank for our big old brains and our presumed dominance on this planet? When you think about it, people do all kinds of things that are hard to explain and a lot of things that are contrary to our own well-being. You don't see animals slaughtering their own kind or having unreasonable hatreds. Maybe the wars we fight are bacteria wars, one strain seeking to dominate another strain. We sure don't have any logical reason to make war. It's quite stressful and just ruins many a good day.
And human beings are a bundle of compulsions, too, following various behaviors that are quite harmful to us. Some of us smoke, others drink way too much alcohol, some of us get real fat, simply because we cannot control ourselves. So who's doing the controlling? Scientists have already discovered that obesity and certain internal bacteria are linked. Maybe those particular bacteria are merely building an extension on their home by making somebody real fat. That could explain why some people have an incredibly hard time losing weight, since the bacteria don't want to give up their new family room, jacuzzi and two-car gargage. Some of us get so damned big you'd think these little creatures are installing their own personal bowling alleys and amphitheaters. Have the scientists thought of that?
Are we reasoning beings or living automatons doing the bidding of the bacteria? Because when we die, for the most part, they don't, unless we get our dead carcasses cremated. They live while we rot (with trillions more joining the feeding frenzy) then maybe find some other joker to hitchhike on and go merrily about their business, whatever that could possibly be. And they're not talking, at least not in any language we can understand. You'd think the least they could do was give us a heads-up on what they have in mind, or write a nice thank-you note for our hospitality. Or maybe it's us who should be thanking them for allowing our bodies to be the mobile homes of the oldest and most dominant life form on the planet.
So you have to wonder, who's in charge here? When our own 50 trillion human cells are outnumbered by the 500 trillion others, are we using them or they using us? We know some things about bacteria, like the E.Coli in our intestines that help us digest food and the bacteria that lives on our skin and shields us from the Sun's most harmful rays and helps our wounds heal, that sort of thing. There's even microorganisms, super tiny dust mites living on our eyelids that consume the dead skin we shed there. Which only leads one to wonder what eats the dead skin on their eyelids. And to realize that what we do know is practically nothing when it comes to the wide variety of living creatures within and upon us.
Scientists admit as much, saying there are vast colonies of one bacteria or another in every part of the body, including our brains, that they have no idea about; how they got there, what they do and what are their ultimate plans for us. And when we take antibiotics to kill disease bacteria that invade our bodies, these host bacteria are unphased and unharmed, perhaps pleased to be rid of rival bacteria gangs encroaching on their turf. Maybe antibiotics were their idea as a means to prevent other bacteria from killing the golden goose, us! So, what was evolution all about, to allow bacteria to stand on the moon? So germs can live in air-conditioned condos, ride around in Toyotas and listen to Ray Charles songs?
And what do we get out of the deal? Life itself, one supposes, since to get rid of these invaders is to die. When we procreate, the most fun we get to have, we share our bacteria with one another, meaning that the bacteria are within us to supervise every step of our embryonic development, partners from womb to tomb. Are we merely along for the ride? Must be, since inhabiting us was was their idea, not ours. So, how much do they dictate human behavior? What about evolution? Do we have bacteria to thank for our big old brains and our presumed dominance on this planet? When you think about it, people do all kinds of things that are hard to explain and a lot of things that are contrary to our own well-being. You don't see animals slaughtering their own kind or having unreasonable hatreds. Maybe the wars we fight are bacteria wars, one strain seeking to dominate another strain. We sure don't have any logical reason to make war. It's quite stressful and just ruins many a good day.
And human beings are a bundle of compulsions, too, following various behaviors that are quite harmful to us. Some of us smoke, others drink way too much alcohol, some of us get real fat, simply because we cannot control ourselves. So who's doing the controlling? Scientists have already discovered that obesity and certain internal bacteria are linked. Maybe those particular bacteria are merely building an extension on their home by making somebody real fat. That could explain why some people have an incredibly hard time losing weight, since the bacteria don't want to give up their new family room, jacuzzi and two-car gargage. Some of us get so damned big you'd think these little creatures are installing their own personal bowling alleys and amphitheaters. Have the scientists thought of that?
Are we reasoning beings or living automatons doing the bidding of the bacteria? Because when we die, for the most part, they don't, unless we get our dead carcasses cremated. They live while we rot (with trillions more joining the feeding frenzy) then maybe find some other joker to hitchhike on and go merrily about their business, whatever that could possibly be. And they're not talking, at least not in any language we can understand. You'd think the least they could do was give us a heads-up on what they have in mind, or write a nice thank-you note for our hospitality. Or maybe it's us who should be thanking them for allowing our bodies to be the mobile homes of the oldest and most dominant life form on the planet.
August 23, 2008
LIFE EXPLAINED, PART 147
You don't owe anybody an explanation or an apology for what makes you happy. Unless, of course, what makes you happy is stalking and murdering people. In that case, you've got some explaining to do and it had better be a real dandy of an excuse.
CURSE YOU, JOE BIDEN, YOU'RE STEALING MY JOB!
America's likely next President, Barack Obama, has gotten off on the wrong foot by failing to pick me as his Vice President. In a move that can only be considered in direct defiance of American tradition and the United States Constitution, he picked Senator Joe Biden as his running mate. By all accounts, Senator Biden is a decent, intelligent man with a lot of experience in government and is a reowned expert on foreign affairs. Not only that, he works really hard. In short, exactly the wrong type of guy to be Vice President. Everybody knows that the Vice Presidency is supposed to be a do-nothing job, it says so right there in the Constitution!
I was perfect for that position! I don't give a rat's ass about foreign policy or the inner workings of the government, nor do I care what cockamamie policies the President pursues. I'd just fly around in Air Force 2, hang around in the Vice Presidential Mansion and look good in a suit, the exact job description of Vice President. Is Joe Biden willing to do next to nothing all day and keep his 2 cents worth to himself? Doubtful. Experts on anything are incapable of shutting up and will corner anybody who crosses their path to listen to their whacky theories.
Will Joe Biden be willing to content himself with swimming with young interns in the Vice Presidential pool waiting for a tie vote in the Senate? Would he be happy to judge a wet T-shirt contest in Sweden? Unfortunately, for him and the nation, the answer is no. No, this guy's got "ideas" and has run for President himself in the past! Great, just what Obama needs, a number 2 guy who thinks he can do the job better, someone who will pester him night and day to listen to his "expert" opinions. It's hard enough being president without one of those guys around. What was he thinking?
Here I was, a perfectly unqualified and disinterested candidate, offering up my non-service to the nation and guaranteeing them a Vice President in the ungrand and non-illustrious tradition of the office, and he goes and picks a workaholic! Hell, I even offered to get fat and grow funny whiskers like some of our most forgettable Vice Presidents. Would Biden do that? And the man's from Delaware, for God's sake! What kind of Delaware person would want to end their long run as America's Most Anonymous State? Nobody knows anything about Delaware, and with good reason: There's not much to know. Why jeopardize all that?
You'd think Delaware would produce the ideal Vice President, some guy you don't know all that much about, but seems like a nice enough fellow who won't rock the boat. But no, Mr. Biden had to go all accomplishments and expertise on them! So not only is he betraying the complete lack of distinction of his home state, now he's going to be a pain-in-the-ass Vice President who thinks the job is on the level. I worry for the future of the Republic, to say nothing of my personal frustration at missing out on my dream no-show job, surrounded by attractive personal assistants and getting my own jumbo jet. Curse you, Joe Biden!
I was perfect for that position! I don't give a rat's ass about foreign policy or the inner workings of the government, nor do I care what cockamamie policies the President pursues. I'd just fly around in Air Force 2, hang around in the Vice Presidential Mansion and look good in a suit, the exact job description of Vice President. Is Joe Biden willing to do next to nothing all day and keep his 2 cents worth to himself? Doubtful. Experts on anything are incapable of shutting up and will corner anybody who crosses their path to listen to their whacky theories.
Will Joe Biden be willing to content himself with swimming with young interns in the Vice Presidential pool waiting for a tie vote in the Senate? Would he be happy to judge a wet T-shirt contest in Sweden? Unfortunately, for him and the nation, the answer is no. No, this guy's got "ideas" and has run for President himself in the past! Great, just what Obama needs, a number 2 guy who thinks he can do the job better, someone who will pester him night and day to listen to his "expert" opinions. It's hard enough being president without one of those guys around. What was he thinking?
Here I was, a perfectly unqualified and disinterested candidate, offering up my non-service to the nation and guaranteeing them a Vice President in the ungrand and non-illustrious tradition of the office, and he goes and picks a workaholic! Hell, I even offered to get fat and grow funny whiskers like some of our most forgettable Vice Presidents. Would Biden do that? And the man's from Delaware, for God's sake! What kind of Delaware person would want to end their long run as America's Most Anonymous State? Nobody knows anything about Delaware, and with good reason: There's not much to know. Why jeopardize all that?
You'd think Delaware would produce the ideal Vice President, some guy you don't know all that much about, but seems like a nice enough fellow who won't rock the boat. But no, Mr. Biden had to go all accomplishments and expertise on them! So not only is he betraying the complete lack of distinction of his home state, now he's going to be a pain-in-the-ass Vice President who thinks the job is on the level. I worry for the future of the Republic, to say nothing of my personal frustration at missing out on my dream no-show job, surrounded by attractive personal assistants and getting my own jumbo jet. Curse you, Joe Biden!
LIFE EXPLAINED, PART 146
The Bible and other religious blueprints are notoriously lacking in comedy. That didn't stop us from making a joke out of every last one of them. We can only hope God is laughing too. How could He not? Even Gods must tire of grim pronouncements, dire prophecies, conflicting instructions, catastrophes and plagues. If He doesn't have a keen sense of humor, how do you explain skunks, Bill O'Reilly, tofu and New Jersey? The evidence is overwhelming that we are on the right track with our hilarious slapstick shenanigans that we substitute for actual religion.
HELP, I FORGOT HOW MANY HOMES I OWN!
How many houses do I own? Hmm, let me think about that awhile...ummm... let's see... oh, yeah, that's right, I got it! One. One small house. There, that wasn't so hard, and I didn't even have to ask my staff to look it up. One small house with one BIG mortgage. I guess you have to be really, really rich to forget how many homes you own. Or really confused. Either way, John McCain couldn't answer that question. Let's help him. The answer is ten. Ten homes for a guy worth a hundred million dollars and who calls his opponent in the presidential sweepstakes an elitist. Odd. Did Mr. McCain forget that his opponent is Barack Obama, the son of a Kenyan shepherd who beat it back to Kenya when Obama was two, leaving his mother to raise him in humble circumstances? So, which of them is a member of the privileged elite?
Did McCain think one of the born-wealthy Democratic nominees won the nomination, some other guy with ten houses? Perhaps he thought that a 5 home minimum rule was in effect to qualify for the race? Or maybe he got Obama confused with someone else, someone more like himself who got a free education at the United States Naval Academy because his father and grandfather were Admirals, where he graduated ranked 894 out of 899. Maybe John McCain simply forgot that Obama came from humble beginnings to get get through Columbia University and Harvard Law School by working and obtaining student loans like regular (not elitist) people. You know, one-home slobs or worse; renters!
But McCain seems to forget a lot lately, like things he fervently believed in before he didn't fervently believe in them anymore, or what he stood for but doesn't anymore. It seems he's had to consult with his staff quite often in recent weeks to find out not only how many homes he owns, but what his new policies are. And maybe he figures that the best way to campaign for president is to act like his new policies are what he really believed in when he was pushing his old policies, what he meant to say when he was saying the opposite. McCain is also a guy who doesn't know the price of gasoline, or milk, eggs, a loaf of bread or pretty much anything you and I have to shop for, what with most of us quaintly not having a large staff to do these things for us and remind of us what we stand for. When you're worth a hundred mil there's no reason to sweat about small potatoes, or worry about how much they cost. Elect the other guy. At least he knows how many homes he owns and the answer is the same as most of us, just the one.
Did McCain think one of the born-wealthy Democratic nominees won the nomination, some other guy with ten houses? Perhaps he thought that a 5 home minimum rule was in effect to qualify for the race? Or maybe he got Obama confused with someone else, someone more like himself who got a free education at the United States Naval Academy because his father and grandfather were Admirals, where he graduated ranked 894 out of 899. Maybe John McCain simply forgot that Obama came from humble beginnings to get get through Columbia University and Harvard Law School by working and obtaining student loans like regular (not elitist) people. You know, one-home slobs or worse; renters!
But McCain seems to forget a lot lately, like things he fervently believed in before he didn't fervently believe in them anymore, or what he stood for but doesn't anymore. It seems he's had to consult with his staff quite often in recent weeks to find out not only how many homes he owns, but what his new policies are. And maybe he figures that the best way to campaign for president is to act like his new policies are what he really believed in when he was pushing his old policies, what he meant to say when he was saying the opposite. McCain is also a guy who doesn't know the price of gasoline, or milk, eggs, a loaf of bread or pretty much anything you and I have to shop for, what with most of us quaintly not having a large staff to do these things for us and remind of us what we stand for. When you're worth a hundred mil there's no reason to sweat about small potatoes, or worry about how much they cost. Elect the other guy. At least he knows how many homes he owns and the answer is the same as most of us, just the one.
August 21, 2008
LIFE EXPLAINED, PART 145
There are only two kinds of people in this world. There are men and there are women, and that's it. That's plenty enough, too, considering all the crazy nonsense and chronic misunderstanding that goes on between the sexes, not to mention all the behavioral variations that exist within those two. How complicated would life be if there was a third sex? Especially if they were just as insane as men and women. The mind recoils...
NUTS, NUTTIER, NUTTIEST (LIFE REALLY EXPLAINED)
First off, everybody is stark raving mad, no exceptions. You, me, the postman and the bee keeper, since to be sane in a mad world would drive one nuts swiftly. So there isn't a man, woman or child on thIs planet than isn't a lunatic of one sort or another. The great majority of us are fortunate enough that we can live with our insanity, keep it to ourselves as much as possible and come to some sort of accommodation with the world and function as well as we can. These are the "sane" ones. Blessed are those who can keep their oubursts to a minimum.
Others among us are considered "difficult" or "eccentric," meaning that our madness is quite obvious but not necessarily harmful. Irritating, maybe, but with so much madness in this word, irritating is acceptable. It's those poor souls who, either lacking some mental capacity to contain their madness or being possessed of an unusual abundance of honesty that the rest of label as "insane." We do this even though we know in our hearts that doing so is whistling past the graveyard. There but for the grace of God and all that.
The easy ones to deal with are the criminals. They harm other people so we put then in jail when we can catch them. We don't call them nuts either, but tell ourselves they are "bad," or in the case of some of them who commit especially heinous crimes, "evil." For lesser crimes, criminals can get to be considered good people who "made a mistake" and even these we people we lock up and put some very questionable people in charge of them. But at least criminals know the deal when they are caught. They're criminals, not idiots, but they do what they do in spite of the harsh penalties if they get caught, as most of them do eventually. That's pretty nuts.
Easier still to deal with are the artists and "geniuses" among us, that breed of human who is quite obviously "different." They channel their madness into creativity or ingenuity, giving the world breathtaking works of art, riveting performances or incredibly beneficial inventions and ideas. Their personal behavior can range from quirky to quite bizarre, but in recognition of the fact that we need such people, we live and let live and enjoy the fruits of their particular mania. Think how different life would be with no Michaelangelo, no Wright brothers, no Henry Ford, no Van Gogh, no Three Stooges, No Dickens, no Bronte, no Beatles or Sinatra or Bill Gates, or Jonas Salk or Maries Curie or Edison and Bell or Elvis or Deniro or Aretha or Einstein. Not that most of us would hang out with a lot of these high-strung maniacs, but we'll sure buy what they're selling and enjoy them no end.
Then there is that unfortunate few of us who have committed no crime at all except for being born human, the sort of human who is so honest that they cannot pretend everything is honky-dory with this crazy world. They rail against the accommodations the rest of us have made with this mass insanity, try to tear down the walls we have so carefully built and so zealously maintain. And we just can't have that. In a classic case of the pot calling the kettle black, these are the people we label insane in an effort to feel better about ourselves. We shun then them and mock them and lock them away for their crime of HIgh Honesty, which only proves how crazy the rest of us are too.
We invent jobs to explain their behavior, psychologists, psychiatrists and the like, and then fill those jobs with clueless lunatics who are in way over their heads. They can no more figure these people out than they can figure themselves out, which is to say, not at all. So we invent drugs to control the mentally imbalanced, calling them "medicine," and then congratulate ourselves on alleged "breakthroughs" made, overlooking the fact that when they stop taking the medicine the breakthrough evaporates. When you take medicine for the flu and you don't have the flu anymore, you stop taking it. The flu doesn't return and become a part of your life forever. The medicine cured it. So whatever it is they're giving to so-called insane people is not medicine, but prison in a pill, a behave-yourself-and-shut-the-hell-up-and-control-your-madness-like-the-rest-of-us solution. Some respond, most do not. It's not as simple as all that.
See, being openly insane is an embarrassment to the rest of us, a glaring reminder of our own deep madness we strive so mightily to conceal. Here we are, the only species on the planet with this affliction, and we take it out on the worst afflicted among us. That's nuts. You don't see giraffes or goldfish doing that. They pretty much go about their business of avoiding predators and nibbling food. Not us. We have "standards," you see, norms of accepted behavior that we earnestly enforce on others even though inside our own minds the storms rage and howl. When some of us bring this stark reality outside their own minds it makes us nuttier than usual and we label them, drug them or lock them away.
Flawed beings that we are, we take great pains to point out what we consider to be greater flaws in others. That doesn't make our own madness go away, just sort of mollifies our raging emotions and offers some modicum of self-jusification. Now, before you disagree with this argument, ask yourself how many times you have reflected that if others could read your mind they'd lock you up and weld the doors shut. Never? Liar! We all have this brain fever and we're all in this together. Our fears sometimes get the better of us and we lash out.
All that we can do, though, is to use our secret weapons, love and laughter, to fight the madness and to make this mad world at least a fun world. If we can laugh at ourselves and love one another, we can at least enjoy this world and appreciate that the madness is not our most dominating characteristic. Nature has provided us with plenty of gifts to offset this malady: love, kindness, compassion, logic, understanding and humor. Giraffes and goldfish don't have those either, only us. All we have is each other, for better or worse, so let's make the best of this crazy like and this mad, mad world. Live, love, laugh and celebrate.
Others among us are considered "difficult" or "eccentric," meaning that our madness is quite obvious but not necessarily harmful. Irritating, maybe, but with so much madness in this word, irritating is acceptable. It's those poor souls who, either lacking some mental capacity to contain their madness or being possessed of an unusual abundance of honesty that the rest of label as "insane." We do this even though we know in our hearts that doing so is whistling past the graveyard. There but for the grace of God and all that.
The easy ones to deal with are the criminals. They harm other people so we put then in jail when we can catch them. We don't call them nuts either, but tell ourselves they are "bad," or in the case of some of them who commit especially heinous crimes, "evil." For lesser crimes, criminals can get to be considered good people who "made a mistake" and even these we people we lock up and put some very questionable people in charge of them. But at least criminals know the deal when they are caught. They're criminals, not idiots, but they do what they do in spite of the harsh penalties if they get caught, as most of them do eventually. That's pretty nuts.
Easier still to deal with are the artists and "geniuses" among us, that breed of human who is quite obviously "different." They channel their madness into creativity or ingenuity, giving the world breathtaking works of art, riveting performances or incredibly beneficial inventions and ideas. Their personal behavior can range from quirky to quite bizarre, but in recognition of the fact that we need such people, we live and let live and enjoy the fruits of their particular mania. Think how different life would be with no Michaelangelo, no Wright brothers, no Henry Ford, no Van Gogh, no Three Stooges, No Dickens, no Bronte, no Beatles or Sinatra or Bill Gates, or Jonas Salk or Maries Curie or Edison and Bell or Elvis or Deniro or Aretha or Einstein. Not that most of us would hang out with a lot of these high-strung maniacs, but we'll sure buy what they're selling and enjoy them no end.
Then there is that unfortunate few of us who have committed no crime at all except for being born human, the sort of human who is so honest that they cannot pretend everything is honky-dory with this crazy world. They rail against the accommodations the rest of us have made with this mass insanity, try to tear down the walls we have so carefully built and so zealously maintain. And we just can't have that. In a classic case of the pot calling the kettle black, these are the people we label insane in an effort to feel better about ourselves. We shun then them and mock them and lock them away for their crime of HIgh Honesty, which only proves how crazy the rest of us are too.
We invent jobs to explain their behavior, psychologists, psychiatrists and the like, and then fill those jobs with clueless lunatics who are in way over their heads. They can no more figure these people out than they can figure themselves out, which is to say, not at all. So we invent drugs to control the mentally imbalanced, calling them "medicine," and then congratulate ourselves on alleged "breakthroughs" made, overlooking the fact that when they stop taking the medicine the breakthrough evaporates. When you take medicine for the flu and you don't have the flu anymore, you stop taking it. The flu doesn't return and become a part of your life forever. The medicine cured it. So whatever it is they're giving to so-called insane people is not medicine, but prison in a pill, a behave-yourself-and-shut-the-hell-up-and-control-your-madness-like-the-rest-of-us solution. Some respond, most do not. It's not as simple as all that.
See, being openly insane is an embarrassment to the rest of us, a glaring reminder of our own deep madness we strive so mightily to conceal. Here we are, the only species on the planet with this affliction, and we take it out on the worst afflicted among us. That's nuts. You don't see giraffes or goldfish doing that. They pretty much go about their business of avoiding predators and nibbling food. Not us. We have "standards," you see, norms of accepted behavior that we earnestly enforce on others even though inside our own minds the storms rage and howl. When some of us bring this stark reality outside their own minds it makes us nuttier than usual and we label them, drug them or lock them away.
Flawed beings that we are, we take great pains to point out what we consider to be greater flaws in others. That doesn't make our own madness go away, just sort of mollifies our raging emotions and offers some modicum of self-jusification. Now, before you disagree with this argument, ask yourself how many times you have reflected that if others could read your mind they'd lock you up and weld the doors shut. Never? Liar! We all have this brain fever and we're all in this together. Our fears sometimes get the better of us and we lash out.
All that we can do, though, is to use our secret weapons, love and laughter, to fight the madness and to make this mad world at least a fun world. If we can laugh at ourselves and love one another, we can at least enjoy this world and appreciate that the madness is not our most dominating characteristic. Nature has provided us with plenty of gifts to offset this malady: love, kindness, compassion, logic, understanding and humor. Giraffes and goldfish don't have those either, only us. All we have is each other, for better or worse, so let's make the best of this crazy like and this mad, mad world. Live, love, laugh and celebrate.
August 20, 2008
LIFE EXPLAINED, PART 144
Don't be afraid to think. After a few times it doesn't hurt anymore and it's lots of fun.
ARE THESE OLYMPICS OVER YET? THEY'RE NOT PERMANENT, ARE THEY?
When will the huge ad campaign for the "New" China end? They're also called the Summer Olympics in Beijing, sort of a subtext in the mammoth "Hurray For China" promotion. Okay, some kid won a bunch of gold medals swimming, Chinese acrobats got their usual acclaim, gigantic American basketball stars are playing the part of the Harlem Globetrotters and making the rest of the world look like the Washington Generals and some steroid-crazed sprinters are outpacing thoroughbred race horses. Whoopee. Happens every four years. The only difference is that when it happens somewhere other than China the athletes are the big story, the city they happen to be in a curious sidebar to the games themselves.
For some reason, the Summer Olympics goes to major cities, and the cities sort of take it in stride. It's an honor, of course, they try to present themselves in the best light, but the Olympics doesn't make or break the general impressions, good or bad, of Athens, Los Angeles, Sydney, Rome or Montreal. They are what they are and need no reinvention, in their own or anyone else's minds. It's the Winter Olympics that go to cities with something to prove, places that are desperate to show the world that they matter. And for a couple of weeks, they do. Then they don't anymore.
Has Nagano been dominating any headlines lately? Lillehammer? Albertville? Squaw Valley? How about Cortina d'Ampezzo in Italy? Is that town siphoning off the lion's share of tourists from Rome and Florence? Lake Placid reverted to living up to its name immediately after they snuffed the Olympic torch. Twice. How about Sarajevo? They had to resort to genocide to garner world attention. Then there's a couple of cities in Canada, Calgary and Vancouver, that immediately resumed their former anonymity after the Winter Olympics, just the way Canadians prefer it. And if you're not an avid skier, there's no reason to visit Innsbruk, Camonix, Sapporo or Grenoble or Salt Lake City, to say nothing, or at least as little as possible, about Garmisch Partenkirchen, Germany.
That's why New York City doesn't host these things, Summer or Winter Games. Don't need 'em. We've already got our identity and besides, they'd only get in the way. You'd think Beijing would fall into that category too, what with it's 12 million inhabitants and being the capital of nation of 1.3 billion people and the home of the Forbidden City and having lots of other things going for it. But it wasn't Beijing who clamored for the games and the new stadiums and the archery ranges and swimming pools and running tracks, it was the government of China seeking a shortcut to world respect. Not content with having become a financial powerhouse, they want the world to like them too.
The only problem is, the world already liked Chinese people just fine, it's their government nobody can stand, and with a long list of good reasons. All the fireworks displays and modern stadiums in the world can't wash the stench off the Chinese tyrants. Not the current business-suited smiley faces or the past Mao-suited frowny face types. Killing millions and millions of your own countrymen sort of tarnishes your reputation, as does imprisoning anybody who expresses an opinion contrary to their own. Child labor doesn't exactly endear a nation to civilized society. Having 40% of the world's poorest people within your borders doesn't exactly jibe with the image being fabricated for the New China. Sounds like a lot of the same old, same old, with fireworks and medal ceremonies.
So congratulations athletes, winners and also-rans, for a job well done. It isn't easy walking slow in the toxic, chunky-style air of Beijing, never mind all that running and jumping around. You represented your nations on the world stage superbly and for that you should be proud. As for the host? When (and if, it seems) these games end, well, what are we to think of China? Pretty much what we thought before, that there's a nation full of bright, curious, talented and friendly people saddled with a government that would just as soon poison them as look at them, lock any of them up for pointing out the obvious and not caring a damn which of them lives or dies. Screw the Chinese government, and Let the Games End. Who's kidding who?
For some reason, the Summer Olympics goes to major cities, and the cities sort of take it in stride. It's an honor, of course, they try to present themselves in the best light, but the Olympics doesn't make or break the general impressions, good or bad, of Athens, Los Angeles, Sydney, Rome or Montreal. They are what they are and need no reinvention, in their own or anyone else's minds. It's the Winter Olympics that go to cities with something to prove, places that are desperate to show the world that they matter. And for a couple of weeks, they do. Then they don't anymore.
Has Nagano been dominating any headlines lately? Lillehammer? Albertville? Squaw Valley? How about Cortina d'Ampezzo in Italy? Is that town siphoning off the lion's share of tourists from Rome and Florence? Lake Placid reverted to living up to its name immediately after they snuffed the Olympic torch. Twice. How about Sarajevo? They had to resort to genocide to garner world attention. Then there's a couple of cities in Canada, Calgary and Vancouver, that immediately resumed their former anonymity after the Winter Olympics, just the way Canadians prefer it. And if you're not an avid skier, there's no reason to visit Innsbruk, Camonix, Sapporo or Grenoble or Salt Lake City, to say nothing, or at least as little as possible, about Garmisch Partenkirchen, Germany.
That's why New York City doesn't host these things, Summer or Winter Games. Don't need 'em. We've already got our identity and besides, they'd only get in the way. You'd think Beijing would fall into that category too, what with it's 12 million inhabitants and being the capital of nation of 1.3 billion people and the home of the Forbidden City and having lots of other things going for it. But it wasn't Beijing who clamored for the games and the new stadiums and the archery ranges and swimming pools and running tracks, it was the government of China seeking a shortcut to world respect. Not content with having become a financial powerhouse, they want the world to like them too.
The only problem is, the world already liked Chinese people just fine, it's their government nobody can stand, and with a long list of good reasons. All the fireworks displays and modern stadiums in the world can't wash the stench off the Chinese tyrants. Not the current business-suited smiley faces or the past Mao-suited frowny face types. Killing millions and millions of your own countrymen sort of tarnishes your reputation, as does imprisoning anybody who expresses an opinion contrary to their own. Child labor doesn't exactly endear a nation to civilized society. Having 40% of the world's poorest people within your borders doesn't exactly jibe with the image being fabricated for the New China. Sounds like a lot of the same old, same old, with fireworks and medal ceremonies.
So congratulations athletes, winners and also-rans, for a job well done. It isn't easy walking slow in the toxic, chunky-style air of Beijing, never mind all that running and jumping around. You represented your nations on the world stage superbly and for that you should be proud. As for the host? When (and if, it seems) these games end, well, what are we to think of China? Pretty much what we thought before, that there's a nation full of bright, curious, talented and friendly people saddled with a government that would just as soon poison them as look at them, lock any of them up for pointing out the obvious and not caring a damn which of them lives or dies. Screw the Chinese government, and Let the Games End. Who's kidding who?
LIFE EXPLAINED, PART 143
There is no substitute for love. Love is the greatest and most important thing we can give or receive. Its presence is overwhelming, it's absence, catastrophic. It is the one thing within us that the more we give it away, the more we have. Love hard, love with all your might. Open you heart.
IS THIS NECESSARY?
Looking around us in this big old world, we behold wonders and mysteries and miracles. Men have stood on the moon, towers scrape the sky, travel across vast oceans is swift, safe and comfortable, communication is accomplished in the blink of an eye and paper towels absorb many times their own weight in spilled Kool Aid. Okay, not everything is so profound, but you get the drift. This is one complex ball of wax we ride, this planet we call Earth. Life and progress proceed swiftly, technology molds our future and instant communication informs our present, wonders upon wonders delivered to our very doorsteps. Blessed are we to be alive today.
But then again, you look around and can't help but note that not everything that's new and shiny is such a blessing, and you ask yourself: "Is this necessary?" Then you might tell yourself: "This is friggin' irritating!" And it's not just sychronized swimming and gun shooting being called sports, it's a lot of things. Now, the vast majority of us are well versed in our native language before our age is more than one number, and by the time we are of an age to pay atention to the world around us we're stocked with all kinds of knowledge and experience. So when the president makes a speech about one thing or another, do we need TV news readers to come on afterwards to tell us what he just said, what we just heard in our native language with our own ears?
Is this necessary? For them maybe, since they possess no skills at all other than restating the obvious, but surely not for the rest of us. Which is where the greatest technological advance in telecommunications history comes in very handy, the MUTE button. Or there's always the old standby, the ON/OFF switch. Humanity waits in eager anticipation for MUTE buttons and ON/Off switches for a number of other irritants. A remote control ON/OFF switch for cars that have been converted into rolling arena-sized public address systems would be nice. Let others enjoy whatever music they prefer, that's no issue at all, but when you can feel the bass rattle your fillings from a hundred yards away and drowning out the radio station in your own car with the windows rolled up, your space is being invaded.
If others had the option to turn their 1,000 watt stereos off from a distance, then perhaps after a couple of dozen times they'd get the memo and turn it down to merely deafening. While others opt for small arms fire in these situations, we call upon our technical wizards to come up with a more humane way of letting a guy know he's acting like an asshole. Perhaps a light taser shock, just a tiny jolt since he's driving a car and all. Pistols are just so yesterday's technology and very messy. But then again, sometimes technology is the problem. Then what?
Consider the electronic devices in your home, your televisions, stereos, DVD players, computers, cable or satellite hookups and the like. They have more functions and options than NASA requires! Is it necessary to have to call up some technical geek in India who tells you his name is Billy in order to watch The Jerry Springer Show or record your favorite dumbass reality show? And if you want to hook all these devices together, why do you need a team of geeks to descend on your home and wire the place up like Frankenstein's laboratory, who then leave without telling you how any of this stuff works and you're back on the phone with "Billy" again, trying in vain to understand his thick Gujarat accent?
So in an effort to streamline our lives and separate the wheat from the chaff, bobcrespo.com has compiled a short list of things you have to ask yourself: "Is this necessary?"
1. Rush Limbaugh and Bill O'Reilly: Do we really need 2 guys like this; vicious, ignorant liars acting as unofficial Ministers of Propaganda? The proposal here is a cage match unto the death of one or the other, doesn't matter which one. The winner gets to continue his agenda of making stuff up and presenting it as fact for millions of dollars a year and the people who like that sort of thing are rewarded for their limited attention span and lack of analytical skills.
2. The United Nations: Is there a less united organization around? Or one less effective? Perhaps a year's sabbatical might provide UN delegates some much-needed time for reflection on whether or not those 6-month studies are the best way to solve immediate problems. And maybe thinking up a new motto besides "60 years of not making a dime's worth of difference!"
3. Reality television: Did we need a daily reminder of how banal and small-minded people can be? Can we institute some kind of limit on the amount of shows that reward viciousness and petty scheming?
4. The Fat Police: Isn't the function of government supposed to be paving roads, fighting fires, defending the nation and maintaining some, but not too much semblance of order? Leave the fat guys alone, they never did anything to you! What kind of lard they use to fry their donuts is nobody else's business, nor is it necessary to post the calorie counts of Big Macs. All those crazy fad diets don't do a damned thing but make the authors rich. If outgrowing their entire wardrobe more often than a teenager in a growth spurt didn't get their attention, well, what can anyone else do? They're fat, not stupid, and know full well that the only way to lose weight is eating less and exercising more. It's their life, and besides, where would our comedians get half their material without fat people? Is anybody thinking about that? We need our comedy!
5. The Weather Channel: Does anybody beside the people who live there give a rat's ass what the weather is like in Nebraska? You want to know what the weather is like right outside! Don't people have windows anymore? Or newspapers where they have printed accurate weather forecasts for over a century? Here's a flash to save time: It's hot in the tropics, cold in the north and the weather in London usually sucks. What's next, The Time Channel?
6. Safety Warnings: Outside of power tools, poisons and high voltage electrical gear, how many safety labels do we need? Anybody who doesn't realize that step ladders can be hazardous is a prime candidate for the thinning of the herd. See, that's the one of the drawbacks to living in a civilized and ordered society; the dumb get to survive and breed, and even get elected president from time to time. In prior times predators took care of the feeble minded pretty quick and the rest of us got on with our lives without so many idiots clogging up the doorways.
7. Instant Psychology: Anybody who has ever known or been "treated" by a mental health professional knows what clueless boobs they are, so why would anybody put one of these insight-free jerkoffs on television and popularize their meaningless jargon? There are no quick fixes for addled minds and these psycho-babbling charlatans know it. Why encourage them?
8. Tofu: Let's see, it's not meat, it's not dairy, so it's got to be made from some kind of plant, right? A Tofu plant? Does anyone really know? Have they seen it manufactured, or know just what process is used to remove all traces of flavor from this alleged food-like substance?
9. Car alarms: When was he last time a car alarm went off and anybody thought a car was being stolen? These shrieking annoyances that go off at the slightest breeze and never, ever when the car is actually being stolen are another candidate for universal MUTE switches.
!0. Disposable Celebrities: Take your pick of a very large litter, none of them in any way skilled, talented or remotely interesting. Why not skip the disposal part and never give them any publicity to begin with? There's something very odd about a person being famous only for being famous. Isn't there supposed to be some accomplishment involved in renown?
But then again, you look around and can't help but note that not everything that's new and shiny is such a blessing, and you ask yourself: "Is this necessary?" Then you might tell yourself: "This is friggin' irritating!" And it's not just sychronized swimming and gun shooting being called sports, it's a lot of things. Now, the vast majority of us are well versed in our native language before our age is more than one number, and by the time we are of an age to pay atention to the world around us we're stocked with all kinds of knowledge and experience. So when the president makes a speech about one thing or another, do we need TV news readers to come on afterwards to tell us what he just said, what we just heard in our native language with our own ears?
Is this necessary? For them maybe, since they possess no skills at all other than restating the obvious, but surely not for the rest of us. Which is where the greatest technological advance in telecommunications history comes in very handy, the MUTE button. Or there's always the old standby, the ON/OFF switch. Humanity waits in eager anticipation for MUTE buttons and ON/Off switches for a number of other irritants. A remote control ON/OFF switch for cars that have been converted into rolling arena-sized public address systems would be nice. Let others enjoy whatever music they prefer, that's no issue at all, but when you can feel the bass rattle your fillings from a hundred yards away and drowning out the radio station in your own car with the windows rolled up, your space is being invaded.
If others had the option to turn their 1,000 watt stereos off from a distance, then perhaps after a couple of dozen times they'd get the memo and turn it down to merely deafening. While others opt for small arms fire in these situations, we call upon our technical wizards to come up with a more humane way of letting a guy know he's acting like an asshole. Perhaps a light taser shock, just a tiny jolt since he's driving a car and all. Pistols are just so yesterday's technology and very messy. But then again, sometimes technology is the problem. Then what?
Consider the electronic devices in your home, your televisions, stereos, DVD players, computers, cable or satellite hookups and the like. They have more functions and options than NASA requires! Is it necessary to have to call up some technical geek in India who tells you his name is Billy in order to watch The Jerry Springer Show or record your favorite dumbass reality show? And if you want to hook all these devices together, why do you need a team of geeks to descend on your home and wire the place up like Frankenstein's laboratory, who then leave without telling you how any of this stuff works and you're back on the phone with "Billy" again, trying in vain to understand his thick Gujarat accent?
So in an effort to streamline our lives and separate the wheat from the chaff, bobcrespo.com has compiled a short list of things you have to ask yourself: "Is this necessary?"
1. Rush Limbaugh and Bill O'Reilly: Do we really need 2 guys like this; vicious, ignorant liars acting as unofficial Ministers of Propaganda? The proposal here is a cage match unto the death of one or the other, doesn't matter which one. The winner gets to continue his agenda of making stuff up and presenting it as fact for millions of dollars a year and the people who like that sort of thing are rewarded for their limited attention span and lack of analytical skills.
2. The United Nations: Is there a less united organization around? Or one less effective? Perhaps a year's sabbatical might provide UN delegates some much-needed time for reflection on whether or not those 6-month studies are the best way to solve immediate problems. And maybe thinking up a new motto besides "60 years of not making a dime's worth of difference!"
3. Reality television: Did we need a daily reminder of how banal and small-minded people can be? Can we institute some kind of limit on the amount of shows that reward viciousness and petty scheming?
4. The Fat Police: Isn't the function of government supposed to be paving roads, fighting fires, defending the nation and maintaining some, but not too much semblance of order? Leave the fat guys alone, they never did anything to you! What kind of lard they use to fry their donuts is nobody else's business, nor is it necessary to post the calorie counts of Big Macs. All those crazy fad diets don't do a damned thing but make the authors rich. If outgrowing their entire wardrobe more often than a teenager in a growth spurt didn't get their attention, well, what can anyone else do? They're fat, not stupid, and know full well that the only way to lose weight is eating less and exercising more. It's their life, and besides, where would our comedians get half their material without fat people? Is anybody thinking about that? We need our comedy!
5. The Weather Channel: Does anybody beside the people who live there give a rat's ass what the weather is like in Nebraska? You want to know what the weather is like right outside! Don't people have windows anymore? Or newspapers where they have printed accurate weather forecasts for over a century? Here's a flash to save time: It's hot in the tropics, cold in the north and the weather in London usually sucks. What's next, The Time Channel?
6. Safety Warnings: Outside of power tools, poisons and high voltage electrical gear, how many safety labels do we need? Anybody who doesn't realize that step ladders can be hazardous is a prime candidate for the thinning of the herd. See, that's the one of the drawbacks to living in a civilized and ordered society; the dumb get to survive and breed, and even get elected president from time to time. In prior times predators took care of the feeble minded pretty quick and the rest of us got on with our lives without so many idiots clogging up the doorways.
7. Instant Psychology: Anybody who has ever known or been "treated" by a mental health professional knows what clueless boobs they are, so why would anybody put one of these insight-free jerkoffs on television and popularize their meaningless jargon? There are no quick fixes for addled minds and these psycho-babbling charlatans know it. Why encourage them?
8. Tofu: Let's see, it's not meat, it's not dairy, so it's got to be made from some kind of plant, right? A Tofu plant? Does anyone really know? Have they seen it manufactured, or know just what process is used to remove all traces of flavor from this alleged food-like substance?
9. Car alarms: When was he last time a car alarm went off and anybody thought a car was being stolen? These shrieking annoyances that go off at the slightest breeze and never, ever when the car is actually being stolen are another candidate for universal MUTE switches.
!0. Disposable Celebrities: Take your pick of a very large litter, none of them in any way skilled, talented or remotely interesting. Why not skip the disposal part and never give them any publicity to begin with? There's something very odd about a person being famous only for being famous. Isn't there supposed to be some accomplishment involved in renown?
August 18, 2008
LIFE EXPLAINED, PART 142
President Franklin D. Roosevelt said famously: "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself..." That's only part of the quote. Less familiar is what he said next: "..and snakes, heights, the bogey man, clowns, spiders, black cats and the dark." FDR was no fool. He knew there's plenty to fear in this world.
WHO'S AFRAID OF THE BIG BAD WOLF?
Well, who isn't afraid of the big bad wolf? And if not, why not? Are you nuts or something? Are you carrying a powerful rifle? There's no shame in having fears, rational or not. Fear is what got us here, species-wise. People who claim to have no fear are either lying or lacking in a basic survival mechanism. When our distant ancestors roamed the killing fields of prehistory, they trod lightly and only ventured forth armed to the teeth. Nothing like being a potential meal for Cadillac-sized predators to instill a little bit of healthy fear into a species.
Even the creatures we hunted were pretty deadly. Wooly Mammoths would just as soon trample you flat as look at you and Giant Caribou got a kick out of decorating their huge antlers with impaled cave men. That sort of thing impressed the lady Caribou no end. So, humans being so puny and easily squashed and pierced we developed a healthy respect for the endless dangers confronting us in a hostile world. Without the benefit of any fangs, claws, sharp horns, thick hide, massive strength, lightning-quick reflexes or great speed, humans banded together into clans, tribes and eventually nations to ensure our continued survival.
That strategy worked, and these days the gigantic land predators are all extinct, their smaller but still deadly descendants confined to game preserves and National Geographic TV shows. Which is not to say there is no reason to have fear anymore. It is us who are a danger to us today, having gone overboard with the clans, tribes and nations to the point where we are at each others' throats. When not going about our routine business of securing meals and warm shelter, we like nothing more than to slaughter one another, starve each other to death or lock people up in cages for a long time. We're so good at this sort of thing that we as a species have developed an innate fear of one another.
Again, an entirely rational reaction to the brutal realities of a hostile world, not unlike lion cubs having to be wary of neighboring adult male lions who want to slay them so they can mate with their Mom. The fact that this is a world of our own making doesn't make it any less frightening. So it's natural for us to have a fear of murder, accidents, war and famine. Goes with the human territory. There are other fears that have arisen within us as our world grows more complex, the fear of flying for example, something no cave man ever experienced unless he was flung off a cliff by a rival, and then that fear was fleeting, lasting only until he landed on the rocks below with a resounding thud, his worries over. Today there's lot of things that happen in the normal course of events that our ancestors didn't have to dwell upon. Following is a short list of modern phobias.
Botoxophobia: The fear of grotesquely altered movie stars. This common fear has been known to cause traumatic nightmares as well as violent arguments over the identity of some celebrity or other who sort of looks like somebody familiar. A related condition is called Kenny Rogers Syndrome.
Olympiphobia: The fear of missing the telecast of all 3,782 Olympic events and the irrational compulsion to learn the rules of Field Hockey. Side effects include insomnia, irritability and social ostracism.
Correctophobia: The fear of not being completely current with the latest memo on what is and is not proper to think or to say in public. Also known as Black or African-American? Disease, sufferers of this dread malady are subject to severe fits of indignation and hysteria upon hearing words like Pollack, Mrs., retarded, crazy or homo. Symptoms include physical manifestations like bending over backwards and mental fatigue from incessant brain gymnastics.
Cheneyphobia: A growing fear that Shotgun Dick Cheney will start World War 3 before leaving office next January. Medical science has found this fear to be a completely rational response and not a disease of any sort.
Mad Trump Disease: The nauseating reaction to images or interviews of Donald Trump. Again, according to the American Medical Association, a normal and healthy reaction to a growing and dangerous phenomenon. Many doctors go so far as the recommend painless euthanasia for The Donald in order to spare humanity. Others are not so benign and call for the televised stoning to death of Mr. Trump so as to publicly relieve sufferers of Mad Trump Disease of potential long-term damage to their neural receptors.
Nerdophobia; The fear of having to ask somebody to help you figure out your new cell phone or computer. Mental health professionals characterize this condition as a dangerous trend among Americans desperate to be more tech-savvy than their neighbor without having to consult some horn-rimmed geek with a pen caddy in his short-sleeved dress shirt pocket and a smug attitude to explain your iPod or PC. Recommended treatment: Call in the nerd and learn how to cut and paste and forward your calls already and get on with your damned life! Such as it is...
UFObia: The fear of delusional alien abduction fanatics, unemployed black hole scientists and Area 51 conspiracy theorists completely taking over the Science Channel, leaving precious little air time for real science like Big Foot and the Bermuda Triangle.
Sissyboyitis: A condition closely akin to Correctophobia but striking only adult males. The wide range of symptoms include reminding your old lady that "The Prince of Tides" or some other dumbass chick flick is on, watching "Sex And The City" with her, eating way too much greenery for a man, asking directions, wearing shoulder bags, attempting to rationalize abhorrent behavior by calling it "alternative" or "culture-specific," tolerance of politically correct assholes, moisturizing, owning multiple cats, nurturing, drinking umbrella drinks, pretending to like cuddling, cleaning up after themselves, being overly sensitive, treating women like men with tits and not opening doors for them anymore or being a gentleman, self-loathing and generally acting completely counter to inborn human male nature. Baffled Scientists are unsure whether this phenomenon is the result of fluoridated drinking water or a feeble attempt to get laid by sniveling wimps, citing study after study confirming that women are still attracted to the bad boys. Recommended treatment: Beer and sports. Follow this regimen and the mojo and attitude will return faster than one of your extra cats with its tail on fire.
Even the creatures we hunted were pretty deadly. Wooly Mammoths would just as soon trample you flat as look at you and Giant Caribou got a kick out of decorating their huge antlers with impaled cave men. That sort of thing impressed the lady Caribou no end. So, humans being so puny and easily squashed and pierced we developed a healthy respect for the endless dangers confronting us in a hostile world. Without the benefit of any fangs, claws, sharp horns, thick hide, massive strength, lightning-quick reflexes or great speed, humans banded together into clans, tribes and eventually nations to ensure our continued survival.
That strategy worked, and these days the gigantic land predators are all extinct, their smaller but still deadly descendants confined to game preserves and National Geographic TV shows. Which is not to say there is no reason to have fear anymore. It is us who are a danger to us today, having gone overboard with the clans, tribes and nations to the point where we are at each others' throats. When not going about our routine business of securing meals and warm shelter, we like nothing more than to slaughter one another, starve each other to death or lock people up in cages for a long time. We're so good at this sort of thing that we as a species have developed an innate fear of one another.
Again, an entirely rational reaction to the brutal realities of a hostile world, not unlike lion cubs having to be wary of neighboring adult male lions who want to slay them so they can mate with their Mom. The fact that this is a world of our own making doesn't make it any less frightening. So it's natural for us to have a fear of murder, accidents, war and famine. Goes with the human territory. There are other fears that have arisen within us as our world grows more complex, the fear of flying for example, something no cave man ever experienced unless he was flung off a cliff by a rival, and then that fear was fleeting, lasting only until he landed on the rocks below with a resounding thud, his worries over. Today there's lot of things that happen in the normal course of events that our ancestors didn't have to dwell upon. Following is a short list of modern phobias.
Botoxophobia: The fear of grotesquely altered movie stars. This common fear has been known to cause traumatic nightmares as well as violent arguments over the identity of some celebrity or other who sort of looks like somebody familiar. A related condition is called Kenny Rogers Syndrome.
Olympiphobia: The fear of missing the telecast of all 3,782 Olympic events and the irrational compulsion to learn the rules of Field Hockey. Side effects include insomnia, irritability and social ostracism.
Correctophobia: The fear of not being completely current with the latest memo on what is and is not proper to think or to say in public. Also known as Black or African-American? Disease, sufferers of this dread malady are subject to severe fits of indignation and hysteria upon hearing words like Pollack, Mrs., retarded, crazy or homo. Symptoms include physical manifestations like bending over backwards and mental fatigue from incessant brain gymnastics.
Cheneyphobia: A growing fear that Shotgun Dick Cheney will start World War 3 before leaving office next January. Medical science has found this fear to be a completely rational response and not a disease of any sort.
Mad Trump Disease: The nauseating reaction to images or interviews of Donald Trump. Again, according to the American Medical Association, a normal and healthy reaction to a growing and dangerous phenomenon. Many doctors go so far as the recommend painless euthanasia for The Donald in order to spare humanity. Others are not so benign and call for the televised stoning to death of Mr. Trump so as to publicly relieve sufferers of Mad Trump Disease of potential long-term damage to their neural receptors.
Nerdophobia; The fear of having to ask somebody to help you figure out your new cell phone or computer. Mental health professionals characterize this condition as a dangerous trend among Americans desperate to be more tech-savvy than their neighbor without having to consult some horn-rimmed geek with a pen caddy in his short-sleeved dress shirt pocket and a smug attitude to explain your iPod or PC. Recommended treatment: Call in the nerd and learn how to cut and paste and forward your calls already and get on with your damned life! Such as it is...
UFObia: The fear of delusional alien abduction fanatics, unemployed black hole scientists and Area 51 conspiracy theorists completely taking over the Science Channel, leaving precious little air time for real science like Big Foot and the Bermuda Triangle.
Sissyboyitis: A condition closely akin to Correctophobia but striking only adult males. The wide range of symptoms include reminding your old lady that "The Prince of Tides" or some other dumbass chick flick is on, watching "Sex And The City" with her, eating way too much greenery for a man, asking directions, wearing shoulder bags, attempting to rationalize abhorrent behavior by calling it "alternative" or "culture-specific," tolerance of politically correct assholes, moisturizing, owning multiple cats, nurturing, drinking umbrella drinks, pretending to like cuddling, cleaning up after themselves, being overly sensitive, treating women like men with tits and not opening doors for them anymore or being a gentleman, self-loathing and generally acting completely counter to inborn human male nature. Baffled Scientists are unsure whether this phenomenon is the result of fluoridated drinking water or a feeble attempt to get laid by sniveling wimps, citing study after study confirming that women are still attracted to the bad boys. Recommended treatment: Beer and sports. Follow this regimen and the mojo and attitude will return faster than one of your extra cats with its tail on fire.
August 17, 2008
LIFE EXPLAINED, PART 141
It is said you cannot beat a dead horse. Nonsense! Of course you can, and with no danger of repercussions in the form of getting kicked, bitten or trampled. It's a live horse you cannot beat. They're tough as hell.
AMERICA'S GEORGIA MAKES HEADLINES TOO
The Republic of Georgia has been grabbing all the headlines lately, what with them being invaded by Russia and having the seeds for World War 3 sown there. But now some real news comes from America's Georgia, one of our good ol' states down south. It seems two hunters claim to have found the body of a 7 foot, seven-inch, 500 pound Bigfoot in the forest, dragged its dead ass out of there and stuffed it into a freezer in a secret location, also known as a double wide in the woods. The two lucky fellows are Rick Dyer and Matthew Whitton, who just so happen to be partners in Bigfoot Global LLC., a business that markets BIgfoot merchandise and offers Bigfoot expeditions and who also run a website called bigfoottracker.com. Small world, no?
Apparently, Bigfoot Global and the Bigfoot tracker web site are not the last word in Bigfootery, so they called in the world's foremost expert on the man/beast, sort of like when Scotland Yard calls in Sherlock Holmes when they have a real tough case to solve, although with the Bigfoot dead and frozen, it would seem it was already Case Closed. Nonetheless they called in one Tom Biscardi of Menlo Park, California, the CEO of Searching For Bigfoot, Inc., and searchingforbigfoot.com. No word on old Tom's scientific credentials, but his web site's quite extensive, and quite notable for its lack of any actual pictures or film footage of Bigfoot, pretty odd in a day and age where every 10 year old has a camera in his cell phone. Which just proves one thing, that Bigfoot is as diabolically clever as he is camera shy.
There are, however, on searchingforbigfoot.com, lots and lots of reports from good old boys who said they saw Bigfoot, and no shortage of pictures and plaster casts of giant footprints. On Tom Biscardi's bio page he informs the world he took up Bigfootology in the usual way, by watching grainy 8MM film of Bigfoot on Johnny Carson's Tonight Show. I'm pretty sure that's how most of our towering scientific figures got their inspiration, when scientists appeared on talk shows in the 1960's in between appearances by Buddy Hackett and Wayne Newton. It seems that the two Georgia guys are disciples of sorts to the man they defer to as "The Real Bigfoot Hunter," and widely celebrated in Bigfoot circles with this catchy rhyme:
"His Grand Bigfoot Eminence Biscardi
The Stephen Hawkings of Bigfootology"
Not exactly Shakespeare, but pretty good for redneck Bigfoot guys.
Mr. Biscardi appeared with Rick Dyers and Matt Whitton at the ensuing press conferences, dominating the proceedings and even magnanimously naming the Bigfoot corpse the "Rickmat Creature" to acknowledge their historic discovery. His Grand Eminence Biscardi announced to the world that tissue samples of the Rickmat Creature had been submitted for scientific DNA testing. The results of that DNA testing revealed the DNA of a possum and a human being, no doubt the result of the Bigfoot sharing freezer space in the boys' freezer with some tasty possums and squirrels they were saving for Sadie Hawkins day. While that might explain the presence of possum DNA, Georgia criminal investigators are likely getting just a mite curious as to the "secret location" of that freezer and just who's slice of human flesh it was that showed up in the DNA laboratory.
Undaunted, the Bigfootologists have declared the DNA tests "inconclusive" and explained that of course scientists could not identify Bigfoot's DNA since they never encountered one before. And besides, any creature that can hide in plain sight in the 21st century (in every state of the Union, according to the many Bigfoot websites) could easily disguise its DNA from modern scientists. Well, that was good enough for the Bigfoot community and the corpse discovery was declared an unqualified success and proof positive of Bigfoot's existence. Any attempts to by "so-called-scientists" or "the authorities" were characterized as a vast conspiracy to keep the truth from the public. The many cries or "Fraud" and "Hoax" only strengthen their resolve to bring the truth to world, that Bigfoot is real and you can go find him with the Bigfoot hunters for a modest fee and now we have one in a redneck's freezer right next to the possums and the squirrels and the murder victim! Sounds reasonable to me.
I can only offer these Bigfoot trackers a humble suggestion. Now that the World Weekly News is out of business, Bat Boy needs a job. Who better than Bat Boy to lead the hunt? He's the guy who found Sadaam Hussein, endorsed Al Gore when he wasn't running for anything, eluded the police time and again and gave the Bush Administration the location of Osama bin Laden, only to have Dumbya delete the e-mail by mistake while playing "Grand Theft Auto" on the White House top secret computer. He can be a bit of a handful, prone to maiming people who annoy him with his razor-sharp teeth and talons, but he's unequalled as a tracker of the elusive, and if these Bigfeet live in caves, well, it's Game Over. He's half bat, for Gods sake! Bat Boy can be the one guy to put the Bigfoot controversy to rest once and for all.
Of course there's always the danger that he will like them better than us, but nobody ever said that serious science is risk-free. If Bat Boy decides to live among the Bigfoot creatures and interbreed with them, well, there's always a future in tracking Big Batfoot. Rick and Matt, whose Bigfoot website is off-line as of this writing, might just revitalize their careers pursuing Bat Boy, who's not camera shy at all, and not at all averse to creating public controversy. Rick and Matt could finally get out of Biscardi's shadow and rake in enough dough to buy a reliable used pickup truck. Providing of course that they get rid of that human body sharing freezer space with the possums and the Bigfoot before the authorities get there first. That ought to show the world what America's Georgia is all about! On second thought, maybe we can talk Russia into keeping that war on the other Georgia going on for awhile until all this Bigfoot stuff blows over.
Apparently, Bigfoot Global and the Bigfoot tracker web site are not the last word in Bigfootery, so they called in the world's foremost expert on the man/beast, sort of like when Scotland Yard calls in Sherlock Holmes when they have a real tough case to solve, although with the Bigfoot dead and frozen, it would seem it was already Case Closed. Nonetheless they called in one Tom Biscardi of Menlo Park, California, the CEO of Searching For Bigfoot, Inc., and searchingforbigfoot.com. No word on old Tom's scientific credentials, but his web site's quite extensive, and quite notable for its lack of any actual pictures or film footage of Bigfoot, pretty odd in a day and age where every 10 year old has a camera in his cell phone. Which just proves one thing, that Bigfoot is as diabolically clever as he is camera shy.
There are, however, on searchingforbigfoot.com, lots and lots of reports from good old boys who said they saw Bigfoot, and no shortage of pictures and plaster casts of giant footprints. On Tom Biscardi's bio page he informs the world he took up Bigfootology in the usual way, by watching grainy 8MM film of Bigfoot on Johnny Carson's Tonight Show. I'm pretty sure that's how most of our towering scientific figures got their inspiration, when scientists appeared on talk shows in the 1960's in between appearances by Buddy Hackett and Wayne Newton. It seems that the two Georgia guys are disciples of sorts to the man they defer to as "The Real Bigfoot Hunter," and widely celebrated in Bigfoot circles with this catchy rhyme:
"His Grand Bigfoot Eminence Biscardi
The Stephen Hawkings of Bigfootology"
Not exactly Shakespeare, but pretty good for redneck Bigfoot guys.
Mr. Biscardi appeared with Rick Dyers and Matt Whitton at the ensuing press conferences, dominating the proceedings and even magnanimously naming the Bigfoot corpse the "Rickmat Creature" to acknowledge their historic discovery. His Grand Eminence Biscardi announced to the world that tissue samples of the Rickmat Creature had been submitted for scientific DNA testing. The results of that DNA testing revealed the DNA of a possum and a human being, no doubt the result of the Bigfoot sharing freezer space in the boys' freezer with some tasty possums and squirrels they were saving for Sadie Hawkins day. While that might explain the presence of possum DNA, Georgia criminal investigators are likely getting just a mite curious as to the "secret location" of that freezer and just who's slice of human flesh it was that showed up in the DNA laboratory.
Undaunted, the Bigfootologists have declared the DNA tests "inconclusive" and explained that of course scientists could not identify Bigfoot's DNA since they never encountered one before. And besides, any creature that can hide in plain sight in the 21st century (in every state of the Union, according to the many Bigfoot websites) could easily disguise its DNA from modern scientists. Well, that was good enough for the Bigfoot community and the corpse discovery was declared an unqualified success and proof positive of Bigfoot's existence. Any attempts to by "so-called-scientists" or "the authorities" were characterized as a vast conspiracy to keep the truth from the public. The many cries or "Fraud" and "Hoax" only strengthen their resolve to bring the truth to world, that Bigfoot is real and you can go find him with the Bigfoot hunters for a modest fee and now we have one in a redneck's freezer right next to the possums and the squirrels and the murder victim! Sounds reasonable to me.
I can only offer these Bigfoot trackers a humble suggestion. Now that the World Weekly News is out of business, Bat Boy needs a job. Who better than Bat Boy to lead the hunt? He's the guy who found Sadaam Hussein, endorsed Al Gore when he wasn't running for anything, eluded the police time and again and gave the Bush Administration the location of Osama bin Laden, only to have Dumbya delete the e-mail by mistake while playing "Grand Theft Auto" on the White House top secret computer. He can be a bit of a handful, prone to maiming people who annoy him with his razor-sharp teeth and talons, but he's unequalled as a tracker of the elusive, and if these Bigfeet live in caves, well, it's Game Over. He's half bat, for Gods sake! Bat Boy can be the one guy to put the Bigfoot controversy to rest once and for all.
Of course there's always the danger that he will like them better than us, but nobody ever said that serious science is risk-free. If Bat Boy decides to live among the Bigfoot creatures and interbreed with them, well, there's always a future in tracking Big Batfoot. Rick and Matt, whose Bigfoot website is off-line as of this writing, might just revitalize their careers pursuing Bat Boy, who's not camera shy at all, and not at all averse to creating public controversy. Rick and Matt could finally get out of Biscardi's shadow and rake in enough dough to buy a reliable used pickup truck. Providing of course that they get rid of that human body sharing freezer space with the possums and the Bigfoot before the authorities get there first. That ought to show the world what America's Georgia is all about! On second thought, maybe we can talk Russia into keeping that war on the other Georgia going on for awhile until all this Bigfoot stuff blows over.
LIFE EXPLAINED, PART 140
If you find yourself watching some oddball Olympic sport that makes no sense at all and needs constant long-winded explanations of the rules, it's okay to flip it off and watch dwarves and trailer trash brawling on The Jerry Springer Show, even if it is a youngster from your country competing in the run, sword fight, swim, climb, shoot-a-gun-from-a-speeding-unicycle and then spin cartwheels event. Don't look for these kids on the cover of a Wheaties box anytime soon.
THE GAME MY GREAT UNCLE NEVER GOT TO PLAY
"When one thinks of Spain, basketball dominance does not come readily to mind." With these words my Great Uncle James Blanco summed up the Spanish National Basketball Team of the mid-1930's, of which he was a member. Topping out at a robust 5 feet, 8 inches tall, he recalls being among the taller members of the team. The Spanish team was all set to represent Spain in the Berlin Summer Olympics of 1936 when the Spanish Civil War intervened, dashing Uncle Jimmy's hopes, not to win a gold medal, but to represent his nation on the world stage and to compete at the most demanding level of his sport against the very best of the best.
Instead, he was drafted to fight in the civil war that devastated his nation, seeing combat on both sides when faced with the alternative of the firing squad, one of many Spaniards ambivalent towards either side. Most only wanted the war to be over no matter who won, it didn't make much of a difference to them. A nightmare is a nightmare and the sooner one wakes up, the better. Unable to join his sisters in New York, he fought for survival in the war that Germany and Italy used as a dress rehearsal for World War 2. It seems that Generalissimo Francisco Franco was a member of the exclusive European Fascist Madman Club, with Hitler and Mussolini as the other charter members. Those stalwarts were counting on Spain to join them in World War 2 as a partner in the Axis Powers to repay their favor of decimating his nation with the Luftwaffe and heavy artillery to help him win the Spanish Civil War.
Apparently Franco wasn't as nuts as his buddies and sat that one out, figuring he had what he wanted, Spain, and didn't need any more hot lead shredding his sunny climes and adding to the 500,000 civil war deaths. As a result he was the only member of the Fascist Madman Club to survive that war and ruled Spain until he was an old man, dying in his bed in 1975 at 82. None of which impressed Uncle Jimmy, who relinquished all claims to his property in Spain and came to America, vowing never to return as long as Franco drew breath, a promise he kept. He'd had enough of fascism and slaughter and the European class system that made the accident of birth one's permanent destiny. Although he came from a family of wealth, property and privilege, he turned his back on the notion of padrones and peons.
Instead my great uncle became an American citizen and found happiness in Manhattan, refusing to emigrate to South America like so many other disaffected Spaniards, where by the accident of their own birth and for no other reason they were elevated to positions of authority at the expense of the indigenous peoples. "A man cannot know what he is worth in such conditions. In New York, your ability is the only pedigree that matters." Wise words. James Blanco sought no opulent villa staffed with fawning peasants. He worked and lived a long lifetime in Manhattan apartments, became fascinated with American football and still followed basketball, but lamented that it had become an overly physical game of giants, lacking the nuance and skill of the game he remembered playing.
So, watching Spain play the United States in the Beijing Olympics brought Uncle Jimmy to mind. While Spain these days is a pretty respectable power in European basketball, the match with the United States ended in pretty much the same result Uncle Jimmy expected in 1936, a lopsided American victory, 119-82, with the Spanish players giving every ounce of skill and energy at their command. James Blanco did not resent American athletes, but admired them. "I would very much liked to have shaken the hand of Jesse Owens in Berlin," he once told me of the black man who won four gold medals in track and field, almost singlehandedly puncturing Hitler's Superman Aryan Race myth.
No one cheered harder for American boxer and World Heavyweight Champion Joe Louis two years later in 1938 when he avenged his only defeat by knocking out Germany's Max Schmeling, an event broadcast on radio throughout the world. Uncle Jimmy heard the fight on an army radio in Spain, the war put on hold for the thrilling 2 minutes and 29 seconds that fight lasted. And when Spain was preparing for the 1936 Olympics, he said: "There was but one team we prepared to play, and that was the Americans. It was their game, and they excelled at it and this was the first time basketball would be an Olympic sport. We loved basketball and did our best to emulate the American game. I was very proud to be a part of it."
Looking up the record, basketball sure was a very different game back then since the United States won the gold medal by beating Canada by the score of 19-8. More points are generally scored in the first quarter of a basketball game these days. Who knows, maybe Spain would have outdone Canada's 8 points to win the Silver Medal in 1936. But in the game my Great Uncle never got to play, Spain displayed the same skill, passion and dedication in 2008 as the 1930's team and did their nation proud by competing against the best of the best and seem destined to take a medal. Other than the gold, that is. Uncle Jimmy, ever the realist but always one to do his very best, this one's for you. Say hello to Mr. Owens for us.
Instead, he was drafted to fight in the civil war that devastated his nation, seeing combat on both sides when faced with the alternative of the firing squad, one of many Spaniards ambivalent towards either side. Most only wanted the war to be over no matter who won, it didn't make much of a difference to them. A nightmare is a nightmare and the sooner one wakes up, the better. Unable to join his sisters in New York, he fought for survival in the war that Germany and Italy used as a dress rehearsal for World War 2. It seems that Generalissimo Francisco Franco was a member of the exclusive European Fascist Madman Club, with Hitler and Mussolini as the other charter members. Those stalwarts were counting on Spain to join them in World War 2 as a partner in the Axis Powers to repay their favor of decimating his nation with the Luftwaffe and heavy artillery to help him win the Spanish Civil War.
Apparently Franco wasn't as nuts as his buddies and sat that one out, figuring he had what he wanted, Spain, and didn't need any more hot lead shredding his sunny climes and adding to the 500,000 civil war deaths. As a result he was the only member of the Fascist Madman Club to survive that war and ruled Spain until he was an old man, dying in his bed in 1975 at 82. None of which impressed Uncle Jimmy, who relinquished all claims to his property in Spain and came to America, vowing never to return as long as Franco drew breath, a promise he kept. He'd had enough of fascism and slaughter and the European class system that made the accident of birth one's permanent destiny. Although he came from a family of wealth, property and privilege, he turned his back on the notion of padrones and peons.
Instead my great uncle became an American citizen and found happiness in Manhattan, refusing to emigrate to South America like so many other disaffected Spaniards, where by the accident of their own birth and for no other reason they were elevated to positions of authority at the expense of the indigenous peoples. "A man cannot know what he is worth in such conditions. In New York, your ability is the only pedigree that matters." Wise words. James Blanco sought no opulent villa staffed with fawning peasants. He worked and lived a long lifetime in Manhattan apartments, became fascinated with American football and still followed basketball, but lamented that it had become an overly physical game of giants, lacking the nuance and skill of the game he remembered playing.
So, watching Spain play the United States in the Beijing Olympics brought Uncle Jimmy to mind. While Spain these days is a pretty respectable power in European basketball, the match with the United States ended in pretty much the same result Uncle Jimmy expected in 1936, a lopsided American victory, 119-82, with the Spanish players giving every ounce of skill and energy at their command. James Blanco did not resent American athletes, but admired them. "I would very much liked to have shaken the hand of Jesse Owens in Berlin," he once told me of the black man who won four gold medals in track and field, almost singlehandedly puncturing Hitler's Superman Aryan Race myth.
No one cheered harder for American boxer and World Heavyweight Champion Joe Louis two years later in 1938 when he avenged his only defeat by knocking out Germany's Max Schmeling, an event broadcast on radio throughout the world. Uncle Jimmy heard the fight on an army radio in Spain, the war put on hold for the thrilling 2 minutes and 29 seconds that fight lasted. And when Spain was preparing for the 1936 Olympics, he said: "There was but one team we prepared to play, and that was the Americans. It was their game, and they excelled at it and this was the first time basketball would be an Olympic sport. We loved basketball and did our best to emulate the American game. I was very proud to be a part of it."
Looking up the record, basketball sure was a very different game back then since the United States won the gold medal by beating Canada by the score of 19-8. More points are generally scored in the first quarter of a basketball game these days. Who knows, maybe Spain would have outdone Canada's 8 points to win the Silver Medal in 1936. But in the game my Great Uncle never got to play, Spain displayed the same skill, passion and dedication in 2008 as the 1930's team and did their nation proud by competing against the best of the best and seem destined to take a medal. Other than the gold, that is. Uncle Jimmy, ever the realist but always one to do his very best, this one's for you. Say hello to Mr. Owens for us.
August 16, 2008
LIFE EXPLAINED, PART 139
Make every day count. Learn something new, eat some chocolate and have some fun, three keys to a day well spent.
KIRK TO SCOTTY: BEAM ME THE FUCK UP, FAST!
Here we were figuring we'll just let the mildly retarded Bush The Younger finish out the last few months of his second term as our President, it's too much trouble to impeach his mumbling, bumbling ass at this point, and besides, what more could he possibly do to screw the pooch? Well, welcome to the brink of World War 3, ladies and gentlemen! The Cheney Administration has been going all Hitler and Sudetenland on Iran from our 51st state, Iraq. They're rattling sabers and threatening to rain down hell fire on the jackoff mullahs and their comical little president Ahmadinnerjacket, who pose no more of a threat to America that Sadman Hussein did, figuring maybe we'll get to siphon off another Lake Erie's worth of their oil too.
All this time they're forgetting that Russia has gotten rich and powerful again and never did lose their paranoia about their borders, one of which they share with Iran, Cheney's next target. Next thing you know Putin rolls the tanks into Georgia as a warning to the world that Chucky's back, then Cheney ups the ante by deciding to put an anti-missile system in Poland and Russia goes haywire again, vowing that act will not to go unpunished and they will point a whole bunch of nuclear missiles Poland's way. Now Poland opens its big mouth about being a Nato member now who will have instant help from the entire Western World in case Russia decides to reintroduce them to the charms of Soviet occupation and I'm looking for my communicator to get Scotty to beam me the fuck off this powder keg of a planet pronto!
Did our government forget that Russia still has a shitload of nukes and a maniac leader named Putin who misses the Soviet Union like Abbot missed Costello? Where the hell was our chicken shit Congress when Cheney was attacking the wrong country, repealing the Bill of Rights, hiring mercenary armies for Iraq and New Orleans and stealing the eyes out of our heads? One thing led to another, then another and another until now we're in Sarajevo circa 1914 and nobody wants to lose their macho attitude. To add to the madness, you've got John McCain pretending he's already the president by dispatching two of his own emissaries to Georgia, a couple of equally demented Senators. He has no more authority than the manager of a Dairy Queen to deputize anybody to speak for our nation, but he's just demented enough not to know that. Scotty, do you read me?
One can only assume that both Russia and The United States are dusting off the nuclear submarines and long range bombers and oiling the hinges on the doors to our rusting nuclear missile silos. Aging generals nostalgic for the days of playing Russian Roulette with the lives of every human being on the planet are dancing jigs in their private men's clubs and getting their tailors busy on crisp new uniforms for their many anticipated press conferences on the various dire crises they are planning to scare the living shit out of us again. If they think they can pull this one off for another forty years without somebody somewhere launching one of those big boys, they're nuttier than they look. There's a bunch of Jihad Jokers in the deck these days who'd like nothing more than global annihilation. Scotty, Scotty!
So much for not acting promptly when a president breaks the law, like when Bush The Younger ceded all power to Shotgun Dick Cheney after the 9/11 attacks scared Dumbya sillier. All they had to do was go into Afghanistan, shoot up the joint and kill one six-foot-six Arab and his henchmen. Not exactly too hard to find Waldo in that non-Arab nation and stick to it until the job was done. But noooo, we had to embark on widespread warfare in the most volatile region in the world, the Middle East, forgetting that every stone you throw in the pool has wide ripples spreading further than we know. Meanwhile, bin Laden's a bigger video star than Kanye West and we've poked the Russian bear with a sharp stick. Scotty! Don't give me that crap about lithium crystals, just beam me outta here, okay?
Every action has consequences and non-action can be fatal. Picking poor leadership has huge consequences. If we tossed these assholes out of office years ago, we wouldn't be in this fix today. There would be other crises to be sure, they always crop up, but just maybe we wouldn't be staring down the barrel of World War 3. It's not America's fault that Russian leadership if full of brazen morons, but it's our fault that ours is too. What didn't even seem like a good idea at the time has come back to bite us in the ass. You don't let children play with matches and you don't let fools play with our lives. Scotty, you're breaking up. Energize already! Beam me the fuck up before this place blows! Kirk to Enterprise, dammit!
All this time they're forgetting that Russia has gotten rich and powerful again and never did lose their paranoia about their borders, one of which they share with Iran, Cheney's next target. Next thing you know Putin rolls the tanks into Georgia as a warning to the world that Chucky's back, then Cheney ups the ante by deciding to put an anti-missile system in Poland and Russia goes haywire again, vowing that act will not to go unpunished and they will point a whole bunch of nuclear missiles Poland's way. Now Poland opens its big mouth about being a Nato member now who will have instant help from the entire Western World in case Russia decides to reintroduce them to the charms of Soviet occupation and I'm looking for my communicator to get Scotty to beam me the fuck off this powder keg of a planet pronto!
Did our government forget that Russia still has a shitload of nukes and a maniac leader named Putin who misses the Soviet Union like Abbot missed Costello? Where the hell was our chicken shit Congress when Cheney was attacking the wrong country, repealing the Bill of Rights, hiring mercenary armies for Iraq and New Orleans and stealing the eyes out of our heads? One thing led to another, then another and another until now we're in Sarajevo circa 1914 and nobody wants to lose their macho attitude. To add to the madness, you've got John McCain pretending he's already the president by dispatching two of his own emissaries to Georgia, a couple of equally demented Senators. He has no more authority than the manager of a Dairy Queen to deputize anybody to speak for our nation, but he's just demented enough not to know that. Scotty, do you read me?
One can only assume that both Russia and The United States are dusting off the nuclear submarines and long range bombers and oiling the hinges on the doors to our rusting nuclear missile silos. Aging generals nostalgic for the days of playing Russian Roulette with the lives of every human being on the planet are dancing jigs in their private men's clubs and getting their tailors busy on crisp new uniforms for their many anticipated press conferences on the various dire crises they are planning to scare the living shit out of us again. If they think they can pull this one off for another forty years without somebody somewhere launching one of those big boys, they're nuttier than they look. There's a bunch of Jihad Jokers in the deck these days who'd like nothing more than global annihilation. Scotty, Scotty!
So much for not acting promptly when a president breaks the law, like when Bush The Younger ceded all power to Shotgun Dick Cheney after the 9/11 attacks scared Dumbya sillier. All they had to do was go into Afghanistan, shoot up the joint and kill one six-foot-six Arab and his henchmen. Not exactly too hard to find Waldo in that non-Arab nation and stick to it until the job was done. But noooo, we had to embark on widespread warfare in the most volatile region in the world, the Middle East, forgetting that every stone you throw in the pool has wide ripples spreading further than we know. Meanwhile, bin Laden's a bigger video star than Kanye West and we've poked the Russian bear with a sharp stick. Scotty! Don't give me that crap about lithium crystals, just beam me outta here, okay?
Every action has consequences and non-action can be fatal. Picking poor leadership has huge consequences. If we tossed these assholes out of office years ago, we wouldn't be in this fix today. There would be other crises to be sure, they always crop up, but just maybe we wouldn't be staring down the barrel of World War 3. It's not America's fault that Russian leadership if full of brazen morons, but it's our fault that ours is too. What didn't even seem like a good idea at the time has come back to bite us in the ass. You don't let children play with matches and you don't let fools play with our lives. Scotty, you're breaking up. Energize already! Beam me the fuck up before this place blows! Kirk to Enterprise, dammit!
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