OVERLY VERBOSE?

I may change my last name to "verbosity" based upon my recent urge to author more blogs. Guess there's just a lot of things on my mind

Maybe it's just that I don't want to plant those remaining 8 trays of grass plugs in this heat.

Anyway, here goes.

It would be fascinating to hear from at least 20 anonymous baseball G.M.'s as to what they feel is at the root of the Pirates misfortunes.

The writers covering baseball in Pittsburgh are all over the board.

Some said fire John Russell (and they did), some said fire the pitching coach (which they did) some said fire the G.M which they have yet to do.

Most said "fire the ownership group", which Selig is apparently not about to do unless the Nuttings file for divorce; a fate I would not wish on them.

When I was more involved with the coming and goings of the Pirates I remarked to my brother Jim that I seriously wondered as to the quality of their scouts and the knowledge they imparted.

Trades are a little like raising kids. It takes quite a while to determine if what you could control - you controlled correctly.

Now, if you are scouts giving good advice but unable to control the decisions made by an inadequate General Manager, then that's a far different control problem - and we're not just talking about trading pitchers like Javier Lopez.

Because in most families there are two or more parents - regardless whether or not they reside under the same roof - success or failure is often a shared responsibility.

Only someone fatheaded - like one ex-husband I know - would claim that they, and they alone, are exclusively responsible for any measure of success their children have - and I'm not necessarily speaking of monetarial acquisition.

The same can be said for the Pirates - both good and bad. However, I would hate to brag on any success were I a member of the Pirates various coaching, scouting, and managerial departments in the past 18 years.

Obviously, something is terribly wrong. Hopefully, someday we may be fortunate enough to find an impartial someone who can become the determinant.

Now, if the Pirates pitching continues to improve over last years pitching statistics - please forget I wrote this.
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Lot's of hoopla over the impending wedding. We sort of have mixed feelings. It's just that Bill and Kate don't stop around nearly as much as they did a few years ago - even though we bought all that stuff from Kate's Mom & Dad. Maybe they just got tired of the jug wine.

Given the mixed success ratings of William's parents' marriage it seems everybody and their sister or brother want to chime in with advice on keeping their passion and romance in tact.

Mine is simple. Do not refer to Bills stepmother as "horseyface."

However, I was struck by one bit of advice for a marriage rich with longevity.

Gaelen Foley author of "My Irrestible Earl" had this to say:

"Have a policy of pre-emptive forgiveness. Refuse to get offended by petty things. MAKE A DECISION EARLY ON TO CUT THE OTHER PERSON SOME SLACK IN EVERYDAY LIFE. Then you can comfort in knowing they'll do it for you, as well. Accepting each other, flaws and all, is what love is all about."
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Do you really believe that, as in playright Aristohanes 411 B.C comedy "Lysistrata" about the women witholding sex from their men in hopes of bringing an end to the Peloponnesian War, it might work today?
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OK, maybe overly verbose there.

THE TOWN BULLY

As a tall but skinny asthmatic kid I can recall being the target for the more agressive shorter pudgy guys. But, more of that some other time.

Let's consider this non-related scenario. Say you are the picked on kid who continued to get beat up - first on the street - then by your Dad at home - because you weren't more assertive.

So, you're definitely seeking a safe haven - but, one is not to be easily found.

Still, the bully keeps beating you up and you find yourself attempting to discover different routes to and from both the school and the store.

Finally, after these tandem beatings have continued for what seems to be an eternity, you decide to take action.

You go out behind the garage and start to disassemble your home made soap box derby with the steering wheel taken from a baby carriage found at the dump.

You remove a couple of bolted 2 by 2's you used for braking against the old discarded Flexible Flyer wagon wheels. You then take on the two by four steering mechanics you came up with from reading a book.

You detach the two by four - unfastening the bolt that penetrated the orange crate chassis and a 2 by 10 holding the egg crate seat.

Next, you remove the Flexible Flyer wheels you connected to the smaller 2 by 4 board with long screws and untie the ropes that were inserted in the two holes drilled into either end of the same piece of lumber.

The next day you go tell your last period teacher that you're sick and have to go home immediately - knowing the school nurse is now visiting at a neighboring school.

You don't go home.

Instead, you hide around the corner clutching your two by four steering mechanism and you beat the begeezers out of the bully when he comes around the corner of the school.

You start at his knees - you then hit him across his gut when he's lying on his back - then you pummel him on top of his curly haired head upon which he has placed his backward facing golf hat.

You leave him surprised, bloody, and crying.

You do this for three days running from varying vantage points. Soon, the bully starts looking for you - and it's strictly a defensive maneuver.

As the weeks goes on you no longer resort to subterfuge. Every time you see the guy you cross the street, walk up to him and cold cock him with a pair of brass knuckles you found in your dad's tool kit.

The bully is treating you nicer now. Each morning he even holds the door open for you as you enter school. You trip him. He also offers you the opportunity to be the first to ascend the second floor stairs. You knee him.

He slides over at the "jock" table in the school cafeteria to let you sit down. Looking straight ahead you nevertheless score a direct hit as you pour your cup of hot pear juice on his new white golf hat - and him - as you pass the sacred table.

Finally, the bully is going to everybody - your friends - your teacher - your gym coach - your principal - your Dad, the local priest, etc. Even your Mom.

He says your aggressive moves are delaying some serious negotiations that really are going to lead to an agreement between you and him."

Meet Roger Goodell.

DEFINITELY BORN AT THE WRONG TIME

Yeah, he's back at it again - but, not for long.

I've already covered the subject of honesty too many times and doubt I even dented the consciousness of many.

Regardless, I just decided it was time for another update.

So, why is honesty such a hot topic to me? It's not as if I have always been honest. There were more times than I care to acknowledge where I may have taken the easy way out.

My rationale was that I didn't want to hurt feelings. In retrospect, maybe I just didn't want to take on the consequences of telling the truth.

Now, that I've started my self-cleansing - I would offer also that I am not unique in my implication of past dishonesty. But, I'm not suggesting - as so many of those generations that followed - that "everybody else is doing it so, what's the problem?"

Quite the contrary.

Some cynics say, the problem goes back to 1848 when an unidentified yahoo- nut declared he found gold in California and everybody and his brother headed west. The problem is that many were young enough to beget offspring - and California has been our problem ever since.

I know the lies about gold were often untrue - because the Lone Ranger warned me of the problems with iron pyrites -fools gold - during his 3 nights a week programming on our local Mutual radio broadcasting station. The Horace Greeley guys had to learn the hard way.

The "fools gold' led us to "fools talk" - "fools opinions"- and "fools expertise." It also brought us one helluva lot of right brained people in entertainment who didn't have a clue what they were talking about.

Still we listened - and along the way decided to call some of them politicians and/or worthy humanitarians.

We shouldn't have elimiminated the entertainment writers in our search for "fools gold". Today, more than ever, we are seeing an increasing numbers of writers/authors who are playing with our heads much more than Freud or even Ayn Rand ever intended.

It seems the latest is Greg Mortenson, climber/author, who is accused of "gross dishonesty" writing. He is among the latest to be accused of fabricating the truth and deception of the readers.

The most recent expose is his fabrication of several points made in his popular memoir, "Three Cups of Tea."

The Sunday night show 60 minutes is the latest to attempt to spill his tea - which is a little like the story of the pot calling the kettle black.

It is doubtful there has ever been any news organization since Hearst more frequently accused of editing interviews and stories for the purpose of selling something that's not strictly the truth.

To give Mortenson - the celebrated humanitarian - 'credit' for his work in building(?) schools in Afghanistan - he is creative - if nothing else.

When confronted with a well researched conclusion that his allegation he stumbled into the Afghanistan village of Korphe, following his failed attempt to reach the summit of K2 - and was confronted by a native girl asking him to help build a school after being nursed back to health by the villagers, was an out and out lie - he still had chutspah.

When accused of these implicit lies in his book which led to the outpouring of money and prayer and a charity that has raised $60 million - he shrugged his literary licensed shoulders by simply saying, "the book compressed events to simplify the storytelling."

This is besides the fact that his telling of his epiphany and the relating of his gradiose behavior by building schools in response to the alleged life saving actions of the villagers was probably the catalyst for the books success. Ordinary people were influenced to support his avowed mission in life.

However, one of his supporters was not "ordinary" and supported the mission to the tune of 75 big ones. He is now releasing his own 75 page expose of Mortenson - apparently one page for every grand he shelled out.

Of the roughly 141 schools in Pakistan and Afghanistan claimed by Mortenson, an inspection of 30 of them found " roughly half were empty, built by someone else, or not receiving support at all."

Perhaps, it was they who opted to "compress" his numbers.

There is good reason that the state of Oregon as well as several others wants a close bookkeeping report made of so-called charities -and tax privileges rescinded for many of those charities where sometimes 70% of the money goes for non-charitable causes.

This is a growing concern in our country. We're being hoodwinked.

I do again want to cite Mortenson's "compression" excuse as somewhat unique despite it's contribution as just one more stone along the path of degradation our celebrities and politicians have chosen to follow.

No longer is "I am not a crook" and "I never had sex with that woman" the top contenders for the leading boldfaced lie of the past 50 years. One of my favorites, and seeming to gather favor, remains, "I must have mispoke."

So, why do I continue to bring up dishonesty as this Achilles heel in our society today?

My fear is that if we continue to hear this crap and not react we will become like the robots in Germany prior and during during WW II.

If we refuse to examine the trending increase of lies we're hearing-can we not just as easily become an accomplice - as they did - to one of the great human disasters of all times?

The politicians are telling the lies - but, we're allowing them to do it.

The German people weren't stupid people either. They just heard the same lies repeated so frequently - that they allowed themselves to become enured to the truth - and I'm scared to death we're doing the same. We're becoming a nation of turtles.

I love this country too much to not want to be one of the ever growing number of people who are starting to say, "Enough! Enough!"

And yeah, maybe I was born at the wrong time - but, I'm still hanging in there.

EASTER

A great day to put away the gripes and moans about today's society.

As a child, Easter meant colored peeps in a shoe box keeping warm in their location over the heat register.

Easter also meant baskets filled with artificial grass, marshmallow peeps, milk chocolate bunnies, colored eggs; and if you were good -and Mom found a couple extra coins - the super sweet white chocolate bunny, taller and harder than all the rest.

Easter was both a fun holiday and a time of decision.

Mom was Irish Catholic and pretty religious in my child-like mind. Dad did not always attend church on a regular basis, but claimed to be a "beer drinking Lutheran" and seldom drank beer. Maybe he was an Orangeman.

His Mom was Lutheran and a pretty steady church goer. I don't recall her sitting and reading the Bible, but that didn't mean she didn't.It seems to me she was a honored member of some Lutheran church ladies group who sent flowers upon the news of her death.

Mom's Catholicism and Grandma Sullivan's Lutheran roots had caused a great divide in their relationship. Mom & Dad were married in the courthouse.

Dad often said that Grandma was not in favor of the match and claimed that Mom agreed to stop her church attendance as part of their agreement to marry and perhaps; find a way to appease Grandma.

I never questioned Mom as to the accuracy of the claim, nor Dad's insistance that Mom resumed her church attendance only after Dad gave in to her constant crying as she deeply missed the Church and what it meant to her.

Why didn't I ask? I'm not sure. As the oldest I sort of shared a lot of implied "Secret Squirrel" stuff with Dad. Besides, talk about these subjects was bound to cause problems in the family and, God knows,little Barry didn't like to stir things up.

Easter worship was an example of that tension. Both Mom and Dad wanted me to accompany them on their separate crusades to their own Easter services. If I went with Dad - Mom was upset.

If I went with Mom - it somehow caused Dad to bite down a little harder on his pipe and his jawset to become even more pronounced than usual.

I'm sure there were some Easters when I attended both churches. Of the three of us boys, I suspect my youngest brother got the worse of the "horns of the dilemma." regarding church preference.

Mom was sure that, with him, she had finally found her true Catholic offspring.

While Mom appeared to be the one with the most "religiosity" of my two parents, it was Dad who would come home early on Good Friday and he and I would go up to Hope United Lutheran to sit together in the almost empty church while Dad read the scriptures aloud.

It wasn't every year, but quite often. It was often enough that if I wandered to the Atlantic Avenue school playground on Good Friday to shoot some hoops anytime between 12 and 3 - I felt guilty.

The irony was not lost on me later on in life when I started to attend a church on a regular basis.

I did so because one Sunday afternoon my wife began to cry in our kitchen. She was crying because while she was attending an Assembly of God church clear across town - I was not. Allegedly, most of the church members her age were going to church with their spouses or significant others and she could not because of my stubborness.

I loved the music but "the speaking in tongues" was hard for me to digest.

I knew how much church attendance meant to her. As a compromise, we agreed to attend a non-denominational church called West Hills Christian; located up the road from us.

Our first day attending that church was a couple of years before on a Easter Sunday. The church was packed and we sat on folding chairs out in the vestibule.

Due to a recurring back problem that preceded my first back operation, and the unwillingness of the fold up chairs to accomodate my body, I did a lot of squirming in my search for a comfortable position.

On the short ride home I was asked if my nervousness had to do with my back, the chair, or just the fact it had been some time since I had visited God's house.

Despite the question this was the church I began attending the first Sunday after the kitchen epiphany. When the minister made the required visit to our home he shared with me that he remembered both
me and my struggle with the vestibule chair.I was impressed.

The rest of that evening, after my wife went to bed, I questioned the Preacher about all the apparent inconsistencies of both the Bible and God.

He fielded them every bit as well as he did his position on the church softball team as our starting Pitcher.

Soon we were going to church every Sunday, and I became much more involved than just playing left field -while still a good position for an admitted "pseudo"-agnostic.

Finally, after much involvement in the church and serious debates with myself - I made the long walk to the baptistry and underwent full immersion.

I'm not sure I ever felt better about myself than that Sunday morning when I came forward. I did so to the complete amazement of my wife and the minister - both of whom were now crying.

All because of that first Easter service.

While I had not inherited the Luthern conviction of my dad and Grandma - I had inherited Dad's high tenor voice - a leftover from my child boy soprano days.

I used that voice in solos, duets, and in the choir at both home and away dates. Most often it was in performances of cantatas where a first tenor was definitely needed.

It was in exactly this capacity that one Easter I stood as The Angel of the Lord on a piece of scenery designed to resemble a cave, and in song beseeched the women at the tomb: " Why are you seeking him? - He is risen"

The singing part was extremely high and during frequent rehearsals I never quite managed to reach that special note. I did so the night of the performance - after praying about it.

It has been a long time since I was member of that church. But,I will not forget it or the Easter cantata.

As it turned out, I now have some great Easter memories.

MOVING ON?

Recently - sort of out of the blue - my beautiful wife (BW) announced, "You know, I think I could enjoy a taste of the north.

Yep, that's how it started.

Our marriage is like a finely oiled small business. BW is the entrepreneur - the one who comes up with the ideas - and "Old ish" here is the worker ant - assigned the research function, etc.

Do you have any idea how few apartment complexes in the Forest Hills/Monroeville area of Pittsburgh have pet-friendly buildings- regardless of your protestations about your well-behaved 3.1 lb Chihuahua - who is not a barker?

Of course you don't. Maybe it's because,as somone who is deemed to be reasonably bright, you never really wanted to find out

We once had two beautiful homes back in Pennsylvania - and commuted back and forth to our Florida home for a total of about 2 to 3 weeks a year - just about sufficient time to finish the landscaping down here.

Now, we're looking at ads for apartments and houses in the north - much smaller than either of our former homes were up there.

The why is a no brainer. We sold the last home because it was much too big for us - downsized to the point that the next step was a GE Refrigerator box - and are quite content. Or almost.

They say that once you make that first big move - and survive - you can live almost anywhere the second time. Maybe that's true, but so far I have resisted the charm of Myaka in the South and Wilmerding in the North.

Maybe the inherent error in the last paragraph is that once you make that first "big" move you feel compelled to make a second.

Methinks, that even contemplating doing a "6 and 6" commute between the north and the south - is due to your failure to recall the disaster 150 years ago when people from the south and the north insisted on visiting each other.

Perhaps it's also partially due to forgetting that after packing up the remaining belongings from 2 homes just before moving here, at least one of you swore, "I will never move again!"

Then both of you pricked your little fingers, pressed them together with that of your spouse and danced off with the Tin Man, the Lion and The Scarecrow.

One final lingering memory is your decision to "forever" leave the comfort level of the north and head for the home in the south because,"I'm sick and tired of never being able to find anything in one home and always having to assume it must be in the other."

Apparently sanity is a fleeting concept once you reach a certain age.

So, is what we're considering a stupid decision - regardless of whether or not it ever comes to fruition?

Actually, no. It's sort of exciting - like jumping out of a plane with an object tied to your back that a stranger packed for you.

So, what is the source of this excitement? The kids? The grandkids? Being closer to both as well as your roots?. The changing of the leaves? Avoiding the bombastic heat of the south in summer and the horrendous cold of winter in the north?

Or,is it just the absence of good crab stuffed pretzels down here?

Might it be an unfulfilled desire to once again drive on pothole crater roads?

Perhaps it's a lost feeling of superiority to be able to curse the claustrophobics who immediately slow down once they enter the Squirrel Hill tunnels?

But, then again, maybe it's a well thought out concept of having two central bases from which you can do some of that travelling you've been talking about for years; but couldn't do because one partner was still working.

In response to all of the above it might be better to ask BW - the entrepreneur - who's seriously thinking of placing her keyboard and monitor in storage.

More later from "Old ish"..

"BELIEVE NONE OF WHAT YOU HEAR - - - "

"Believe none of what you hear and half of what you see" is a quote attributed to Benjamin Franklin.

Not the guy with the craft shops - but the one who took it seriously when encouraged to "go fry a kite.".

The person encouraging him was obviously inebriated. And some say when the lightning struck the key tied to the tail of the kite, old Ben was never the same either.

But, that doesn't apply to most of us. Unfortunately, we mostly remain exactly the same.We haven't improved much since being asked to participate in the old "gossip" game in grade school or junior high.

You sat in a circle and the teacher whispered a short story or paragraph to student #1, who in turn whispered what he/she heard to student #2, and so on.

The object or morality lesson, if you will, was to see how much the story had changed from that which the teacher had originally whispered. When we heard the version of the last student sitting in the circle, we all laughed, as the story had changed drastically.

Well, we're adults now - and still doing the same thing. Except, now we're much more sophisticated. We've fired the teacher and outsourced the information gathering process.

What is that new information source? It's called E-mail.

Did you ever see the Bozos who appears on Maury? You know the ones. They are perfectly willing to tell all of the million plus viewers that they couldn't possibly "be the father of that child" - even if the kid has the misfortune to look exactly like Dad.

Yet, this guy who is perfectly convinced "that's not my kid" is the same guy who is willing to accept as gospel almost any information contained in E-mails forwarded from a friend or casual acquaintance.

After all, "He/she wouldn't have sent it if it wasn't the truth, right?"

And he's not alone. We all got a little Bozo in us.

There is nothing worse to me than standing in front of someone and telling them a boldfaced lie; but apparently there's nothing wrong with sending on an E-mail that is even more fictitious than the lie.

Is it the anonymity of looking only at a keyboard instead of a person - or, maybe the "Hey,I didn't start it?" syndrome?

I like to think that I'm a pretty fair student of human behavior - at least that's what I've been told from time to time.

Friend Harry, (hepie2335@blogspot.com) has been preaching this gospel message on E-mail much longer than yours truly. On occasions, Harry has also nudged me to check out my facts.

Now, as that "human behavior student", should I assume that all the people who are passing on this erroneous information to Harry ,me and you are total idiots?

No, not really. As a matter of fact I know that some who are doing this are extremely bright. But, then again,stupidity was never accurately depicted as excluding those with a high IQ.

I believe that fewer and fewer people every year really care if what they are saying or relating is the truth. There is no pause control on either their "forward" key - or - their tongue.

When I was a young claim representative investigating accidents to determine who was at fault I learned early on one guiding premise: " If what you're hearing or seeing doesn't really make sense - there's probably a pretty damn good reason."

Unfortunately, today we don't seem to mind if what we're hearing or seeing makes sense. We just pass it on.

We're social network members of the AOOL - "Ancient Order Of Lemmings."

So, was Bennie right when he made the statement that negated the old saw, "Seeing is believing"?

We seem to be perfectly willing to accept any E-mail we receive as support for that "seeing is believing" point of view.

If not - why the heck would we send it on? It's just as easy to hit "delete" as it is to hit "forward."

Before you choose to encourage the town idiot movement by sending on messages accusing Obama of lying about his "father's" WW II service record (his dad was 9 when the war ended - his stepfather was 10), or that Nancy Pelosi insisted on the largest plane and her family is a bunch of drunks, why not check the story out?

It's called "snopes.com" and takes less than a minute to reference then typing in a few short words or a phrase. The results will amaze you - and maybe even embarass you. It did me. Goodbye student.

So, the next time someone tells you that General "Black Jack" Pershing came up with a sure fire cure for your irrational fear of "all" Muslims, by scaring them with a Pig - maybe you should research it before sending it on.

Otherwise, why not turn on the camera facing you in your computer and take a good look at a real Bozo.

Sad to say, there are one heckuva lot of us who are still playing "the gossip game" right along with all the other Bozos.

Me? Each day I'm more inclined to side with old Ben and I'm getting better at it.

I WASN'T THERE . . . . . .

(Ever stop to think, and forget to start again?)

I WASN'T THERE:

So, I cannot possibly determine what a so-called jury of my peers was thinking.

So, I cannot know whether or not the fact that the alleged trainer kept going to jail rather than testifying ever entered into their consciousness.

So, I have no idea how a jury who hears no denial of steroid use by the defense, and hears the sworn testimony of an alleged eye witness of having seen his trainer injecting him, can't seem to agree 100% he was being injected in a 11 to 1 vote finding that he was.

So, I don't know how much - or if at all - race entered into a decision by a juror named Nyiesha that she would become the only one of 12 who was a holdout on the second count of perjury; the one that alleged Bonds lied when he said only doctors injected him.

So, I don't even know if that same juror is black.

So, I don't know how the government decided it was worth an investment of $6 Mil (before the trial)and then declined to call several former MLB players to testify.

So, I don't know why the judge refused to allow a tape alleging a conversation with the trainer who is supposedly admitting he injected the defendent with steroids.

So, I don't know why the prosecution decided to drop the 4th count of perjury and asked the judge to do so and then lost on the remaining three perjury counts.

So, I don't know that the prosecutions decision above plus the actions of the one holdout - that resulted in a 11-1 not guilty verdict on that charge- demonstrates cluelessness on the part of the prosecution - including the voir dire.

So, I don't know if you are found by a jury of your peers not to have perjured yourself - how did you manage to obstruct justice?

So, I don't know if it is impossible for prosecutors to convict - and maintain that conviction - against any sports figure of that magnitude and statistical record acquisition.

So, I don't know if a former record holding pitcher is grinning from ear to ear.

So, I don't know whether a matter determined to be so important by the Justice Department to spend $6 million + should be heard by a three judge panel - instead of a jury of his/her peers.

So, I don't know if you're the prosecutors team that a healthy part of the six million might not have been better spent on hiring a good defense attorney for your side.

So, I don't know whether a matter alleged to be this important to our kids future will have any positive or negative impact based on the final outcome - nor do I understand how 3 out of 4 USA Today sports reporters said they will vote for Barry Bond's admission to the Hall Of Fame when he becomes eligible in two years.

So, obviously, I don't know whether or not when this defendents head and body became the size of King Kong's he really believed it might be time to cut back on the flaxseed oil and arthritis balm.

ONE I KNOW I'LL PROBABLY REGRET

The other day Phyl and I were watching the final round of the Masters down at a local restaurant.

It was about that time Tiger Woods put on his big splurge. I found it truly exciting.

I was asked by the female server with a quizzical stare if I was a "Tiger Fan" - and replied," I sincerely regret what he has done with his personal life - but, I am amazed at what he has been able to do with a golf club and a ball."

"So you're rooting for him?," she asked.

"It's nice to root for the underdog every now and then" - I replied.

The man has done some dumb things - the least of which may be swearing on the golf course. Yet he was questioned again recently about profanity by some British reporter at the Masters in hope that the AP would pick up his copy.

And, to be honest I think I heard him say either damn or hell when he misplayed a drive on one of the following holes after he had knocked 5 strokes from par. But, then again "maybe it was aw shucks!"

How do we know he swears on the course? Because he is miked-up constantly.

The good guys, you know your basic friendly network types - know if he is caught uttering a profanity it will make great news. It is as strange to me that no other golfer is heard to talk immediately after a bad shot as it is how the networks always seem to be able to make us hear those birds that are constantly chirping.

When and if profanity is determined to be a removable offense on public courses and clubs in this country - Billy Graham may be the only one able to obtain a prime tee time for the remainder of his life.

And the rest of the control freaks won't be very far behind him.

Tiger Woods is a celebrity who has made mistakes and will continue to do so if he's anything like yours truly.

But, the guy has multiple affairs and all women now decide they hate him?

How much of that is about Tiger - and how much of it is about the women? If you are a woman who has an ex-spouse who had multiple affairs with other women, "I truly feel your pain!"

Over 50 years ago my Mom decided she was no longer going to listen to Frank Sinatra after he divorced his wife, Nancy but, I think I'll let that one go.

However, with Tiger I think there is a lot of other garbage involved.

You want to say, "I don't know fo sure but maybe it cause he black and we all know how that kind like to cheat and run around."

Not only is he black - he's militant. Right? Well, he must be. Look how he gets all riled up when people keep bringing up the worst Thanksgiving weekend in Florida history.

Is he militant? Hell, I don't know. Is Newt Gingrich militant? How about Elliot Spitzer? If they're militant,and despite their dubious history of fidelity, we award one with a Televison show and the other with a possible endorsement to become our next President.

"Oh, you'd rather not go there?"

Now, some may read that and what is about to follow and say it's obvious I've become some sort of a black sympathizer. I'm not - but, what if I were? Is it any worse than being a racist who goes to church every Sunday?

I see a tremendous similarity in ways many people treat Tiger Woods and their President, Barack Obama. They are both tall, fairly attractive,eloquent well built black men; one of whom still has a wife and two kids.

Not too many years ago neither man would have been allowed to play a golf round at Augusta . And, I don't mean Maine.

Like most Presidents - most recently - our sad "white bread" hope George W - Obama has made some tremendous mistakes.

One of them was underestimating how much this country is afraid of Muslims despite all of his attempts to waive the olive branch to every Muslim controlled country in the middle east.

But, he sure as Hell does not deserve to have people - like a good friend of mine - sending out E-mails showing a picture of him depicted as the baby of two baboons.

THIS FUNNY COUNTRY

I knew today was going to be a bad day.

Apparently during the night I had installed a new toilet paper roll and had done so incorrectly. Why would anyone want the T/P to drop down from the back of the roll?

So, your response is TMI about T/P - right?

Actually, there is a lot of that going on. Getting confused - I mean.

I reviewed my E -mail today and discovered there are people out there who want to find me luxury living - but affordable - senior housing.

Of course, there are also those folks who desperately want to help me improve my stream.

So many people wanting to help me out - I'm starting to feel like Andy Rooney.

As always, after my review of the side summations to the left of each section of my USA Today, I head to the editorial pages.

Here again - people who want to help.

One writer, from Perryburg Ohio suggested we need to be more corporate friendly: "Let's all remember that when taxes, fees or even regulations are put on a business, that business often must raise it's prices to compensate - or close it's doors."

Hmmm, heretofore I thought only AIG and a few other financial institutions with familiar names - were too big to fail. Now, it's all companies.

What really bothered me is that the writer's choice of syntax reminded me very much of that I noticed in a recent op-ed piece by John Boehner, Speaker of the House.

No doubt just one of those weird "coincidinks"

One guy from Bluefield, W. Va was upset about college coaches salaries: "Faithful fans and supporters need to help stop the buck. Quit supporting such imbalance. Why are these coaches so much more important than you? You can choose to keep your money in your bank account rather than giving it to theirs!"

Obviously, some in beautiful W. Va. are still angry about coaches that cheat and run - taking the majority of the spoils with them. Should the Mountaineers miraculously appear in the BCS Championship- the powers that be need to know there's one guy who won't be watching the game.

I am however, encouraged that he thinks I still have money in my bank account to keep.

Another writer from Ohio is upset at our questionable treatment of the Florida pastor who set fire to the Quran (spelling optional) in protest of the killings in Afghanistan by Muslim extremists: "Why not put the blame where it belongs - on people who did the killings? Apparently the reader (referencing another prior editorial respondee) would blame the gun store owner for legally selling a gun to someone who later commits a crime with it instead of blaming the lawbreaker."

You got to love someone who has the ability to compartmentalize stupidity.

Another writer - this one from Tennessee- wants us to ignore folks like the good Reverend -who's out there burning qurans - suggesting that if the news media and the public completely ignored 'them' (his funeral protesting followers), not even looking at them when they protest in their despicable manner - we would probably soon see them sinking off into oblivion".

Let's see. That would be until the Reverend and his flock see the light, burn Bibles and start marching outside of Muslim Mosques with signs of encouragement and support?

I will say if burning Bibles is inevitable I hope they limit it to the King James version. It's one real tough bugger of a read.

That's about it. Time to turn that ugly dysfunctional toilet paper dispenser around.

You got to have priorities- no matter how funny our country's citizens may be.

E-MAIL SPRING CLEANING

Pithy comments strained from recent E-mails. Somebody has a good sense of humor - even if a little cracked.

"Blessed are the cracked - for they let in the light"

"I saw a woman wearing a sweatshirt with "Guess" on it. So, I said, "Implants?"She smacked me."

"Don't argue with an idiot; people watching may not be able to tell the difference."

"My wife and I divorced over religious differences. I thought I was God - she didn't."

Sign I'd like to see: "Stupidity is not a handicap. Park elsewhere."

Wouldn't it be nice if whenever we messed up our life we could simply press Ctrl Alt Delete and start all over?

"I smile because I don't know what the hell is going on."

Ham and eggs. A day's work for a chicken, a lifetime commitment for a pig!

Why is it that our children can't read a Bible in school - but they can in prison?

"When I was a kid I used to go "skinny dipping - now I just "chunky dunk."

The original point and click interface was a Smith & Wesson.

"You're just jealous because the voices only talk to me."

(My favorite) "Ever get the feeling your stuff strutted off without you?"

THINK! IT'S NOT ILLEGAL,YET...

My thanks for the above advice from the folks over at Braden Dental and their billboard on Interstate 70.

I THINK:

I think God blessed me with some great kids.

I think I know why Dad got so much pleasure out of just sitting on my back patio.

I think someday all the "illegals" hoopla will go the way of Zoot Suits - but never Zoot Sims, of course.

I think I wish my respect for Senators and Supreme Court Judges would return to how I felt about them when I was a much younger man.

I think I wish that drivers tests would include an exercise about the use of turn signals - and flunk people who did not know they had them.

I think that watching a 13 month grandchild discover life's treasures is a hoot.

I think anybody claiming to like jazz should have a copy of Paul Desmonds "Bossa Antigua" in their collection - and then turn off the lights while playing it.

I think we waste way too much time worrying about how other people view us.

I think everybody should be able to live 6 & 6 in Florida and whereever.

I think also that there must be a good way to export pollen to Mexico.

I think when a new study contradicts one for which we changed our way of living, the scholars who came up with the wrong conclusions should be shot.

I think we should spend more time educating our kids - and less time blaming them.

I think dentistry should come up with new dental appliances that make food taste as good as it once did.

I think everybody considering divorce should be required to first take turns washing the undies for six months. That's when you realize the one who was previously doing the task - really loves you.

I think all the people who love the Oldies E-mails should take time to remember all the things we "didn't" have back in the "good old days". Life's not a Chinese menu.

I think that any national political party that can't get it together in 4 years should be dissolved.

I think I need to stop thinking now. My head hurts.