Apparently, through the years the word "redemption" has meant a lot of different things to a lot of different people.
I tend to associate it with the theological definition: deliverance from sin: salvation. However, there are other meanings listed that do not frighten me quite as much in my old age - as I'm less willing to give up my bad habits but, conversely, more apt to review my life and the error of my ways.
For example, Redemption is both a card game and a song according to Wikipedia. Actually, I prefer the 4th definition from this same source: atonement from guilt.
It clearly is a word that has been both used and abused. The Redemption movement was once a taxpayer conspiracy promoted by a guy known as Roger Elvick. It was also the establishment of a white democratic one-party rule in the South following Reconstruction.
So, who knows which definition to embrace?
Answer? I do.
To me it has to do with my fanatical desire to follow the Steelers and make the NFL prosperous via the purchase of so much Steeler clothing gear for me by my wife, my kids, and myself.
It means there is light at the end of the tunnel.
It also means I have been given both deliverance and rescue from my many years of faithfully following the Pittsburgh Pirates.
But, surely there is too much joy in our home at this date to dive into negative feelings.
Before going much further, I must confess to be ignorant of many of the intricacies of the game; a fact which does not necessarily place me in the minority of Steeler fans, I hasten to add.
I am both critical and forgiving.
Watching our much maligned defensive backs, who in past years were the only players besides the quarterback, the running backs, and the kickers whose numbers we remembered so easily, (Polamalu being a noted exception) was the critical Barry.
One reason for my remembering the numbers of so many of the Steeler defensive backs was due to their willingness to display those numbers as they were chasing some wide receiver, tight end or running back from the opposing team into the end zone; after being feinted out of position.
Yesterday during the AFC playoff game - there was true redemption when the actions of starting cornerback Ike Taylor in knocking the ball out of the hands of Jet's QB Sanchez and the scooping up of that same ball by replacement CB William Gay as he proceeded to wind himself toward and into the end-zone for a touchdown.
I believe I heard the announcer say both of these guys split the honors of "player of the game".
It was a well deserved honor -a clear demonstration of both "deliverance and rescue" - a form of Redemption I'm more than willing to embrace.
Go Steelers!
Monday, January 24, 2011
Saturday, January 22, 2011
THINGS THAT MAKE YOU GO, "HUH?"
Poor Toyota! Now the NFL is after them too.
It seems the NFL has requested the auto company to edit a commercial about research into head injuries. Toyota has done so.
League spokesman Brian McCarthy complained the commercial "portrayed the sport of football in an unfair manner."
One assumes the next target for "Mac" will be the commercials marketing the video type/TV adaptable football games which also "portray the sport of football" similarly.
Can't wait for the NFL to issue an edict about the frequent use of instant replays by the various networks who each game are also displaying the helmet to helmet images for which Toyota was chastized.
Don't laugh - it could happen.
The NFL's interpretations of just about anything deemed to be NFL'ish are starting to resemble the confusion as to which colleges are chastized by the NCAA for their insensitivity.
Their offense? The use of anything deemed negative to our Native American population that could possibly be interpreted as such by anyone residing as far away as Outer Mongolia.
One wonders if both regulatory groups - making millions and millions from the exploitation of their admittedly violent sports- aren't going the way of Homeowner's Associations with their puzzling rulings and edicts.
Power will do that sometimes.
---------------------------------
In polls conducted by just about any organization able to persuade people to answer their phones and respond, one subject has produced an overwhelming reaction.
And no, it isn't the one about the display of poor taste attributed to Lady Gaga for wearing her meat ensemble, something decried by almost everyone with the exception of the folks over at Chic Filet.
The question raised is about partisan politics. It relates to a causal relationship between the opposing philosophies of our two "leading" political parties and the negative effect it is having on a positive resolution of the many problems facing this country.
Folks throughout this land have responded loud and clear that they would be willing to give up eveything, except possibly their Starbucks Carmel Latte, if our politicans would just get together and put the best interests of this country first.
That is, as opposed to exploring their own grubby, selfish, and current indefensible positions.
Trust me. America is making substantial progress on one "black/white" problem, but have substituted another more divisive one in our current political discourse.
The interpretation of the poll results under discussion appear to be positive as demonstrated by the amount of compromise legislation passed since the mid-term election during the lame duck period. That's good in my opinion.
I'm old enough to remember that the ability to get both parties to work together will probably be the most important part of Ronald Reagan's legacy.
Despite this "current mandate" from the people and the encouraging results, we still have idiots around like House Budget Chairman Paul Ryan, whose logic tests the wisdom of "any reasonable and prudent person".
Incidentally, the latter phrase is a cornerstone of the interpretation of laws as expressed and associated with various sources of rational jurisprudence in this land.
Somehow that principle has eluded our old pal, Ryan.
The Republican House Representative from Minnesota is quoted thusly: "This is a different kind of time in our country than when Reagen came in."
He continues:
"This is a time when, I think, instead of muddling the different philosophies between the two parties we need to accentuate them, to give the country a real clear choice . . . to give the country an alternative choice to the path we're on."
"Ah, Paul? You see, the country has already made that clear choice!"
Could this be yet another timely argument in favor of involuntary counselling of obviously disturbed individuals?
"Huh?"
It seems the NFL has requested the auto company to edit a commercial about research into head injuries. Toyota has done so.
League spokesman Brian McCarthy complained the commercial "portrayed the sport of football in an unfair manner."
One assumes the next target for "Mac" will be the commercials marketing the video type/TV adaptable football games which also "portray the sport of football" similarly.
Can't wait for the NFL to issue an edict about the frequent use of instant replays by the various networks who each game are also displaying the helmet to helmet images for which Toyota was chastized.
Don't laugh - it could happen.
The NFL's interpretations of just about anything deemed to be NFL'ish are starting to resemble the confusion as to which colleges are chastized by the NCAA for their insensitivity.
Their offense? The use of anything deemed negative to our Native American population that could possibly be interpreted as such by anyone residing as far away as Outer Mongolia.
One wonders if both regulatory groups - making millions and millions from the exploitation of their admittedly violent sports- aren't going the way of Homeowner's Associations with their puzzling rulings and edicts.
Power will do that sometimes.
---------------------------------
In polls conducted by just about any organization able to persuade people to answer their phones and respond, one subject has produced an overwhelming reaction.
And no, it isn't the one about the display of poor taste attributed to Lady Gaga for wearing her meat ensemble, something decried by almost everyone with the exception of the folks over at Chic Filet.
The question raised is about partisan politics. It relates to a causal relationship between the opposing philosophies of our two "leading" political parties and the negative effect it is having on a positive resolution of the many problems facing this country.
Folks throughout this land have responded loud and clear that they would be willing to give up eveything, except possibly their Starbucks Carmel Latte, if our politicans would just get together and put the best interests of this country first.
That is, as opposed to exploring their own grubby, selfish, and current indefensible positions.
Trust me. America is making substantial progress on one "black/white" problem, but have substituted another more divisive one in our current political discourse.
The interpretation of the poll results under discussion appear to be positive as demonstrated by the amount of compromise legislation passed since the mid-term election during the lame duck period. That's good in my opinion.
I'm old enough to remember that the ability to get both parties to work together will probably be the most important part of Ronald Reagan's legacy.
Despite this "current mandate" from the people and the encouraging results, we still have idiots around like House Budget Chairman Paul Ryan, whose logic tests the wisdom of "any reasonable and prudent person".
Incidentally, the latter phrase is a cornerstone of the interpretation of laws as expressed and associated with various sources of rational jurisprudence in this land.
Somehow that principle has eluded our old pal, Ryan.
The Republican House Representative from Minnesota is quoted thusly: "This is a different kind of time in our country than when Reagen came in."
He continues:
"This is a time when, I think, instead of muddling the different philosophies between the two parties we need to accentuate them, to give the country a real clear choice . . . to give the country an alternative choice to the path we're on."
"Ah, Paul? You see, the country has already made that clear choice!"
Could this be yet another timely argument in favor of involuntary counselling of obviously disturbed individuals?
"Huh?"
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
THE TECHNOPHOBE (re-edited)
My cow died!
My Gateway desktop tower computer, Clara, she of the famous bovine design, decided to kick the bucket. Located in my new office in the front of the house she recently refused to accept the router signal from my wife's office in the back.
We had technical support guys out twice at $100 per hour. They had many possible causes they were happy to relate but, unfortunately no solutions.
Before I was done seeking answers I bought a one Terabyte back up hard drive to transfer music and documents from Clara the Cow. I had previously purchased a 8 GB USB 2.0 flash drive and a High Performance Wireless-N USB adapter. My purchases were expensive but I was on a mission. I desperately missed having the use of my pal Clara.
Among my rehabilitative attempts I also mistakedly had my land phone carrier install a useless dedicated line to turn Clara into a dial up computer. When another Techie came out and explained the error of my logic, Brighthouse, our carrier, graciously agreed to reverse the charges.
To be honest, I recognized early on that this aging technophobe never should have been allowed near a Computer nor be permitted to work with anything more complicated than Lincoln Logs.
The first hint was when old Mr. Fumbles here attempted to open the packaging containing my new computer accessory purchases.
You probably have already guessed the source of some of my computer problems.
I had a dream while all this was going on and there was no resemblance to the one MLK had. Mine contained absolutely no hope.
In the dream I was forced to agree to become a "Registered Technophobe". This was due to the petitioning of the court by both PITA and my neighbors. They complained about my open windows as well as the language I had used in dealing with Clara as the life slowly drained from her. Technically the charge was "The abuse of a lovable but aging inanimate object." My wife Phyllis was among the first to sign the petitions.
The dream scared me so much I went out and bought a book entitled "The Power Of Patience." The damn thing is taking me forever to finish.
.
It actually took me a half hour before I gave up on opening the wireless adapter box! It had a protective fold-in design that I swear would have baffled Houdini. Reluctantly, I went to Phyl and begged for her assistance.
;
Phyl can see inanimate objects like the adapter box in 4 or 5, maybe even 6th dimension. I have yet to reach the standard deviation point of 3.
She did cheat somewhat and went online. She researched "computer accessory packaging" on the web. Who would know?
Unfortunately, Phyl promptly broke two nails during "our" successful collaborative effort. That cost me another eighty- five bucks.
The Flash disc package was one of those that had the welded plastic bubble protecting the visible Flash Drive. You knew it was in there because you could see it. You also realized you had a better chance of getting close to Angelina Jolie.
My new Flash Drive was unapproachable using either a frontal or rear approach. It refused to release the plastic encased drive.
Fortunately, I located an old Swiss army knife from my back-up sock drawer. I soon decapitated the bubble, thus freeing up the 8 gigabyte flashdrive to do it's thing.
None of the three packages contained decipherable instructions.
Despite all of my efforts, Clara the Cow would not accept the advances of the router.
Lacking neither the patience nor the attention span of a two year old, I headed once again to the computer store.
I explained my situation to one of the friendly and very patient computer Techies, stating "I wanted to replace my tower". Being quite frugal, I told him I had no need for a new keyboard, mouse, monitor, etc.
He responded that, by a strange coincidence, someone had recently returned just such a tower. and offered it to me at a $200 discount. He assured me it had been all checked out.
This must be Kismet, I thought, but, I should have been thinking of "Fiddler On The Roof", as it turned out.
I rushed out of the store with my purchase, looking left and right to be sure no one could block my passage nor steal my new bargain priced tower.
When I arrived home, I opened the repackaged computer box. I then discovered it not only lacked an insertable technical CD, but written instructions for assembly,as well. The power plug was also missing.
I went back to my computer store, bought a new plug and installed the bargain tower using my Gateway connections as a template.
I then placed my new purchase on top of my desk, as opposed to the cubby hole reserved for, and still occupied by the Gateway. I installed my old router antennae that came with the router as well as my new router search device-and ignored the wimpering noise coming from Clara.
Miraculously, it worked. I was ecstatic!
I immediately began the process of copying my music and documents from the Cow to the HP via the external Terabyte External Hard Drive. After a long and impatient wait I eagerly began the start-up procedures longing to hear "my music."
"It's gone!", I screamed - much to the chagrin of my neighbors, two blocks down the street.
Instead of "my music", I had inherited over a hundred stored music CD's containing music from a different culture than that romanticized by either Frank Sinatra or Nat King Cole,(forgetting the latter did an excellent rendition of Haji Baba).
Much of he music included the performance of Hebrew folk tunes, according to the labels. I was also now the proud owner of an extensive inherited DVD movie collection containing subtitles in a language with which I had little or no familiarity.
I do admit to being captivated by an extensive Picture's collection of two or more apparently very happy Mid-Eastern families at Siesta Key beach as well as other places of local interest.
There was clearly just too much unusual recorded material in the computer for this Irish lad (a/k/a Registered Technophobe) to either enjoy or successfully erase.
I hastily headed back to the store with my bargain used tower - returned it - and after much give and take was convinced my best alternative was to purchase a laptop. I did so for an amount double that of my used tower.
The store manager opened a new checkout line and named it after me.
My new laptop starts up instantly. It has a mouse pad and a smaller keyboard with a different layout than the Gateway. My large arthritic fingers constantly hit the caps lock button each time I attempt to begin a new sentence - doubling the time required to write my much in demand blogs.
Rest assured I have vowed to master these minor difficulties. My book on Patience has a permanent resting place in the main bathroom; or the B.R., as my mother liked to refer to it.
Admittedly my persistance is partially based on Irish stubborness - as well as my new found patience, of course.
It also could possibly be partially due to the fact my wife has impounded my computer store charge card, my ATM cards, the rest of my credit cards and my checkbook. She then thoughtfully encrypted our on-line banking accounts.
One of the producers of the succesful flick about Facebook somehow heard my story, which is all the rage down at Geckos. They are now negotiating with my wife for the movie rights.
In 2013, be on the lookout for the release date of "The Technophobe."
My Gateway desktop tower computer, Clara, she of the famous bovine design, decided to kick the bucket. Located in my new office in the front of the house she recently refused to accept the router signal from my wife's office in the back.
We had technical support guys out twice at $100 per hour. They had many possible causes they were happy to relate but, unfortunately no solutions.
Before I was done seeking answers I bought a one Terabyte back up hard drive to transfer music and documents from Clara the Cow. I had previously purchased a 8 GB USB 2.0 flash drive and a High Performance Wireless-N USB adapter. My purchases were expensive but I was on a mission. I desperately missed having the use of my pal Clara.
Among my rehabilitative attempts I also mistakedly had my land phone carrier install a useless dedicated line to turn Clara into a dial up computer. When another Techie came out and explained the error of my logic, Brighthouse, our carrier, graciously agreed to reverse the charges.
To be honest, I recognized early on that this aging technophobe never should have been allowed near a Computer nor be permitted to work with anything more complicated than Lincoln Logs.
The first hint was when old Mr. Fumbles here attempted to open the packaging containing my new computer accessory purchases.
You probably have already guessed the source of some of my computer problems.
I had a dream while all this was going on and there was no resemblance to the one MLK had. Mine contained absolutely no hope.
In the dream I was forced to agree to become a "Registered Technophobe". This was due to the petitioning of the court by both PITA and my neighbors. They complained about my open windows as well as the language I had used in dealing with Clara as the life slowly drained from her. Technically the charge was "The abuse of a lovable but aging inanimate object." My wife Phyllis was among the first to sign the petitions.
The dream scared me so much I went out and bought a book entitled "The Power Of Patience." The damn thing is taking me forever to finish.
.
It actually took me a half hour before I gave up on opening the wireless adapter box! It had a protective fold-in design that I swear would have baffled Houdini. Reluctantly, I went to Phyl and begged for her assistance.
;
Phyl can see inanimate objects like the adapter box in 4 or 5, maybe even 6th dimension. I have yet to reach the standard deviation point of 3.
She did cheat somewhat and went online. She researched "computer accessory packaging" on the web. Who would know?
Unfortunately, Phyl promptly broke two nails during "our" successful collaborative effort. That cost me another eighty- five bucks.
The Flash disc package was one of those that had the welded plastic bubble protecting the visible Flash Drive. You knew it was in there because you could see it. You also realized you had a better chance of getting close to Angelina Jolie.
My new Flash Drive was unapproachable using either a frontal or rear approach. It refused to release the plastic encased drive.
Fortunately, I located an old Swiss army knife from my back-up sock drawer. I soon decapitated the bubble, thus freeing up the 8 gigabyte flashdrive to do it's thing.
None of the three packages contained decipherable instructions.
Despite all of my efforts, Clara the Cow would not accept the advances of the router.
Lacking neither the patience nor the attention span of a two year old, I headed once again to the computer store.
I explained my situation to one of the friendly and very patient computer Techies, stating "I wanted to replace my tower". Being quite frugal, I told him I had no need for a new keyboard, mouse, monitor, etc.
He responded that, by a strange coincidence, someone had recently returned just such a tower. and offered it to me at a $200 discount. He assured me it had been all checked out.
This must be Kismet, I thought, but, I should have been thinking of "Fiddler On The Roof", as it turned out.
I rushed out of the store with my purchase, looking left and right to be sure no one could block my passage nor steal my new bargain priced tower.
When I arrived home, I opened the repackaged computer box. I then discovered it not only lacked an insertable technical CD, but written instructions for assembly,as well. The power plug was also missing.
I went back to my computer store, bought a new plug and installed the bargain tower using my Gateway connections as a template.
I then placed my new purchase on top of my desk, as opposed to the cubby hole reserved for, and still occupied by the Gateway. I installed my old router antennae that came with the router as well as my new router search device-and ignored the wimpering noise coming from Clara.
Miraculously, it worked. I was ecstatic!
I immediately began the process of copying my music and documents from the Cow to the HP via the external Terabyte External Hard Drive. After a long and impatient wait I eagerly began the start-up procedures longing to hear "my music."
"It's gone!", I screamed - much to the chagrin of my neighbors, two blocks down the street.
Instead of "my music", I had inherited over a hundred stored music CD's containing music from a different culture than that romanticized by either Frank Sinatra or Nat King Cole,(forgetting the latter did an excellent rendition of Haji Baba).
Much of he music included the performance of Hebrew folk tunes, according to the labels. I was also now the proud owner of an extensive inherited DVD movie collection containing subtitles in a language with which I had little or no familiarity.
I do admit to being captivated by an extensive Picture's collection of two or more apparently very happy Mid-Eastern families at Siesta Key beach as well as other places of local interest.
There was clearly just too much unusual recorded material in the computer for this Irish lad (a/k/a Registered Technophobe) to either enjoy or successfully erase.
I hastily headed back to the store with my bargain used tower - returned it - and after much give and take was convinced my best alternative was to purchase a laptop. I did so for an amount double that of my used tower.
The store manager opened a new checkout line and named it after me.
My new laptop starts up instantly. It has a mouse pad and a smaller keyboard with a different layout than the Gateway. My large arthritic fingers constantly hit the caps lock button each time I attempt to begin a new sentence - doubling the time required to write my much in demand blogs.
Rest assured I have vowed to master these minor difficulties. My book on Patience has a permanent resting place in the main bathroom; or the B.R., as my mother liked to refer to it.
Admittedly my persistance is partially based on Irish stubborness - as well as my new found patience, of course.
It also could possibly be partially due to the fact my wife has impounded my computer store charge card, my ATM cards, the rest of my credit cards and my checkbook. She then thoughtfully encrypted our on-line banking accounts.
One of the producers of the succesful flick about Facebook somehow heard my story, which is all the rage down at Geckos. They are now negotiating with my wife for the movie rights.
In 2013, be on the lookout for the release date of "The Technophobe."
Friday, January 7, 2011
COMMUNICATIONS & RESOLUTIONS
On my way back home from explaining the dangers of global warming to a group of Florida farmers, I started thinking about communications. Obviously, I had said something to disturb them. The guy with the pitchfork just missed me.
Communication is so important but, so abused in my estimation.
Take one of my favorite examples: "A person of knowledge of the situation stated that in a recent meeting the White House obtained indisputable information as to the date, time, and place of Armageddon. The person spoke to the AP on condition of anonymity because the meeting was to remain confidential."
C'mon now. That's communication?
It's sure not resolution.
Speaking of which: This is about the time most of us have usually broken our well intentioned New Years resolutions. We're back on the couch and the new treadmill is now the resting place for our fancy schmancy new workout clothes; in plain sight of the potato chips & dip.
C'mon man - it's the playoffs!
Don't sweat it (pun intended). Let's face it. Most of the guys you know - at least the ones you like to drink with - are doing the same thing.
I made my resolutions for years. But, I made the mistake of telling folks what those resolutions were. Bad idea!
People couldn't wait to tell my significant other or the kids when they caught me smoking, sneaking into Baskin-Robbins or doing anything in contradiction to my expressed good intentions - that I, unfortunately, had shared way too often.
At first, I stopped telling anyone about my resolutions. That still didn't make me any better at keeping them.
So, I gave up and concluded I was just about as perfect as I was ever going to be
But, I had become used to that whole end of year resolution stuff.
After much cogitation and head scratching I decided my new approach for the New Year was to make "reverse" resolutions.
Let me explain how this works. Instead of making New Years "prospective" resolutions for improvement in the New Year, I do the whole thing in reverse.
In some ways it's almost as difficult as making new resolutions. Don't scoff. Dreams die hard.
Take 2011. This year I finally conceded that I just was never going to play in the NBA. That was my New Year's resolution and I'm resolved to stick to it.
"So, Doc/Phyl/ whomever - don't even think of coming a calling."
I found Some New Year's "reverse" resolutions are tougher to keep than others.
Last year I gave up on Sophia Loren and me running off to the Greek Islands together. That one was a crusher! But, I resolved to accept it anyway. Hey, that's just the kind of guy I am.
In 2004 I gave up all hopes that Michael Anthony would come to the house and announce that I was the latest millionaire selected by J. Beresford Tipton. When the bell rings I haven't run to the door in over 7 years - or even walked rapidly, I might add.
Two years ago I took down my Charles Atlas poster from inside my closet door . That year I resolved to also gave up my dreams that the next time I saw that bully again on the beach I'd demonstrate to him what that whole "dynamic tension" thing had done for my body, by beating
the "bejeesus" out of him. Kick sand in my face, huh buddy?
That was a biggie also. I visualized it every night before going to sleep. I'm ashamed to admit I occasionally even included it in my prayers.
That also was the year I vowed to stop going to that particular beach.
One year I gave up my hopes that upon my demise I'd stand in front of St. Peter at the Pearly gates and he would look at me and say, "Relax, Bar. What say we go two out of three?"
In 1998, I resolved to accept the reality that Cary Grant would never look back at me from the bathroom mirror as I started to shave. No matter how many times a day I would shave each day - it just wasn't happening.
But, that's all in the past. Next year, I'm thinking of going all the way and give up on owning that beachhouse at St. Croix.
I know I can do it if I put my mind to it
You might even say, " I'm resolved to do it".
Communication is so important but, so abused in my estimation.
Take one of my favorite examples: "A person of knowledge of the situation stated that in a recent meeting the White House obtained indisputable information as to the date, time, and place of Armageddon. The person spoke to the AP on condition of anonymity because the meeting was to remain confidential."
C'mon now. That's communication?
It's sure not resolution.
Speaking of which: This is about the time most of us have usually broken our well intentioned New Years resolutions. We're back on the couch and the new treadmill is now the resting place for our fancy schmancy new workout clothes; in plain sight of the potato chips & dip.
C'mon man - it's the playoffs!
Don't sweat it (pun intended). Let's face it. Most of the guys you know - at least the ones you like to drink with - are doing the same thing.
I made my resolutions for years. But, I made the mistake of telling folks what those resolutions were. Bad idea!
People couldn't wait to tell my significant other or the kids when they caught me smoking, sneaking into Baskin-Robbins or doing anything in contradiction to my expressed good intentions - that I, unfortunately, had shared way too often.
At first, I stopped telling anyone about my resolutions. That still didn't make me any better at keeping them.
So, I gave up and concluded I was just about as perfect as I was ever going to be
But, I had become used to that whole end of year resolution stuff.
After much cogitation and head scratching I decided my new approach for the New Year was to make "reverse" resolutions.
Let me explain how this works. Instead of making New Years "prospective" resolutions for improvement in the New Year, I do the whole thing in reverse.
In some ways it's almost as difficult as making new resolutions. Don't scoff. Dreams die hard.
Take 2011. This year I finally conceded that I just was never going to play in the NBA. That was my New Year's resolution and I'm resolved to stick to it.
"So, Doc/Phyl/ whomever - don't even think of coming a calling."
I found Some New Year's "reverse" resolutions are tougher to keep than others.
Last year I gave up on Sophia Loren and me running off to the Greek Islands together. That one was a crusher! But, I resolved to accept it anyway. Hey, that's just the kind of guy I am.
In 2004 I gave up all hopes that Michael Anthony would come to the house and announce that I was the latest millionaire selected by J. Beresford Tipton. When the bell rings I haven't run to the door in over 7 years - or even walked rapidly, I might add.
Two years ago I took down my Charles Atlas poster from inside my closet door . That year I resolved to also gave up my dreams that the next time I saw that bully again on the beach I'd demonstrate to him what that whole "dynamic tension" thing had done for my body, by beating
the "bejeesus" out of him. Kick sand in my face, huh buddy?
That was a biggie also. I visualized it every night before going to sleep. I'm ashamed to admit I occasionally even included it in my prayers.
That also was the year I vowed to stop going to that particular beach.
One year I gave up my hopes that upon my demise I'd stand in front of St. Peter at the Pearly gates and he would look at me and say, "Relax, Bar. What say we go two out of three?"
In 1998, I resolved to accept the reality that Cary Grant would never look back at me from the bathroom mirror as I started to shave. No matter how many times a day I would shave each day - it just wasn't happening.
But, that's all in the past. Next year, I'm thinking of going all the way and give up on owning that beachhouse at St. Croix.
I know I can do it if I put my mind to it
You might even say, " I'm resolved to do it".
Saturday, December 18, 2010
MISQUOTED OR JUST MISSING SOMETHING?
It is not unusual that a public figure will be misquoted. Often the reason is that the actual quote just doesn't sell newspapers. It seldom goes much deeper than that.
In yesterday's USA Today's sports pages the headline read "Vick wants a dog 'because my kids ask me everyday'."
I truly believe when one has served their time in prison - and whether or not I agree with the term prescribed - they should be allowed to rejoin society - with certain reservations. If it's a child pornographer - or a pedophyl - follow up restrictions are obviously needed.
Vick served 18 months in prison after being convicted of running a dogfighting ring. As part of his punishment a federal judge also sentenced him to three years probation ending in May, 2012.
One of the terms was that he could not own dogs during that time. One assumes that on May 2, 2012 he will suddenly have an epiphany that will cure him of his desire to make arrangements for dogs to fight until one of them dies. My one regret is that I don't know how to get in touch with that judge to determine on what date I also will have an epiphany in my life.
Of course, there are those who insist that after people do bad things they cannot be redeemed.
Obviously neither Elliot Spitzer nor Uncle Newt subscribe to that theory - and are doing quite well - thank you.
But, their gainful employment - supposedly without restrictions - is part of the reason we have forgiven Michael Vick. We are a country of 'second'chances". How else could Rush have lasted this long?
One also suspects the folks in Phlly forgave Vick entirely somewhere around the 5th NFL win he engineered this year. We all know how those residing in The City of Brotherly Love are more inclined to forgive much sooner than folks residing elsewhere.
Despite this, nobody dressed in a bright red Santa suit plans to show up at Lincoln Financial Field this year - just in case the fans spirit of brotherly love may not extend to fictional characters.
But, apparently Michael Vick still doesn't understand why he is being embraced in a town that has failed to demostrate real charitable behavior since discovering their damned bell was cracked.
Michael is quoted as saying, "I really mean what I say. I don't have a problem. I'm not a psychopath. I'm not crazy. I'm a human being."
He continues, "What happened in my past and what I did in the culture I grew up in doesn't shape and mold me as the person I am now. I said it before that I wish I can own a dog, and I'll continue to say it. I'm not allowed to, but I'm just saying I wish I could, because my kids ask me every day. It's more so for them than for me."
I beg to disagree. There's a reason W.C. Fields got the @#$% out of Philadelphia when he did. It's a town of nutsos - who like any other NFL city - want desperately to have a winning team. And, if successful Sunday, when you wake up Monday, Mike, you may find 101 Dalmatians sitting outside your front door.
Mike, whether you are or are not crazy or a psychopath has never entered into their thinking.
If Jeffrey Dahmer could pass and rush better than you, they'd sign him.
They are singularly focused on winning as much as you are apparently singularly focused on losing - as a Dad.
Did you ever think of explaining to your kids - and I don't have a clue how old or how many they are - just exactly what you did? They say pictures are like 10,000 words. Maybe you could sit the kids down in the game room and lay the lurid pictures from the trial out on the floor around them.
Perhaps they would then fully understand just what it was you did to dogs that caused you to cool your heels in prison for 18 months and not be allowed to have a dog for three years.
Where did they think you were during that time - serving your country over in Iraq?
If it truly bothers you that much for your kids to keep asking you for something you legally can't provide them - then for God's sake - try telling them the truth.
My vitriol is not part of the dog lovers fixation - protests - and picket signs. I do believe that what you were doing with those dogs was ingrained in your culture. My only concern is that you apparently never took the time to step back and examine whether what you were doing was wrong in today's culture.
You may have cured your killing of animals fixation but I'm not sure you've made much progress in assessing what it truly takes to be a responsibile father.
Assuming you were not misquoted, you've got many tasks in front of you that are much more important than whether or not you beat the NY Giants and the three point spread this Sunday.
Man up, Michael.
In yesterday's USA Today's sports pages the headline read "Vick wants a dog 'because my kids ask me everyday'."
I truly believe when one has served their time in prison - and whether or not I agree with the term prescribed - they should be allowed to rejoin society - with certain reservations. If it's a child pornographer - or a pedophyl - follow up restrictions are obviously needed.
Vick served 18 months in prison after being convicted of running a dogfighting ring. As part of his punishment a federal judge also sentenced him to three years probation ending in May, 2012.
One of the terms was that he could not own dogs during that time. One assumes that on May 2, 2012 he will suddenly have an epiphany that will cure him of his desire to make arrangements for dogs to fight until one of them dies. My one regret is that I don't know how to get in touch with that judge to determine on what date I also will have an epiphany in my life.
Of course, there are those who insist that after people do bad things they cannot be redeemed.
Obviously neither Elliot Spitzer nor Uncle Newt subscribe to that theory - and are doing quite well - thank you.
But, their gainful employment - supposedly without restrictions - is part of the reason we have forgiven Michael Vick. We are a country of 'second'chances". How else could Rush have lasted this long?
One also suspects the folks in Phlly forgave Vick entirely somewhere around the 5th NFL win he engineered this year. We all know how those residing in The City of Brotherly Love are more inclined to forgive much sooner than folks residing elsewhere.
Despite this, nobody dressed in a bright red Santa suit plans to show up at Lincoln Financial Field this year - just in case the fans spirit of brotherly love may not extend to fictional characters.
But, apparently Michael Vick still doesn't understand why he is being embraced in a town that has failed to demostrate real charitable behavior since discovering their damned bell was cracked.
Michael is quoted as saying, "I really mean what I say. I don't have a problem. I'm not a psychopath. I'm not crazy. I'm a human being."
He continues, "What happened in my past and what I did in the culture I grew up in doesn't shape and mold me as the person I am now. I said it before that I wish I can own a dog, and I'll continue to say it. I'm not allowed to, but I'm just saying I wish I could, because my kids ask me every day. It's more so for them than for me."
I beg to disagree. There's a reason W.C. Fields got the @#$% out of Philadelphia when he did. It's a town of nutsos - who like any other NFL city - want desperately to have a winning team. And, if successful Sunday, when you wake up Monday, Mike, you may find 101 Dalmatians sitting outside your front door.
Mike, whether you are or are not crazy or a psychopath has never entered into their thinking.
If Jeffrey Dahmer could pass and rush better than you, they'd sign him.
They are singularly focused on winning as much as you are apparently singularly focused on losing - as a Dad.
Did you ever think of explaining to your kids - and I don't have a clue how old or how many they are - just exactly what you did? They say pictures are like 10,000 words. Maybe you could sit the kids down in the game room and lay the lurid pictures from the trial out on the floor around them.
Perhaps they would then fully understand just what it was you did to dogs that caused you to cool your heels in prison for 18 months and not be allowed to have a dog for three years.
Where did they think you were during that time - serving your country over in Iraq?
If it truly bothers you that much for your kids to keep asking you for something you legally can't provide them - then for God's sake - try telling them the truth.
My vitriol is not part of the dog lovers fixation - protests - and picket signs. I do believe that what you were doing with those dogs was ingrained in your culture. My only concern is that you apparently never took the time to step back and examine whether what you were doing was wrong in today's culture.
You may have cured your killing of animals fixation but I'm not sure you've made much progress in assessing what it truly takes to be a responsibile father.
Assuming you were not misquoted, you've got many tasks in front of you that are much more important than whether or not you beat the NY Giants and the three point spread this Sunday.
Man up, Michael.
Friday, December 17, 2010
INCREMENTAL PLEASURES
Some time ago - in another life -- I quit smoking for about the lebenty-seventh time - just as I did about 20 months ago.
I was living in Pgh and regretted never having been to Hawaii. So finding an over-sized empty pretzel plastic container in the garage, I began a ritual. I was going to save for the trip by taking $1 a day and placing it in the jug. To put things in perspective, cigarettes were probably about that much back then.
If I was out of town on business, upon my return I'd look at the calendar marked with x-s like a prisoner's cell wall. Then, I'd deposit an amount to make me current.
Occasionally, I'd also put in a 10-spot or a Jefferson and remove the corresponding number of dollar bills. The money was not counted until it sort of struggled to push the lid off the container. It was amazing.
As a result of this saving scheme there was enough to take a week long Boscov's Hawaiian tour of 4 islands for a party of two; and that included airfare.
My point is that possibly had I waited to pay for it in full, Lord only knows when the trip would have taken place. Maybe several years later or about the time of my second trip.
My learning on this subject was prompted by buying war bonds as a kid via weekly contributions to my grade school accounts. It was amazing to this young guy how many war bonds I purchased.
My savings account when a paperboy kept by the owner of a local newspaper delivery business went a long way to helping out with my ability to go to college many years down the road. Incremental savings plans are amazing - notwithstanding my brother's query of me, "So, what do you think Mrs. Richards did with the interest these accounts accrued?"
Recently one of the periodicals quoted some idiot in Congress who was defending earmarks: "They only cost a few billion or so - a truly insignificant amount when you're dealing with a defecit of over a trillion".
Shortly after that, my brother-in-law was kind enough to send me an E-mail about the subject of -A BILLION- a difficult number to comprehend.
it seems , in one of their many recent press releases an advertising agency put the figure in perspective:
A. A BILLION seconds ago - it was 1959.
B. A BILLION minutes ago - Jesus was alive.
C. A BILLION years ago - our ancestors were "Living in the Stone Age."
D. A BILLION days ago no-one walked on the earth on two feet.
E. A BILLION dollars ago was only "8 hours and 20 minutes", at the rate our government is
spending it.
The release goes on to say, "While this thought is still fresh in our brain - let's take a look at New Orleans. It's amazing what you can learn with some simple division.
Louisiana Senator Mary Landarieu is presently asking Congress for '250 billion dollars' to rebuild New Orleans.
It is an interesting number - but, what does it mean?
A, Well, if you are one of the 484,674 residents of New Orleans (every man, woman and child) -
you each get $516, 528.
B. Or, if you have one of the 188, 251 homes in N.O. - your home get's: $1,329,787.
C. Or - -- If you are a family of four . . . your family gets $2,066,012."
There is a reason that multi-million dollar lottery workers often end up broke. With that much money awarded to them, it is in such a huge amount it is extremely difficult for them to fully realize there comes an obligation to manage it in the most mature way possible.
If they do this I can pretty much guarantee you they didn't learn this old financial principle from a member of Congress. Most likely, like Congress - they assume they'll spend a little and save a lot - down the road. It doesn't happen.
There is no such thing as "incremental pleasures" for many of these folks we elected.
While the intentions of those running and winning - who are not already millionaires or billionaire - may have been admirable - when in office and faced with money distribution decisions in the amount they are required to discuss - it blinds them every bit as much as those "lucky" lottery winners.
Assuming they were formerly a local state representatives - or even a governor - they could not possibly comprehend how much money this country goes through every day. (see "E" above)
What it will take to get this message across to your representative is a real quandry.
But, if Senator Landriue's request is approved I'd encourage you to get your arse down to New Orleans as quickly as you can - and buy a home - or at least- find someone who will lend you a couple of kids.
Better move quick because that representative of yours heard about it first.
I was living in Pgh and regretted never having been to Hawaii. So finding an over-sized empty pretzel plastic container in the garage, I began a ritual. I was going to save for the trip by taking $1 a day and placing it in the jug. To put things in perspective, cigarettes were probably about that much back then.
If I was out of town on business, upon my return I'd look at the calendar marked with x-s like a prisoner's cell wall. Then, I'd deposit an amount to make me current.
Occasionally, I'd also put in a 10-spot or a Jefferson and remove the corresponding number of dollar bills. The money was not counted until it sort of struggled to push the lid off the container. It was amazing.
As a result of this saving scheme there was enough to take a week long Boscov's Hawaiian tour of 4 islands for a party of two; and that included airfare.
My point is that possibly had I waited to pay for it in full, Lord only knows when the trip would have taken place. Maybe several years later or about the time of my second trip.
My learning on this subject was prompted by buying war bonds as a kid via weekly contributions to my grade school accounts. It was amazing to this young guy how many war bonds I purchased.
My savings account when a paperboy kept by the owner of a local newspaper delivery business went a long way to helping out with my ability to go to college many years down the road. Incremental savings plans are amazing - notwithstanding my brother's query of me, "So, what do you think Mrs. Richards did with the interest these accounts accrued?"
Recently one of the periodicals quoted some idiot in Congress who was defending earmarks: "They only cost a few billion or so - a truly insignificant amount when you're dealing with a defecit of over a trillion".
Shortly after that, my brother-in-law was kind enough to send me an E-mail about the subject of -A BILLION- a difficult number to comprehend.
it seems , in one of their many recent press releases an advertising agency put the figure in perspective:
A. A BILLION seconds ago - it was 1959.
B. A BILLION minutes ago - Jesus was alive.
C. A BILLION years ago - our ancestors were "Living in the Stone Age."
D. A BILLION days ago no-one walked on the earth on two feet.
E. A BILLION dollars ago was only "8 hours and 20 minutes", at the rate our government is
spending it.
The release goes on to say, "While this thought is still fresh in our brain - let's take a look at New Orleans. It's amazing what you can learn with some simple division.
Louisiana Senator Mary Landarieu is presently asking Congress for '250 billion dollars' to rebuild New Orleans.
It is an interesting number - but, what does it mean?
A, Well, if you are one of the 484,674 residents of New Orleans (every man, woman and child) -
you each get $516, 528.
B. Or, if you have one of the 188, 251 homes in N.O. - your home get's: $1,329,787.
C. Or - -- If you are a family of four . . . your family gets $2,066,012."
There is a reason that multi-million dollar lottery workers often end up broke. With that much money awarded to them, it is in such a huge amount it is extremely difficult for them to fully realize there comes an obligation to manage it in the most mature way possible.
If they do this I can pretty much guarantee you they didn't learn this old financial principle from a member of Congress. Most likely, like Congress - they assume they'll spend a little and save a lot - down the road. It doesn't happen.
There is no such thing as "incremental pleasures" for many of these folks we elected.
While the intentions of those running and winning - who are not already millionaires or billionaire - may have been admirable - when in office and faced with money distribution decisions in the amount they are required to discuss - it blinds them every bit as much as those "lucky" lottery winners.
Assuming they were formerly a local state representatives - or even a governor - they could not possibly comprehend how much money this country goes through every day. (see "E" above)
What it will take to get this message across to your representative is a real quandry.
But, if Senator Landriue's request is approved I'd encourage you to get your arse down to New Orleans as quickly as you can - and buy a home - or at least- find someone who will lend you a couple of kids.
Better move quick because that representative of yours heard about it first.
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