LaGuardia

During a seventeen day newspaper strike diminuitive New York Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia read the funnies to his constituents.

Undoubtably, many of us in the senior crowd might argue today that the funnies are neither "funny" -  nor as important today.

If true, that's sad. They were a big part of my childhood and may have foretold  the origin of my warped humor.

Comic relief was something we really appreciated back when LaGuardia was in office (1934 through 1945) - and perhaps even more so today.

While comics are still published - and some like Peanuts etc. remain funny - much of todays newpaper humor comes from some really clever political cartoons on the comment pages. Perhaps. this is because sometimes real life can still lend itself to some chuckles.

I can't draw worth a darn  - thus, no cartoons. And some would suggest, I have a rather sick sense of humor. Nevertheless, here's my humble input as to what's happening in parts of our great country these days.

Denham Springs, Louisiana: "A US District judge issued an order temporarily barring city officials from interfering with a woman hanging Christmas lights in the shape of a finger on her roof. Sarah Childs was in a dispute with neighbors, so she decided to send a message. Neighbors complained and police threatened to arrest her, so she and the American Civil Liberties Union sued the city.

A hearing is scheduled for January 7 in Baton Rouge".

(Some would suggest that the judges decision to schedule the hearing for January 7 has a Solomon like resemblance. By then, most folks will already be busy  shopping for that perfect Easter basket.  Perhaps the matter might best be heard in a moot court.)

Auburn, Indiana: "A truck driver from Illinois has been sentenced to 180 days in jail for badly damaging a 140 year old wooden covered bridge in Northeastern Indiana by driving a too-tall semitrailer through it."

(One assumes that if the man had been from Indiana - instead of Illinois - he would have received a life sentence - as he really should have known better.)

Louisville, Kentucky: "The Kentucky Court of Appeals upheld a decision awarding a man no (-0-) damages from a doctor who cut off a cancer riddled section of his penis during what was scheduled to be a circumcision. The court rejected efforts by Phillip Seaton of Waddy to force physician John Patterson to compensate him for removing the organ without seeking his consent first during a 2007 operation. Patterson "maintains" he found cancer in the man's penis during the surgery and that it had to be removed. Seaton, now in his 60's claimed he wasn't given a chance to seek a second opinion."

(Caution: While any red blooded man can clearly sympathize with the plight of  Mr. Seaton or the weight of the decision for his doctor, we feel a responsibility to advise all men that, if you're planning to have a late-in-life circumcision, perhaps Kentucky might not be your first choice.)

Fairview, Pennsylvania: A black Ohio trucker has settled his federal civil rights lawsuit against a Burger King franchise in northwestern Pennsylvania. Glenn Gordwin contends a white female employee working at the restaurant along interstate 90 spit on his "Whopper Jr". in 2008. Terms of the settlement were not disclosed.

(Dear Mr. Goodwin, if true that someone spit on your Whopper Jr, you have our complete empathy, but you should hear what they're doing in Kentucky - and you don't get a settlement.) 

WHAT'S NOT TO UNDERSTAND?

Do you remember the many times that your kids came in the door crying and complaining because: "Bobby hit me - and I'm not going to play with him anymore"?

Then you'll probably also recall that when you looked out the kitchen window -not more than 15 minutes later - both Bobby and your son were now playing together and having one heckuva good time.

I miss those days.

A comparison that comes to mind is when we watch two football teams beat the bejeebers out of each for 60 minutes. Then, when the battle ends, players from both teams are seen praying together. Others are observed shaking hands or laughing and hugging each other whether they be past college or professional teammates, members of the opposite team who won or lost the game.

Could this "vicious' sport actually be seen as a positive role model for society?

You got to admit it would do much for today's society and our security if we somehow could find that common denominator in politics - as well as in life.

Here's a different example - not so positive. On the afternoon of this past Election Day - after voting - my wife and I came in to a somewhat empty Applebys for some lunch and a glass of wine.

As we sat down we commented to the two female bartenders how quiet it was. They just looked at each other, shaking their heads, before explaining their reaction.

It seems they had just managed to survive an hour or so long battle between Democrat and Republican voters - sitting on either side of the bar and screaming at each other.

"I actually thought they were going to kill each other", commented the smaller of the two women.  Now it was our turn to shake our heads.

We've noted that some positive sign of  potential unity is desperately lacking in any conversation we may have foolishly attempted or overheard recently with either a "Devoted Democrat" or a "Rabid Republican".

People seem to have adopted a new philosophy :"There are two sides to any argument - theirs - and the right way - ours."

Apply this same philosophy in a marriage & you're going to accumulate a lot of couch time. You could possibly turn out like the guy who stated, "My sex life is like a Ferrari . . . I don't have a Ferrari."

Think about it. When, if ever, was the last time you heard either a Democrat or Republican find one kind positive thing to say about a member of the other political party?

If you disagree then you're not the one getting all the political hate mail.

Did I miss something? Do we no longer leave the the placenta in the hospital after we take the baby home with us?

Don't you want to scream: "HEY, THE ELECTION IS OVER AND WHETHER YOUR SIDE WON OR LOST - GET OVER IT!"

I have no problem here with empathizing with someone who has experienced the occasional disagreement with a few people and/or various business entities, (such as the management brass of my Pirates). Anybody who reads this blog will be quick to confirm that.

It's just, what ever happened to the spirit of compromise? We now seem to view it as a sign of weakness. How in the world did we get to this point? And, why if you truly believe the other guy has to compromise first do you NOT understand what the problem is?

Some would suggest it's also our growing reluctance to explore a positive aspect of our personality - called kindness -  which, sadly, is seldom seen unless there is a tragedy such as the one in Newtown - or reports of a guy dropping $100 bills in a Salvation Army kettle?

Mark Twain once said, "Kindness is something the blind can see and the deaf can hear." Sorry Markie, not any more.

"Kindness" is  a personality trait needed to be on display in every home  - and not just by Mom.

An act of kindness to one's spouse may also greatly help to structure our kids in a positive way, thus fulfilling our desire to see them grow into mature adults.

Our kids definitely won't get there by repeating our Archie Bunker inspired  ramblings when we forgot that "little pitchers have big ears"

Respected behavioral psychologists have concluded that, too often, the impact on our kids due to our misplaced word choices and spoken or implied prejudices has resulted in the drastic increase in bullying on our streets, playgrounds, and the internet.

My concern is that this absence of kindness in the home has now carried over into our so-called "adult life" -  and how we often perceive people who hold different beliefs than our own. We clearly weren't always that way.

It is a constant prayer of my wife and myself that some day people will get their collective heads out of that dark cavern in the body that involuntarily shudders at the sound of snapping rubber gloves.

 Perhaps then we'll finally begin to make progress on the resolution of some very difficult subjects: immigration, entitlements, taxes, the degree to which we all need to make sacrifices, and what really makes sense about the divergent reality of gun control and mental health.

I am definitely not the paragon of virtue and admit my opinions here are as much addressed to myself, as to anyone bothering to read this far.

It saddens me to think that so many of us seem either unable or unwilling to recognize that the other side may have some good points - or at least something deserving of our willingness to listen - with an overall goal that, by doing so, we can hopefully find some common ground.

Listening is clearly the key to any successful negotiation whether it be the NHL debacle, the fiscal cliff, or any of the above.

Maybe what we really need is just more people like your son and Bobby at the beginning of this blog - who hopefully are too young to be carrying around our baggage.

"What's not to understand?"

MAYBE I AM A REDNECK

One of the many, many, E-mails received here this week actually had nothing to do with either the fiscal cliff or an unsupported contention that most female gun owners have penis envy.

I wouldn't touch that last one with a twenty foot pole.

Friend Harry, http://harry2335.blogspot.com/ recently wrote two excellent blogs on the much discussed issues of gun control, violence and children that pretty much reflected my thinking; so I'm going to switch gears here.

Let's talk instead about whether or not you might be a redneck, the subject of the e-mail I referenced. Some interesting points were made about this segment of our population.

One tangentially made reference to the alleged affinity Rednecks have for guns while not actually channeling the gun control subject. Here's the gist of the e-mail:

"Take a good look at the core beliefs of a culture that values home, family, country and God.

If I had to stand before a dozen terrorists who threaten my life, I'd choose a half dozen or so rednecks to back me up.

Tire irons, squirrel guns and grit - - that's what Rednecks are made of."

So, let's try to determine if you might be a Redneck:

"You might be a Redneck:  If it never occurred to You to be offended by the phrase, 'one nation under God.'

You might be a Redneck if : You still say 'Christmas' instead of 'Winter Festival.'

You might be a Redneck if:  You bow your head when someone prays.

You might be a Redneck if: You stand and place your hand over your heart
when they play the National Anthem.

You might be a Redneck if: You treat our armed forces Veterans with great respect, and always have.

You might be a Redneck if: You never burned an American flag, nor intend to.

You might be a Redneck if: You know what you believe and You aren't afraid to say so. And, you aren't afraid to say so, no matter who is listening.

You might be a Redneck if: You respect your elders and raised your kids to do the same. Some of You are so old You don't have elders to respect.

You might be a Redneck if: You'd give your last dollar to a friend."

So, what do you think?

Is it possible you're a Redneck?

I think smaybe I am. Maybe just a transplanted Redneck

CRISIS MANAGEMENT

Recently, I wrote a couple of blogs which I assumed would be perceived as humorous. I guess I was wrong.

The first blog entitled "Liar-Liar" (LL) was about parochial schools and their carefully considered approach as to how to avoid  telling a lie.

Unfortunately, I apparently made a mistake by closing it with a throwaway line suggesting that Democratic Senator Dick Durbin was being less than honest when he stated that Social Security was 'not' in crisis.

As a result, my pal and fellow blogger Harry - God bless him - was kind enough to clarify for me via his blog as to why Durbin's position was correct.

As always, Harry's research was solid and on point.

However, for whatever reason, I felt compelled to send off  a second blog entitled "The Money Man" (TMM). This may have been my second mistake.

The "TMM." blog was another of my feeble attempts to write good satire - a difficult task at best.

 My satirical target was the Social Security "trust" fund. It included an old and tired joke plus a fictional character by the name of Trey Surrey which I used in order to make a cautionary point on the subject of Social Security and it's alleged solvency.

As I so often do in my writings, I erroneously tend to give the first and last points of my views, the so-called bread of my sandwich, but get so caught up in my rhetoric that I fail to adequately clarify the "meat" part.

I repeated this error in both of the subject blogs. So, I'll try to clarify my thoughts here:

Going back to the first blog (LL) in which I addressed the subject of lying, I suggested there were two types of lies. Now, the old joke says the two types are simply "Lies" and "Damn Lies"; but, that's not where I was going.

What I WAS trying to say, however, was that the types I referenced were called lies of "commission." and  "lies of omission.". A person in the first example usually lies because it becomes of second nature to do so.

The second type of  lie, involving 'omission', seems to be more acceptable to most of us, particularly those of us who are asked the question, "Do you think this dress makes my rearend look big?"

I felt the answer the Priest gave to the customs agent in "Liar - Liar" was both funny and precious. I also thought it was an excellent example of what some might be tempted to categorize as "a lie by omission" - a craft practiced by most evasive politicans, whether on a Sunday news interview show - or while defending their party's position statement in the newspaper.

I won't go any further with the significance of what Father did, and why it was funny -as I have a simple rule on humor, "If you feel you  have to explain the joke, don't bother,  it probably wasn't funny.".

Let's quickly close this out with some thoughts on what constitutes "crisis", a term that was bandied about in the respective blogs of friend Harry and myself.

Recently,  in my copy of the tenth edition of  Merrian Webster's Collegiate Dictionary I read some interesting definitions of what a crisis is. Here are three:

1. "An emotional significant event or radical change of status in a persons life."

2. "The decisive moment (as in a literary plot.)

3. "An unstable or crucial time or state of affairs in which a decisive change is impending .(esp:) one with the distinct possibility of a highly undesirable outcome ( financial)."

In my estimation, any and all of the three definitions would seem to dispel the accepted usage of "crisis" as something that has to be immediate.

So, if one can agree the status of the SS trust fund is not really a "crisis", should we then put the issue on a shelf until the year 2036/2037, the projected time when Social Security is expected to run out of money?

I don't seriously believe any of us thinks that's the right strategy, nor has anybody including my buddy, suggested that's what we should do.

 President Obama's budget (P 465) - entitled "Analytical Perspectives" includes a chart showing that Social Security ran a deficit of $48 billion last year.

The prediction is for a shortage of  $50.7 billion this year, and in 2015 the difference between "cash in - cash out' is estimated to reach $86.6 billion.

It is my humble opinion  that "a billion here - a billion there - pretty soon it starts to add up!"

I'm particularly encouraged to share this conclusion at a time when the Congressional Budget Office said Social Security benefits began exceeding payroll tax revenues in 2010, and without changes, "the program will never get back into balance."

I'm particularly concerned about this conclusion when I'm hearing estimates that, as Harry reported in his blog, the SS trust fund contains (or contained)  an estimated  $5 trillion (that's with a "T") of Treasury IOU's.

S.S. represents more than one-fifth of federal spending at a time when Senator Durbin, among others, insists that Social Security does not add a penny to our deficit. I guess that  conclusion depends upon which accounting approach or research you believe will best support this position.

Simply put, at a time when the National Debt. the Debt Ceiling,  and the Fiscal Cliff seem to be taking up so much newspaper space and discussion, I believe we need to accept one simple economic fact as laid out by the editorial staff of USA Today:

"Financing the difference between benefits paid and and taxes collected requires borrowing money, which increases annual deficits and adds to the cumulative national debt."

Now, as a result of my 'research', including what my buddies over at Merrian Webster tell me - I still see Social Security falling into at least one of the above definitions of "crisis".

One caveat, however.

Per my recent copy of "The Coffee News": "Researchers have reportedly discovered that people will believe anything that you tell them researchers have discovered."

THE MONEY MAN

Back in my hometown of Forest Hills, Pennsylvania there were four Irish buddies who also were neighbors.

They were life long friends as well as drinking buddies and spent a lot of time over at Delaney's Morning Star Inn on the Greensburg Pike - within crawling  distance from their respective homes on Avenue "F".

To personalize the story I'm about to tell, their names were Timothy "Timmy" Carr, Martin " "Marty" O'Toole, Treymont "Trey" Surrey, and my Dad, John "Sully" Sullivan.

As you might guess from his given name, Trey was the one who came from money and was by far the wealthiest drunk in the bunch.

His Uncle, Samuel Surrey, had died and left Trey, Sam's only heir, a considerable amount of money. Trey only spoke of the generosity of his Uncle Sam whenever he had a "wee too many" shots of Ireland's finest whiskey.

Trey had added to Sam's fortune over the years in ways that were kept secret even to his close buddies - Timmy, Marty & Sully.

Sully dies. They lay him out in Wilmderding, Pa - his home town - at Bill Scott's funeral home.

"Scotty" was another of their buddies. It was a tradition with the guys that whenever a friend died and was layed out at Scotty's, the Irish cronies would get together back in Scotty's private quarters and have their own proper celebration of the deceased's life.

Knowing they were coming, and also that they were always referring the families of several other of their recently departed Irish buddies to his establishment, Scotty would thoughtfully order in a case of Jamisons Irish whiskey in advance of their arrival.

Well, on the day of Sully's funeral the guys were going at it pretty good back in the kitchen - their black mourning suit coats thrown on the nearest chair  or the linoleum floor -and were enjoying their usual private wake - when Scotty came back and announced that the pastor and the mourners had left and everybody was now headed for the cemetery.

Scotty said, with more than a little impatience, "So if you want to say your last goodbye's to Sully you better do it now as I'm closing up and locking the casket."

The guys stumbled out to the parlor, slightly disheveled, but now properly attired. They were all in a row, looking like three tipsy penguins, and there before them was Sully in his finest suit - the only one that didn't have holes in it resulting from the ashes of his ever present pipe.

They stared in silence until Timmy finally spoke up. "You know, Sully's going off without a dollar to his name, so I'm putting 100 bucks in his casket. That way he will have a little financial security up there in Heaven."

He promptly reached into the hidden drinking money pocket of his wallet and took out a wrinkled "Franklin", which he placed in the casket under my dad's right hand.

Marty  looked at him and, slightly slurring his words, said, "OK,  big spender, I'll raise you another hundred". Reaching into his own hidden stash he proudly retrieved  two crisp $100 bills which he also put under Dad's cold clenched over- sized paw.

Trey watched his two buddies and said, "I'll be damned. Here you guys are saying goodbye to Sully, one of your dearest friends, and all the money you can raise for him is $300? I'll take care of that right now!"

With that, Trey quickly wrote out a check for $1,300 and said, "Sully's worth at least a grand". He also placed the check under Dad's hand and retrieved the three hundred dollar bills from the other two mourners.

Marty was outraged and snorted, "Trey, what the hell are you doing? We gave him cash and - you're giving him a check - an IOU? What could you possibly be thinking?"

Trey looked at them with a twinkle in his eye and replied, "I like to think of it as making a contribution to Sully's 'trust fund' in Heaven."

You see, that's how "Trey Surrey" became "the money man" and Sully's "security" quietly went down the tubes.

(Can't wait to see what happens with the (not in crisis) Social Security "trust" fund.)

LIAR - LIAR!

Just finished enjoying the last couple blogs from friend Harry and was encouraged to mess around with one of my own.

Hey now, don't blame Harry! His blogs are short and really good. http://harry2335.blogspot.com/ .

Let's start with a story:

In parochial school students are taught that lying is a sin. However, Instructions also advised that using a bit of imagination was OK to express the Truth differently without lying.

 I have a very good friend who had been a faithful parochial school attendee.

About 50+ years ago I challenged her about a response to a question I had asked by suggesting that it seemed to be untruthful. Her reply was that she didn't lie. She just chose to use "mental reservation."

I laughed so hard and long that I got over my being upset.

Below is a perfect example of those teachings - courtesy of Doris Issacson - my Arizona sister-in-law.

"Getting a Hairdryer Through Customs"

An attractive young woman on a flight from Ireland asked the Priest beside her, "Father, may I ask a favor?"

'Of course child. What may I do for you?

"Well, I bought my mother an expensive hair dryer for her birthday. It is unopened but well over the Customs limits and I'm afraid they'll confiscate it.

Is there any way you could carry it through customs for me? Hide it under your Robes perhaps?'

' I would love to help you, dear, but I must warn you, I will not lie.'

"With your honest face, Father, no one will question you.'

When they got to Customs, she let the Priest go first. The official asked, 'Father, do you have anything to declare?'

"From the top of my head down to my waist I have nothing to declare.'

The official thought this answer strange, so asked, 'And what do you have to declare from your waist to the floor?'

'I have a marvellous instrument designed to be used on a woman, but which is, to date, unused.'

Roaring with laughter, the official said, 'Go ahead, Father. Next please!"

A funny story, to be sure.

Now, I also have a 11/28 column from the USA Today written by Dick Durbin, Democrat Senator from Illinois, that is captioned "Social Security is not in crisis"

Would somebody please be so kind as to forward a copy of this blog along to "Dangerous Dick"and, if you choose, inquire what his religious affiliation might be?

Thank You.

SPORTS EXPERT

("These days about half the stuff in my shopping cart says, 'For fast relief'.)

Recently, while still a huge Steelers football fan,I couldn't resist temporarily suspending my fandom so I might steal a peek at what the Pittsburgh Pirates "brain trust" were up to. I still like my Buccos - particularly if I'm over-medicated.

 I played a little baseball as a kid- at least enough to understand the rules. I also  listened carefully for years to the intricate explanations of the rules and strategy of ghe game from Pirate announcers Bob Prince and Rosy Roswell. In addition, I went to a lot of Pirate games at Forbes Field and Three Rivers both as a youth and an adult.

If truth be known, my wife Phyl was a better athlete than me at the high school level. My compensation as an septugenarian egotistical Irishman is that she is quite sports savvy and a delight to be with as we watch and discuss my two favorite Pittsburgh teams on TV.

My football participation was mostly limited to the sandlot variety - often played  on the lawn of the Presbyterian Church in Forest Hills. The "field" was not level - probably closer to 45 degrees - but it was all we had.

I recall that once I tried to tackle neighbor Mike Colbus from behind as he was running uphill. I ended up getting kicked in the eye and acquired a beautiful multi-hued shiner.

I proudly bragged to my schoolmates - particularly the girls - that this was "my football injury". And it actually was, much in the same way as a guy will talk up his "football injury" and accompanying limp - which actually occurred when he hit the flask once too often and fell out of the stands at a high school game.

At Duquesne University, I played one game of intramural football on an asphalt surface somewhere around Canevin Hall. This was before Duquesne resumed college football competetion.

I was a beanpole and really not equipped to play for either a varsity or intramural team. Yet, someone talked me into it.

My intramural coach, in his infinite wisdom, decided that this skinny reincarnation of  "Reddy Killowat" - the Duquesne Light Company's mascot - should be the starting center for his team.

I was not in agreement with this coaching decision but no college student wants to be accused of "being chicken." - instead, as in this case, we often end up being "hammered veal."

My fears proved valid when, on the third play, immediately after I centered the ball, the Goliath lineman on the opposite side of the ball literally picked me up - turned me upside down  - and dropped me on my unprotected head.

My college football career was over - along with any previous knowledge I might have had of the game prior to my head trauma. I do occasionally recognize a screen pass and the actions of a "pulling guard" - but, that's about it.

Despite this, my cheering and criticism during a game is designed to suggest more than a passing knowledge of the sport. Tain't so. I choose to admit this failing only to a special few like yourself.

By that I'm saying I most likely do not  understand all of the intricacies of plays called or some of  the wisdom of the coaching moves made by the Steelers. This includes their  drafting decisions - as well as who Tomlin, Haley, & LeBeau choose to put on the field at any given time. Thus, my football criticism in this blog is rather sparse.

Contrary to this confession about football, I feel no hesitation to criticize the decisions of Neal Huntington, the GM of the Pittsburgh Pirates.

The reasons may be simple. The Steelers win - The Pirates do not.

So, when I see that the Pirates decided to sign a guy who hit .221 last year for 17 million over two years - (with a 2 million dollar signing bonus) - before he puts on any of the tools of ignorance for us atop his Pirate uniform I hope and pray a lot.

 When I note they also opted to non-tender a pitcher who had a ER in the 3 plus range - I ask myself: "Self, what's going on?

 Was it a case of let's make the big announcement first and make up for the outlay by non-tendering others? Who know what the Pirates brass - (and what a fitting description) - have in mind?

You see, I can offer these incisive baseball observations because of my baseball expertise.Let me revel you via my exciting tales of yesteryear.

While my football days at Duquesne were less than sensational, I did play pony league baseball in Edgewood for a guy whose name was Ned Mellon.

I know this to be true because I still have a picture of me in myMellon's uniform, head hung low to confirm my shyness, and my glove dangling at my side. The uniform was about two sizes too big on a physique that suggested a vague history of bulimia.

Despite this slightly damaged image, I excelled as an outfielder on Ned's team.
Unfortunately, we had no such league position as a "designated outfielder. I was required to bat. This was only mildly successful until the pitchers on the other teams learned how to throw a curveball.

Later as my body filled out, I retained some speed, and acquired some desperately needed self-confidence, I enjoyed  several years of slow pitch and semi-fast softball participation  - sometimes playing for two or more teams in the same season.

Therefore, I am proud to announce, should the Pirates decide to regroup as a slo-pitch softball organization, a concept that has been promoted quite often by their "fans" - I shall be only too happy to share my knowledge and observations in these blogs as a bonafide "sports expert".