Hey, remember the 80's?

A cool rainy week has settled in on us, and I like it very much. Thursday it may not even reach 80. Hoozahhh! September, better than August. October, better than September. November, not as good as October. And so forth. As I've stated before, October is the best month, around here at least. One can comfortably sit outside, without sweating. One can walk to the mailbox, without sweating. One can get in the car, without sweating. One can watch leaves fall, without sweating. One can sweat, without sweating. You get the idea.

I watched the following over the weekend:

Eagles, the movie
A must for any Philadelphia Eagles fan. A must not for everyone else. It was well done, more about the fans and the behind the scenes stuff than the on-the-field action. The film follows the team and city through the 2004 season. The season of TO. The season of the Super Bowl birth and the Super Bowl loss. There are bittersweet profiles of the fans, some funny, some grounded, some far gone, some tragic, all passionate on a sliding scale from healthy to unhealthy. Review: Unless your name is Doug McFarland, I wouldn't bother watching this.

Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist
I watched this because of Michael Cera, who makes me laugh. The story is all well and good, a teen-ish version of Garden State meets an assortment of formulaic teen movies. The actors are good. The problem is that the actors and the story don't fit. If you know of Cera, seeing him as an alternative rock bassist who has two Catholic schoolgirls fawning over him doesn't add up. To make sense, Cera's character should have been played by Zach Effron, whoever that is. However, if this movie was cast correctly, I never would have seen it. So, I'm very conflicted. My review: 2 and 4 stars.


(not Zach Effron)

Harambee

A few things to think about. I just heard an interview with Binyavanga Wainaina on NPR about both the value and unintended damage that charities do in Africa. He (let's call him Bin, for short) specifically talks about Kenya, as he is a Kenyan. He offers an interesting perspective. Among his points, as I oversimplifiedly understand them:

- Sometimes charities, in trying to get people to donate out of guilt by showing tragic images, misrepresent the nation as a whole. For every dollar that gets donated out of pity, how many dollars are not invested because investors are scared away by the cruel images? Good charity aids development, poorly executed charity stifles it. That is probably true in a lot of places. Obviously it is a tough and fine line to walk there.

- For all the good that Bill Gates has done and intends to do, he does have his critics. Bin seems to feel that they (those affected by the good deeds) are not permitted to put any of these highly-touted projects under scrutiny, though they should be thoroughly examined. If they are all for the better, fine. If not (and we won't know unless we examine them), we move on and adjust them, cooperatively.

- Bin also brings up the fact that Kenya is only about 45 years old = a young country. What is happening there may look ugly from the outside, but nations are built on adversity, he argues. If there had been a 24 hour news cycle during our civil war, what would it have looked like as we ended up with 600,000ish dead plus another 400,000 wounded. That is not so long ago in history. It's hard to have a fair historical perspective, and it is hard to sit by and watch terrible events occur (but somehow we're able to do so). To a degree, he thinks we should stay out of the fray.

- He argues for Kenyan solutions to Kenyan problems. Bin welcomes cooperative support from the West, but said that the things that have worked and pushed Kenya forward have been rooted in national initiatives. He mentioned a focus in the 60's and 70's where the government dedicated 30% of the GDP to education. Quality of life improved dramatically as people could see a path from rural poverty to growth through personal initiative. An educated class was formed. Pretty cool. And let us not forget that many of the problems in Africa are a lingering result of vacuums of power and political structure left by... yes, the West. To paraphrase Homer Simpson "The West: the cause of, and solution to all of life's problems."

- Harambee = "Let's all pull together." (swahili) (Kenyan national motto)

football d'orange

I am again looking forward to football season. College, pro and fantasy. Tonight's installment: College.

I don't care about college football, I care about Syracuse Football. This has not been an easy thing over the last several years. Through the late 80's and 90's Syracuse was a solid program, went to bowl games, won bowl games and were normally ranked in the top 25. Recently, the 'cuse has been among the worst. That changes next Saturday. A new coach, a new quarterback and hopefully a new swagger will carry the day. Minnesota, next Saturday, in the Dome at high noon, ESPN2. Greg Paulus, who has been the object of much derision, primarily because he played for Duke, is now the starting qb. Hopefully my constant taunting over the last four years has toughened him up and made him strong enough to return a once proud, recently dying, program back to respectability. If nothing else, he gives a good, smart interview and represents himself and the university well, which is a nice start. The new coach is former SU player, Doug Marrone. The new swagger starts with him. For a variety of reasons, many have left the Orange program this summer. I like to think that "standards" may have scared a few off. I hope that's the case. I think the first game is hugely important. The first game under the previous head coach (let's call him Greg Robinson) was brutal and it never got any better. The only great achievement was a win at Notre Dame last year, but that was as much about the Fighting Irish being in a bad place as the Orange pulling off a miracle.

I've had highs and lows with my team. I remember watching them beat Penn State in 1987 (the went 11-0-1 that year) on TV, that may have been my happiest memory. I also remember them beating #1 Nebraska back in '84, but I didn't really know what that meant at the time. Low point, aside from the last 4 years, was going to see them play the Hokies in '99. Good times were had by all until the game started. Then good times were had by everyone else. Both teams nationally ranked, a big ESPN Saturday night matchup. They kicked off. Later that night, the scoreboard read Virginia Tech 62, Syracuse 0. Blowouts became a trademark for Syracuse football over the following ten years. I like to think that is over now. I like to think they'll be competitive.

Normally at the games you can get a program with a cover similar to billboards around town with the season's slogan. Usually it's something inane like "A Winning Tradition Continues" or "Celebrating 200 Years of Excellence." Last year it could have been "Oh God, Not Again" or "Watch and Endure." This year I hope I can watch and enjoy. We'll see next Saturday at noon.

OTTO!!

The Lion the Witch and the... well, just the Lion

The passing of Tedward Kennedy has brought to light his many achievements, causes, faults, triumphs and of course the string of Kennedy tragedies over the years. As the Onion put it: 'Kennedy Curse' Claims Life Of 77-Year-Old Tumor-Riddled Binge-Drinker

Tacky, but you laughed, you know you did.

The phenomenon that most strikes me as all this unfolds is a religious one - Roman Catholics love Roman Catholics. They can't get enough of them. From the interviews with many of the mourners, there is a great cross section of people that were touched by his good deeds, but it seems like many of the folks in queue are drawn to mourn his loss because he was such a high profile Catholic. Not "leading" in fundamental doctrine, as his pro-choice record would suggest, but he was a major figure for a long time. The hard-line Catholics probably have a love-hate relationship with him. In fact, if you check out most "official" Catholic statements on him, they mourn his death but are sure to include their distaste for his stand on abortion. OK with nearly everything else, but they can't help but bring it up, for what it's worth. All that aside, the Catholic sense of community is fascinating. I would think the Jewish community might have a similar bond. Then you have American protestants... wandering all over the place, disjointed, perhaps too broad in spectrum and denominational perspective to unite in a coherent way.

It was a big deal that JFK was the first Roman Catholic elected president because it proved religion (or at least, that religion) was no longer so strong a barrier. I've never sensed any major anti-Catholic sentiment from American Protestants in my lifetime (in Ireland on the other hand, yeah, maybe an issue), but I'm often sheltered and naive and do my best to avoid people who think that way. I wonder what effect his being elected had in curbing the anti-Roman Catholic sentiment (which I think was as much anti-Irish immigrant sentiment) that was pretty strong for the previous hundred or so years. I've got no clue. I hope it's that easy and direct. Hopefully Obama being President can have the same profound and lasting effect. I don't think it happens at the flick of a switch, but maybe the train is rolling in that direction.

Mixed Metaphor Receives Mixed Reviews.

"The 'flick of a switch' and 'train is rolling' sentence left me cold. It was like the 50's era Soviet Union where... really, it just left me cold." - Keith Olbermann

"I found it quite tantalizing and apropos, it left me wanting more."
- Nancy Kerrigan

"I liked the part about Catholics." - Chris Matthews

Radar Love

A triptych of sorts...

Gary Burghoff as Walter O'Reilly on M*A*S*H

You had to like his character, naive and thoughtful, good to the core despite all that was going on around him. Growing up in a war zone, not easy. Really not easy in real life... but I digress. I've always been interested in the psycho-social experiment that acting presents. I think this is especially true of good shows with good actors that have long runs. Loretta Swit found it tough being the only major female character on the show. Larry Linville was also on the outside looking in as I understand it. Of course, when you see old interviews of him, he seemed pretty Frank Burnsian in his demeanor, so that might be understandable. And Burghoff, being small and playing a younger less savvy character was out of the loop as well. All the world's indeed a stage, especially for actors who get into their roles. It has to be burdensome or taxing, and I guess it should be if they are really doing their jobs well. That emotional challenge makes me respect the work that those actors do all the more. Radar Love.

Jugs Gun

I'm not one to be interested in the fastest, strongest, longest, biggest anything. I like the all around, I like the in-between, those who get it done by an array of skills and luck. As a fantasy sports player, this hurts me. I should want a team full of Ryan Howards and Justin Verlanders. Athletes, yes. Skilled, yes. Big numbers, yes. Baseball, not the kind I go for. I'd rather see a team of Craig Counsells mix it up against a bunch Jamie Moyers. Base hit, base running, double, triple, hit and run, change-up, location, location, location, breaking stuff, location, location, location, 3-2, 4-3, 1-0. Fantasy makes me root for Arod to go 3/4 with a homerun and three rbi's. I'd rather root for a hit and run and a sacrifice fly from a couple guys just called up from AAA. I'll take the odd homerun, but I don't like playing for it. I like seeing the speeds of pitches during games, not see that some dude can throw 96mph 80 times in a row, but to see how some other guy gets the job done with average velocity using strategy and execution. An 87 mph fastball, a curveball in the mid 70's and a change up that falls somewhere in between. Use them wisely. Yes, there's a little thrill in seeing the reading on the gun inch closer to 100, but I prefer to see it waddle around in the 70's and 80's. Don't even get me started on a Wakefield knuckleball bobbing along at 55 mph. Oooh baby. Of course, I'd be lucky to throw it that fast with all I've got. Radar Love.

Doppler Shift

Neeeeeooooooowwwwwwww. I go to the NOAA weather website probably twenty times a day. Literally. Part of that is likely due to my previous job where weather was so important. Whether I just got hooked on it or I return from force of habit through muscle memory, I'm not sure why, but it happens, often. On the golf course, heat, humidity, wind, rain, daytime highs, overnight lows, frost, freezes and so forth all had to be taken into account for a multitude of reasons that are somewhat interesting but not worth explaining. Back to NOAA. I almost always scroll down to the base reflectivity map in motion. It's great entertainment. It usually updates every eight or so minutes = always changing. Here on the Carolina coast you can get moisture coming from any direction. You'll get stuff blowing in off the water, the usual surge from the west and sometimes a big cloud just forms out of nothing and sits on top of you all day. Plus we get hurricanes and tropical lows and depressions and what not. If you don't check the radar, you won't know what's about to hit you. I like to know when to bring the dogs in. I like to be informed. I like to know when to roll up my windows. I like to look forward to rain-filled days. I love me some radar.

whew.

Beta Carotene

After mowing the lawn in hot humidness, a photo spread is an acceptable blog post. That's just a fact.

The crops were reaped today. It was exciting. The only surviving members of the Burgaw Experimental Farming Testplot (BEFT - We're the beft!) were a few undernourished carrots and some overdue lettuce plants. A quick taste test of the lettuce was all it took there, B I T T E R, extremely so. Bitter, so as to make consumption unpleasurable and unwise and unhappening. To update: the squashes all melted away into moldy mushiness and the bean plants were decimated by the ants... let's never speak of them again.

On to the carrots. One happened to be carrot-shaped, which was a thrill.Another carrot was less carrot-shaped and more Maggie-shaped, she was very much enamored with the vegetable version of herself. Can you see the resemblance?Each dog got a carrot, Weenis got the lean one, Maggie got the plump one. I tasted a piece of Maggie's - not good, but not nearly as bad as the lettuce.

Dogs eating homegrown awful carrots. They'd normally be eating grass and dirt, so it may be a step up for them. They also eat dog food.

One little victory

Fortunately for all, this is not about an obscure recent Rush song.

I just had a fleeting idea for tonight's entry. I guess the fleeting was more powerful than the idea. ummmmm. It's right there... tip of my finger, maybe if I keep typing it will start happening. Maybe. just a couple more clicks. no. I need to pause to get it back.

(mere seconds later)

Oh yeah. Now I remember. And I remember why I forgot. I write this in fear of being too dog-oriented in my bloggification. It is very much a part of my world, and it could get annoying unless I keep the content fresh. So, you know where I'm coming from. I also am concerned with making overtures to something along the lines of Chicken Soup for the Dog Lover's Soul. Again, I'll try to toe the line, walk the tightrope, slip the trap, avoid the cliche (too late) and hope to write something worth reading.

Some say that we should be more like our dogs. If we could get up excited about another day, happy in the little things and keep our wants small we would be happier people. I see some truth in that, but it can be a complicated world. To minimize the dynamic life around us when we know full well what's going on... well, shriveling into a cocoon of ignorant bliss is no good. Forrest Gump brought up similar notions. If we were all a little more like Forrest the world would be a better place. So, if we all had no idea what we were doing but everything turned out great... then... hmmm, not a smart strategy. We can't all be Forrest. We can't all be dogs. We can't all be simple.

So, my thought is that, we shouldn't be like our dogs, we should treat each other like we treat our dogs. I know, this can break down (see Michael Vick, see any animal shelter) but, for those of us who aren't messed up, keep reading. I will speak only for myself, but I really give way too much praise to my dogs when they do very ordinary things. "That is some good stretching." "Way to get in your house!" "That's good jumping, Weenis!" "Good sitting!" If we could praise each other for our daily grind, that would be cool. "Nice job going to the bathroom." "Nice Sleeping." "Way to eat your cereal." And so forth. And so on.

This turned into sounding like the Peyton Manning commercial where he roots people on at their jobs like they do for him at his job. I swear it started somewhere else conceptually, but in the end devolved. So... crud. Well, at least you won't remember this as "another dog post" rather a post that just wasn't that great. I'll consider that a victory.A good look at the half moon piece missing from Mickey's left ear.

Arts and Letters

WEBSITE

For all you literati and inquisitive types, that webpage has links to a wide variety of interesting places. I suggest you visit and click to somewhere you've never been or read someone you've never read. It's how I happened to go to the Moscow Times early Sunday morning and learn about Russian dogs. I also learned about the banning of images of the wildly popular Winnie the Pooh over there. Before you get too upset, it's only images of Winnie that for some reason include a swastika that are forbidden. Even the word swastika is rough and mean and wrong. Anyway, they're trying to maintain Pooh bear's innocence at the expense of some neo-Nazi propagandist free-speech, so I guess I'm OK with that. Even they should know to leave Pooh alone.

Arts and Letters Daily is not exhaustive in its linkdom, but there is a good variety from which to choose. I don't know about you, (seriously, I don't know about you) but we all pile into group-think pretty firmly and need to shake it loose every now and then. When a left-leaning forum has something decidedly centrist or even with a nod of conservatism, I take notice... and the other way around, too. Like a bit in the Sierra Club magazine that is critical of the Kyoto agreement or something in the Economist that sways against free market capitalism or something in the Onion that's not at all funny or clever. It happens. We should be open enough to listen to anything and come up with our own conclusions. If we only look to the same sources we get more and more narrow. If we don't challenge ourselves at all we miss big pictures left and right, to and fro, all the live long day. Everyone needs a little change of scenery, even if it is on their laptop.

After reading my blog, I think you'd agree that I have most of the answers, so you should do what I say. Yup. Anyway, check out that link for hours of internet fun.

K9 Собачьи

A link to a photo collection: Dogs of Moscow. It is quite literally about dogs in Moscow. I find it both uplifting and mildly depressing, kind of like those photos of Detroit buildings that were all the rage a few months ago. Uplifting because there are dogs in every picture, which I like. A downer for a variety of reasons. There are a few pictures that are a little tough to look at, not that they are graphic, just that they make you think about things you'd rather not think about. The captions include regrettable statistics, some that reflect solely on Russia, others that relate to the wider swath of our humanity/inhumanity.

One picture brings to mind a sight I see every so often, and I don't know what to do with it. A homeless person with a dog. It's sad to see a homeless guy (let's call him Tony), but I'm happy he's got this buddy tagging along with him - man's best friend when man probably most needs a friend. Maybe what's so difficult to resolve is that the life for that dog is probably really good, while I assume the life for Tony is nothing but a struggle. I can see our Mickey living that life waking up each day just as happy-go-lucky as he does here.

--- Yes! The sun came up AGAIN! It's gonna be a big day, I know it. I'll eat sniff wag jump run sneeze walk play pant lick strut prance drink chase sleep snack trot nap frap wrestle growl bark stretch slurp dig whimper cry tug yawn scratch. Gonna be GREAT! Let's do this thing now! Yes! Yes! Yes! ---

Tony can't be so excited. It's quite the juxtaposition. The dog is living. Tony is surviving. My head or heart or gut can't make sense of it. Some combination of heartening and disheartening.

Well, this has been mildly therapeutic/enlightening, I think I know what I think now, or why I think it, but it still doesn't sit well. When I see a homeless person without a dog, that's upsetting in its own way, but the dog-homeless combo hits me somewhere else. I guess a lot of the Moscow dog pictures have the same juxtaposed quality about them which is why I find them compelling. Sadly hopeful, or something like that. No grand summation to be had on this one, just an open end.

Bad Words + Shakespeare

Two favorite curse word overdubs courtesy of cable TV.

Bull Durham

In one of Crash's many memorable diatribes to Annie, this one about respecting the streak:

"If you believe you're playing well because you're getting _loved_, or because you're not getting _loved_, or because you wear women's underwear, then you ARE! And you should know that!"

This one is not that bad uncensored, but I really enjoy the cleaned up version.

Sideways

When Miles and Jack are arguing on the golf course and a golfer hits into them, Thomas Haden Church's character yells:

"Not cool, _Ashcroft_!"

I suggest you consider using "Ashcroft" when needed.

******

And now a high school (maybe junior high school) English class flashback courtesy of Ovation TV. Ovation has been showing the 1968 movie version of A Midsummer Night's Dream. I think we watched all or some of this in school, though again on the details... I'm not fully certain. This version was insane and possibly brilliant. At the time, only the insanity struck me. With quick edits, green painted sprites, go-go attire and shaky hand-held cinematography, it was, as they say, a trip. Remember how there was always someone in class who after reading a crazy poem or anything weird would say "What kind of drugs were they on when they wrote that?" and everyone but you would laugh? Well, here was an instance where it may have been justified. This version was done by the Royal Shakespeare Company Academy and featured such notable actors as Ian Holm, Judi Dench and Helen Mirren. Still, it was nuts. To come across something that strange and obscure then realize that I had seen it before is pretty cool. So, hip-hip-huzzah for the teacher who let/made us watch that back at Cave Spring. Maybe you did expand my world. That it's taken me twenty years to realize it... that's ok, right?

6 shows 4 sentences 1 decade 1 Piece o' Fluff

The Waltons

Possibly the most disappointing show growing up because it teased you with joy only to consistently deliver melancholy. The cranky grandparents were no fun and somebody was sick all the time. The good times were never that good. It may have been "real" in its portrayal of life, but it was a major downer and was a sort of televised punishment for being home sick from school.

Little House on the Prairie

Also a downer, 19th Century-style. I remember an episode where somebody is blind (probably Laura Ingalls, maybe not) and there's a big brush fire. It was scary and scared me away for good and I never returned. No amount of Michael Landon's tenderness could bring me back.

All in the Family

I didn't get it. Probably well done given those involved, but not entertaining for my young self. Everybody fighting does not equal entertainment. However, "Meathead" remains a great nickname.

CHiPs

Inspired some very deliberate bike riding. I'd go outside during commercial breaks to pretend I was a highway patrolman, and I had the suberbike from that superbike epsiode, even though that bike wasn't all that super. Also, the show almost always featured the cheesy smile freeze frame at the end... a huge plus. Extra bonus points for having Leif Garrett featured in one episode.

Emergency

This was very much in the vein of ChiPs. I had an Emergency 51 fireman's hat that was sweeeeet. This show also had the trademark cheesy endings = great tv. I think they did a couple crossover episodes with ChiPs, or, in my head they did, and those were doubly good.

Mork and Mindy

Another comedy that was more sad than happy for me, perhaps an indication of child-onset Robin Williams Fatigue Syndrome. I was most enthralled by the cool attic room, not unlike our bedrooms growing up. Mork did inspire us to sit on our heads, which was cool. Nannoo nannoo was fun to say.

I think this is a solid (though shallow) concept to return to on low content blog days in the future. No overblown digression or analysis, just a quick romp through our televised past, this time a few choices from the 70's. I encourage this to be used as fodder for debate or further examination, but can just as well be, for now, just fluff.

Coach

I did a little channel flipping a night or two ago and came across "Coach" on WGN. You remember it... the mildly depressing comedy with Craig T. Nelson and Jerry Van Dyke from the early 1990's. Seeing it made me recall an ongoing disagreement/feud/point of contention between Jack and me during the late 90's. You may know Jack from such screen names as "the Wrong Shirt" or "Jack" or "Bass Playor" or "The Virginia Gentleman" or you may not know him at all. Either way, I continue. I may not remember the specifics of our positions, so if I wrongly characterize them, I apologize. I also can't be sure why it drove such a wedge between us or ever came up in the first place. The issue was Dauber (or Dawber, perhaps another point of contention). We could not agree upon which character he was. I was sure it was the tall blond dumb guy, Jack was adamant that he was played by Jerry Van Dyke. If we had computers and wikipedia and "the Google" during that era, the question would have been answered and laid to rest in a matter of seconds. That's all well and good. We had no real resource to settle the matter at the time. Frankly, it was quite a lot more fun having the back and forth battle than having a definitive answer.

After seeing the first few minutes of "Coach" I now know for a fact who Dauber (Dawber) was/is. I wish I hadn't seen it. I've lost a piece of myself. I've lost a good friend, my dear friend Indignant Trivial Disagreement. Or is it Disagreed Upon Trivial Indignation (DUTI for short)? Now we'll need to come up with a whole new petty feud to forget about over the course of many years. Hey, it's not that I don't think we're up to the task, that's not it at all. Just... darn.

Dauber!!!!!

4

1

Still it drips. Still it is hacked up by an unwilling cough, repressed and withheld, airy then damp . Still it bursts forth with sneeze-force winds. Why?

Be on your way, phlegm. And make haste.

Phlegmatic?

Oh, right. Sorry. Still... get lost. I'm not that into you. But you are so into me. No one likes you. Take your time if it is in your nature, but show me some progress, vacate my premises, or I, I, ahhhh, just go.

2

Tan line. Untan line is more accurate. Right across the top. A gentle v-shape. you showed up late this year, a product of one weekend. No burn, just tan. Tan and untan. Weird in your own way. No sockline in '09. It's a capmaign promise. Mow the lawn in the evening or wear those socks up high in the midday sun. No one can see you long enough to laugh. If they could they would, but they can't, they drive by too fast and our bushes are too big.

3

Pencil can. Holds no pencils. Three straws, two from McDonalds, one from Subway. A pair of scissors, no name... just "China." Three highlighters, one orange, two yellow. Two plastic little rulers that say "You Rule!!" Wait, three! Two were stuck together. One I have cut down to start exactly at the beginning of one inch. Six pens, three retractable and three regular with no caps. Another pen with a built-in magnifier - not easy to hold for writing, never used to magnify. Four permamnent markers, one stubby, one blue, one red, two black. A dry erase pen, thin-point blue. Dental floss. One 1/2"-13 x 3" bolt. Some wadded up foam rubber. Three pen caps. One guitar pick. One medium-sized black spring clip. One fat rubber band. One thinner rubber band. A dirty white paperclip. One small black spring clip. One 1/4"-20 x 3/4" bolt. Something is leaking somewhere, there's some mostly dry black ink on the scissors and the dental floss container. Back in they go, pleased they were featured here today, never to be featured again. Or so you hope.

4

No real progress to report in the phlegm department. Sneeze. sniff. blink. blink.

#7

As promised, though not requested...

There are several levels to the whole Michael Vick "thing," here goes.

I don't at all like what happened to those dogs. It was cruel, inhumane, unconscionable, deplorable, brutal, nasty and every other negative word you can think up to describe it. I am thoroughly pro-dog.

He went to jail for his actions and lost a big fat contract in the process ($130,000,000.00). I am pro-consequences.

Many animal lovers remain firmly disgusted by his actions. I am pro-consequences, still. You hurt dogs, dog lovers will not like you. So far so good.

If that's where it ends, with entrenched anger, no good has come from any of the bad. Put Vick away for life, keep him on the sidelines (literally or figuratively, your choice)... no good comes from that. There are something like 40,000 dog fighting groups in the U.S. Shunning Vick does nothing to change that, it only punishes 1/40,000. Not good enough. I am pro-progress. I believe that his work with the ASPCA will do some good. I also believe that the head of the ASPCA has put some lofty yet attainable expectations on Vick. Aside from scoring touchdowns and throwing the ball 70 yards, when has anyone put any expectations on his character? Maybe never.

Do I think he has changed? Not necessarily. I hope he has, but for my purposes and the greater good, it doesn't really matter. I think he was snapped into shape by being caught and punished. I don't usually believe people can change much, whether in fiction or reality, so I can't alter my general belief that he is much the same as he was before. But if his actions can change and have a positive effect on a disgraceful problem, then that's something. You can hate Vick, but you should embrace what he may be able to accomplish. I am pro-optimism. He's got advisers helping him along... good, he's proven he can't make good decisions on his own. Having his crew/posse/entourage around him all those years were not the best influence, obviously.

Should he have a job as a player in the NFL? That's Roger Goodell's call. If he says he can play, then I think the Eagles are one of the best places he could go to. Yes, I'm biased as an Eagles fan. I think the organization generally gives a damn. I think for years Donovan McNabb has endured more grief and scrutiny than he deserved and has done so with class, humor and character. I think he works hard at what he does. I know Vick never did. McNabb will be a good influence. The Eagles are watching Vick's off the field work as much as his on the field production. I never got the sense that the Ravens or Cowboys were too intent on being sure that Ray Lewis and Pacman Jones stepped up. Lip service or not, the Eagles have their eyes on Vick. And the rest of us have our eyes on Vick and the Eagles. I am pro-oversight. Tony Dungy adds some weight to the whole thing, too. He's genuine and has been through some rough times (he is active with prisoner rehab and his son committed suicide)... I don't think he'd sign on to be a pawn in some big ruse. Also, he's on the Eagles TV network now, so he won't be far from Vick.

I can't imagine. I don't think he offered it as an excuse, but when you're eight years old and dogfighting is accepted in your neighborhood as cool, maybe that puts a distorted sense of right and wrong in your head. At eight I would have been hard pressed to be a part of that culture and know any better. I was in Leave it Beaver-Land, and I'm glad I was. My major concerns at eight were getting through swimming lessons without drowning and making sure I had shoes that would help me run fast. Those are still pretty high up on my list of concerns.

Up to this point there has been nothing positive, just a bunch of dead and abused dogs. If all goes as I would hope, there can be nothing but positive steps going forward. It's worth the risk of somebody saying I told you so a few years from now if it all crumbles. So, protest at games, and chant nasty things, but do so at the risk of being out-classed by Vick (Too much? I'm sticking with it) when he holds true to his word and makes a difference. I hope he does. And I would hope that everyone would hope he does.

It begins.

The next streak, that is.

sigh

For how long will this one last? Not so important this time around.

Let's all just ease into it nice and slow like, hmmm?

To catch up a little:

I'm reading another Roddy Doyle book. I enjoy his simple style though he loses me in the details of description and dialog at times. I think that's ok and is perhaps the intent. Maybe I'm just a step slow. I'm ok with that, too.

It's official, Absurdistan was a good book - according to this reader.

The yellow squash has been compromised somehow. There are three promising young squashes, but the first and biggest has all of a sudden gone squishy and discolored. I'm leaving it as a sacrifice in hopes that the other two can grow to a ripe old age. A great pun to be had there for anyone interested. No? Nobody? Fair enough, me neither. Squish Squash? Anybody into that one? OK, moving on...

The sickness is in its waning stages. I'm well enough that I think I'm well, ill enough that I get tired early. Don't force it! I haven't. I did get the lawn chopped down... two weeks of August growth... deeeeeep ugleeee stuff. I put the mower on the highest setting and it still found some places to bog down. Through my efforts I expect no more lost dogs. Except the black one, who disappears completely at night save for her gray beard and glowing alien eyes.

Well, my feet are once again wet with blogging excitement and evocative imagery. If I'm of a mind, I'll weigh in on Michael Vick, Health Care and yes, other topics.

Thanks, it's nice to be back.

It ends.

The streak, that is.

sigh

Earn your pay

I'll dedicate a few minutes to this because the streak is worth it. It's not like I'm in the hospital, unconscious and unresponsive. The fact that I don't feel like doing it is not powerful enough to keep from doing it. So... blog. I'd rather not talk about the sickliness, so I won't.

Let's move back to Town Hall Meetings (Moveback.org). Take heart believers in immediate health care reform, the crazier the critics look, the more sensible any of the proposals look. Take heart no one, each side has vested interests with megabucks backing the success or failure of any proposal. I know a lot of the footage is pretty nuts at the senators' and representatives' town hall meetings, and you couldn't possibly convince me to go to one, but the thing is this, they got voted in by the mob (figurative), they have to answer to the mob (figurative) and I think that skilled politicians can win over the mob (figurative) in almost any situation. Bill Clinton could have won over McCaskill's or Specter's audience in five words or less. This is where they have to earn their keep.

This relates to a thought I had after a couple nights performing music (gigs, some might call them). First night was rough for too many reasons to express. The second night we found a groove and put on a pretty good show. My thought is this, we got paid because of night two, but we earned it on night one - the night when we were dripping with sweat, where nothing would stay in tune, when technical difficulties were abundant, etc. You earn it with the crickets and the vacant drunken stares, not the cheers and slightly less vacant drunken stares.

So, I say, buck up and take it on the chin. If you're doing something you believe in, even when none of the results are readily apparent, then you should have no problem finding the inner strength to push through.

Now, a cough from our sponsor.

Sick ness

It all starts with a good night's sleep. Sound and long. No dreams. No disoriented wake up. Not even any pools of drool. Then, the slight tickle in the throat. And a little extra mucous. The laying back down on the bed. A slight back pain slowly intensifies. No comfortable position. Can't stay home, things to do today. And tomorrow. Maybe Thursday has sick day potential? Getting sick? Seems like it.

Let's see... a busy weekend loaded with lack of sleep, lack of food, a fair amount of anxiety and a lot of expended energy... a Monday full of stressful triumph and sun-baked fiddling... and I'm a bit worn down. I've made myself a good target for an illness of some description. Never you mind what was on the agenda for Tuesday, because the germ vacationers have arrived for summer holiday in my immune system. Prime snot-front property with room for the whole Booger family. I hate the summer cold/flu/crud. In the winter it makes some sense, but the summer sickness is never and shan't ever be a favorite.

On the Upside: Thank every and any god involved in getting the air conditioning working at the office again... huge. I'm not that sick, yet. A lot of what I need to do short term has been done or can be farmed out. Tomorrow it's supposed to rain, which is fun.

On the Downside: I desperately need to mow the lawn, but it's in the upper nineties and going to rain. It's been ten days since I last mowed, and the grass is getting mighty high. You can lose a dog out there if you're not careful... it nearly happened last night. There are things I want to get on to, but if I'm not at my best, well, I'm not at my best. Don't want to eat... I usually don't, but this is much more acute than normal.

wahh.

Sleep less

It can be tricky trying to figure out how sell, market advertise, present, build, produce and finance a new product or service. In some cases, any number of those important steps can be arranged in any number of combinations leading to confusion of priorities and sleepless nights. Sometimes sleepless nights turn into sleepless weeks and sleepless months.

You can pay consultants and marketing firms thousands of dollars to tell you what to do, and they guarantee results. OK, that last part wasn't true. But they will present you with the glossiest brochures ever produced. They'll also give you a series of proposals on how to maximize your lead generation and website traffic through Search Engine Optimization(the Holy Grail in the webworld right now. Speaking of SEO, it is climbing the spam charts to become nearly as popular as replica watches, wiener pills, phenomenal software deals and instant online masters degrees.

The trade show circuit, while not that much fun and on the decline has been a major source of our research. You can get a lot of good insights and bad insights, nice compliments and nasty criticisms just by showing up. The trick is weeding through the suggestions and acting on the right ones. Another trick is not spending your energy solving a problem that you're sure exists, but isn't even slightly marketable. I considered doing some focus groupish things for a new product in the works. You know, head out across America for a series of town hall meetings to get some feedback. However, recent Obama Health Care meetings have scared me off the idea... I didn't want this lady to show up and hurt my feelings. People say that pump builders don't have feelings. We have feelings.

Shell landing II a.k.a. Bird post

Morning two at the boat ramp. My thought (yes, thought... I'm tired) drifts away from bricks and mortar and most forms of rubble. Catch my drift reference? You know, water and all that... just another example of brilliant writing. Join me on my trip, won't you? Let's all take a Literary Journey (picture that in flowing cursive). Never mind, I can't back that up with anything today.

Back to the drifting, flowing, chirping, breezing, sniffing, lapping, squawking, humming, rising, waving, growing, calling, sitting and blogging at hand. This is one of those moments when you look out on the water, the waterfowl and shorebirds occupy every available post, buoy or non-water-based object. Sometimes you can look out and there are no birds. Today, all birds.

Also, it was Pirate week in Beaufort, NC. An already over the top scene adds a little twist. One dead-on Jack Sparrow dude, complete with freaky out of balance stride and slightly disjointed upper body movements. Another lean mean pirate presented me with a beer, complete with flowery oration, which completely won me over to the side of the pirates, well, these pirates at least. Not Somali pirates, so much as some people happy to dress up and have a good time for a few days.

Night two here was much more Piratey than Friday. Wenches were out in force (seriously). This is the real deal... they had ships firing off cannons Saturday afternoon re-enacting some sea battles. Plenty of children on hand, too. I'm sure some kids are really into it and I'm twice as sure a lot of kids are quite scared by it. My theory is that Pirate Week is somehow sponsored and supported by child psychotherapists looking to create some business. And those psychotherapists are covertly backed by other psychotherapists who clean up any mess left by the first ones to deal with scourge of pirate week psychotherapy.

Yarrrrrr... I'm tirrrrred.

Shell landing

I'm sitting on a rickety bench next to a sandy boat ramp. The bench could comfortably seat one and a half people, so my Gatorade fruit punch and I are pretty happy together here. There's a lot of rubble built up on both sides of the ramp to hold back erosion, especially erosion from hurricane storm surges and the like. It's mostly broken up concrete, but there are also a bunch of bricks. Some are loners. Some are grouped in huge chunks still mortared together - former chimneys, walls and walkways. I (and possibly no one else) would like to grab a brick and somehow tap into its story. Go back to the clay stage and watch it get baked. See it at the building site and get a picture of what it has been through.

Everything has a story, and I think every atroy is intreating in itla own way (I decided to keep that line, I think the typos are cool). Really, if walls could talk, that would be quite awesome. But, the wall would also have to be a good listener, or else it wouldn't have any stories to tell. And if the wall had an attitude and was a real jerk, a totally self-absorbed prima donna, that would be too bad. So, it would be cool if walls could talk, but I'd have to attach some conditions to the whole thing before signing off on it.

Macaw

I'm watching a macaw make its way around a cage. He's very deliberate in his movements. What is most interesting to me is that he uses his mouth/beak as an extra foot, especially useful when working around corners. I wonder if he had to develop this technique just for living in captivity. I would think in the wild he could either fly or walk anywhere he needed to go. I bet he doesn't think about it. I wonder what he thinks. I bet he's not impressed with me as I only sit stand and walk. My climbing skills would not impress. And my beak-work is substandard. You win this round, Bull the macaw. I'll challenge you again tomorrow and we'll see who the better bird/man is.

Serenity Now

After a higgledy piggledy several days there is a sense of order returning. My two areas at work have been a huge mess since last Friday. Things coming in, things going out. Papers stacked, not so much high, as wide. Papers of great importance, papers of no importance, all taking up space. Boxes full of bolts and nuts and other hardware. Boxes filled with nothing. Boxes filled with paper. Boxes filled with boxes. Usually a couple hour cleanup every now and then results in a bag or two of trash. Not so this time, no trash. Just a hugely disorganized mess in need of a little time. Admittedly the papers have not really been addressed, they have been stacked high to give the illusion of order, and for now, that is a good start. My email count in my inbox in Outlook is over fifty... not where I like it. I try to keep it empty. There's no way that all fifty of those emails are important, and those that are need to find their way somewhere else. Also, the A/C has been lacking at the office, which I'm sure helped to get my frustration level elevated. Go outside in the 90+ degree heat with dripping wet humidity and work pretty hard, then back into the office and it's 84 and also humid. I've previously documented my adult onset sweat-alogical disorder... so you can picture how it all goes down. Not pretty. Having extra shirts on hand is a must. Hopefully the A/C gets figured out over the next few days and my world continues to get more organized and fluid. That can only improve my blogging. And that can only make you happy.

Simple

I just had a great surprise, there was some lemonade in the refrigerator. So I filled my glass and happily drank it. As luck would have it, I am able to forget things in a very short period of time. Such as, there is still some lemonade in the refrigerator for drinking. And that forgetfulness, in this case, turns into a nice little surprise. Now, if there had been iced tea in the fridge, that would have been a bigger event, but lemonade is still pretty good.

Finding a hidden box of crackers is a good thing, too. AAHAAAAA! Speaking of, there's a partial bag of pretzels in my briefcase thing, snacking remnants left over from the New York trip. YES! They're a little stale, but not stale enough to stop me from eating them, or for brown dog to give a thorough sniffing of the immediate area. Pretzels and lemonade... the great joys of my day. There will never be a phantom bottle of Coke or bag of Doritos sneaking around here, that'd be way over the top. I wouldn't be able to handle that. Occasionally there will be a surprise can of Frito Lay Jalapeno Cheddar Nacho cheese that I've forgotten, but I usually keep pretty close track of the cheese.

Hmmm, this is the first time in a long long time that I've typed here at my little desk at home. I think the results speak for themselves.

A moment with: Nerdlinger - When possible, I suggest using the online Chat feature for customer service. Not necessarily for speed or service, but usually you can print out or email a transcript of the chat session. The one I used today showed the elapsed time and everything. I do suggest some form of multitasking (productive or pleasurable) as the response time from question to answer can be horribly slow. It took me over thirty minutes to get answers to two pretty straightforward questions today. You can't beat having an accurate record provided by the company website. That is today's cyber-tip. And yes, you are very welcome.

I'm old

Some examples that lead to the inevitable conclusion found in the title:

1. I don't trust automated voice recognition software on customer service lines. I ordered freight pickup last Friday and today. The automaton on the other end of line confirms everything I say and even gives me a pickup confirmation number. Later in the day I make sure to call a person to verify that all is in the system. Now, if the truck showed up as scheduled I might not feel the need for follow-up. Nevertheless, I don't fully believe computers can listen to me and take the appropriate actions. And surely they can't appreciate my sarcasm like you can.
2. Wait... that's all I've got. I feel younger already. I think I'll stay up 'til 10:30 tonight.

3. No, 10:00 is late enough.

Sorry campers...

I have a post tonight, mildly amusing and fairly predictable. What's not predictable is no internet at the house tonight. We're living like animals here. I mean, we have electricity and air conditioning and satellite TV and other things... But no internet. So at some point early tomorrow I'll get the original posted and, no, this excuse for blog entry won't count toward the streak, but will act as a placeholder.

Might I suggest you take five minutes, go outside and stare at the sky? I might suggest that, but I won't. Turn away from your computer and stare at the lines in your hand and think about what they mean to you, even if it's nothing. I'll be back later.

Toodles

Tick

Every time I check the clock it's fifteen minutes later. Although, sometimes when I check the clock it's hours later. I could sleep ten hours every night and still feel tired. I'd still be game for a nap early in the afternoon. Or late in the afternoon.

It starts with the whiny cries of the brown dog, generally beginning at exactly seven. Two bowls of dog food wait in the kitchen, unless we forgot to fill them the previous night. One heaping scoop for brown, one level scoop for black. I put the food in the cages, the dogs know to wait. I'll go feed Chairman Moe, our cat. He meows at me, but it comes out more like a bark. Still, the dogs wait. Black dog sits and starts to drool. Brown dog, back legs in spring-pounce position, front legs splayed, one ear up, one ear down, two excited eyes on me, is intensely focused. I say "OK" and their snouts plow through their food. A minute later black dog is released into the wild. Brown dog is released next, and he is wild. Time to play. Red Bone, Rings, tennis ball. Sometimes he heads straight outside. Normally, he's up for some morning romping. The growling is always free and plentiful, as is jumping and hyperactive tail wagging. Brown dog makes a good case for the tail wagging the dog. If any tail could, it would be his. He's a superball.

Every weekday morning I drive down the same road to the same place. It takes about twenty-five minutes. I normally listen to NPR because I like to hear the Writer's Almanac by Garrison Keillor. More often than not, I don't actually listen to it, but I like to hear that it's on. It's an easy drive. I quietly enter the building through the screen door and steel door. I take out my laptop and plug in the power cord and speaker cable. Sometimes the whole day passes and no sound comes out of the speakers. Sometimes I forget to turn on any music. Sometimes I remember. I plug them in every day. Later each day I head back home. Upon my return the dogs bark like wild barking dogs. They hear the car door or the squeak from the kitchen door. There is an occasional howl. Sometimes I can sneak into the house and they don't make a sound. It's only happened twice. At five, one of the dogs will let us know that it's time for dinner. One heaping scoop for brown, one level scoop for black. I put the food in the cages. The dogs wait to eat. I go feed Chairman Moe. Again he barkmeows at me. I say "Hello, Moe-cat." Still, the dogs wait. Black dog sits and starts to drool. Brown dog, back legs in spring-pounce position, front legs splayed, one ear up, one ear down, two excited eyes on me, is intensely focused. His tail beats the sides of the cage, then pauses. He drools, too. I say "OK" and their snouts plow through the food.

Album

Flower!


Damage


Hungry Flower Face


Anole! (click on it, he's cool!)

Blue Sky

No major post, this will be my day to recharge. I think when I write
about death with no major motivation as I did yesterday, it's time to take a wee little break.

On death and dying

Not just a clever title.

Everyone needs to deal with mortality in their own way and find meaning where they can. That said, I don't understand why/how people try to find meaning in death. There are times where a death can have substance and impact (say, where some glitch in some system leads to someone's avoidable and untimely demise, and that tragedy may prevent a future death). But the notion of "God was calling them home" or "it was their time to go" or "there must be some reason for this that we can't understand" does nothing for me. Most deaths just happen. To search for meaning in that circumstance misses the point. Life isn't in the dying, it is in the living. There is no cosmic meaning when someone's car stalls on train tracks and they get smashed. There's no mystical explanation why the tsunami in 2004 killed hundreds of thousands of people. What greater purpose is served by some baby being tossed in a dumpster? Rarely is there good to be found in death. There are reasons things happen. There are reasons that people die when they do. But more often than not, there is no great meaning to be found there. Meaning is found in the life lived, not the death endured. Death can be unfortunate and upsetting, it need not be noble or cosmically important to give someone's life meaning. Celebrate life lived and mourn for life unlived, but leave death alone.

-Grim Poster