It is very likely I was far from the only skeptic for the last year or so of watching the various PBS airings of child singer, Jackie Evancho. I've seen folks toss off a derisive look of, No way is that real. There is tom-foolery going on somewhere!
We first saw Jackie on TV when she was maybe just turning ten years old - her discovery coming on the show America's Got Talent. This kid has talent, that much I can now personally attest!
My sweet wife found out back in December that the awesome child prodigy was to perform live in mid-town Los Angeles on Feb. 24, which was very near my birthday. So she got the tickets three months early and kept me in suspenders as to the big surprise coming. She was able to keep the secret so well that I literally knew nothing of what to expect even as we drove to the Staples Center complex, with me at the wheel and her directing my trip. When we walked from the parking garage and into the courtyard of the complex, she asked me to turn around to look up at the bright marquee on the Nokia Theater. Even seeing the name of Jackie Evancho on the moving lights, though it melted me just to think of her and how incredible she is, I was not hit by the meaning of seeing her name in lights until the screen continued moving and the word TONIGHT came into view. Then tears immediately sprang to my eyes because it was now revealed that my wonderful wife had arranged for me to sit in a theater to actually watch this young girl perform. Amazing!
Our seats were seven rows from the stage and the star's entrance from stage right happened not more than forty feet from me. Her singing began after a sweet little semi-curtsying walk to center stage, waving childlike to the huge crowd. And when that singing - that fabulous SINGING began, it was at last completely clear and irrefutable that the entire voice was coming from her tiny body. No trickery could have been involved in the production of that amazing sound of a voice that seemingly would require the aging and many years of rehearsing to develop a mature diva. And we as a privileged audience never failed to laugh adoringly when between songs she would make little bobbing movements and cute waves of the hand while thanking us in a voice and manner that were perfectly fitting for a child of ten or eleven. I'm assuming she is eleven by now, but her tiny frame walking out on that stage, her height not above the seated orchestra members she passed on the way, said she could have been even younger. I pictured my six-year-old grandson and thought how close his height would be to Jackie's if he were to stand beside her. But when the first note came out of this lovely child, she magically became a thirty-year-old, 5ft.8inch owner of the stage.
So today, now on the actual date of my birth, I've partied down for three solid days and am half in the bag from the heaviest consumption evening I've allowed myself in a long while. Good that it's a rainy and cool Monday here in paradise today so I can sit at home and be as lazy as a birthday boy wants to be. And my lovely wife, who is going through withdrawal symptoms from having kept a secret for three months, will finish off my big day with a specially prepared dinner of my favorite dishes. This 67th anniversary of my entry on the world stage will possibly be the most memorable ever. I certainly hope Phyllis doesn't try to top this one!
If Jackie Evancho ever gets to your area, I recommend you treat yourself to greatness in a small package.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Yes, Virginia, There Is a Sanity Pause
Imagine this: You are a woman and you are living in Virginia. The very thought is painful!
Of course, there is the very real possibility you will be unable to imagine the concept at all. Oh, the idea of living in Virginia midst all the natural beauty, that's no problem. But being a woman? 1.) If you are a male, you simply cannot imagine being female. Go ahead. Try it. My guess is, you won't get within five percent of understanding the actual condition of femaleness. 2.) If you are a female, you are possibly an elderly lady. You perhaps have forgotten already what it means to be susceptible to much of the downside of femaleness. Your own menopause relieved you of a good deal of that worrisome state of being. 3.) If you are that older female and you have no daughters, grand daughters or any other more youthful females you really care about, you may be willing to be as cruel (or at least non-feeling) as most males. 4.) If you are a female still of fertility age but are also hyper-religious and cock-sure (pardon the crude aspersion) of your own righteousness and your absolute inability to make a mistake or even be forced by a male into sexual contact, then you also may be capable of male-sized disrespect for other females.
Virginia's legislature has just passed a bill that amounts to legalized state rape! [check here for a Chicago Tribune unbiased article - or here if your mind is open enough to read something from Progressives] And the heartless governor (who has an eye toward national political office) is looking forward to signing it into law. The law would force any woman desiring an abortion to be vaginally penetrated by a doctor (using an ultra-sound scope) - even if against the medical professional's own will - before the procedure can be legally completed. Virginia is said to be still one of these United States, yet it has taken a step that not only scoffs at the national constitution, but disrespects its own citizens and tramples any concept of human rights.
We of the U.S. - ...land of the free, etc., - we united, as a caring people, have used our vaunted national platitudes of human rights, women's rights, common decency etc., to help us wave our Stars and Stripes in the eyes of the world. At what point will Virgina stop its vile treatment of its own female citizens? Might the all-wise, all-powerful (in his completely Republican-run state) governor take yet further steps? Could he not at some point make the case for simply ending rights for females entirely? How about ending sexual interest for females? Perhaps he could meet with middle-Eastern or African leaders (governors) to learn how to use the techniques of clitoral mutilation and remove the temptation from these practically sub-human creatures called women to engage in the depraved act of sexual intercourse.
But consider this: what other control-freak governors and legislators out there (almost entirely males) will decide that Virginia has set a good example of returning those uppity women to their rightful place? Maybe all male legislators in all states should follow the example and take control back from the weaker sex who have managed to gain some few rights to decide what is best for their own bodies. After all, men always know best, right? And voters today are beginning to rally 'round a Republican presidential contender who seems to be as far to the right of sanity as is the humanity-challenged governor of Virginia. (This candidate's puppet-master thinks women just need to keep their knees together!) For these men, and millions of other men, there must be a real nostalgia for the good old days of the nineteenth century! Things were so much simpler before the shrill cry of feminine self-interest was heard in our great land. That must be because men are fundamentally so much better at running things and they should never have allowed those pesky women to vote and get organized.
In my humble opinion, the women of Virginia should vote with their vaginas this November. Perhaps there is already a grass-roots group called The Virginia Vaginas. Or there should be! Every member of the state legislature who voted to legalize doctor-required rape of women seeking abortion should be voted out of office. Pure and simple. Why mess with that kind of idiocy coming from your own elected representatives? You don't have to, ladies! Call a halt to it all. When I say vote with your vaginas, I literally mean to use the amazing power you possess over men. I once witnessed a bold woman on a public street (interestingly, in Washington D.C.) wearing a tee-shirt with these words emblazoned on the back: I have the pussy so I make the rules! Just wake up to your strengths, women! It's quite obvious that each vagina has two votes! A woman not only can cast her own vote for legislators who promise to stay out of the vagina politic, but each lady can also make it clear to the male who expects to visit her personal vagina that he had better follow suit on this issue.
If women were to respond in unison, using their heads to protect their vaginas, there is no possible way Virginia or any other state could ramrod (again, sorry ...) such cruel legislation through the halls of state governments, policies that are damaging and immoral. Ladies, you need never let stupid rule! [For those of you who fight valiantly on behalf of zygotes, I won't actually brand you as stupid, but I would ask that you apply science and logic to this matter of the difference between fertilization and life.]
And for those of you who think of yourselves as ultimately moral while also buying into the idea that right-to-life means right to destroy rights of others, I have one simple criticism. Rather than making a great impression on the world with your religious ethic, you are turning religion into a state-rape drug!
Of course, there is the very real possibility you will be unable to imagine the concept at all. Oh, the idea of living in Virginia midst all the natural beauty, that's no problem. But being a woman? 1.) If you are a male, you simply cannot imagine being female. Go ahead. Try it. My guess is, you won't get within five percent of understanding the actual condition of femaleness. 2.) If you are a female, you are possibly an elderly lady. You perhaps have forgotten already what it means to be susceptible to much of the downside of femaleness. Your own menopause relieved you of a good deal of that worrisome state of being. 3.) If you are that older female and you have no daughters, grand daughters or any other more youthful females you really care about, you may be willing to be as cruel (or at least non-feeling) as most males. 4.) If you are a female still of fertility age but are also hyper-religious and cock-sure (pardon the crude aspersion) of your own righteousness and your absolute inability to make a mistake or even be forced by a male into sexual contact, then you also may be capable of male-sized disrespect for other females.
Virginia's legislature has just passed a bill that amounts to legalized state rape! [check here for a Chicago Tribune unbiased article - or here if your mind is open enough to read something from Progressives] And the heartless governor (who has an eye toward national political office) is looking forward to signing it into law. The law would force any woman desiring an abortion to be vaginally penetrated by a doctor (using an ultra-sound scope) - even if against the medical professional's own will - before the procedure can be legally completed. Virginia is said to be still one of these United States, yet it has taken a step that not only scoffs at the national constitution, but disrespects its own citizens and tramples any concept of human rights.
We of the U.S. - ...land of the free, etc., - we united, as a caring people, have used our vaunted national platitudes of human rights, women's rights, common decency etc., to help us wave our Stars and Stripes in the eyes of the world. At what point will Virgina stop its vile treatment of its own female citizens? Might the all-wise, all-powerful (in his completely Republican-run state) governor take yet further steps? Could he not at some point make the case for simply ending rights for females entirely? How about ending sexual interest for females? Perhaps he could meet with middle-Eastern or African leaders (governors) to learn how to use the techniques of clitoral mutilation and remove the temptation from these practically sub-human creatures called women to engage in the depraved act of sexual intercourse.
But consider this: what other control-freak governors and legislators out there (almost entirely males) will decide that Virginia has set a good example of returning those uppity women to their rightful place? Maybe all male legislators in all states should follow the example and take control back from the weaker sex who have managed to gain some few rights to decide what is best for their own bodies. After all, men always know best, right? And voters today are beginning to rally 'round a Republican presidential contender who seems to be as far to the right of sanity as is the humanity-challenged governor of Virginia. (This candidate's puppet-master thinks women just need to keep their knees together!) For these men, and millions of other men, there must be a real nostalgia for the good old days of the nineteenth century! Things were so much simpler before the shrill cry of feminine self-interest was heard in our great land. That must be because men are fundamentally so much better at running things and they should never have allowed those pesky women to vote and get organized.
In my humble opinion, the women of Virginia should vote with their vaginas this November. Perhaps there is already a grass-roots group called The Virginia Vaginas. Or there should be! Every member of the state legislature who voted to legalize doctor-required rape of women seeking abortion should be voted out of office. Pure and simple. Why mess with that kind of idiocy coming from your own elected representatives? You don't have to, ladies! Call a halt to it all. When I say vote with your vaginas, I literally mean to use the amazing power you possess over men. I once witnessed a bold woman on a public street (interestingly, in Washington D.C.) wearing a tee-shirt with these words emblazoned on the back: I have the pussy so I make the rules! Just wake up to your strengths, women! It's quite obvious that each vagina has two votes! A woman not only can cast her own vote for legislators who promise to stay out of the vagina politic, but each lady can also make it clear to the male who expects to visit her personal vagina that he had better follow suit on this issue.
If women were to respond in unison, using their heads to protect their vaginas, there is no possible way Virginia or any other state could ramrod (again, sorry ...) such cruel legislation through the halls of state governments, policies that are damaging and immoral. Ladies, you need never let stupid rule! [For those of you who fight valiantly on behalf of zygotes, I won't actually brand you as stupid, but I would ask that you apply science and logic to this matter of the difference between fertilization and life.]
And for those of you who think of yourselves as ultimately moral while also buying into the idea that right-to-life means right to destroy rights of others, I have one simple criticism. Rather than making a great impression on the world with your religious ethic, you are turning religion into a state-rape drug!
Monday, February 13, 2012
Reception
Yesterday I attended a wedding reception. This was my first in probably a dozen years, since my younger son's wedding. So much different; so much the same.
Mind you, I didn't merely attend this reception. I was asked to be there as the security officer for the establishment. Okay, those of you who know me personally, go ahead and laugh heartily now. It has been twenty years since I was part of the security company contracted to handle crowd-control for rock concerts at the Universal Amphitheatre in Hollywood. And my job then was hiring and managing capable younger people to be on the theater floor. Some of you are aware that my physique is non-threatening. Although I'm not the proverbial 90-lb weakling, I'm still your basic weakling. The something over 200 pound frame today makes me less laughable as a possible security type, but then there's that little thing of the bad back. Twice in the last week I have had to cancel golf outings due to a temporary inability to walk well or stand up straight. A cane was needed to assist in walking just last Tuesday. Yesterday morning the cane was a strong consideration once again, but through enough moving around to handle the duties of holding an open house, the body began to respond favorably. By 2:00 in the afternoon when the reception began, I was at least able to fake looking strong and agile.
Currently I am sporting a substantial white beard as well. That gives me a little more presence or air of gruffness when seen in the general crowd of young people attending a party. Plus, I knew I could call upon my acting experience to pull off the cold stare of unemotional authority and possible hidden powers - something like the Australian lizard that can make itself bigger and more menacing in the eyes of potential enemies. So I wasn't afraid to accept the request of a local lady who asked me to fill in. She was running short of friends to call upon when the man who agreed to do the job had bailed. Then there was the fact that the assignment was nominal in responsibility, merely a requirement on paper for insurance purposes as stated by the management of our HOA. The party was in the clubhouse of our senior community.
Fortunately, as expected, no one got too seriously out of line. Especially was I pleased that all of the larger females were well-behaved. Wow! Is it my imagination or have more of today's youth become heavy-weights? Perhaps there were always that many large ladies around and I simply avoided noticing, but it's tough to see how I could have missed the obvious. Yesterday's bride, a lovely girl with a most pleasant disposition and fetching smile, was probably within twenty pounds of my own weight, while standing quite a lot shorter. One female member of the crowd appeared to be about my height (not quite six feet) and probably out-weighed me by a few. All-in-all, I would guess that around 20% of the ladies present would have presented a real challenge for me (with the help of two other men of my size) to physically restrain or to assist to a waiting van if too much alcohol or party attitude were to take over. But then, I wasn't there really to be a bouncer or even crowd-control; my stated position was that of a general eye on the premises, inside and out, and having enough sense to call for help if anything really crazy happened.
Nothing did, other than one small altercation in the parking lot that ended when I was able to assist his girlfriend (or at least, a friend who was a girl) to convince the inebriated fellow to come back inside and dance.
Speaking of dancing - have you watched that activity of today? As one fellow who showed up late to assist in clean-up, another of my contemporaries in the senior group, said to me, "We really danced back in our day! I don't know what they call this stuff they do nowadays." Can't say I agreed with that criticism; I typically enjoy the modern gyrations when my back will allow it. This fellow and I observed there together for a while as the party wound down. Nothing left but the die-hards and by this time, fairly sloshed partiers trying to wish the bride and groom well by strange movements and maudlin shows of affection when they had the chance to drape themselves over one or the other. What amazed me most though was this and that variation on the dirty dancing theme. One couple appeared to be joined, albeit still clothed, in some kind of sexual embrace. And they seemed to stay in the same position through at least two long music numbers, always locked in the same languid swaying, expressing a far-away look of ecstatic pleasure each time I glanced back at them. Her bottom was firmly pressed against his crotch and he held her tightly against himself with his hands in a location I never touched on a female body until sometime after my own wedding. Trying to recall my own youthful days, I was sure that had I been so fortunate and so bold as to engage in that sort of dancing, my underwear would have certainly been quite warm and sticky after the first few seconds. Perhaps this young man's were as well, and he simply had the audacity to go on reveling in the clothed coitus for many long and satisfying minutes.
As my fellow senior friend pointed out, and I had been aware for two hours or more, one of the smaller ladies in the group was extremely fond of grinding her body against others. And all those others were female, insofar as I had noticed. This girl, in a little black dress, often moved in such ways, sliding down the thigh and over the knee of one of the several taller girls she seemed to attack with gusto, that the form of her entire pubic area and pantyhose clad ass cheeks came into view of any who cared to notice. I noticed a good bit. Sure I'm now in my late sixties but my eyes still enjoy and memory still serves very well. Combine that with an almost universal desire shared by males to watch females together in actual or perceived sexual situations, and I wouldn't have been completely surprised to find my underwear a bit sticky last night. Just observing. Good party!
Bride and groom seemed to have a great send-off for their new marriage, and I was glad to see such open expressions of happiness. This part of the traditional wedding reception was pretty much the same as these events have always been. Friends show up, laugh, shout, applaud, drink, dance and make all kinds of almost inarticulate overtures of toasts and good wishes - and then two people feel married more completely. I'm sure the party continued long into the night following the formal party at this venue where the DJ was paid for a five-hour stint and stayed on another half hour for free to be good to the newlyweds and to their host, my friend the grandmother of the bride.
It would be nice to see more of this kind of happy partying here in our community. Sure beats memorials and the other less festive uses of our community clubhouse. I'll probably accept requests in the future to be on security detail, even if it means walking in with a cane. As long as my heart, my back and my underwear can take it.
Mind you, I didn't merely attend this reception. I was asked to be there as the security officer for the establishment. Okay, those of you who know me personally, go ahead and laugh heartily now. It has been twenty years since I was part of the security company contracted to handle crowd-control for rock concerts at the Universal Amphitheatre in Hollywood. And my job then was hiring and managing capable younger people to be on the theater floor. Some of you are aware that my physique is non-threatening. Although I'm not the proverbial 90-lb weakling, I'm still your basic weakling. The something over 200 pound frame today makes me less laughable as a possible security type, but then there's that little thing of the bad back. Twice in the last week I have had to cancel golf outings due to a temporary inability to walk well or stand up straight. A cane was needed to assist in walking just last Tuesday. Yesterday morning the cane was a strong consideration once again, but through enough moving around to handle the duties of holding an open house, the body began to respond favorably. By 2:00 in the afternoon when the reception began, I was at least able to fake looking strong and agile.
Currently I am sporting a substantial white beard as well. That gives me a little more presence or air of gruffness when seen in the general crowd of young people attending a party. Plus, I knew I could call upon my acting experience to pull off the cold stare of unemotional authority and possible hidden powers - something like the Australian lizard that can make itself bigger and more menacing in the eyes of potential enemies. So I wasn't afraid to accept the request of a local lady who asked me to fill in. She was running short of friends to call upon when the man who agreed to do the job had bailed. Then there was the fact that the assignment was nominal in responsibility, merely a requirement on paper for insurance purposes as stated by the management of our HOA. The party was in the clubhouse of our senior community.
Fortunately, as expected, no one got too seriously out of line. Especially was I pleased that all of the larger females were well-behaved. Wow! Is it my imagination or have more of today's youth become heavy-weights? Perhaps there were always that many large ladies around and I simply avoided noticing, but it's tough to see how I could have missed the obvious. Yesterday's bride, a lovely girl with a most pleasant disposition and fetching smile, was probably within twenty pounds of my own weight, while standing quite a lot shorter. One female member of the crowd appeared to be about my height (not quite six feet) and probably out-weighed me by a few. All-in-all, I would guess that around 20% of the ladies present would have presented a real challenge for me (with the help of two other men of my size) to physically restrain or to assist to a waiting van if too much alcohol or party attitude were to take over. But then, I wasn't there really to be a bouncer or even crowd-control; my stated position was that of a general eye on the premises, inside and out, and having enough sense to call for help if anything really crazy happened.
Nothing did, other than one small altercation in the parking lot that ended when I was able to assist his girlfriend (or at least, a friend who was a girl) to convince the inebriated fellow to come back inside and dance.
Speaking of dancing - have you watched that activity of today? As one fellow who showed up late to assist in clean-up, another of my contemporaries in the senior group, said to me, "We really danced back in our day! I don't know what they call this stuff they do nowadays." Can't say I agreed with that criticism; I typically enjoy the modern gyrations when my back will allow it. This fellow and I observed there together for a while as the party wound down. Nothing left but the die-hards and by this time, fairly sloshed partiers trying to wish the bride and groom well by strange movements and maudlin shows of affection when they had the chance to drape themselves over one or the other. What amazed me most though was this and that variation on the dirty dancing theme. One couple appeared to be joined, albeit still clothed, in some kind of sexual embrace. And they seemed to stay in the same position through at least two long music numbers, always locked in the same languid swaying, expressing a far-away look of ecstatic pleasure each time I glanced back at them. Her bottom was firmly pressed against his crotch and he held her tightly against himself with his hands in a location I never touched on a female body until sometime after my own wedding. Trying to recall my own youthful days, I was sure that had I been so fortunate and so bold as to engage in that sort of dancing, my underwear would have certainly been quite warm and sticky after the first few seconds. Perhaps this young man's were as well, and he simply had the audacity to go on reveling in the clothed coitus for many long and satisfying minutes.
As my fellow senior friend pointed out, and I had been aware for two hours or more, one of the smaller ladies in the group was extremely fond of grinding her body against others. And all those others were female, insofar as I had noticed. This girl, in a little black dress, often moved in such ways, sliding down the thigh and over the knee of one of the several taller girls she seemed to attack with gusto, that the form of her entire pubic area and pantyhose clad ass cheeks came into view of any who cared to notice. I noticed a good bit. Sure I'm now in my late sixties but my eyes still enjoy and memory still serves very well. Combine that with an almost universal desire shared by males to watch females together in actual or perceived sexual situations, and I wouldn't have been completely surprised to find my underwear a bit sticky last night. Just observing. Good party!
Bride and groom seemed to have a great send-off for their new marriage, and I was glad to see such open expressions of happiness. This part of the traditional wedding reception was pretty much the same as these events have always been. Friends show up, laugh, shout, applaud, drink, dance and make all kinds of almost inarticulate overtures of toasts and good wishes - and then two people feel married more completely. I'm sure the party continued long into the night following the formal party at this venue where the DJ was paid for a five-hour stint and stayed on another half hour for free to be good to the newlyweds and to their host, my friend the grandmother of the bride.
It would be nice to see more of this kind of happy partying here in our community. Sure beats memorials and the other less festive uses of our community clubhouse. I'll probably accept requests in the future to be on security detail, even if it means walking in with a cane. As long as my heart, my back and my underwear can take it.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Gimme Some 'o that Nashnul Anthemum
Hey, hey! A Super Bowl that was actually super! Pretty rare to have the big game end with the potential winning play unfolding after time has expired. This one was excellent sport all the way.
However the pre-game goings-on got me thinking once again. Would the typical football fan recognize Josh Groban? Probably not, but would fans have anything against hearing the Star Spangled Banner sung in its original form? Sure they would - they'd probably be bored.
And here I am, a devout progressive, spouting off in favor of doing something in the same old way! But don't assume I do so without a major twisting of my knickers and my psyche. In my real inner self, there is nothing that deserves being set apart as sacred or beyond the realm of progress and improvement. The National Anthem is not really an exception to that open-to-improvement attitude; the Anthem is merely something that rarely gets improved upon by any of those who attempt to do so.
At the beginning of the Super Bowl, I was again hopeful of hearing the anthem done with respect and simply a good sound. A slight bit of stylizing and a singer's personal decision as to how long to hold out a special note or whether to go for a high, harmonic extension note an octave above the line on the word free - these are all rather benign and add a touch of artistic flair without man-handling the music dramatically. But in the last few years, I rarely have heard a straight-forward singing of the song when it's performed at public events. I suppose most singers feel it is beneath their talent to simply sing the written notes. Perhaps they feel no one will remember their having performed if they don't somehow personalize the song.
Groban comes to mind as a fellow who probably would do a commendable job of producing great and even beautiful sounds in a stadium while actually hitting the original - and only the original - notes of the Star Spangled Banner. He has the total confidence in his own sound that allows him to just play it straight. No doubt he has performed this hard to sing anthem (I'm sure the song isn't difficult for reasonably talented singers) quite a few times, but these times were not at events I happened to catch. He might even have done it a Super Bowl in the past; as I admit, I am only a spotty spectator at these major national sports events.
Once again, the stylizing of a country singer was called upon for the big game on Sunday.
It is something of an unexplained phenomenon that American football, on the professional level, has seemingly become a basic property of the good-ol' boy in our country. And I emphasize here, country! The great fame of the American game called football clearly got its start on our nation's campuses, and for many decades it was played by men who worked hard on their academic pursuits and by-the-way, played some ball. I'm guessing that after the game grew to the point of becoming a main source of income for colleges and universities, those institutions that capitalized on the opportunity and grew large by scouting out high school players and strongly recruiting the best, took over the scene. And why did some campuses grow profoundly while others remained smaller and more committed to higher learning? Perhaps it's an over-simplification, but do we not all notice that the most highly respected colleges and universities (academically) are those that don't compete well at all on the gridiron? Even with the NCAA trying mightily to limit the influence of unethical recruiters and their unethical cohorts in athletic departments, there seems to always be a lot of questionable activity in the area of recruiting. It follows then that standards on the academic side over time became strongly influenced (down-graded, I suggest) as the institutions placed more of their financial futures in the hands of athletic department recruiters.
What does all this have to do with today's pro football dominance on our populace, the typical fan base and the choosing of anthem singers? Seems obvious. The bigger the campus that turns out great players ready for the professional ranks, the bigger influence money has been at that campus. The bigger the influence, the bigger the pressure on instructors to let some less-than-acceptable classroom work become acceptable for eligibility purposes. The better the player emerging from college, the better the pro team that drafts him. The better the team, the bigger the fan base. Again, follow the money!
Then predictably, the common folks on the street of this great nation rally 'round winners and elevate these teams to great status but feel no great need to respect the individual athletes themselves, many of whom cannot speak as though they ever attended a school. And since I'm already riding this horse of over-simplification, it appears to me that the common man in our country today is far less than well-off financially, so there's that odd compulsion to spend hard-earned money on something completely over the top with hoopla and without real meaning. The compulsion takes charge. (And I use the word charge advisedly!) He will buy tickets, almost going into debt to do so. He will make bets on "his" team. He will over-indulge in beer and other party essentials - anything to lose himself in the momentary thrill of the football game. He may spend a ridiculous percentage of his meager income to indulge in this form of escapism.
Guess what the wealthy are doing meanwhile. Many are enjoying the comfortable pastime of watching some football, but it costs them only pocket change. Many of these wealthier folks are those grads of Yale, Harvard, Princeton and other respected institutions, guys who may have played some ball there, while their minds were on succeeding in life outside of sports. Also many thousands of graduates of Oklahoma, Nebraska, USC, Texas, Ohio, Wisconsin, Alabama - and of other large schools, those former athletes who had placed their emphasis on learning over playing football, can enjoy watching sports in a casual way, spending a pittance of their income to do so. But what type of American makes up the typical fan base for the NFL? Your basic fellow just making a living, who eats meat and potatoes, manages to make car payments and cover the necessities of life, and enjoys his country music!
Don't get me wrong - I'm as entertained as the next hormonal male watching Faith Hill strut her stuff in a black rubber-like jumpsuit and singing before football games. That's just another form of the sex sells advertising method which we all enjoy even while being manipulated. But the predominance of country music linked to football gives me the impression - and again, this is my personal opinion here - that the game speaks to the common man who is more and more common and less sophisticated. The fanatical attention paid to the game speaks to the desperation that seems to plague the populace, the type of desperation which needs to break out from the quiet type so many endure. The occasional death-threat hurled at a professional player who seemingly blew the game speaks to a rank fanaticism that should be frightening to us all.
Bottom line is, I enjoyed the playing of this year's Super Bowl game tremendously. Well done, I say. It would have been more enjoyable the next day too if I hadn't had to hear of the hot anger by fans against Wes Welker for dropping a pass. The same Wes Welker who made some amazing plays earlier that kept his team within reach of a potential win. Similar troubles followed the games two weeks earlier when fans (fanatics, remember) wanted to do harm to players from other teams that lost play-off games. You know, it's a lot like Christianity and Islam! Things would go along peaceably if it weren't for the lunatic fringe. It seems there always has to be someone who gets pissed off and wants to kill somebody.
Oh - well - I guess it's a lot like families too! Excuse me!
I wonder if anthem singers ever get death-threats. They might if John Stafford Smith were still around.
However the pre-game goings-on got me thinking once again. Would the typical football fan recognize Josh Groban? Probably not, but would fans have anything against hearing the Star Spangled Banner sung in its original form? Sure they would - they'd probably be bored.
And here I am, a devout progressive, spouting off in favor of doing something in the same old way! But don't assume I do so without a major twisting of my knickers and my psyche. In my real inner self, there is nothing that deserves being set apart as sacred or beyond the realm of progress and improvement. The National Anthem is not really an exception to that open-to-improvement attitude; the Anthem is merely something that rarely gets improved upon by any of those who attempt to do so.
At the beginning of the Super Bowl, I was again hopeful of hearing the anthem done with respect and simply a good sound. A slight bit of stylizing and a singer's personal decision as to how long to hold out a special note or whether to go for a high, harmonic extension note an octave above the line on the word free - these are all rather benign and add a touch of artistic flair without man-handling the music dramatically. But in the last few years, I rarely have heard a straight-forward singing of the song when it's performed at public events. I suppose most singers feel it is beneath their talent to simply sing the written notes. Perhaps they feel no one will remember their having performed if they don't somehow personalize the song.
Groban comes to mind as a fellow who probably would do a commendable job of producing great and even beautiful sounds in a stadium while actually hitting the original - and only the original - notes of the Star Spangled Banner. He has the total confidence in his own sound that allows him to just play it straight. No doubt he has performed this hard to sing anthem (I'm sure the song isn't difficult for reasonably talented singers) quite a few times, but these times were not at events I happened to catch. He might even have done it a Super Bowl in the past; as I admit, I am only a spotty spectator at these major national sports events.
Once again, the stylizing of a country singer was called upon for the big game on Sunday.
It is something of an unexplained phenomenon that American football, on the professional level, has seemingly become a basic property of the good-ol' boy in our country. And I emphasize here, country! The great fame of the American game called football clearly got its start on our nation's campuses, and for many decades it was played by men who worked hard on their academic pursuits and by-the-way, played some ball. I'm guessing that after the game grew to the point of becoming a main source of income for colleges and universities, those institutions that capitalized on the opportunity and grew large by scouting out high school players and strongly recruiting the best, took over the scene. And why did some campuses grow profoundly while others remained smaller and more committed to higher learning? Perhaps it's an over-simplification, but do we not all notice that the most highly respected colleges and universities (academically) are those that don't compete well at all on the gridiron? Even with the NCAA trying mightily to limit the influence of unethical recruiters and their unethical cohorts in athletic departments, there seems to always be a lot of questionable activity in the area of recruiting. It follows then that standards on the academic side over time became strongly influenced (down-graded, I suggest) as the institutions placed more of their financial futures in the hands of athletic department recruiters.
What does all this have to do with today's pro football dominance on our populace, the typical fan base and the choosing of anthem singers? Seems obvious. The bigger the campus that turns out great players ready for the professional ranks, the bigger influence money has been at that campus. The bigger the influence, the bigger the pressure on instructors to let some less-than-acceptable classroom work become acceptable for eligibility purposes. The better the player emerging from college, the better the pro team that drafts him. The better the team, the bigger the fan base. Again, follow the money!
Then predictably, the common folks on the street of this great nation rally 'round winners and elevate these teams to great status but feel no great need to respect the individual athletes themselves, many of whom cannot speak as though they ever attended a school. And since I'm already riding this horse of over-simplification, it appears to me that the common man in our country today is far less than well-off financially, so there's that odd compulsion to spend hard-earned money on something completely over the top with hoopla and without real meaning. The compulsion takes charge. (And I use the word charge advisedly!) He will buy tickets, almost going into debt to do so. He will make bets on "his" team. He will over-indulge in beer and other party essentials - anything to lose himself in the momentary thrill of the football game. He may spend a ridiculous percentage of his meager income to indulge in this form of escapism.
Guess what the wealthy are doing meanwhile. Many are enjoying the comfortable pastime of watching some football, but it costs them only pocket change. Many of these wealthier folks are those grads of Yale, Harvard, Princeton and other respected institutions, guys who may have played some ball there, while their minds were on succeeding in life outside of sports. Also many thousands of graduates of Oklahoma, Nebraska, USC, Texas, Ohio, Wisconsin, Alabama - and of other large schools, those former athletes who had placed their emphasis on learning over playing football, can enjoy watching sports in a casual way, spending a pittance of their income to do so. But what type of American makes up the typical fan base for the NFL? Your basic fellow just making a living, who eats meat and potatoes, manages to make car payments and cover the necessities of life, and enjoys his country music!
Don't get me wrong - I'm as entertained as the next hormonal male watching Faith Hill strut her stuff in a black rubber-like jumpsuit and singing before football games. That's just another form of the sex sells advertising method which we all enjoy even while being manipulated. But the predominance of country music linked to football gives me the impression - and again, this is my personal opinion here - that the game speaks to the common man who is more and more common and less sophisticated. The fanatical attention paid to the game speaks to the desperation that seems to plague the populace, the type of desperation which needs to break out from the quiet type so many endure. The occasional death-threat hurled at a professional player who seemingly blew the game speaks to a rank fanaticism that should be frightening to us all.
Bottom line is, I enjoyed the playing of this year's Super Bowl game tremendously. Well done, I say. It would have been more enjoyable the next day too if I hadn't had to hear of the hot anger by fans against Wes Welker for dropping a pass. The same Wes Welker who made some amazing plays earlier that kept his team within reach of a potential win. Similar troubles followed the games two weeks earlier when fans (fanatics, remember) wanted to do harm to players from other teams that lost play-off games. You know, it's a lot like Christianity and Islam! Things would go along peaceably if it weren't for the lunatic fringe. It seems there always has to be someone who gets pissed off and wants to kill somebody.
Oh - well - I guess it's a lot like families too! Excuse me!
I wonder if anthem singers ever get death-threats. They might if John Stafford Smith were still around.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)