This piece has nothing to do with graduated sizes of lead cylinders and extensive instruments used in determining finite measurements. No, this is all about the heavy weights placed upon people who take on positions of leadership and the manner in which they are measured by their handling of these matters. There exists no metrology for this arcane business.
Personally, I hated the speech given by President Obama at the American Israeli Public Affairs Committee gathering in March. Oh yes, the president was able, because of his intelligence and the capability of his writers, to give another sound and fairly convincing speech that was likely appreciated by the supporters of Israel's sovereignty and will surely be an over-all plus in his run for re-election. What I hated was the fact that he had to deliver it at all.
The words this president and all presidents in the last six decades have been obliged to say about the virtual island called Israel are to me a mystery and the premise itself is indefensible. Our leaders in this country are always required to say words of strong protectionism toward Israel. Israel! A tiny nation carved out of the sands and rocks of the Middle East, surrounded by Syrian, Arabian and Jordanian (and doubtless a few others too obscure to gain notice) peoples and cultures. And much like the briefcase of nuclear power and other responsibilities which is handed off to each new president, in fact part & parcel of that bag of responsibilities, is the protection of Israel. The weight of that powder keg was handed off from Truman to Eisenhower in 1953 and has continued to be handed on down to each new Commander-in-Chief to this day. And each has been measured by his caution and wisdom in handling that explosive.
WHY? Indeed!
Allow me to draw a totally far-fetched analogy here. Let's imagine a playground at a school. That's right - a playground. Silly, I know, but playgrounds have been exigent and weighty in the affairs of men!
The In Crowd - let's use this as the title for the acknowledged strongest group of kids on the playground, encompassing most of the larger and physically more imposing boys who are always prominent in this milieu. The In Crowd has been around and respected, often feared, for quite some time, growing stronger with each challenge to its supremacy. The individual members of this crowd continually change, but the crowd never lessens in its strength or influence over the whole playground. Those smaller cliques that dare to rise up against it are always quelled in such a decisive fashion that they fall away and often dissolve and disappear as a cohesive group that could ever again threaten the In Crowd.
One day an intelligent and persuasive fellow, one of the older and more serious students who is respected and has a devoted but cerebral and harmless following of his own, approaches the leaders of the In Crowd with a request. Could this big, strong group perhaps support the much smaller group who have a big mission and difficult plan to execute? The leaders of the In Crowd listen to a captivating story, well told by this serious older student, about the fact that long ago, before this school existed, even before this whole area was developed and heavily populated, a venerable old man lived in a sad little hut on a small plot of ground. This little old man, let's call him Old Jude Adams, lost track of all his children who had not stayed near him to work his little plot of land. Over many years, they had re-settled elsewhere, with no close ties to the old man or his property. Now, due to much seeking and interesting coincidental events, it had been discovered that a substantial number of the descendants of Mr. Adams wanted to touch base with their ancient forefather's land. This serious student, call him David, acting on behalf of all those distant cousins, had found that old Mr. Adams had left a monument to his legacy. This monument, a strong piece of concrete engraved with the Adams name and inlaid with a small but imposing stone, had been left unnoticed over the centuries by developers, and low and behold, was actually the cornerstone of the current playground activity center. From ancient notes left by Old Jude Adams, the lines of his small plot were easily measured from this monument, and the original property, that should rightfully have been passed on down to all these descendants, now contained the Jungle Jim and other playground equipment area - not any large basketball courts or baseball fields, but that little center of activity that the kids all took for granted, using whenever they pleased.
So here was the request: We, the descendants of Jude Adams, would like to claim this one small area as the place where only we who are all the cousins can play. It should have been ours all along, so we hope that you, the strongest of all the groups of all the kids who frequent this area, will support our decision to make this little plot of our great ancestor, our own private playground. That you will help us put our markings around it and claim it and all rights to its use, for our family only. And further, that you will protect us and our own descendants, allowing us to always play here and keep others out, for all time.
For some strange reason, the leaders of the In Crowd decided they could make that commitment.
Back to today's real world of actual events; after more than six decades, it is not unreasonable to question the whole business of the 1948 world playground and a strange deal that was struck.
Sadly, some of the most devoted present day bright advocates for peaceful solutions to Israel's problems are fine young folks born too recently to question some elements of the way things are. Israel itself was born only three years after I came along, so most of today's American fighters for Israeli concerns have been aware, for all of their lives, only of this great conflict in the Middle East. It's hard for them to grasp the reasons for so much conflict and the hatreds surrounding Israel. Hearing the passionate pleas of intelligent young activists on behalf of Israel and our (American) initiative to stand firm for Israeli sovereignty and safety, makes me a little crazy. People who visit websites like J Street can offer support and join the conversation. Great discussions on television and in meeting halls everywhere can be continued (have been and will be continued) to keep the fight alive and protect Israel at all cost.
Here's my own solution. And since I have no weight in world affairs, my comments will not be measured, (therefore I can toss out any cockamamie idea I please), but here is what should have been done when the United States so desired to assist (a fundamentally good desire) the Jewish People back in 1948 to obtain a homeland. We could have selected one and deeded it to them! Why didn't we give these people we felt obligated to protect, a piece of ground we actually controlled - somewhere more desirable (and safer) than that harsh landscape east of the Mediterranean Sea.
How about Camp Pendleton? Our government had already commandeered that large chunk of California ocean-side property in the war years to use as a training facility for our fighting soldiers and Marines. By the late forties, the war was over and that land could readily have been returned to good use in the art of living rather than preparing for more future killing. Yes, the area is only a fraction of the total size of the current territory called Israel, but it's probably close to the amount of desirable and arable real estate contained in that whole Middle East region. And to me, it has always seemed a crime that any part of the beauty of the coastline of California is devoted to the ugliness and cruelty of war.
So, you say a little more land would have been required for a truly thoughtful gift to our friends? We could have thrown in Santa Catalina Island! Just a breeze of a boat ride, maybe forty miles from the Pendleton coastline, or a very brief commuter plane trip away. You say, but it wouldn't have been like returning to Jerusalem! True. But really, anybody can admit, no matter what mythology is involved, that a city itself cannot be holy. At least, none built by humans. You may believe deeply in a New Jerusalem to come, but that one supposedly will be built by a supreme being and made of pure gold! Putting that aside, think of what a fabulous and distinctive dedicated city could have been built there in the natural beauty of Catalina without even disturbing the small group of existing local citizens at that time. By spreading out over the whole beautiful island, folks could live far better than they do while shoe-horned into the tiny center of Jewish life in the original Jerusalem.
This could all be done still today and we could call a halt to the madness of our obligation to protect eight million people struggling (and terrified) to live in the middle of the Middle Eastern Muslim world. Giving up that part of the commitment to our military preparedness would surely offset the need to keep open this one training facility of Pendleton (one of several in California alone) and the whole arrangement would beautify and honor this part of our planet. Imagine what those creative and hard-working people could do here!
As for the Catalina Island part of the deal, the four thousand citizens of Avalon would very likely vote to approve the take-over by Israelis who could make more of the area than has been accomplished there in the past. After all, the island is accustomed to historic changes and extremely few of these current inhabitants were there in 1948 when the island was most ripe for the change. Tom Robbins who was deeded the island in the early 1800s did little with it and the Banning family went broke trying to make a go of it a century later. Bill Wrigley did okay with his (majority) ownership of the place and for a few decades the Chicago Cubs trained there. But basically, the island sits quietly, invitingly, off the coast near the heavily populated cities of Los Angeles and Orange County communities, and those of us fortunate enough to get away now and then (I finally did so in 2010) can hop a boat to Avalon.
Of course, if the current residents were not on the whole in favor of the deal, they could easily be convinced of its workability. Current residents could be left to live exactly as they do now but could attend to their tourism business with the cooperation of strong business-minded Jewish leaders while watching as the new immigrant population develops the entire Island into the flourishing paradise it could be.
Naturally, anyone reading this will want to pass it off as strictly satire, but please don't. I'm as serious as a six-day war! The whole foolish concept of the playground story above is completely appropriate. The wildly implausible story of a people having some kind of "forever rights" to a homeland because of a fantasy plan of some kind involving promised land being handed down from a phantom being to a long-ago ancestor, was patently ridiculous as a cause for action on the part of a powerful western government in 1948. How did Zionism even gain any credence here in the U.S. back in the World War II era? Two simple facts existed: Everyone with any humanity at that time, decently and rightfully felt compassion for a race of people almost destroyed by a despot; millions of western Christians added to their human compassion a guilt factor. They shared the mythological connection to that original phantom in the heavens and felt that the race that begat their hero, Jesus, should not be erased from the Earth. They were also (as are fanatical believers still today) under the weight of biblical verses (variously interpreted) that prophesy some concept of Jews being IN JERUSALEM at the (longed-for) time of Christ's return. So they launched into an attempt to manipulate synchronicity!
The entire frustrating malaise of the Middle Eastern dilemma was set up and established as an in-perpetuity obligation incumbent upon all U.S. citizens and their political leaders to follow after 1948. So today, our president has to speak to the problem with solidarity, with full bluster and show of strength to the world on behalf of that small stolen piece of almost empty land in an unfriendly and dangerous part of the planet. He has to do so as Ike was obligated to do immediately after the theft was perpetrated and the borders were drawn; JFK was required to do the same, and so has every president since. And now, the most recent three presidents have grown up thinking Israel is real! It was imagined by a non-practicing Jewish writer named Herzl and promoted for half a century until being forced into being in 1948. The project on the whole may be seen a century from now, in the long view of history, as a failure. That nation may even be crushed and forgotten by then! No matter how ignorant and ill-advised I believe it all has been, I nonetheless hold great respect for the amazing leadership of Ben-Gurion and other Israelis over the decades who have managed to establish and develop some kind of government and some kind of life in a totally uninviting land where they are uninvited intruders.
Think of how much better it would all have gone in California!
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Monday, March 5, 2012
GOLF
As I begin composing my thoughts here on Sunday, March 4th (I've always liked the idea of some big thing happening in my world on this date - a day I can march forth!), Rory McIlroy is beginning his final round of a tournament in Florida. He has the lead by two strokes and if he can win today, he will be named the #1 player in the world of men's golf. Now this does NOT give me any thing to march forth about, but this definitely IS a big thing in my world. Why? Simply because I love the game.
The above information and admissions of my personal tastes in sports mean absolutely nothing, nada, zero to many folks. In fact, I have heard there are quite a few people out there who do not even consider golf a sport! These would be people who, if they ever were willing to try it, would find it frustratingly difficult to play the game. I've also heard it repeated that about 80% of those who play the game, even on some kind of regular basis, never post lower than a 100 score in an eighteen-hole round. I often wonder whether I would have continued an interest in golf beyond a year or so had I not managed to do better than that statistic. Now that I've enjoyed forty-four years and a small amount of success in the game, I can speak about it both physically and philosophically.
To those folks who have never tried to play golf but are sure they would never want to play it, I simply say, To bad! I think you're missing out on something great in life. To those who denigrate the game, allow me to blatantly praise it and state my reasons for the praise. I'll start by hitting back!
We've all heard it said that it takes all kinds to make a world, and that appears to be the case. Would I enjoy living in a world where golf was respected above all other games and where various other sports such as pugilism and auto racing were either unheard of or had been banned from societies when they first broke out, in the way cock-fighting and dog-fighting have now been banned? Probably so. You see, my personal opinion is that boxing is not a sport! Are men (and many women as well) who get into a boxing ring, far better examples of physical conditioning than I am - or ever was in my stronger days? And could they kick my ass with ease? Absolutely. But why? How did an activity that involves a basic aim of seeing one person beat another to senselessness (a knock-out being the highest hope and goal, as I understand the event), ever gain acceptance in a civilized society?
Now auto racing is obviously not in the same class of the vulgar violence that pugilists inhabit. But seriously, calling it sport to drive around a track at ever greater speeds? Calling a driver an athlete because he is crazy enough to push down on the accelerator after surpassing speeds most of us find frightening? What athleticism does that require?
Now correct me if you can, but I strongly suspect that practically 100% of the folks who enjoy watching a fight, expecting (hoping!) to see a sudden crushing blow that causes an opponent to fall unconscious, will also find it exciting to watch bright cars flashing around a track, knowing that within a tiny particle of a second, a mistake or obstruction (even a tiny pebble) can bring on a fiery or other spectacular crash. Then, of course, because these fans are civilized(!), they must go through the nail-biting wait to see whether their driving hero emerges unharmed from the wreckage. Does this even make sense - seriously? I don't know whether any similar (nail-biting) concern is ever shown for the losing boxer who lies lifeless for a while with a concussion. After all, he IS a loser!
Those who are prone to get into these activities, either as participants or spectators, are a mystery to me. I've always been something of an athlete (minimally capable) and an adventurer (hands-on as much as possible and always in my imagination), but it seems to me that so many less dangerous and destructive opportunities present themselves to us that we need not go to great extremes in order to be exhilarated. Yet I see there are television shows about extreme sports, and there would be no market for that kind of show if there weren't lots of people crazy enough to think these are fun. But I do realize, under the above heading of ...all kinds to make a world, that each of us has a vast menu of potentially pleasing activities from which to choose. I've tried a few things that were beyond my natural skill level. I've gone down some tough intermediate ski runs; the wrecking of a knee on one of those prevented me from moving on up to the black diamond runs. (Probably a case of my knee saving my neck!) I've enjoyed some fairly high-speed water ski outings, never quite mastering the slalom but feeling a little pain from some of the tumbles while trying. I've suffered the spills from bikes and once from a mid-sized motor cycle. Hell, I even felt some pain and sudden fear of a permanent crippling injury while challenging myself with ever-higher jumps and flips on a trampoline! And still today, I haven't given up hope on one day jumping from a mountain top with a hang glider strapped to my body.
So it's not as though I don't have a small grasp on the desire for the thrill of physically demanding and dangerous activities available to us humans. We all must draw the line for ourselves - the line between fun and disaster. Many folks are simply willing to push farther toward the disaster potential than I am. Fine! It's their decision. And they will apparently always have a ready audience when they go to the brink of death. I might watch a little, but often I prefer to even stop watching others who take more chances than I am willing to take. To me, there is no fun or thrill in seeing someone fall, get hit, defy death but just barely. It's all part of my make-up, the derivation of which I cannot explain, that causes me to reside in the Neutral Zone. I have always been quite practical and conservative in my actions but generally very liberal of mind.
So, back to GOLF. This game is not only sport, it is the ultimate sport, in my opinion. The perfect way to compete for money, fame - or whatever one gets by winning. But it is also, as I said to someone just yesterday, a game in which winning can even be defined as one pleases. To me, as a senior citizen, I consider it a WIN when I manage to play an eighteen-hole round without limping home under severe joint pain. Scores? Not important - well, not AS important. I still like winning the little matches within matches we play as a men's club in my neighborhood. But my point is, I never ever consider that I have LOST anything if some other fellow picks up two bucks for low net or closest to the pin or any other little prizes we play for. My life enjoys rather frequent wins because I choose to see it that way.
But look at the wonderful specifics of the game of golf. For one (huge!) item, there is no one playing defense! The course is your real opponent and every player has the equal chance to manage the course using his own strengths, ending with a score that indicates how well he did that management. This allows men to be very competitive while still being gentlemen. They often compliment or high-five one another for good shots within the playing of a match. In fact, in golf it's good for everyone to see others hit some great shots.
For another major point, perhaps my favorite, the sport is completely an individual effort. Sure, some team sports are fun and I've enjoyed both playing and watching some of those immensely. But for a professional who makes a living at a sport, just think of what it means to never need to depend on someone else or several others for your own success. Of course, one must be able to take the lack of success with a cool head because he cannot blame anyone else for any failure. You may point out that Tennis also offers this individual component, but the difference here is that the tennis court is not the opponent for you as a player; the other player is a direct obstacle, playing defense to your best shots.
I've heard people (non-golfers) say how simple it must be to hit that little ball just lying there still, or even set up on a tee, while real athletes like baseball players, have to hit a ball being hurled at 90 miles-per-hour or faster at times. And you'd be right in saying most of us cannot do that! But here's a challenge: I submit that if you could put the best six hitters in the major leagues out on a championship golf course, then afterward selecting the best three holes each of them played over the eighteen, that their combined score will not best almost any pro golfer playing alone! I would love it of some crazy match like this could be set up, but I won't hold my breath. Admittedly, I cannot hit a baseball. Failed in Little League! But I would not hesitate to walk onto a golf course with most any good-hitting 25-yr-old baseball player today, and at 67, half crippled with various old joint and back problems, I could still give the young man a run for his money!
And right there's another major point. We can watch professional golfers today, earning money in a senior league, some of them even labeled "Super Seniors" such as Arnie Palmer. Those fortunate enough to maintain some good health can go on competing at an amazingly capable level even into advanced years. Golf invites the use of natural ability and practiced skill as well as a cunning adapting of that skill as we age. How about that senior NFL? Scary to think of 80-yr-old former football players, most of whom had to give up the gridiron by their early thirties, suiting up and running(!) out there to slam into each other again. Same with basketball, of course, and most sports. You probably don't want to witness aging boxers get into the ring to finish the job of brain destruction begun in their youth. Even you racing fans would probably not want to see Mario and A.J. head back out onto the track - although I can't assume that. If you're hoping to see spectacular crashes, old farts behind the wheel can do those with class! Typically only one crash each.
That's it for now; you're invited to come to my place and try a round of my favorite game!
Well, Rory did it! It's Monday now and he is probably walking around pinching himself to realize he is the world's top golfer. Good show, young Mr. McIlroy! This 22-yr old from Northern Ireland ascends to his position by passing in the rankings (among others), two Englishmen and a German who have recently held the #1 title. This foreign fact will be addressed in a future post.
**Added for your entertainment: If you like the humor of Robin Williams and are not tender of ear for the raw language, here's his take on the Old Game.
The above information and admissions of my personal tastes in sports mean absolutely nothing, nada, zero to many folks. In fact, I have heard there are quite a few people out there who do not even consider golf a sport! These would be people who, if they ever were willing to try it, would find it frustratingly difficult to play the game. I've also heard it repeated that about 80% of those who play the game, even on some kind of regular basis, never post lower than a 100 score in an eighteen-hole round. I often wonder whether I would have continued an interest in golf beyond a year or so had I not managed to do better than that statistic. Now that I've enjoyed forty-four years and a small amount of success in the game, I can speak about it both physically and philosophically.
To those folks who have never tried to play golf but are sure they would never want to play it, I simply say, To bad! I think you're missing out on something great in life. To those who denigrate the game, allow me to blatantly praise it and state my reasons for the praise. I'll start by hitting back!
We've all heard it said that it takes all kinds to make a world, and that appears to be the case. Would I enjoy living in a world where golf was respected above all other games and where various other sports such as pugilism and auto racing were either unheard of or had been banned from societies when they first broke out, in the way cock-fighting and dog-fighting have now been banned? Probably so. You see, my personal opinion is that boxing is not a sport! Are men (and many women as well) who get into a boxing ring, far better examples of physical conditioning than I am - or ever was in my stronger days? And could they kick my ass with ease? Absolutely. But why? How did an activity that involves a basic aim of seeing one person beat another to senselessness (a knock-out being the highest hope and goal, as I understand the event), ever gain acceptance in a civilized society?
Now auto racing is obviously not in the same class of the vulgar violence that pugilists inhabit. But seriously, calling it sport to drive around a track at ever greater speeds? Calling a driver an athlete because he is crazy enough to push down on the accelerator after surpassing speeds most of us find frightening? What athleticism does that require?
Now correct me if you can, but I strongly suspect that practically 100% of the folks who enjoy watching a fight, expecting (hoping!) to see a sudden crushing blow that causes an opponent to fall unconscious, will also find it exciting to watch bright cars flashing around a track, knowing that within a tiny particle of a second, a mistake or obstruction (even a tiny pebble) can bring on a fiery or other spectacular crash. Then, of course, because these fans are civilized(!), they must go through the nail-biting wait to see whether their driving hero emerges unharmed from the wreckage. Does this even make sense - seriously? I don't know whether any similar (nail-biting) concern is ever shown for the losing boxer who lies lifeless for a while with a concussion. After all, he IS a loser!
Those who are prone to get into these activities, either as participants or spectators, are a mystery to me. I've always been something of an athlete (minimally capable) and an adventurer (hands-on as much as possible and always in my imagination), but it seems to me that so many less dangerous and destructive opportunities present themselves to us that we need not go to great extremes in order to be exhilarated. Yet I see there are television shows about extreme sports, and there would be no market for that kind of show if there weren't lots of people crazy enough to think these are fun. But I do realize, under the above heading of ...all kinds to make a world, that each of us has a vast menu of potentially pleasing activities from which to choose. I've tried a few things that were beyond my natural skill level. I've gone down some tough intermediate ski runs; the wrecking of a knee on one of those prevented me from moving on up to the black diamond runs. (Probably a case of my knee saving my neck!) I've enjoyed some fairly high-speed water ski outings, never quite mastering the slalom but feeling a little pain from some of the tumbles while trying. I've suffered the spills from bikes and once from a mid-sized motor cycle. Hell, I even felt some pain and sudden fear of a permanent crippling injury while challenging myself with ever-higher jumps and flips on a trampoline! And still today, I haven't given up hope on one day jumping from a mountain top with a hang glider strapped to my body.
So it's not as though I don't have a small grasp on the desire for the thrill of physically demanding and dangerous activities available to us humans. We all must draw the line for ourselves - the line between fun and disaster. Many folks are simply willing to push farther toward the disaster potential than I am. Fine! It's their decision. And they will apparently always have a ready audience when they go to the brink of death. I might watch a little, but often I prefer to even stop watching others who take more chances than I am willing to take. To me, there is no fun or thrill in seeing someone fall, get hit, defy death but just barely. It's all part of my make-up, the derivation of which I cannot explain, that causes me to reside in the Neutral Zone. I have always been quite practical and conservative in my actions but generally very liberal of mind.
So, back to GOLF. This game is not only sport, it is the ultimate sport, in my opinion. The perfect way to compete for money, fame - or whatever one gets by winning. But it is also, as I said to someone just yesterday, a game in which winning can even be defined as one pleases. To me, as a senior citizen, I consider it a WIN when I manage to play an eighteen-hole round without limping home under severe joint pain. Scores? Not important - well, not AS important. I still like winning the little matches within matches we play as a men's club in my neighborhood. But my point is, I never ever consider that I have LOST anything if some other fellow picks up two bucks for low net or closest to the pin or any other little prizes we play for. My life enjoys rather frequent wins because I choose to see it that way.
But look at the wonderful specifics of the game of golf. For one (huge!) item, there is no one playing defense! The course is your real opponent and every player has the equal chance to manage the course using his own strengths, ending with a score that indicates how well he did that management. This allows men to be very competitive while still being gentlemen. They often compliment or high-five one another for good shots within the playing of a match. In fact, in golf it's good for everyone to see others hit some great shots.
For another major point, perhaps my favorite, the sport is completely an individual effort. Sure, some team sports are fun and I've enjoyed both playing and watching some of those immensely. But for a professional who makes a living at a sport, just think of what it means to never need to depend on someone else or several others for your own success. Of course, one must be able to take the lack of success with a cool head because he cannot blame anyone else for any failure. You may point out that Tennis also offers this individual component, but the difference here is that the tennis court is not the opponent for you as a player; the other player is a direct obstacle, playing defense to your best shots.
I've heard people (non-golfers) say how simple it must be to hit that little ball just lying there still, or even set up on a tee, while real athletes like baseball players, have to hit a ball being hurled at 90 miles-per-hour or faster at times. And you'd be right in saying most of us cannot do that! But here's a challenge: I submit that if you could put the best six hitters in the major leagues out on a championship golf course, then afterward selecting the best three holes each of them played over the eighteen, that their combined score will not best almost any pro golfer playing alone! I would love it of some crazy match like this could be set up, but I won't hold my breath. Admittedly, I cannot hit a baseball. Failed in Little League! But I would not hesitate to walk onto a golf course with most any good-hitting 25-yr-old baseball player today, and at 67, half crippled with various old joint and back problems, I could still give the young man a run for his money!
And right there's another major point. We can watch professional golfers today, earning money in a senior league, some of them even labeled "Super Seniors" such as Arnie Palmer. Those fortunate enough to maintain some good health can go on competing at an amazingly capable level even into advanced years. Golf invites the use of natural ability and practiced skill as well as a cunning adapting of that skill as we age. How about that senior NFL? Scary to think of 80-yr-old former football players, most of whom had to give up the gridiron by their early thirties, suiting up and running(!) out there to slam into each other again. Same with basketball, of course, and most sports. You probably don't want to witness aging boxers get into the ring to finish the job of brain destruction begun in their youth. Even you racing fans would probably not want to see Mario and A.J. head back out onto the track - although I can't assume that. If you're hoping to see spectacular crashes, old farts behind the wheel can do those with class! Typically only one crash each.
That's it for now; you're invited to come to my place and try a round of my favorite game!
Well, Rory did it! It's Monday now and he is probably walking around pinching himself to realize he is the world's top golfer. Good show, young Mr. McIlroy! This 22-yr old from Northern Ireland ascends to his position by passing in the rankings (among others), two Englishmen and a German who have recently held the #1 title. This foreign fact will be addressed in a future post.
**Added for your entertainment: If you like the humor of Robin Williams and are not tender of ear for the raw language, here's his take on the Old Game.
Friday, March 2, 2012
Stock Market - Crock Market!
For a few years I have watched the improving numbers on the big board and experienced warm fuzzy feelings for the recovery of our national economy. No more! Watching the incredible stock market numbers lately is causing me more and more frustration.
For all those historic years of our awareness of the fact that a rising stock market meant better economic health for the nation and for us all, perhaps I was simply duped. Or perhaps the nation really was experiencing good fiscal health back in the late 20th century when those numbers rose gradually through the five-hundreds, the seven-hundreds and after many years finally topped 1000 for the first time. That was then, ... But the news this week showing that 13,000 has been topped does nothing for my confidence in any national fiscal health. It's quite the opposite feeling.
The rising stock market today means only one thing: the very wealthy are piling up more wealth! There is absolutely no evidence that any benefit of the rising numbers on the big board will trickle down to little people - the general citizenry of our rich nation. The richness is being enjoyed by the rich - period!
I'm no financial or economic expert in any way, so someone should be quite able to talk me down. Please try! Just prove to me that my thoughts on the matter are wrong and that our great nation is becoming substantially greater by the rising stock market numbers. I do want to know what it means. What I see is that our general populace is suffering about as much as we were back in 2008 when things had all gone plunging south on the big board. Yet today the large financial institutions and other huge corporations are raking in the largest profits in the history of our economy. And I suppose I am expected to rejoice in this fact because now, with the Supreme Court's wisdom and gracious decision in Citizens United, it means that those giant corporations and filthy-rich CEOs can pour more millions into the Super PACs for political candidates and surely bring about better government. Right! The ignorance and corruption flow unabated. THAT is what trickles down! We all know what runs down-hill, don't we?
If this next national election, not only of the president but of the representatives sent to our national congress, does not clearly come down fairly on the side of the 99% as opposed to the wealthy 1%, then my only conclusion can be that vast numbers of (otherwise nice and perhaps even good) people in our country are willingly ignorant. Are they purposely supporting the corruption, the corporate greed and the sickening unfairness of the system? If the huge piles of money poured out by the super-rich are able to buy enough ads to simply dull and overwhelm the masses, drugging them with drivel and drowning them in dreams of possible future wealth of their own, then we will surely go down the drain as a democracy.
Many signs exist to show that people in all walks of life are confused and unable to readily define their frustrations. One of my earlier posts approached (with little space and no studied expertise on the matter) the concept that the religious among us tend to fall under the thrall of money and power, and do so almost naturally because of their long devotion to invisible powers. [I'm still waiting for comments, of any type, on that whole epiphany.] At least the person of a Mitt Romney, even with his abysmal lack of grasp on the plight of the common man, is standing there as a visible reminder to folks of moderate means that real wealth is possible. Is there some wishful reasoning that the mere closeness(!) to someone who hordes billions of U.S. dollars (no matter where the dollars are stashed) will bring us all nearer the potential of wealth for ourselves? Pretty sad, in my opinion.
Probably the most vived example of the way the above twisted thinking diminishes us, is shown in oblique views of reality offered by many commentators and writers. It seems that people who observe a leader who appears to be devotedly and determinedly trying to help the masses, somehow see that effort as something sinister or depraved. Something socialistic! Evil!
An interesting article appeared in the Painful Truth blog [Aug 17, 2011 - Is Obama Right?] that left me scratching my head. Later I figured out the reason I felt I was missing something. I was!
Near the end of the rambling article, author Ralph Haulk summed up a bit with this paragraph:
Marx then proposed “centralization of credit in the hands of the state”. A central banking system. This would create what Marx called a permanent revolution. Equality would become the passion of the masses, and the masses would never be satisfied until all barriers are broken down, and everyone is equal. Where all are equal, all are “alienated” from the basic goals and needs, such as property, that once made them individuals. Humankind becomes subject to planning and re-distribution. What was “God” if not an ancient tyrant who brought more war and hate than love and peace? Religion is the opium of the masses.
It's a minor point that "opiate" was the word used in the Marx writing, not "opium" as above, but it is indicative of the common alterations (at times, critical ones) so often used when articles get produced. A conscientious effort made by Austin Cline picks up far more of the direct writing, and clarifying perhaps more of the intent, of Marx himself. Cline's coverage of the subject actually convinces me that Karl Marx was not nearly as skeptical of religion as am I.
What I was missing while struggling to understand the direction Haulk's article was heading, was the fact that the writer is apparently still under the influence of a supreme being concept. It's amazing to me that an obviously intelligent fellow who was able at the age of twenty to see through Armstrongism (and one could reasonably assume, the cult business in general) and later impress his superiors in the Marine Corps with his clarity on the subject of rights and freedoms, has not long-since kicked the habit of belief in phantoms. But, be that as it may, he still should be able to avoid the pitfalls of far-fetched associations. I will hasten to add here that this man has put vast amounts of time and effort into studying economics and many other disciplines - all of which causes me to respect him for strength of character. But as with many highly educated folks, it's quite possible that the very basis of some of the study is pointless. Like the degree of Doctor of Divinity always makes me cringe with pity and laugh with irony. I pity anyone who will waste a life studying fine points of great concern over something that seems to have no foundation whatsoever; I laugh because I can never shake the funny idea that the person has earned a doctorate in making white chocolate fudge!
I do not find Mr. Haulk laughable. He seems in fact to be erudite and extremely well-versed on the subject of economics - far beyond my capacity to understand it all. But even if he has the best ideas to ever come down the pike and some kind of plan to fix the problem, a plan which he doesn't clearly articulate, he still would have no more chance of getting it into action than do those folks at The Venus Project and Zeitgeist Movement who do have great plans. Or the writers from Star Trek who seemed to handle an intergalactic economy with panache. The real troubling thing for me about Mr. Haulk's article was his blatant plastering of the name of Obama in the title. Simply a means to attract attention, I suppose. The name doesn't appear later, nor does any connection to Mr. Obama get explained through the long article. The author admits in the first few words that the writing has not much to do with Obama, but to my thinking, the attachment of that name was intellectually dishonest and utterly misleading. Worse, there seemed to be the subliminal intent to blame all the ills of our economic system on our current president. That's not only preposterous, it's hateful. (And obviously wrong.) The writer even slips in an imagined link between our president and a communist concept. Makes me question Mr. Haulk's motives altogether and distrust his ability to reason. Yes, I've already admitted he seems to possess great intelligence; I merely question his exercise of it.
Very likely, the above mentioned writer will fall in line with millions of others this November and align himself with a wealthy aristocratic type who would almost certainly continue the trend of raping the masses. Far better it would be to vote for a presidential leader who works hard at lifting the masses out of the mire. But perhaps only we devout Independents can actually see the clear difference.
Meanwhile, the market continues to make Romney and others even more unimaginably rich while you and I struggle to pay the bills and buy gasoline. And there you go - that Obama character is going to have to be defeated so we can have lower gas prices. Right! Strange how foolishness can pass for meaningful discourse and plans for progress can be held suspect through fear of the unknown.
NOTE: I have rushed back here to add something highly worthwhile. Kagin at freethought blog posted an article on Sunday that just came to my attention today. His piece goes far beyond my subject, in a way, but it more than underscores my fundamental concerns. Since it is beyond my poor power to add..., I will simply ask that you check out this terrific post for yourself. markman
For all those historic years of our awareness of the fact that a rising stock market meant better economic health for the nation and for us all, perhaps I was simply duped. Or perhaps the nation really was experiencing good fiscal health back in the late 20th century when those numbers rose gradually through the five-hundreds, the seven-hundreds and after many years finally topped 1000 for the first time. That was then, ... But the news this week showing that 13,000 has been topped does nothing for my confidence in any national fiscal health. It's quite the opposite feeling.
The rising stock market today means only one thing: the very wealthy are piling up more wealth! There is absolutely no evidence that any benefit of the rising numbers on the big board will trickle down to little people - the general citizenry of our rich nation. The richness is being enjoyed by the rich - period!
I'm no financial or economic expert in any way, so someone should be quite able to talk me down. Please try! Just prove to me that my thoughts on the matter are wrong and that our great nation is becoming substantially greater by the rising stock market numbers. I do want to know what it means. What I see is that our general populace is suffering about as much as we were back in 2008 when things had all gone plunging south on the big board. Yet today the large financial institutions and other huge corporations are raking in the largest profits in the history of our economy. And I suppose I am expected to rejoice in this fact because now, with the Supreme Court's wisdom and gracious decision in Citizens United, it means that those giant corporations and filthy-rich CEOs can pour more millions into the Super PACs for political candidates and surely bring about better government. Right! The ignorance and corruption flow unabated. THAT is what trickles down! We all know what runs down-hill, don't we?
If this next national election, not only of the president but of the representatives sent to our national congress, does not clearly come down fairly on the side of the 99% as opposed to the wealthy 1%, then my only conclusion can be that vast numbers of (otherwise nice and perhaps even good) people in our country are willingly ignorant. Are they purposely supporting the corruption, the corporate greed and the sickening unfairness of the system? If the huge piles of money poured out by the super-rich are able to buy enough ads to simply dull and overwhelm the masses, drugging them with drivel and drowning them in dreams of possible future wealth of their own, then we will surely go down the drain as a democracy.
Many signs exist to show that people in all walks of life are confused and unable to readily define their frustrations. One of my earlier posts approached (with little space and no studied expertise on the matter) the concept that the religious among us tend to fall under the thrall of money and power, and do so almost naturally because of their long devotion to invisible powers. [I'm still waiting for comments, of any type, on that whole epiphany.] At least the person of a Mitt Romney, even with his abysmal lack of grasp on the plight of the common man, is standing there as a visible reminder to folks of moderate means that real wealth is possible. Is there some wishful reasoning that the mere closeness(!) to someone who hordes billions of U.S. dollars (no matter where the dollars are stashed) will bring us all nearer the potential of wealth for ourselves? Pretty sad, in my opinion.
Probably the most vived example of the way the above twisted thinking diminishes us, is shown in oblique views of reality offered by many commentators and writers. It seems that people who observe a leader who appears to be devotedly and determinedly trying to help the masses, somehow see that effort as something sinister or depraved. Something socialistic! Evil!
An interesting article appeared in the Painful Truth blog [Aug 17, 2011 - Is Obama Right?] that left me scratching my head. Later I figured out the reason I felt I was missing something. I was!
Near the end of the rambling article, author Ralph Haulk summed up a bit with this paragraph:
Marx then proposed “centralization of credit in the hands of the state”. A central banking system. This would create what Marx called a permanent revolution. Equality would become the passion of the masses, and the masses would never be satisfied until all barriers are broken down, and everyone is equal. Where all are equal, all are “alienated” from the basic goals and needs, such as property, that once made them individuals. Humankind becomes subject to planning and re-distribution. What was “God” if not an ancient tyrant who brought more war and hate than love and peace? Religion is the opium of the masses.
It's a minor point that "opiate" was the word used in the Marx writing, not "opium" as above, but it is indicative of the common alterations (at times, critical ones) so often used when articles get produced. A conscientious effort made by Austin Cline picks up far more of the direct writing, and clarifying perhaps more of the intent, of Marx himself. Cline's coverage of the subject actually convinces me that Karl Marx was not nearly as skeptical of religion as am I.
What I was missing while struggling to understand the direction Haulk's article was heading, was the fact that the writer is apparently still under the influence of a supreme being concept. It's amazing to me that an obviously intelligent fellow who was able at the age of twenty to see through Armstrongism (and one could reasonably assume, the cult business in general) and later impress his superiors in the Marine Corps with his clarity on the subject of rights and freedoms, has not long-since kicked the habit of belief in phantoms. But, be that as it may, he still should be able to avoid the pitfalls of far-fetched associations. I will hasten to add here that this man has put vast amounts of time and effort into studying economics and many other disciplines - all of which causes me to respect him for strength of character. But as with many highly educated folks, it's quite possible that the very basis of some of the study is pointless. Like the degree of Doctor of Divinity always makes me cringe with pity and laugh with irony. I pity anyone who will waste a life studying fine points of great concern over something that seems to have no foundation whatsoever; I laugh because I can never shake the funny idea that the person has earned a doctorate in making white chocolate fudge!
I do not find Mr. Haulk laughable. He seems in fact to be erudite and extremely well-versed on the subject of economics - far beyond my capacity to understand it all. But even if he has the best ideas to ever come down the pike and some kind of plan to fix the problem, a plan which he doesn't clearly articulate, he still would have no more chance of getting it into action than do those folks at The Venus Project and Zeitgeist Movement who do have great plans. Or the writers from Star Trek who seemed to handle an intergalactic economy with panache. The real troubling thing for me about Mr. Haulk's article was his blatant plastering of the name of Obama in the title. Simply a means to attract attention, I suppose. The name doesn't appear later, nor does any connection to Mr. Obama get explained through the long article. The author admits in the first few words that the writing has not much to do with Obama, but to my thinking, the attachment of that name was intellectually dishonest and utterly misleading. Worse, there seemed to be the subliminal intent to blame all the ills of our economic system on our current president. That's not only preposterous, it's hateful. (And obviously wrong.) The writer even slips in an imagined link between our president and a communist concept. Makes me question Mr. Haulk's motives altogether and distrust his ability to reason. Yes, I've already admitted he seems to possess great intelligence; I merely question his exercise of it.
Very likely, the above mentioned writer will fall in line with millions of others this November and align himself with a wealthy aristocratic type who would almost certainly continue the trend of raping the masses. Far better it would be to vote for a presidential leader who works hard at lifting the masses out of the mire. But perhaps only we devout Independents can actually see the clear difference.
Meanwhile, the market continues to make Romney and others even more unimaginably rich while you and I struggle to pay the bills and buy gasoline. And there you go - that Obama character is going to have to be defeated so we can have lower gas prices. Right! Strange how foolishness can pass for meaningful discourse and plans for progress can be held suspect through fear of the unknown.
NOTE: I have rushed back here to add something highly worthwhile. Kagin at freethought blog posted an article on Sunday that just came to my attention today. His piece goes far beyond my subject, in a way, but it more than underscores my fundamental concerns. Since it is beyond my poor power to add..., I will simply ask that you check out this terrific post for yourself. markman
Monday, February 27, 2012
Phenomenon For Real
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.
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.
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.
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