Author: fifteenkey (Page 46 of 95)

I’ve written some here about my own “glory days,” playing ball before I turned 20. Wow. It just now occurs to me that summer of 1978 is not “closer than it appears” in the rear view. I hit a baseball that August I’ll never forget, but at the time I lacked the experience to realize the ball I had violently smashed would not be retrieved that day. Instead of enjoying the flight, I stole a quick peek of the shrinking dot headed for the treetops and ran, head down toward the first corner.

When Manny Ramirez soon hits his 500th home run, he’ll leave his arms extended and pointed at the sky. He’ll enjoy the entire journey until the ball disappears or is engulfed in a pig-pile of lottery hopefuls.

Among life’s clichés, “be sure to smell the flowers along the way,” which I attribute to Jack Nicklaus, but really was spoken by Walter Hagen, is up there for me. Unfortunately, the flowers are beyond the periphery of looking down, running for third.

How many people truly “live as if each day is their last?” What about the Zen of “living in the moment.” I’m just putting one foot in front of the other, like a first-time marathoner being steamrolled on Heartbreak Hill. I have to do lists for work and home, bills to manage, and complex puzzles to solve about how I can leave this place a better one for my children and grandchildren. I’m also becoming increasingly anti-social. Recently a friend told me his wife helped cure his anti-social leanings by helping him see how friends, family and relationships are more important than “stuff.” I get it, but stepping outside the pod bay doors is risky.

Another solid saying is, “a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” So true. I experience it every time I use my stair climber. The first step is the only tough one, but it’s a mental step and those can be more challenging when the path is strewn with old baggage. There’s so much more I could be doing in so many directions with my unfinished life. It’s all out there. Step up. Head up. And be sure to smell the flowers along the way.

That was my 500th post. As it leaves the yard, I hope it wasn’t too cliché.

The Enrico Palazzo* of our family is taking singing lessons, and his teacher is a very accomplished soprano, Beth Keusch. She has performed all over the world and has a Lincoln Center date later this month. I don’t know if she’ll train Kyle to sing like her, but with Kyle’s spirit and ability to carry a tune with no training to date, who knows how good he’ll get. That’s beside the point though. Kyle’s happiness is what’s important, and when he’s singing he’s happy. Oh, and when he thinks no one is watching, he really lets it rip…

* The opera singer Leslie Nielsen impersonates in The Naked Gun.

Great line and imagery by Maureen Dowd in the NYT: “The lioness of Chappaqua is hot on the trail of the Chicago gazelle, eager to gnaw him to pieces, like a harrowing scene out of a George Stubbs painting.”

“Developing my own personal brand,” may be ridiculed by some, but we all do it to some extent. The choice of Dunkin Donuts, Starbucks, or no-name coffee from the bagel shop is somewhat a personal branding selection. I recall articles on the subject a couple years ago, but my inspiration for this post is, “You are not your bookcase” by Megan Hustad in Salon. Ms. Hustad suggests, “Type up a shadow list of products, one that really captures you. Print it out. Stare at the list. Take a deep breath. Let yourself be humbled. Then toss it in the recycling bin. Step outside and take a walk.”

Here we go…

• House – 1930 Hollywood Bungalow with stucco, curves and cracks. A ranch it’s not.
• Car – This may be the top personal branding product for people who don’t have a boat or plane. Think about what people are trying to project when they drive a Prius or a Hummer. For me, it’s an old and square ’96 Volvo 850, but at 226K, it’s done a mile or two… and continues to.
• Music Player – iPod Nano doesn’t really set me apart.
• Cellphone – The LeoTreo is now old and fat compared to the youngsters, but it’s not a Blackberry.
• Life size TV – After 16 years of employment, I still feel the tug of brand loyalty. Not to mention the kick ass picture. NEC Plasma HDTV
• Shoes – Bostonian and Johnson & Murphy in rotation with a third for suit wearing occasions.
• Athletic shoes – New Balance and Nike – NB accommodates fat feet and the Swoosh were very comfy for racquetball.
• Jeans by Perry Ellis and Nautica – Whatever basic jeans I like that fit at Mar Shalls. I’d go for Levi’s, but those brown size tags would reveal exactly how much ass makes mine look fat in them…
• Chaps Sport Shirts – Comfortable, basic. 100% cotton.
• Calphalon Commercial Hard-Anodized cookware hanging in my kitchen is probably as much a branding statement as a storage solution.
• Presidential Candidate – The smart, honest and cool Barack Obama.
• Music – A sliver of noncommercial that might help me seem hip.
• Baby Formula – Similac Organic…Nothing but the best for the little one.

Now I do need to go for a walk. What Do You Do To Be Branded?

I’ve wanted to post something on the concept of “drama” since I’ve been recently confronting it. One person implored to me dramatically, “drama is reality,” as if I needed to embrace its inevitability. From what I dimly recall from “History of Theatre” in college, the origins of drama are Greek and are comprised of tragedy, comedy, and satire. I think we’re talking all three here…

My brief research on the subject B-listed a movie, “Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen,” starring Lindsay Lohan who probably employed very natural method acting for the role. I lived through this phenomenon when my girls were teenagers, but people eventually grow out of this, right? I mean the “drama” Wikipedia describes as, “unnecessary emotional turmoil, such as that created through social events or gossip.”

It’s surprising how much gossiping and badmouthing goes on by people who are otherwise considered professional adults. Some of these people are just immature, but others are real jerks. Maybe it makes life more interesting or fun or it makes the purveyors feel better about themselves. I don’t know, but I wish to avoid it.

* My apologies to Jason Isbell for borrowing the title from one of his great songs for this lame post.

With all this talk about the Democratic nominating process being a horserace, I’m reminded the first Saturday in May is a day in Kentucky to sip a Mint Julep and enjoy “The Most Exciting Two Minutes in Sports.” I’ve never been to the Derby itself, but five years ago today, Kyle and I raced to Suffolk Downs in East Boston and met a friend for a day of live racing and a simulcast of the “run for the roses.” I have many other memories of Suffolk Downs with my Dad and also of a sunny breakfast, garnished with infield flamingos at the grand old Hialeah Park Race Track near Miami with him in ‘73. Sadly, Hialeah’s pastels have faded, and it’s been a graying, dusty cavern of emptiness since 2001.

All this returned to me yesterday while reading, “Why Doesn’t Anybody Go to the Horse Races?” in Slate. The article bemoans off-track and internet betting as the reason there are so few tracks left. I think the problem is deeper, and is another reflection of our declining interest in thinking. Think about it. (sorry) Handicapping a horse race takes some thought about lineage, performance history, rest, weight, jockey, trainer, and even an intuition about how a horse appears before a race. Sometimes the look and body language of a horse can reveal its desire to run. You don’t have to expend any mental energy trying to pick up those vibes from a machine. “Gimme a quick pick” is all it takes to stuff state coffers with lottery billions. You see the same phenomena in a casino where most hard dollars roll in by the coin and a one armed assist. We’re more willing than ever to gamble away our money. Just don’t ask us to think about it.

Yeah, the days of romance and horseracing are in the dust like the field chasing Secretariat in the 1973 Belmont Stakes. For a dwindling few, happy memories remain.

I had a nice chat with our GM from our UK division last night, mostly about cricket, futbol (theirs, not ours) and baseball. He said he’s been to a couple of games and they nearly drove him mad because he didn’t really understand it. From his perspective, it was just pitch, catch, hit, run. I tried to explain the nuance of “the thinking mans game” and how the situation on the field changes with every pitch. He started to get it. I told him a true baseball fan can really enjoy a tight, 1-0 game, but that most fans today want home runs and pyrotechnics or they’re not sufficiently entertained.

This morning I discovered that last night while Keith and I were chatting, John Lester out dueled Toronto ace Roy Halladay in a 1-nil Sox win…

Oh, and here’s something very cool for those of you who can’t stand the 3:40 game…

Bonus Question: How long does a cricket match last?

Oh, one more thing. Roger… Jeez…

I’m going to keep this post short, but do women get spam promising a smaller vagina? I doubt it, because women aren’t hung up on their size. Well, that size anyway. I hear there’s a worldwide shortage of silicone impeding production of solar panels. Hey, I know where it all is. No wonder women have so much energy. Oh, that’s silicon they use in solar… Sorry for that little interruption.

It’s not easy to get large amounts of real data on “male enhancement” spending even for the legit ED drugs, but the marketer of “Enzyte,” a “natural male enhancement” formula was recently convicted “of conspiracy to commit mail fraud, bank fraud and money laundering.” Prosecutors charged Steve Warshak with scamming thousands of diminutive men out of some $100 Million Dollars! I’m sure there’s a good joke involving prison and his product, but this is a classy blog…

If one company rang up a hundred mil on the penis promise, what must the total spending be? A billion? Ten? A hundred? The marketing effort is huge. Here are some of the tens of spam that swell my inbox each week:

• Size Matters
• Mine is Bigger
• Impress Your Girlfriend
• Gain up to 4+
• Gain up to 5+
• Gain up to 6+
• Be like Ron Jeremy
• Did you hear about how big he was?
• Extra inches to Shlong
• Super-Size It Today!
• Buy Cialis, Viagra Online – Save Up To 40%…

…and my personal favorite, “Get a bigger copulation organ today.” Copulation? That reminds of Dick Nixon asking David Frost pre-interview if he “did any fornicating over the weekend,” I guess those particular marketeers must be after the Napoleon segment of the Republican Party.

I don’t know. Someone, apparently not P.T. Barnum once said, “There’s a sucker born every minute.” Steve Warshak is now snaking his way through the justice system for selling a dream that a minnow could grow into a Trouser Trout, and thousands of dopes bought it. They’re the biggest dicks of all.

This morning I consciously purchased my first carbon offsets. Yeah, as I was going through the obstacle course of online ticket purchasing for a Wilco show, this option was presented:

“Help the environment – Offset your CO2 emissions on the way to the show and plant a tree with your ticket purchase!

By donating to the cause, you can help plant trees in countries around the world and in the neediest tropical areas like Honduras, Belize, Senegal, Uganda, India and the Philippines.

When you drive your car to an event, it emits harmful doses of CO2 that pollute our environment and promotes global warming. By helping fund the purchase of renewable energy sources you can offset this pollution. To do so simply check the text box to the right and your credit card will automatically be deducted .55 cents (USD). Proceeds go to Trees for the Future and Native Energy and will be used to plant trees in some of the neediest places in the world, as well as help to purchase renewable energy sources.”

I’m not sure fifty-five cents will offset the carbon my car will emit driving to and from Tanglewood in Lenox, MA, but I’ve heard the venue is gorgeous and I know the band will bring it:

Starbucks has never been a habit of mine, just an occasional $4 latte treat. This week the company cut its earnings forecast citing the economy as, “worst in the company’s history.”

Last night I decompressed over a plate of chicken nachos and dueling martini’s with a buddy I’ll call Alan. Against the backdrop of glittering cold gin, I opened my wallet and pulled out a piece of paper with Andrew Jackson’s picture on it. “You see that,” I asked rhetorically. “That’s been in my wallet since Saturday.” I went on with a riveting description of breakfast at home and brown bag lunches. Old friend Quicken tells me I saved an average of $9.50 per day by not feeding at the bagel store or the company café. The echo chamber of a refrigerator I peered into this morning is also evidence we won’t be throwing any food away this week.

Let’s do the math… $9.50 x 5 days a week x 50 weeks = $2,375.00 and no wasted food. If I keep this going, that may be just enough to cover the rising price of gas.

Oh, Alan… President Jackson thanks you for picking up the check.