Author: fifteenkey (Page 61 of 95)

They say the road to a freaking nervous breakdown is paved with good intentions… Oh, “they” don’t? Well I guess I just made it up. My good intentions today resulted in the wrong hole lined up with the slot in bottom pole (BP) and a consequence of the proverbial irreversible pole stuck in a hole. Um, a basketball pole. Adding injury to insult, I scored a nice blood blister on the middle finger of my left hand trying to reverse the permanent blunder. See? I frantically scanned the directions for a solution, but only received a rebuking: “This step cannot be reversed.” Like answering “yes” to the “do these pants make my butt look big” question, some things just cannot be reversed…

It’s times like these I’m glad I have my stair-climber and that I didn’t have to assemble it. In 30 minutes I rediscovered the humor in the situation and devoured a 40 page report of bars, lines and fourth order polynomials. All while abusing my eardrums with the cure to my almost everything: rock and roll.

I have some note cards with images like this by Mark Rothko.

They’re cool, but $72,840,000?

The Edward Hopper show at the MFA is one I’m looking forward to. He paints isolation in a way I really identify with. Here are a few isolated reviews…

The Phoenix

Newsweek

Camille Pissarro is my favorite of the Impressionists. Pissarro: Creating the Impressionist Landscape is coming to the Milwaukee Art Museum June 9–September 9, 2007.

Jerry Falwell died this week. I won’t miss his deluded self-righteous bluster from the wing on the right. We can thank him and other nuts like Pat Robertson for brainwashing enough people who don’t think on their own to get “W” elected.

It will be interesting to see how Roger Clemens pitches for the Yanks. Amazingly, at 45 he’s still hurling, just like his idol and fellow Texan, Nolan Ryan. As for the Yankees, I hope they get it together and make it a race. It’s not very compelling or fun without them.

Wilco put out a new record today, “Sky Blue Sky.” It’s been 12 years since the release of their first, “AM” on Mar 28, 1995. With one click, Apple depleted $9.99 from my checking account and with props to Bob Metcalfe, the music is flowing. It’s a “mood” record that sounds like it was recorded in the pre-dawn still. It’s warming my soul like sitting in one of two matching bathtubs overlooking a stunning valley sunset touching fingertips with my woman while the drugs kick in. Yeah, something like that. Upon first listen, it’s got me. It’s nice to listen to new Wilco. It doesn’t have any baggage.

Wilco is on Letterman tonight and will bring it June 28 at the Bank of American Pavilion. I’ve got my tickets.

I’m worried about this world we live in. Yesterday, as I waited for Jessica to come out of the grocery store, I observed as a woman emptied her grocery cart and walked it toward the store. Suddenly, she pushed it forward and watched as it rolled TO THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD. Satisfied with her effort, she turned and walked back to her car, backed out of the space and drove away. I was stunned. As I retrieved the empty carriage of this equally vapid dope, I wondered, “where do these people come from and why am I in the midst of them?” Unfortunately, those of us burdened with thought are living in a sequel to George Romero’s, “Night of the Living Dead,” and what’s dead are brain cells. I mean, if you have even half a brain, you are so outnumbered by those with just a stubby brain stem loosely connected to a crumply mass of mushy pork rinds.

The decline of the American Empire is upon us. Brain cells are down. Fat cells are up and our investments are dominated by stuff that blows up. While we play out the string of wasted lives and wasted capital spawned by a failed president elected by these red state yahoos, countries like China and India are investing in education and infrastructure to support their dominance of the 21st century. Of course instead of acknowledging that we’ve put ourselves in this situation, the right wing will instead dust off the menace of “Red China” and another spiral of conflict will ensue. The last hot flash will arrive while the zombies sit in front of their TV’s watching “reality.”

The inside of an aluminum tube may be the most conducive writing environment for me. It’s um, pretty contained. There’s no WiFi (yet) or phone. Mostly, my mind is bursting at the front or back of a business trip. I arrived Saturday and hung with Dave, Georgia and Joe. It was great to see them. Joe is now six and he likes to play his GameCube. He’ll have a new game soon courtesy of our friends at the online store named for a river… or jungle. Flow of goods or mind-numbing warehouse? Whatever. Georgia and I caught up over some Greek takeout while Dave tried to enjoy his post-blender lemon soup. He’s on a liquid diet because the scarring from 20+ surgeries has left sections of his intestines the diameter of a straw. No, not that kind. Dave’s processing food through a straw like the ones they strand olives on in a martini. Yeah, like a straw, it sucks. I often think, “when is this nightmare going to end for this husband and father?” I quickly dismiss the notion because the answer is a Philbinesque final one. We’ll pass on that. Dave’s got quite a bit more to do.

The balance of the week was spent with a few hundred of my favorite co-workers in meeting rooms, restaurants and the lobby bar. The highlight was a bike odyssey organized by my friend, the fabulous Barb. Many of my co-workers, some in tears, stood in its conclusion to say it was the best team building event they’d ever attended. Yeah. Ever. It was for me.

With now over 20 years in business, I’m finally comfortable with the whole networking thing. Much of that gets done in the lobby lounge or even the Tiki Lounge if the venue is the Fairmont in SF. Anyway, while liquor does help many overcome the shy thing, it isn’t pretty when some reach, um, the tipping point. Yesterday I met with my team back at the field-described “Mecca” (corporate office). My advice was pretty simple: “When attending a group event like that Sales meeting, don’t be a jackass.”

Best line of the week in a meeting the morning after: “I’m not doing math in my head right now.”

It’s now Saturday. When the plane landed Thursday night, I arrived to a changed world. If I learned anything this week it’s that courage is necessary to change us from the inside and to handle it from the outside. I’m going to succeed at both.

Random note: No matter when “Gimme Shelter” comes on my iPod, I never skip it.

Yesterdays voyage to Chicago was eventful. I had not traveled since the TSA regulations involving Ziplock bags took place…

As I approached the x-ray machines at security the realization set in that the travel bag I employed for personal hygiene wasn’t going to cut it, so I emptied all of it into one of the plastic bins hoping for a last-minute pardon. Uh, not. “Sir, those need to be in a ziplock bag. Hudson News sells them.” I proceeded to re-dress and shoved all the stuff into my bag for a shopping stop at Hudson’s. I expected the worst in price gouging, but at 35 cents a pop, the large sandwich sized bags were a bargain under the circumstances. I crammed all the items into 2 bags and headed back through the security line. Once there, the TSA boys were ready to pounce…

As the TSA inspector removed and analyzed each and every item, he set aside the items in question: A large Edge Gel shaving cream and a 3.5 ounce tub of American Crew pomade.
“These cannot go on the aircraft.” He explained that by limiting liquids to the sandwich bag size, “it would limit the explosive power if a terrorist tried to get liquid explosives onboard.” I see. My pomade was endangering the lives of all on the flight to Chicago. I had just begun a relationship with this jar Saturday morning removing only the first of many satisfying fingerfulls. My hair looked good too. I had achieved a perfect balance of messiness without the appearance of trying too hard to do it. Yeah, it’s complicated.

Now, luckily, I’m at Dave’s, the “hair stuff” capital of Chicagoland… I’ll go without the shave.

I’ve got nothing cogent to write about. These days my mind is occupied with work, meetings, my kids, paying debt off completely, foul politics, presentations, deadlines, rumors, margin analyses and work. Oh, I’ve been working quite a bit too. I need a house cleaning service, yard service, tree service and car service on the RAV4. I need a service to manage my service needs. I don’t seem to have passion for anything right now. I’m up by 5:30, read the news and Bloglines, have a coffee and a bagel with egg (no cheese), then it’s work with very little respite till 5:30 or 6. I come home and occasionally work out, then lay in bed flipping between O’Reilly, Olberman, Hannity, Scarborough, and Colmes. Thankfully I’m usually asleep before Greta’s nightly updates on Anna Nicole Smith and Natalee Holoway. I usually wake up around 2:00; stagger to the bathroom for a number one, then fall back onto padded springs where I occasionally sleep upon arrival. Sometimes not. I’m also in the third week of a lingering cold that I just can’t lose. I’m much better though. Maybe it’s allergies…

The view from the inside of a life is an interesting one. On the inside, one can see the chipped paint, scratched woodwork and uneven floors. To the outsider, it all looks pretty cool. I am so fortunate to have what I do in my life, but it is feeling burdensome and increasing in drag. I need to do something for me without a Catholic heaping of guilt that somehow my kids will face a lifetime of therapy if I do.

Today there are reports that Toyota passed General Motors in sales in the first quarter, and for the first quarter ever. Oh, and the New York Yankees are in last place in the American League East. I think GM is in far greater trouble than the Yanks. The Toyota Motor Corporation is not the Tampa Bay Devil Rays and as for the pinstripes, just look at your calendar. Yeah, it’s April.

I bought a 2001 Toyota RAV/4 back in October when the Yankees are rarely in last place. I’ve owned American cars over the years but I’ll never buy another. Failed transmissions and water pumps falling into radiators with slicing fan blades were enough for me. The RAV/4 was intended to be a vehicle that would get Megan through her last years of high school and through college, but fate had another plan and I drove it all winter.

Kyle and I did a road trip to Philly for New Years in it and I also measured the gas mileage over a one month period. Overall, the 4 cylinder mini-SUV averaged 22.8 MPG, with the high being 24.1 for our mostly highway trip to Philly. Not bad, but not great either. Weren’t many cars averaging in the low 20MPG range back in the 1980’s?

Now I’m back to driving my 1996 Volvo 850 and it’s still running smoothly after 220,000 miles. My belief is there aren’t many American cars of that vintage still running smoothly after 200K miles. I could be wrong, but as I consider a “Phase 2 mid-life crisis” vehicle purchase, I’m thinking Lexus/Infiniti, not Lincoln or Cadillac. I like my Volvo, but since I purchased it, they were acquired by Ford, who evidently dropped the slogan, “Quality is Job One.” One frustrating constant is the lousy gas mileage cars still get in 2007. Of the mid-sized “luxury” cars I’m looking at, the best MPG is from the Lexus 350ES at 20 city / 30 highway… Sigh.

Anyway, I’m just happy Megan is back driving the Toyota to school. Oh, and I’m rooting for the Yankees to pick themselves off the mat and claw their way back up where they belong. It just won’t be any fun without them.

Jeff commented on my Don Imus post…

I don’t watch either show. I stopped watching the Sopranos after an episode years back when a character viciously beat a woman to death. It was sickening and I was done. It’s really about selective acceptance. I recall a couple years ago Megan was really into “Em” and “Fiddy,” et al. Between her white and black friends, “nigga” “bi-atch” and “ho” were thrown around liberally. It was completely acceptable to the black kids that the white kids were saying these things because they were in “the club.” My point is, these things are accepted in a pretty significant piece of our culture, but are off limits to old white guys. As long as any of these double standards exist, race relations will be strained. And yes, the hipocracy is in technicolor. When Les Moonves states, “From the outset I believe that all of us have been deeply upset and revulsed by the comments,” I just roll my eyes. There’s probably more racism in the boardroom than out on the street. It all comes down to individuals and mutual respect. Don Imus got canned because he didn’t show any.

Some other stuff that’s wrong…
Another “shock jock,” Howard “not K” Stern is expending efforts to ruin “American Idol” by encouraging listeners to vote for the worst performer, Sanjaya Malakar. The NY Times wrote, “By promoting Mr. Malakar, Mr. Stern says, he hopes to turn the talent competition into a farce and destroy its popularity.”

Why? I don’t watch the show, but millions derive some enjoyment from it.

On tax day here in Massachusetts, it’s worth noting a recent NY Times story describing how the top 300,000 Americans collectively enjoy almost as much income as the bottom 150 million.

Finally, yesterday on Israel’s Holocaust remembrance day, Holocaust survivor and Virginia Tech professor Liviu Librescu died barricading the doorway of his classroom to buy time for some of his students to jump out the window to safety.

What a fucked up world.

iTunes sells CD quality songs for 99 cents each. It costs $2.99 for just a piece of the same song as a freakin ringtone and annual sales are approaching $700M …or about 10% of all music industry sales! The industry is even awarding Gold and Platinum awards for ringtones… It’s insanity I say! Rapper Rick Ross actually said, “when he goes into the studio in the future, the idea of making a popular ring tone will definitely be a part of the process.”1. I just cannot imagine Robert Plant saying to Jimmy Page, “Stairway is good mate, but it’s no ringtone.”

For the record, this cranky old man charges his daughters for their ringtone habit and for 411 calls… This month it was nineteen bucks between the two of them. That will buy like what, 4 lattes?

1. CBSNews.com