Category: Uncategorized (Page 58 of 96)

Yesterday as I wait waited for Megan to meet me at Home Depot, I caught a segment of NPR’s “Wait, wait. Don’t tell me!” The panel was reviewing the news of the week and host Peter Sagal introduced the Barry Bonds story by indicating his home run record was tainted and that, “As a human being, Barry Bonds may be the biggest tool since steel driving John Henry’s hammer.”

Humorist Tom Bodett then jumped in and asked, “Can we be fair to this guy? Look at other arts…” Arts? Is baseball art? Yes, it is on many levels. Watching Pedro Martinez in his prime was no less art than Cirque du Soleil. There’s even the saying, “painting the corners” to describe pitchers with the skill to keep the ball on the edges of home plate. The unique trajectory of a long, “majestic” home run is art. The arc of the ball against a brilliant blue sky is beautiful, unless of course the artist dresses in pinstripes, then it’s a velvet Elvis. Oh, come on. I kid the Yanks… While no longer performing in the Bronx, Gary Sheffield’s swing rages to burst from the canvas like a Pollock. Derek Jeter plays the game with the artistic genius of Pacino, even if he does over do the drama.

Mr. Bodett went on to defend Mr. Bonds by asking if the Impressionists are any less legitimate for their use of Absinthe as a performance enhancing drug… Um, the drink; not the Degas. He questioned whether we should impugn the work of Sigmund Freud who “packed his nose on a daily basis” or if William Faulkner is “any less of a Nobel laureate because he never wrote a sober word in his life?”

Megan finally arrived and I soberly placed the 64 gallon trash receptacle into her RAV4. I’ve got to get me some of that Absinthe.

At least I got that part of the lyric right. I didn’t find these in the Archive of Misheard Lyrics, and I have no idea why, but these incorrect lyrics to Rush’s “Limelight” are burned like pyrography into my iBrain.

Those who wish to be
Must put aside the adulation alienation
Get on with the fascination
The real relation
The undenying dream underlying theme

Whether you’re a soldier in Iraq, a resident of New Orleans or a driver passing over our decaying bridges, you are expendable. The loss of your life and the lives of may others are acceptable if it protects someone’s profits. Yesterday President Bush rejected calls for raising the gasoline tax to pay for infrastructure repair. Yeah, why use money we pay for petrol on repairing bridges when Exxon-Mobil needs it to further enrich Dubya’s oil buddies? During the same press conference, the clown from Crawford called Iran, “a destabilizing influence in the Middle East.” I see. And what the fuck are we? Iran is actually part of the Middle East community, whereas we have “interests.”

Man, I need a vacation and I’m starting one um, now. I plan to start by doing this tomorrow morning in the checkout line wherever I buy my new grass trimmer.

Ted Williams claimed that hitting a baseball is the hardest thing you can do in sports. It is against that backstop that I respect Barry Bonds’ 756th home run. Strength is just one part of the multidimensional puzzle of hitting a baseball. Teddy Ballgame also said, “Hitting is fifty percent above the shoulders.” Mr. Bonds intelligence as a hitter is the primary factor in how he’s achieved greatness. To hit a 90 mph fastball, you have around 2/10 of a second to decide to pull the trigger. Most humans simply cannot do that. Add in the “movement” of a fastball, change-up, curveball or splitter, and the competent are reduced to a sliver of the population.

Mr. Bonds is taking the heat for many “cheaters” in baseball because most baseball writers think he’s a jerk. There may also be a bit of jealously in there. After all, would they be baseball writers if they didn’t have a lifelong wish to be able to crush a baseball the way Barry Bonds can? Oh, and there’s also the courage to stand in the batters box while a pitcher fires the ball at you from sixty feet six inches, possibly whistling its furious music past your chin. Most of the writers who disparage Bonds feat probably don’t have the stomach for that.

The “evidence” seems to suggest Barry Bonds cheated by building strength using steroids or HGH or beef jerky. If true, there’s no telling how many of his shots (no pun intended) would have been corralled at the warning track. There’s also no way of telling how many pitchers he faced blew third strikes past him while juiced themselves on ‘roids or the also banned amphetamines. Maybe that’s what the oh-so less than contrite Barry Bonds meant when he said coldly, “This record is not tainted at all. At all. Period.”

A smooth long swath was followed by subtle dabs. Not drips of the Pollock technique; the media wasn’t of a drip consistency. The creation of art involves many decisions. What choice of canvas? Theme? Subject? Format? Size? Colors? Creation has to flow. Overthinking can destroy the emotion of the moment. There were more and furious strokes. It was coming together. Slashing. More dabs. Smears. This was inspiration! Yes, it was dark, but some of the world’s great art was born of inky darkness. Finally, it was complete. There was not a detail to be changed. It captured the moment perfectly. It was ready. Ready for the world to see. At the time, “the world” consisted of my 19 year old mother and 25 year old dad. Mom heard my voice, and the excitement in it. As she entered I could tell by the look on her young face that she was completely blown away. Young Mary Carol was awestruck. It was a moment I’ll never forget and nor will she. She called to my father; not unlike a cry from one lover to another when finally seeing the “Mona Lisa” at the Louvre. My father’s face contorted. The complexity of the work may have overwhelmed him at first. My mom leaned in toward me laughing and crying. It was an emotional moment of unusual power. She gently picked me up. My dad retrieved my first palette; a now empty cotton diaper.

The Drive-In is usually great fun regardless of the image quality projected through the night air. Last night was no exception. My brother Corey joined Mr. Kyle Daley and his dad for a twin-bill featuring “The Simpsons Movie” and the film titled above. Now I wasn’t expecting the magic of the “Ratatouille” / “Harry Potter” twin killing of two weeks prior, but man… The new Adam Sandler / Kevin James non-funny joke of a movie was so bad we split before Jessica Biel got semi-naked, and we knew she was going to!

The “Simpsons” flick was funny like a 90 minute Simpsons episode including a hilarious “Austin Powers” takeoff of Bart skateboarding in the buff. It just wasn’t nearly as good as “Upchuck” was baaaaad.

I think Kyle Smith of the New York Post nailed it: “The movie isn’t insulting to homosexuals but to comedy.”

It was sometime in 1982 that we went to see “The Wall.” Enhanced perception brought the film to life. Without getting into too many details, one of the people I attended with became the protagonist that day and has remained trapped; scared and cringing in a dark corner, shadowed by the wall. While my night ended having a couple beers with friends, his concluded atop a table in a police station, raging like the Bob Geldof character destroying a hotel room, as four of a kind armed public servants struggled to quell the madness. It ended with a stage dive attempt at the difficult 3-6-7-10 spare combination.

At the time I didn’t see the strong relation between the human and the fiction, but I do now. [He just called at 6:30AM and out of nowhere mentioned “The Wall” he brought up in “group” last night and the feeling of being cradled by it all these years…] If only the violent swings of up and down had been examined then… 25 years of pain, darkness and destruction might have been avoided, or at least lessened. Now there’s finally acknowledgment and acceptance. Add words and modern chemistry to that and we have hope.

A research study conducted in 2000 by several British media organizations including the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) examined the use of swear words. It included, in order of severity, the top offenders. There’s a shit-load (“shit” ranked a mild #17) of information on swearing on the web. As a public service, I’ll list a few research sites and then review the top 10 and let you know whether the bastards will be banned from fifteenkey. You can just relax, sit back, and have a cupcake.

Online magazine Slate has a brief article on how a dirty word gets um, dirty. The British are way ahead of us wankers in the States. They have schools that allow swearwords, but within strict limits. Oh yeah, the use of the f-word (or derivatives like “fucker”) five times. “Over this number the class will be spoken to by the teacher at the end of the lesson.” I wonder how that’s working out. If you’re already out of school, or not, but believe you have a problem, you probably fucking do, arsehole! (#9) If so, you can learn how to stop swearing, but you must start by “Recognizing that you have a problem.”

On Bravo’s “Inside the Actors Studio,” host James Lipton asks every guest, “What’s your favorite curse word?” Here’s a funny (if you like swears) video of some folks blurting out their favorites. The prevailing response to Mr. Lipton is “fuck,” bleeped out, but always lip-readable and said with a smirk or twinkle…

Alas, “fuck” could only manage a third place show on the BBC list. Without further ado, here’s the top ten:

10. Paki – Huh? Since when is a place you can buy beers a bad thing?
9. Arsehole – Now we’re talking. Just don’t be one.
8. Bollocks – Balls. Pills. Whatever. Plus, it’s in the title of a five star record!
7. Prick – Wow. There’s such nuance to some of these. A prick is not just a penis, but an unpleasant and rude one. Then there’s the whiney prick…
6. Bastard – Illegitimate child. Hence, the typical usage, “little bastard.” Although, an overly large man can be described, not negatively as, “a big bastard.”
5. Nigger – Even the attempted rehabilitation as “Nigga” in the hip-hop community won’t fly here.
4. Wanker – Um, I never really knew this one, but an Australian woman I work with uses this one a lot. Sheeeeeee’s baaaaaaad.
3. Fuck – Short, but not too sweet. The one syllable wonder.
2. Motherfucker – Nasty, but it flowed like Van Gogh’s paint from the mouth of the late, great Richard Pryor.
1. Cunt – I’m not familiar with this one. It must be new.

In summary, 5 is out, and 1 is questionable until I get more data…

Finally, “God” made the list. Given the number of innocent people throughout history who have lost their lives or been discriminated against in the name of “God,” I can understand how it did.

The saying, “Time flies when you’re having fun” may explain a common male malady, but time zips along quite well when you’re not having fun too. It’s hilarious that a visit to the link above includes the disclaimer, “This article or section is in need of attention from an expert on the subject.” I guess nobody’s quick to step up as an “expert” in this particular arena.

Wikipedia’s passage isn’t short, and includes an incredibly tough grading curve by Masters and Johnson, who declared we’re early earth shakers if we make the “Oh! Oh!” face before our partner more than fifty percent of the time. Um, what if that little achievement takes an hour, or two, or more? We’re still fast-lane losers? I think the more reasonable definition is the two minutes that other sex researchers have used as a yardstick. Sadly, a brief survey by Kinsey in the 1950s swiftly showed that 75% of men could not execute the two minute, um, drill, half the time they had the opportunity.

Suddenly the post ended, and she wondered why it couldn’t have lasted just a little bit longer…

A web search indicates unknown origin of the term, and there used to be this hot sauce, but “Sorry, this product is not currently available.” Now I don’t believe in Hell, or its mirror opposite “up there,” but what the hell is going on in the world?

• US astronauts, once one of the shining examples of American achievement and courage, are flying into space drunk. I guess they’re not so um, dependable, after all.

• Another place not to look for American heroes is in the professional sports world. Juicer Barry Bonds is one home run away from tying Hank Aaron’s career mark of 755. Now Mr. Aaron’s head is the same size as it was in 1957. Why isn’t Barry’s?

• The NBA has discovered one of its referees has been fixing games.

• Michael “Ookie” Vick allegedly ran a dog-fighting operation out of a home he owns. In addition to the viciousness of the fighting itself, losers were sometimes killed by “hanging, drowning, and slamming at least one dog’s body to the ground.” Oh, and apparently Ookie consulted on the electrocution of another canine who “underperformed.”

• I’d throw the stock market slide into this mix, but after climbing 25% in 2007, I don’t think a correction is anything to panic about. I took the opportunity to take some profits and move money elsewhere. Riverbed wasn’t going up forever.

• A cat is predicting deaths in Providence, RI.

• Pepsi is going to hire Charlton Heston for a new “Aquafina” campaign. Yeah, Chuck will put down his NRA sanctioned automatic weapon and scream into the camera, “AQUAFINA IS… TAP WATER!!!” Speaking of tap, I recently picked up a PUR 2-Stage Dispenser. I just couldn’t keep buying water in plastic containers.

• Attorney General Alberto Gonzales is the latest Bush Administration official involved in a scandal. It seems Mr. Gonzales is lying to the Senate about a hospital bedside visit to former AG John Ashcroft, where Mr. Gonzales allegedly pried him to overrule a deputy and reauthorize Dubya’s secret program of warrantless electronic eavesdropping. I don’t know if he brought flowers.

• In other Bush legacy news, it now appears former NFL player and Army Ranger Pat Tillman was killed from less than 10 yards away, very likely by US troops. Of course the White House is doing everything it can to support our troops and in this case, they’re supporting the late Pat Tillman by claiming executive privilege and withholding documents from congressional investigators.

• The news isn’t all bad. Our esteemed Vice President Dick Cheney will undergo surgery today to replace a battery in his cardioverter-defibrillator. Medical technology is amazing. Imagine… they can implant a cardiac device and keep the Dark Lord alive even without a heart!

Maybe it’s not so bad and we’re not going all the way to hell; just to the Purgatory of a totalitarian state.