Most people who know me know that I'm a weather freak. I studied it as part of my ill-fated academic coursework in geography. My favorite thing to do was drawing weather maps. Isobars, highs, lows, wind direction. All that stuff.
Which is why I'm simultaneously fascinated and frightened by what will probably happen the next few days. Here in Connecticut, and many hundreds of miles in many directions, we're about to get pummeled with a storm the likes of which have never been seen.
First, some meteorology 101. (By the way, why is it called METEORology? What do meteors have to do with weather?)
But I digress...Here are the facts:
1: Sandy is a borderline category 1 hurricane/tropical storm. Doesn't matter, really.
2: It's moving at a snail's pace. That's not good.
3: Most importantly, there are 2 separate storms inland which act basically as magnets. That means that Sandy, which would normally hook east and out to sea, will instead hook west and hit the northeast.
4: Once the storms meet, it'll intensify big time. This means more rain, snow, higher winds, flooding.
5: It's also hitting during a full moon and its slowness means it'll cover many tidal cycles, including four high tides. Yet more flooding.
6: Its swath, when its over, may extend literally from Maine to western Ontario, and as far south as Tennessee and the Carolinas. That's an area the likes of which have never been seen.
Am I scared? Answer: Damn right I'm scared. Am I prepared? Answer: As best I can. Got my provisions. I want this thing to get here already, and stop dawdling at 10 or so MPH. Get a move on. Get here, blow through, and get the hell out.
I live in a small apartment in the top half of a house. It's maybe 10 miles inland...so the flood surge shouldn't affect me. However, my place is maybe 20 yards from a river, which rises even in moderate rain. I can't imagine it rising high enough to affect my place. Then again, I have a very vivid imagination. But I suspect I'll be OK.
This storm has got me thinking in Biblical terms. I'm not conventionally religious and I don't know if everything that happens is some kind of sign from God. But I've been asking myself if, just maybe, this storm is God's way of saying, "The presidential campaign is the least of your worries. I'm sick and tired of you Americans fighting, name calling, and behaving like children. Yeah, yeah, you're ALL my children. That doesn't mean you have to be infantile about it. So maybe you should consider working together instead of at cross purposes. (God's aside; sorry...I mean "cross" here in a generic sense). And that election next Tuesday? Yeah, get out and vote. If you can. But first, take care of yourself and your neighbor."
Speaking of neighbors, I have this neighbor whose car is festooned with right wing bumper stickers. Most of them I'm fine with. There are a few that are preachy and even hateful. When I chat with her, she comes across to me as angry and very stressed out. At the same time, she seems like a basically decent person. Like she's just had some bad breaks and is in pain. I want to remove her pain but I can't. I suspect after the storm, she'll regale me with every inconvenience she's gone through. As if she's the only one in America who was inconvenienced. When this happens, I'll tell her that I'm also in a tough place. She'll be too self-absorbed to hear me or even care. And she'll continue venting on about her own misery. And I'll try to get away from her as politely as I can. And eventually our lives will all get back to normal. And whoever's in the White House at that point will play the art of politics, peripherally affecting our lives.
Will we learn anything from this? Maybe to get along and be pleasant to each other? I don't think it's impossible but if I was a betting man, I'd say no. In the meantime, I hope everyone potentially affected is safe and takes this thing seriously.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Courtesy and Cowardice
Can't say I'm a Jane Austen fan, but I'm not above riffing off of one of her titles.
That's because this blog will be about one of the two above topics. Don't know which yet. I never know where these blogs end up. I don't work off an outline. I just sort of let it flow and see where it goes. Maybe it'll end up being about Thai food...which has nothing whatsoever to do with the subject matter.
So here's what happened. I'm in a "fairly rapid" food restaurant...Five Guys Burgers. (Their food isn't ready immediately, so to call it fast food would be an exaggeration.) This guy, maybe 20, walks in wearing a faded yellow t-shirt with black letters, which read "F&%K Smooth Vocals", or something similar. I'm just remembering the 1st word. A word I use all the time, probably more than most people. But always in company that I perceive is fine with it. I was in fact tempted to print the word without special characters, as everyone knows what it is. But you never know...kids can read the site (not that I anticipate a wave of kids to head over here) and I'm feeling self-conscious.
The bearer of said shirt wasn't burdened, as I was, with any inhibitions about language. Nor did his female companion, who apparently didn't care. Maybe this is a step up for her in the class department, assuming her last boyfriend was Jerry Sandusky. There are kids of all ages here, and the parents either don't notice, don't care, or prefer not to confront "X rated shirt" guy.
This is where my cowardice kicks in. I'm embarrassed to say this, but I did nothing. Oh, I came close. I seriously considered it. I had all kinds of scenarios.
1: I confront the guy, who looks to be around 5'-9", maybe 170 pounds. I'm considerably bigger. He takes a swing at me. I respond by flattening him. Someone calls the cops. Someone else puts it up on YouTube. I have my 15 minutes of fame.
2: I confront the guy. He comes to his senses, asks for a lift to the nearest clothing store so he can get a decent shirt and we become best friends. His life is immeasurably changed.
3: I confront the guy. We have a heart to heart and he apologizes out loud to everyone in the place.
4: I DON'T confront the guy but he comes up to me and says, "Hey, I was just wondering. You look like a smart guy. Do you think my t-shirt is offensive?"
Of course, none of that happened. No one confronted or spoke to the guy. I thought long and hard about it. I truly wasn't going to be high and mighty about it, because nothing good ever comes out of that attitude. I was picturing a conversation like,
Me: Listen, I need to ask you a question. I don't mean this disrespectfully, but I have to ask you about the shirt.
F-Shirt Guy: What about it?
Me: "It's that phrase on the front. I use the F-Word all the time. I don't have a problem with the word itself. But you HAD to know there are kids in here. How come you're wearing that particular shirt?"
F-Shirt Guy: Eyedohno... (Pronounced phonetically...I'm perceiving the guy as having a 3 word sentence maximum).
Me: (I explain something about what it's like to be a father and that I'm concerned about kids. I'm figuring his attention span is already maxxed out)
Who knows where it would have gone. Perhaps it would have led to any of the 4 scenarios above. Perhaps he was armed. But at this moment, I'm royally angry with myself for not doing anything. If my son, now 24, was with me and younger, I truly wouldn't have let it go. I have trouble understanding why the parents didn't say anything.
I then thought, "Are parents that overwhelmed? What would possess someone to wear that shirt in public? Is this typical of society?" At first, I thought of the cataclysmic decline in manners. But then I thought that Socrates often complained about the same thing. And that the overwhelming majority of people DO practice courtesy and manners. It's like seeing litter on the highway. It pisses me off, but I then realize that it only takes one person to spoil a highway and that the litterer represents probably less than .05% of the population.
And then I thought about narcissistic behavior and where I was when I was his age. When I was 20, I was narcissistic too, although I don't recall doing anything at that age that would have drawn that kind of attention. Late teens? Definitely. I'd pick fights when I was drunk. Laugh incredibly loud. Especially after toking up. Raise my voice whenever I thought I had something clever to say, which was probably 75% of the time. Ignore advice...especially if it came from someone over 40.
But would I wear a shirt like that? Absolutely not.
What if it happens next time? I really believe, I WILL talk to him, even if he looks like an escaped convict who'd kill me as soon as look at me. I really mean it. If I sense danger, I'll walk away and say, "No disrespect. I just needed to say it. Sorry if I offended you." (And I will not look him in the eye. I know the rules of the road) If/when it happens, I'll post the results.
If I'm alive. Because I hate feeling chicken-(you can fill in the last word).
That's because this blog will be about one of the two above topics. Don't know which yet. I never know where these blogs end up. I don't work off an outline. I just sort of let it flow and see where it goes. Maybe it'll end up being about Thai food...which has nothing whatsoever to do with the subject matter.
So here's what happened. I'm in a "fairly rapid" food restaurant...Five Guys Burgers. (Their food isn't ready immediately, so to call it fast food would be an exaggeration.) This guy, maybe 20, walks in wearing a faded yellow t-shirt with black letters, which read "F&%K Smooth Vocals", or something similar. I'm just remembering the 1st word. A word I use all the time, probably more than most people. But always in company that I perceive is fine with it. I was in fact tempted to print the word without special characters, as everyone knows what it is. But you never know...kids can read the site (not that I anticipate a wave of kids to head over here) and I'm feeling self-conscious.
The bearer of said shirt wasn't burdened, as I was, with any inhibitions about language. Nor did his female companion, who apparently didn't care. Maybe this is a step up for her in the class department, assuming her last boyfriend was Jerry Sandusky. There are kids of all ages here, and the parents either don't notice, don't care, or prefer not to confront "X rated shirt" guy.
This is where my cowardice kicks in. I'm embarrassed to say this, but I did nothing. Oh, I came close. I seriously considered it. I had all kinds of scenarios.
1: I confront the guy, who looks to be around 5'-9", maybe 170 pounds. I'm considerably bigger. He takes a swing at me. I respond by flattening him. Someone calls the cops. Someone else puts it up on YouTube. I have my 15 minutes of fame.
2: I confront the guy. He comes to his senses, asks for a lift to the nearest clothing store so he can get a decent shirt and we become best friends. His life is immeasurably changed.
3: I confront the guy. We have a heart to heart and he apologizes out loud to everyone in the place.
4: I DON'T confront the guy but he comes up to me and says, "Hey, I was just wondering. You look like a smart guy. Do you think my t-shirt is offensive?"
Of course, none of that happened. No one confronted or spoke to the guy. I thought long and hard about it. I truly wasn't going to be high and mighty about it, because nothing good ever comes out of that attitude. I was picturing a conversation like,
Me: Listen, I need to ask you a question. I don't mean this disrespectfully, but I have to ask you about the shirt.
F-Shirt Guy: What about it?
Me: "It's that phrase on the front. I use the F-Word all the time. I don't have a problem with the word itself. But you HAD to know there are kids in here. How come you're wearing that particular shirt?"
F-Shirt Guy: Eyedohno... (Pronounced phonetically...I'm perceiving the guy as having a 3 word sentence maximum).
Me: (I explain something about what it's like to be a father and that I'm concerned about kids. I'm figuring his attention span is already maxxed out)
Who knows where it would have gone. Perhaps it would have led to any of the 4 scenarios above. Perhaps he was armed. But at this moment, I'm royally angry with myself for not doing anything. If my son, now 24, was with me and younger, I truly wouldn't have let it go. I have trouble understanding why the parents didn't say anything.
I then thought, "Are parents that overwhelmed? What would possess someone to wear that shirt in public? Is this typical of society?" At first, I thought of the cataclysmic decline in manners. But then I thought that Socrates often complained about the same thing. And that the overwhelming majority of people DO practice courtesy and manners. It's like seeing litter on the highway. It pisses me off, but I then realize that it only takes one person to spoil a highway and that the litterer represents probably less than .05% of the population.
And then I thought about narcissistic behavior and where I was when I was his age. When I was 20, I was narcissistic too, although I don't recall doing anything at that age that would have drawn that kind of attention. Late teens? Definitely. I'd pick fights when I was drunk. Laugh incredibly loud. Especially after toking up. Raise my voice whenever I thought I had something clever to say, which was probably 75% of the time. Ignore advice...especially if it came from someone over 40.
But would I wear a shirt like that? Absolutely not.
What if it happens next time? I really believe, I WILL talk to him, even if he looks like an escaped convict who'd kill me as soon as look at me. I really mean it. If I sense danger, I'll walk away and say, "No disrespect. I just needed to say it. Sorry if I offended you." (And I will not look him in the eye. I know the rules of the road) If/when it happens, I'll post the results.
If I'm alive. Because I hate feeling chicken-(you can fill in the last word).
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Talkin' baseball, and autumn
I'm a fallphile. And especially October. There are all the classic reasons...foliage, pumpkins, the first seasonal smells of cold weather, fireplaces, apples. All of it magnified here in New England.
But trumping them all is post season baseball. Baseball is my life. I can associate every major event in my life with baseball. (At least those that happened from April to October) I'm sure there are some unpleasant things that happened to me on the diamond. Maybe childhood incidents from my days in Little League or just playing with my friends. But I can't remember a single one. Only pleasant memories. My coach, Mr. Germain, gently prodding me to become a catcher rather than the motionless second baseman I was. Becoming an OK (not great) catcher, where I learned I still couldn't hit but I COULD play defense and call a game. Watching my brother launch some prodigious home runs. (A talent I never had) Hitting a bases clearing double when I was 14 off of Lenny Destro, a very tough, good, lefty pitcher. (The offensive highpoint of my life)
But the greatest memory was watching the Mets turn the country upside down in 1969 by winning the World Series. I was 13, and obsessed with normal adolescent thoughts, of which there are only 3. Sex, rock and roll, and sports. I had zero chance of taking the first two beyond the fantasy level. So I reveled in the 3rd obsession. And I was amply rewarded thrice, when the Jets shocked the football world in January of 1969 by winning Super Bowl III. As mentioned, the Mets did the same to the baseball world and beyond in October of 1969. (Each time, the city of Baltimore was on the losing end. Too bad...I always liked crabcakes) And finally, the Knicks would start the season in October and finish it in May of 1970 by winning the NBA championship. (The one title that wasn't a shock).
Since sex was out of the question, I considered these three combined events a "sportgasm", if you will.
My fondest baseball memories, not surprisingly, are of the "fall classic", i.e. the World Series; played in October. Over the years, I've conducted extensive research on what makes a great World Series. (In other words, I've thought about this a lot)
As I write this, the 4 contending teams for the 2012 World Series championship are the San Francisco Giants and St. Louis Cardinals in the National League. And the reviled New York Yankees against the Detroit Tigers (my pick from April to win it all). All teams are mid to major market teams. But whether the World Series will be a true classic or a snooze fest has nothing to do with market size or much of anything else. A great World Series has to have the following 8 elements:
1: It has to go the distance; 7 games, although there have been some 6 game affairs that have been superb. But that's rare.
2: A dominating MVP player. When it's a team effort, the series just isn't as memorable.
3: A Cinderella player, i.e. someone who had a so-so regular season but suddenly morphs in to Reggie Jackson. He can also be the MVP, but doesn't have to be.
4: Good umpiring. An umpire's blown call should never affect the outcome of the game.
5: Very few errors. As with umpiring, the game should be decided by the winning team, not someone else's mistake.
6: Low scores. I may be in a minority among baseball fans but I find slugfests boring, for the most part. (Game 6 of 2011 a definite exception)
7: Many close games. Again, one sided games are boring after the 5th inning.
8: Iconic moments, such as walk off home runs, amazing catches, etc.
Based on the above, my favorite 6 World Series of all time: (all 7 game affairs)
6: 1982: Cardinals (there they are again) beating the Brewers with classic fundamental baseball, led by the great "Wizard", shortstop Ozzie Smith.
5: 1980: The forlorn Phillies, owner of more losses than any franchise in the history of global sports, finally get it done by beating the Kansas City Royals.
4: 1979: The "We Are Family" Pirates coming back from a 3-1 deficit to beat the Baltimore Orioles. What a way for the great Willie Stargell to end his career. (As much as I despised disco, I have to take my hat off to the series)
3: 1975: The mighty Cincinnati Reds beat the upstart Boston Red Sox. Carlton Fisk's iconic "body language" home run.
2: 2011: If not for a rather one sided 7th game, this would be the best Series of all time. It truly had everything else, including perhaps the greatest single World Series game in history, the amazing game 6 when the Cardinals were down to their final strike 3(?) times and crawled off the ledge.
1: 1991: To have a World Series meeting all 8 points above is a rarity. This showdown, in which the Minnesota Twins beat the Atlanta Braves in 7 meets all 8 points. In the series, 5 games were decided by one run; 4 games were won in the final at bat, and 3 games went into extra innings.
It just doesn't get any better than that.
By the way, the Braves have had more than their share of misfortune in post season over the years. I believe it's because they have an Indian name. Indian names are curses for the poor franchise cities. Proof? Only time the Braves have won in recent memory was 1995, when they beat (wait for it) the Cleveland Indians.
I have other theories on winning and losing...ugly uniforms and stupid nicknames. But I'll save that for later.
PLAY BALL, y'all!
But trumping them all is post season baseball. Baseball is my life. I can associate every major event in my life with baseball. (At least those that happened from April to October) I'm sure there are some unpleasant things that happened to me on the diamond. Maybe childhood incidents from my days in Little League or just playing with my friends. But I can't remember a single one. Only pleasant memories. My coach, Mr. Germain, gently prodding me to become a catcher rather than the motionless second baseman I was. Becoming an OK (not great) catcher, where I learned I still couldn't hit but I COULD play defense and call a game. Watching my brother launch some prodigious home runs. (A talent I never had) Hitting a bases clearing double when I was 14 off of Lenny Destro, a very tough, good, lefty pitcher. (The offensive highpoint of my life)
But the greatest memory was watching the Mets turn the country upside down in 1969 by winning the World Series. I was 13, and obsessed with normal adolescent thoughts, of which there are only 3. Sex, rock and roll, and sports. I had zero chance of taking the first two beyond the fantasy level. So I reveled in the 3rd obsession. And I was amply rewarded thrice, when the Jets shocked the football world in January of 1969 by winning Super Bowl III. As mentioned, the Mets did the same to the baseball world and beyond in October of 1969. (Each time, the city of Baltimore was on the losing end. Too bad...I always liked crabcakes) And finally, the Knicks would start the season in October and finish it in May of 1970 by winning the NBA championship. (The one title that wasn't a shock).
Since sex was out of the question, I considered these three combined events a "sportgasm", if you will.
My fondest baseball memories, not surprisingly, are of the "fall classic", i.e. the World Series; played in October. Over the years, I've conducted extensive research on what makes a great World Series. (In other words, I've thought about this a lot)
As I write this, the 4 contending teams for the 2012 World Series championship are the San Francisco Giants and St. Louis Cardinals in the National League. And the reviled New York Yankees against the Detroit Tigers (my pick from April to win it all). All teams are mid to major market teams. But whether the World Series will be a true classic or a snooze fest has nothing to do with market size or much of anything else. A great World Series has to have the following 8 elements:
1: It has to go the distance; 7 games, although there have been some 6 game affairs that have been superb. But that's rare.
2: A dominating MVP player. When it's a team effort, the series just isn't as memorable.
3: A Cinderella player, i.e. someone who had a so-so regular season but suddenly morphs in to Reggie Jackson. He can also be the MVP, but doesn't have to be.
4: Good umpiring. An umpire's blown call should never affect the outcome of the game.
5: Very few errors. As with umpiring, the game should be decided by the winning team, not someone else's mistake.
6: Low scores. I may be in a minority among baseball fans but I find slugfests boring, for the most part. (Game 6 of 2011 a definite exception)
7: Many close games. Again, one sided games are boring after the 5th inning.
8: Iconic moments, such as walk off home runs, amazing catches, etc.
Based on the above, my favorite 6 World Series of all time: (all 7 game affairs)
6: 1982: Cardinals (there they are again) beating the Brewers with classic fundamental baseball, led by the great "Wizard", shortstop Ozzie Smith.
5: 1980: The forlorn Phillies, owner of more losses than any franchise in the history of global sports, finally get it done by beating the Kansas City Royals.
4: 1979: The "We Are Family" Pirates coming back from a 3-1 deficit to beat the Baltimore Orioles. What a way for the great Willie Stargell to end his career. (As much as I despised disco, I have to take my hat off to the series)
3: 1975: The mighty Cincinnati Reds beat the upstart Boston Red Sox. Carlton Fisk's iconic "body language" home run.
2: 2011: If not for a rather one sided 7th game, this would be the best Series of all time. It truly had everything else, including perhaps the greatest single World Series game in history, the amazing game 6 when the Cardinals were down to their final strike 3(?) times and crawled off the ledge.
1: 1991: To have a World Series meeting all 8 points above is a rarity. This showdown, in which the Minnesota Twins beat the Atlanta Braves in 7 meets all 8 points. In the series, 5 games were decided by one run; 4 games were won in the final at bat, and 3 games went into extra innings.
It just doesn't get any better than that.
By the way, the Braves have had more than their share of misfortune in post season over the years. I believe it's because they have an Indian name. Indian names are curses for the poor franchise cities. Proof? Only time the Braves have won in recent memory was 1995, when they beat (wait for it) the Cleveland Indians.
I have other theories on winning and losing...ugly uniforms and stupid nicknames. But I'll save that for later.
PLAY BALL, y'all!
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Being healthy
There are some things in life that are just plain old hard work. Raising a child, trying to have good relationships, being President, playing anything by Steely Dan, etc. But I think nothing is harder than trying to stay healthy.
I say this because I'm on a diet I invented which I like to call the "joy-free" diet. Simply put, if it tastes good, I can't eat it. Which, at the moment, is not a problem because I have a wicked head cold. So I can't taste anything.
By the way, I've told 3 people that I have a cold. All three said what everyone always says..."Yeah, there's something going around." There's ALWAYS something going around. Doesn't matter when, where. Apparently, there's been something going around since the dawn of time and no one has ever bothered to do anything about it. I'm going to offer grant money to anyone who can address how to stop whatever it is that's going around.
But I digress...Back to healthy things.
Ever notice that no one in health food stores ever smiles? And that they all look emaciated and sickly? I believe there is a state law here in CT forbidding the hiring of anyone in the health food industry who smiles. Of course, this is New England, where you can be arrested for over-smiling. So maybe it's a geographic thing.
Anyway, I'm purchasing whatever I could that would make me healthy even though it's twice the price of non-healthy foods. Which, of course, tends to defeat the purpose of trying to get healthy. For example, I'm lactose intolerant, so I buy soy milk. Soy milk, last I checked, was $49.99 per fluid ounce. Or so it seemed.And don't get me started on measurements. I cannot define a fluid ounce. I get cups and pints mixed up. I see two brands of the same type of food...one shows as fluid ounces, the other in frozen metric ounce gram milliliters. Or something like that. I'm a reasonably smart and, I might add, mathematically oriented consumer. I'm convinced they're trying to confuse me. And doing a good job of it.
By the way, can anyone explain how olive oil can be "extra" virgin? I never had a girlfriend who was extra virgin. I wonder what that's like. Could I be the "deflowerer" multiple times?
But again, I digress...
Among my purchases was a container of black bean soup. Perfect for days like today, when I have this cold and am craving some soup. I will now tell you my experience of dealing with said container of black bean soup: (This is entirely true...I am not making this up)
1: To open soup, I needed to pull up the top section.
2: I then needed to compress all four corners.
3: Apparently, something magical should have happened. Such as access to the contents. It did not.
4: As this container is made of cardboard, I went to get my scissors.
5: Being mindful of unexpected events, I applied scissors to container over the sink. Good thing, as the container decided to pee the liquid component of its contents.
6: I put the container in a microwaveable bowl, in case the container should explode.
7: As I cut into the container, I began to see the soup itself. I turned the container upside down to force the soup out. But the solid stuff wouldn't budge.
8: So I squeezed the container. The container responded with what sounded like farting noises. Exactly what I wanted to hear before a meal, of course.
I finally heated up the soup. Which was tasteless, probably due to my cold.
As I was opening the soup, I got to thinking that I've had these kinds of difficulties before. And almost always with "healthy" foods. The cereal that has better defenses than Ft. Knox. The shrink wrapped brownies that are impenetrable. Doesn't anyone test the packaging?
One more thing...ever see "healthy" people outside? They're on their bikes in 20 degree weather wearing shorts. And bicycling right in the center of traffic, 3 abreast. I know what they're saying..."I'm healthy...you're not." I'm thinking, "If I just nudge my car a little to the right, would the inside biker collide with the middle biker? Could I knock all 3 down with one minor tilt to the wheel?" It's like a great billiard shot. Alas, one I've never taken.
Once again, I digress.
But in summary, this is why being healthy is such hard work. Maybe it's like giving birth. Once you're finished, you're just so incredibly grateful for the results. I don't suckle my food, of course. Nor do I give it a name. But I sure am exhausted.
Bon appetit, y'all.
I say this because I'm on a diet I invented which I like to call the "joy-free" diet. Simply put, if it tastes good, I can't eat it. Which, at the moment, is not a problem because I have a wicked head cold. So I can't taste anything.
By the way, I've told 3 people that I have a cold. All three said what everyone always says..."Yeah, there's something going around." There's ALWAYS something going around. Doesn't matter when, where. Apparently, there's been something going around since the dawn of time and no one has ever bothered to do anything about it. I'm going to offer grant money to anyone who can address how to stop whatever it is that's going around.
But I digress...Back to healthy things.
Ever notice that no one in health food stores ever smiles? And that they all look emaciated and sickly? I believe there is a state law here in CT forbidding the hiring of anyone in the health food industry who smiles. Of course, this is New England, where you can be arrested for over-smiling. So maybe it's a geographic thing.
Anyway, I'm purchasing whatever I could that would make me healthy even though it's twice the price of non-healthy foods. Which, of course, tends to defeat the purpose of trying to get healthy. For example, I'm lactose intolerant, so I buy soy milk. Soy milk, last I checked, was $49.99 per fluid ounce. Or so it seemed.And don't get me started on measurements. I cannot define a fluid ounce. I get cups and pints mixed up. I see two brands of the same type of food...one shows as fluid ounces, the other in frozen metric ounce gram milliliters. Or something like that. I'm a reasonably smart and, I might add, mathematically oriented consumer. I'm convinced they're trying to confuse me. And doing a good job of it.
By the way, can anyone explain how olive oil can be "extra" virgin? I never had a girlfriend who was extra virgin. I wonder what that's like. Could I be the "deflowerer" multiple times?
But again, I digress...
Among my purchases was a container of black bean soup. Perfect for days like today, when I have this cold and am craving some soup. I will now tell you my experience of dealing with said container of black bean soup: (This is entirely true...I am not making this up)
1: To open soup, I needed to pull up the top section.
2: I then needed to compress all four corners.
3: Apparently, something magical should have happened. Such as access to the contents. It did not.
4: As this container is made of cardboard, I went to get my scissors.
5: Being mindful of unexpected events, I applied scissors to container over the sink. Good thing, as the container decided to pee the liquid component of its contents.
6: I put the container in a microwaveable bowl, in case the container should explode.
7: As I cut into the container, I began to see the soup itself. I turned the container upside down to force the soup out. But the solid stuff wouldn't budge.
8: So I squeezed the container. The container responded with what sounded like farting noises. Exactly what I wanted to hear before a meal, of course.
I finally heated up the soup. Which was tasteless, probably due to my cold.
As I was opening the soup, I got to thinking that I've had these kinds of difficulties before. And almost always with "healthy" foods. The cereal that has better defenses than Ft. Knox. The shrink wrapped brownies that are impenetrable. Doesn't anyone test the packaging?
One more thing...ever see "healthy" people outside? They're on their bikes in 20 degree weather wearing shorts. And bicycling right in the center of traffic, 3 abreast. I know what they're saying..."I'm healthy...you're not." I'm thinking, "If I just nudge my car a little to the right, would the inside biker collide with the middle biker? Could I knock all 3 down with one minor tilt to the wheel?" It's like a great billiard shot. Alas, one I've never taken.
Once again, I digress.
But in summary, this is why being healthy is such hard work. Maybe it's like giving birth. Once you're finished, you're just so incredibly grateful for the results. I don't suckle my food, of course. Nor do I give it a name. But I sure am exhausted.
Bon appetit, y'all.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Time for college
As in the Electoral College. Do you know that you don't legally elect the President? More on that below.
But my first question...why is it called a college? Are there dorms and empty pizza boxes in the EC?
My real issue though isn't the name. It's that it exists at all. The EC, to give a very brief history, came into being as a compromise amongst our founding fathers, who acceded to the smaller, southern, states who felt they'd be shut out if the POTUS (President of the United States) was decided by popular vote. The founding fathers also felt that this momentous decision should not be left up to a popular vote but rather should be decided by the wise, officially elected "electors", appointed by the even wiser Congress. There are a number of problems with this argument.
1: Following the train of thought here, we have allegedly unqualified voters electing people to Congress.
2: These people, elected by unqualified (read "stupid") voters are somehow smart enough to appoint even smarter people to legally elect the POTUS. Who in theory should be smarter than everyone. And this is true, except that the First Lady is, as we know, always smarter than the husband.
This is what happens in a society rampant with snuff, rum, and opium. But that's another story.
Back to the EC.
Every state gets at least 3 electoral votes. It's the two senators plus however many congressional districts there are. Mathematically speaking, someone from, say, Wyoming or Vermont has more power in their vote than someone from California. Fortunately, people from Wyoming and Vermont cancel each other much like matter and anti-matter colliding, producing a spillage of beef and maple syrup. What we have today, as we look at the impending election, is a system where 38 states are shut out of the process because their vote, based on polls, has already been determined. The 12 remaining "swing" states get all the presidential attention while the other 38 get none.
We need to dump the EC. There have been 4 elections, mostly recently 2000, where the person with the most popular votes did not win the election. We're the only country in the world that has such a labyrinth, nonsensical system of electing a president. I'm open to being convinced that there's value in the EC. But no one has given me a good reason yet.
There's a good site that's already making a lot of progress. It's www.nationalpopularvote.com. You'd be amazed how many mainstream lawmakers, even entire states, are in favor of running elections this way. The benefits:
But my first question...why is it called a college? Are there dorms and empty pizza boxes in the EC?
My real issue though isn't the name. It's that it exists at all. The EC, to give a very brief history, came into being as a compromise amongst our founding fathers, who acceded to the smaller, southern, states who felt they'd be shut out if the POTUS (President of the United States) was decided by popular vote. The founding fathers also felt that this momentous decision should not be left up to a popular vote but rather should be decided by the wise, officially elected "electors", appointed by the even wiser Congress. There are a number of problems with this argument.
1: Following the train of thought here, we have allegedly unqualified voters electing people to Congress.
2: These people, elected by unqualified (read "stupid") voters are somehow smart enough to appoint even smarter people to legally elect the POTUS. Who in theory should be smarter than everyone. And this is true, except that the First Lady is, as we know, always smarter than the husband.
This is what happens in a society rampant with snuff, rum, and opium. But that's another story.
Back to the EC.
Every state gets at least 3 electoral votes. It's the two senators plus however many congressional districts there are. Mathematically speaking, someone from, say, Wyoming or Vermont has more power in their vote than someone from California. Fortunately, people from Wyoming and Vermont cancel each other much like matter and anti-matter colliding, producing a spillage of beef and maple syrup. What we have today, as we look at the impending election, is a system where 38 states are shut out of the process because their vote, based on polls, has already been determined. The 12 remaining "swing" states get all the presidential attention while the other 38 get none.
We need to dump the EC. There have been 4 elections, mostly recently 2000, where the person with the most popular votes did not win the election. We're the only country in the world that has such a labyrinth, nonsensical system of electing a president. I'm open to being convinced that there's value in the EC. But no one has given me a good reason yet.
There's a good site that's already making a lot of progress. It's www.nationalpopularvote.com. You'd be amazed how many mainstream lawmakers, even entire states, are in favor of running elections this way. The benefits:
- All votes count equally.
- The campaign finance system, already a travesty, would be turned on its head, because there would be infinitely more "swing" areas. This could conceivably pump in even more money, I guess. But it could also get us to rethink how campaigns are run.
- The candidates would be visiting your state. Perhaps not next door. But almost certainly not too far away. (Is that really a good thing? I guess that one is mixed.)
- It would encourage people to vote.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Generally and randomly speaking
Before I begin, thank you to my friend Mary G. for pointing out that she couldn't comment on my last blog. Turns out, I had the settings set for registered users only. Now changed to anyone. So, feel free to rip this blog to shreds. I can take it. Just one thing...does the IT term "trojan" mean anything to you? Just sayin'.
Now, on to the main points. I am a proud generalist and lover of randomness. I say this because my mind, at present, is swimming with thoughts of baseball, football, relationships, foliage, God, my jobs, money, family, and the presidential race. Oh, and my car too, which has gone "Hyde" on me after 2 years of benign "Jekyllness".
In other words, I'm about as scattered as I've ever been. Therefore, it's beyond my capability at the moment to write about one subject and to follow its train of thought. (I really need to stay away from Diet Mountain Dew) At times like this, I revel in my generalist and random tendencies. On the former, I'm a Jack-of-all-trades, master of none. Actually, the "all-trades" part is severely exaggerated. I'm a Jack-of-limited-trades, to be honest. But still, I prefer this to being a specialist. Tunnel vision scares me. I don't want to be the go-to guy for a subject and risk being clueless on everything else. I know too many people like that.
Randomness is another trait I value. When someone is talking to me in a random style, assuming he/she isn't doing so intentionally, I know we're both being open minded and we're not locked into a certain point of view, or trying to win any arguments. Our bond of randomness grows.
Speaking of which, what great weather we're having, huh?
See? Isn't that adorable?
And speaking of random, here are some random thoughts:
1: There are enough songs on George Harrison's All Things Must Pass to make it one of the 5 greatest single albums of all time. Alas, it was a triple album loaded with filler. Sorry, George. Just sayin'.
2: It's always a good day when the Yankees and/or when the Dallas Cowboys lose.
3: There are some musicians who are so beloved by the critics that they could probably release albums of them gargling mouthwash and the critics would still rave. 2 examples: Emmylou Harris and Bruce Springsteen. (2 musicians who I am fans of, by the way)
4: The 3 points above make me sound really, really, old. Guilty as charged.
5: Unless the last name is Kennedy or Adams, Massachusetts politicians are clueless about how to run a campaign.
6: I don't understand the term "cross-section". Whenever I heard it in 10th grade biology, I knew I was going to flunk the test.
7: I'm a registered independent who generally leans Democrat, but I think Ryan's Medicare plan, although not perfect, is an excellent starting point. Obama has lied about it and has lost my vote. Admittedly, I live in a safely blue state and would probably vote Obama if I lived in a swing state. Right now, I vote for Gary Johnson and if he's not on the ballot, I write him in.
8: Speaking of which (I'm suddenly going linear), the electoral college is a sad joke that should be eliminated via amendment. The sooner, the better.
9: My son and his generation are very familiar with, and generally fans of, classic rock. Yet, when I was growing up, I didn't know a thing about my parents' music.
10: I really need to upgrade my wardrobe.
11: 99.9% of Americans praise veterans. For most of that group, although heartfelt, it's words without deeds. So, when you see a veteran, say "Thank you for your service." Or, if they just returned from Afghanistan or Iraq, try "Welcome home." If you happen to see them in, say, a convenience store, offer to buy them a cup of coffee, soda, whatever. Just as a token of thanks. If you've got a free morning or afternoon, volunteer at a VA Hospital or any other group that works with veterans. Your skills are needed, believe me.
12: If you take the word "parties" (as in political) and add an "a", you get an anagram of the word "parasite".
13: Getting campaign advice from Sarah Palin (as Mitt Romney did over the weekend) is like getting singing advice from Roseanne Barr.
14: Every time I read something and I see the phrase "He thought to himself...etc." I go out of my zone. Who ELSE does someone think to? It always stops me.
So I'm thinking to myself, this is a good place to stop.
Enjoy the spectacular weather (if you're in New England) y'all.
Now, on to the main points. I am a proud generalist and lover of randomness. I say this because my mind, at present, is swimming with thoughts of baseball, football, relationships, foliage, God, my jobs, money, family, and the presidential race. Oh, and my car too, which has gone "Hyde" on me after 2 years of benign "Jekyllness".
In other words, I'm about as scattered as I've ever been. Therefore, it's beyond my capability at the moment to write about one subject and to follow its train of thought. (I really need to stay away from Diet Mountain Dew) At times like this, I revel in my generalist and random tendencies. On the former, I'm a Jack-of-all-trades, master of none. Actually, the "all-trades" part is severely exaggerated. I'm a Jack-of-limited-trades, to be honest. But still, I prefer this to being a specialist. Tunnel vision scares me. I don't want to be the go-to guy for a subject and risk being clueless on everything else. I know too many people like that.
Randomness is another trait I value. When someone is talking to me in a random style, assuming he/she isn't doing so intentionally, I know we're both being open minded and we're not locked into a certain point of view, or trying to win any arguments. Our bond of randomness grows.
Speaking of which, what great weather we're having, huh?
See? Isn't that adorable?
And speaking of random, here are some random thoughts:
1: There are enough songs on George Harrison's All Things Must Pass to make it one of the 5 greatest single albums of all time. Alas, it was a triple album loaded with filler. Sorry, George. Just sayin'.
2: It's always a good day when the Yankees and/or when the Dallas Cowboys lose.
3: There are some musicians who are so beloved by the critics that they could probably release albums of them gargling mouthwash and the critics would still rave. 2 examples: Emmylou Harris and Bruce Springsteen. (2 musicians who I am fans of, by the way)
4: The 3 points above make me sound really, really, old. Guilty as charged.
5: Unless the last name is Kennedy or Adams, Massachusetts politicians are clueless about how to run a campaign.
6: I don't understand the term "cross-section". Whenever I heard it in 10th grade biology, I knew I was going to flunk the test.
7: I'm a registered independent who generally leans Democrat, but I think Ryan's Medicare plan, although not perfect, is an excellent starting point. Obama has lied about it and has lost my vote. Admittedly, I live in a safely blue state and would probably vote Obama if I lived in a swing state. Right now, I vote for Gary Johnson and if he's not on the ballot, I write him in.
8: Speaking of which (I'm suddenly going linear), the electoral college is a sad joke that should be eliminated via amendment. The sooner, the better.
9: My son and his generation are very familiar with, and generally fans of, classic rock. Yet, when I was growing up, I didn't know a thing about my parents' music.
10: I really need to upgrade my wardrobe.
11: 99.9% of Americans praise veterans. For most of that group, although heartfelt, it's words without deeds. So, when you see a veteran, say "Thank you for your service." Or, if they just returned from Afghanistan or Iraq, try "Welcome home." If you happen to see them in, say, a convenience store, offer to buy them a cup of coffee, soda, whatever. Just as a token of thanks. If you've got a free morning or afternoon, volunteer at a VA Hospital or any other group that works with veterans. Your skills are needed, believe me.
12: If you take the word "parties" (as in political) and add an "a", you get an anagram of the word "parasite".
13: Getting campaign advice from Sarah Palin (as Mitt Romney did over the weekend) is like getting singing advice from Roseanne Barr.
14: Every time I read something and I see the phrase "He thought to himself...etc." I go out of my zone. Who ELSE does someone think to? It always stops me.
So I'm thinking to myself, this is a good place to stop.
Enjoy the spectacular weather (if you're in New England) y'all.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
9/11 + 11
When I first started this blog a couple of months ago, I imagined a weekly blog of generally funny stuff. Interestingly, I'm finding myself approaching this somewhat schizophrenically. Funny one week (or trying to be) and reflective the next.
So...I'm feeling the latter. I saw the remembrances last Tuesday and thought it was handled perfectly. The list was read alphabetically, by two people who lost someone in the attacks. When the list came to the names of these first two people, members whose last name began with "A", each person read a brief memory of the one they loved. The remembrances continued from an adjacent podium, in the same manner. I watched A-Z and cried my eyes out.
I did not know anyone who lost anyone in the attacks. The worst obvious effect on me, a native New Yorker, is the loss of the iconic skyline. And that's not insignificant. It doesn't measure anywhere near the tangible losses felt by so many. But I have so many memories of seeing that skyline looking east from the NJ Turnpike, or even better, looking west from Brooklyn. I was atop the WTC in, I think, 1974. The view was intoxicating. I looked at that skyline when I'd hit the city after having driven 13 hours when I was on break from graduate school in South Carolina and I always got a second wind. I'd see the skyline and I imagined a lot of noise, great food, constant commotion, and a cacophony of accents, mostly New York accents. In short, I imagined the soul of the city I grew up in.
I have a love/hate relationship with New York. Always have. I love the rush of "New York"ness I get when I arrive at Grand Central Station from my home in Connecticut. I go up the escalator. I see the clock in the center of the station. I step out of the station on to 42nd Street and, as I always do by tradition, go to the nearest hot dog stand and order a knish. Extra mustard. I revel in everything New York. I love my Mets and despise the Yankees and wear my baseball emotions on my sleeve. And I feel especially grateful that I grew up in the Bronx and Queens. But I hate the mania of the city. That's why I keep my distance.
I do whatever I need to do...maybe go to Central Park. Take in a museum. Grab a bite at any deli. After 3 hours, I'm ready to head back. I've had enough. Nothing negative...just exhausted. New York can do that to me. It's a city of sensory overload, always defeating my capacity to take it all in.
I don't have any special 9/11 stories. I know where I was (at work). I know I was worried about my son and stepsons, all in middle school. I took the proper precautions. Like everyone, I was devastated and royally pissed off. I never have felt, before or since, more American. The terrorist bastards didn't just attack my country. They attacked my city. They took away my skyline.
I supported the way President Bush responded. Essentially saying, "Give us the terrorists or we'll get them ourselves." Even when people like Jerry Falwell blamed feminists and other people who scared the sanctimonious daylights out of him, I didn't blame him. I thought that was just him venting. We were all out of our minds with anger.
That's why I find it hard to believe, 11 years later, that we could be so divided as a nation. If I was a terrorist, I'd clap my hands with joy every time we personally attack each other, be it verbally or otherwise. I'd say, "This is exactly what we wanted. I don't have to lift a finger or plan another suicide bombing. The stupid infidel Americans are doing our work for us."
I'm extremely analytical by nature. When something goes wrong, I take some pride in being one of the few people who tries to put myself in the mind of those who commit the offense. I tried to imagine what kind of monsters could perpetuate such an attack. I failed. I shifted my energies to try to understand how one American could so badly disparage a fellow countryman or woman. How our past president, who tried to defend our country, could be portrayed as an idiot. (Although I still stand by belief that the war in Iraq WAS tragically idiotic). Or that our current president is some combination of a socialist, Muslim, and an alien.
I try to imagine what motivates people like Rush Limbaugh, or Bill Maher, to show such sustained meanness. I have a theory, and a pretty good one. It's called money and/or fame. The more outrageous I become, the more you'll listen to me. And the richer you'll make me. My method is to become a human train wreck. You'll watch me just like you'll watch the ruins of a train wreck. Except even better, I'll recreate the wreck on a daily basis. And you'll listen. Before long, you'll see the world as I do, as a place of good and evil, with nothing in between. No shades of gray. Just the world wrapped up in one tidy, monochromatic package. I just simplified the world for you. Naturally, you're thankful because you don't have to do the arduous work of seeing inside people, getting to know them. These so-called Americans, be they on the right or left, are now your enemies.
Back to my own persona...I work Friday mornings at my local VA Hospital, helping veterans find their way, geographically, in a rather large hospital complex. My inner question, which I never verbalize is, "Is this what you fought for? Is this what you put your life on the line for?" I may just approach my veteran friends one day with this question.
I decided a year ago to go back to school to become a psychotherapist, via becoming an LCSW (licensed clinical social worker). I did this primarily to help veterans and to use my natural skills of empathy along with my musical ability as my primary tools. Because if I was a veteran, it would be hard enough to adjust to life stateside. But I should NOT have to witness the people I fought for fighting like pre-adolescents.
I always thought a good way to remember 9/11 is to call the day "National Unity Day." We don't have to take the day off. That's not our style, although I personally think it would be the right thing to do. But is it too much to ask of everyone to remember where they were on that fateful morning and to look at our fellow Americans as fellow countrymen and women, and not the enemy?
So...I'm feeling the latter. I saw the remembrances last Tuesday and thought it was handled perfectly. The list was read alphabetically, by two people who lost someone in the attacks. When the list came to the names of these first two people, members whose last name began with "A", each person read a brief memory of the one they loved. The remembrances continued from an adjacent podium, in the same manner. I watched A-Z and cried my eyes out.
I did not know anyone who lost anyone in the attacks. The worst obvious effect on me, a native New Yorker, is the loss of the iconic skyline. And that's not insignificant. It doesn't measure anywhere near the tangible losses felt by so many. But I have so many memories of seeing that skyline looking east from the NJ Turnpike, or even better, looking west from Brooklyn. I was atop the WTC in, I think, 1974. The view was intoxicating. I looked at that skyline when I'd hit the city after having driven 13 hours when I was on break from graduate school in South Carolina and I always got a second wind. I'd see the skyline and I imagined a lot of noise, great food, constant commotion, and a cacophony of accents, mostly New York accents. In short, I imagined the soul of the city I grew up in.
I have a love/hate relationship with New York. Always have. I love the rush of "New York"ness I get when I arrive at Grand Central Station from my home in Connecticut. I go up the escalator. I see the clock in the center of the station. I step out of the station on to 42nd Street and, as I always do by tradition, go to the nearest hot dog stand and order a knish. Extra mustard. I revel in everything New York. I love my Mets and despise the Yankees and wear my baseball emotions on my sleeve. And I feel especially grateful that I grew up in the Bronx and Queens. But I hate the mania of the city. That's why I keep my distance.
I do whatever I need to do...maybe go to Central Park. Take in a museum. Grab a bite at any deli. After 3 hours, I'm ready to head back. I've had enough. Nothing negative...just exhausted. New York can do that to me. It's a city of sensory overload, always defeating my capacity to take it all in.
I don't have any special 9/11 stories. I know where I was (at work). I know I was worried about my son and stepsons, all in middle school. I took the proper precautions. Like everyone, I was devastated and royally pissed off. I never have felt, before or since, more American. The terrorist bastards didn't just attack my country. They attacked my city. They took away my skyline.
I supported the way President Bush responded. Essentially saying, "Give us the terrorists or we'll get them ourselves." Even when people like Jerry Falwell blamed feminists and other people who scared the sanctimonious daylights out of him, I didn't blame him. I thought that was just him venting. We were all out of our minds with anger.
That's why I find it hard to believe, 11 years later, that we could be so divided as a nation. If I was a terrorist, I'd clap my hands with joy every time we personally attack each other, be it verbally or otherwise. I'd say, "This is exactly what we wanted. I don't have to lift a finger or plan another suicide bombing. The stupid infidel Americans are doing our work for us."
I'm extremely analytical by nature. When something goes wrong, I take some pride in being one of the few people who tries to put myself in the mind of those who commit the offense. I tried to imagine what kind of monsters could perpetuate such an attack. I failed. I shifted my energies to try to understand how one American could so badly disparage a fellow countryman or woman. How our past president, who tried to defend our country, could be portrayed as an idiot. (Although I still stand by belief that the war in Iraq WAS tragically idiotic). Or that our current president is some combination of a socialist, Muslim, and an alien.
I try to imagine what motivates people like Rush Limbaugh, or Bill Maher, to show such sustained meanness. I have a theory, and a pretty good one. It's called money and/or fame. The more outrageous I become, the more you'll listen to me. And the richer you'll make me. My method is to become a human train wreck. You'll watch me just like you'll watch the ruins of a train wreck. Except even better, I'll recreate the wreck on a daily basis. And you'll listen. Before long, you'll see the world as I do, as a place of good and evil, with nothing in between. No shades of gray. Just the world wrapped up in one tidy, monochromatic package. I just simplified the world for you. Naturally, you're thankful because you don't have to do the arduous work of seeing inside people, getting to know them. These so-called Americans, be they on the right or left, are now your enemies.
Back to my own persona...I work Friday mornings at my local VA Hospital, helping veterans find their way, geographically, in a rather large hospital complex. My inner question, which I never verbalize is, "Is this what you fought for? Is this what you put your life on the line for?" I may just approach my veteran friends one day with this question.
I decided a year ago to go back to school to become a psychotherapist, via becoming an LCSW (licensed clinical social worker). I did this primarily to help veterans and to use my natural skills of empathy along with my musical ability as my primary tools. Because if I was a veteran, it would be hard enough to adjust to life stateside. But I should NOT have to witness the people I fought for fighting like pre-adolescents.
I always thought a good way to remember 9/11 is to call the day "National Unity Day." We don't have to take the day off. That's not our style, although I personally think it would be the right thing to do. But is it too much to ask of everyone to remember where they were on that fateful morning and to look at our fellow Americans as fellow countrymen and women, and not the enemy?
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