The dictionary states that the definition of applause is: approval or praise expressed by clapping. This is not to be confused with clap, which is: to strike the palms of (one’s hands) together repeatedly, typically in order to applaud. Other forms refer to putting a hand on one’s mouth or forehead to show dismay; slap encouragingly on the back or shoulder; an explosive sound, esp. thunder. It is also a venereal disease, esp. gonorrhea. That’s what Al Capone died of. It does not say uncontrollable hand collisions due to nervousness. It does not say the spastic ritual of bringing hands together to get attention. With this in mind, I would surmise that Nancy Pelosi is suffering from clapping disease.
There are many forms of clapping, as well as applause. Baseball coaches often clap encouragement either from the dugout or coach’s box. This display will often provoke clapping from other players to encourage the fellow player to accomplish whatever endeavor he is engaged in. If said player succeeds, this will then result in applause from both teammates and observers. Similar circumstances occur during the course of basketball and football games. This does not arise among hockey players, since it is not only difficult, but pointless to clap with hockey gloves on. However, like boxing, performance by the participants will often elicit applause from the spectators of these events. In golf, there is a muffled, rapid acknowledgement known as “the polite golf clap.” This is a subtle version of applause.
Impatient concert goers will sometimes break into a rhythmic clapping to persuade whatever artist they are there to see, to get up on stage and perform. This usually results in rousing applause. When most enjoyable performances conclude, the crowd then stands and applauds. This is called a standing ovation. Conditions have to warrant such demonstrations of emotion. In the world of entertainment, standing ovations happen at the end of particularly fine executions of one’s craft, this will then cause a counter to the standing ovation, which is a curtain call. In the theater, the actors will come out on stage to receive additional accolades. If the standing ovation continues, actors will then take multiple bows to acknowledge the audiences appreciation. For dramatic effect, the curtain will open and close between bows. Once the applause dies down, the curtain will then remain closed and the house lights will come on.
Last night there was a Presidential address. Nancy Pelosi may very well be still at Capital building, alone, standing and applauding, or should I say clapping, because there’s nothing left to applaud.
In music, if the standing ovation lasts long enough, the band or artist will reappear on the stage and perform one or more additional songs. The music standing ovation is sometimes accompanied by the ceremonial igniting of cigarette lighters as a supplement to the din of hands. Last evening, a baseball game did not go on in the halls of Congress; nor did a rock concert, or a remarkable performance by a renowned actor.
Sometimes one solitary clap is necessary to get the attention of a person or thing. We may clap once to keep the dog from barking. A single clap is used by some to stop the cat from using the Indian cotton couch as a scratching post. A hypnotist will clap to awaken someone from their trance-like state. At one time, two claps quickly in succession have been used by the wealthy to summon a servant. Two rapid claps are also valuable to the school teacher to get their students to focus. Today, there is a device where one clap can turn a light on or off. Had the lighting at the Hall of Congress had this device wired into its system, Nancy Pelosi could have single-handedly made the room look like a dance club with multiple strobe lights.
For those of you who missed it, Barack Obama gave his Congressional address. He talked about the state of the economy. He talked about the state of education in this country. He talked about the deficiency in health care in the United States. He talked of his plan to alter the present course of those things. He did so in a prepared speech. Speech writers normally include breaks in the speech that state “wait for applause.” They are trained men and women who can accurately gauge what will educe applause. Last night the speech writers were made to look like imbeciles by Nancy Pelosi, whose dreadful disease came on without warning throughout the Presidents address. Her affliction almost each and every time Barack Obama uttered a sentence, or cleared his throat, manifested itself in the form of a Standing Ovation. It got to the point Obama must have been curious as to what he said that prompted this exuberant response. He could scarcely get through a complete statement. Little did he know what was going on behind him. If he had, as humble as he appears to be, it would not have shocked those in attendance if the President of the United States had turned around and yelled “QUIT IT! Can’t you see I’m speaking here?” And then promptly bitch slapped her.
Nancy Pelosi sprang from her seat so often, it was as though her chair was heated and someone put the setting on too high a temperature. Perhaps she was also suffering from hemorrhoids and she couldn’t help herself. When she could no longer endure sitting, she’d jump from her seat giving her much needed temporary relief. Can one suffer of Tuorette's of the ass? Vice-President Joe Biden once even rolled his eyes at a prompt that launched Ms. Pelosi for the umpteenth time. Since Vice-President Biden was seated next to her on the rise behind the President, if he didn’t get up when Speaker of the House Pelosi did, he’d look like a fool,when it was Pelosi who looked, and acted the part of the fool. I wouldn’t be surprised if Biden felt embarrassment for her.
Watching Ms. Pelosi, I was reminded of clergy who stand before their congregations and motion with their hands when it’s time for the parishioners to stand and sit. She was like those people who sign for the deaf members of the audience, when she got up, those in the audience facing her were supposed to get up. If they did not, they would no doubt raisee her ire, and perhaps be shamed into standing. However, I’m convinced Pelosi eventually lost all comprehension as to why she was repeatedly standing and clapping, (because often nothing was said that justified applause). Perhaps she did so due to some strange form of OCD.
During the analysis on CBS, Katie Couric stated that the President had spoken for nearly fifty minutes. Like an hour long television show peppered with commercial breaks, resulting in only forty minutes of viewing; the net time of real speaking was only thirty minutes.
So let’s not ridicule Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi like I’ve done here. Let’s have some compassion for her and her illness. Let’s give her the benefit of the doubt for her bizarre behavior unlike what the public gave her colleague Howard Dean. One day she’ll leave politics and have to get a job and cope in the real world with this illness. Maybe she can get a job as a professional seat filler. I hope she avoids the same fate as Al Capone. Now will some one tell her to extinguish her lighter and go home.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Funny Odd, Funny Ha-Ha, Sort of
When you hear that two nuclear submarines collide, it is perfectly understandable for the initial reaction to be one of shocked disbelief. The prospect of submarines armed with enough nuclear warheads to carry out 1,246 Hiroshima bombings is one of enormous gravity. The earth’s inhabitants should in unison breath a sigh of relief, thankful that a global catastrophe had been narrowly averted. As CNN led their Monday morning broadcast with this news, I was shocked. But not with wary trepidation, it was incredulousness that caused my stupor.
Not one, but two different naval commanders from different countries could simultaneously come down with a case of the stupids. Slack-jawed, I stared at the television screen, and listened to the anchorwomen, in a voice normally saved for assassinations of heads of state, the passing of a pope, and declarations of war; inform the viewers of this tragedy in the North Atlantic. How did she do that and keep a straight face? Sure, two nuclear submarines crashing into each other is serious. But once she got beyond that, didn’t it cross her mind, “How the hell did that happen?”
Let’s first take a look at the players in this bizarre performance of a David Lynch screenplay. The British sub HMS Vanguard was launched in 1992, and refitted in 2007 as part of a $7 billion contract. The sub is not due to be replaced until 2024, unless someone sails off the edge of the earth first. It stands to reason after spending that kind of cash, every available piece of new technology was installed aboard this pride of the British fleet. It’s safe to assume that it would include sonar and radar.
The same goes for the French vessel Le Triomphant, sonar and radar have just got to be onboard, don’t they? A closer look at the details of this incident reveals that one sub is British, and the other French. You may think that’s stating the obvious, but under the circumstances one can’t be too sure.
The military past of the French has been distinguished by the incredible amount of money spent yielding little positive results. Napoleon’s march into Russia didn’t turn out so hot. The French foray in Viet Nam was a disaster. And the French should be thankful the United States entered World War II, or German would be the spoken language. Granted, the French came to the aid of the colonies versus the Brits, and we know how that turned out. One good turn deserves another.
The British and the French faltered during the battle over the Suez, and it was up to the U.S. again to set things straight. Sure America has had it’s setbacks as well, but they aren’t driving their subs into other folks. As a matter of fact, in 1992, a surfacing Russian submarine struck the USS Baton Rouge in the Barents Sea. If any countries subs should be slamming into other countries it should be the U.S. They’ve got submarines patrolling most of the world’s major bodies of water.
Speaking of major bodies of water; 70.8% of the earth is covered by water, about 139,000,000 square miles. 20.8%, or 27,800,000 of that 139,000,000 is the Atlantic Ocean. This recent freak incident occurred in the North Atlantic. For the sake of argument, let’s say the North Atlantic covers 13,900,000 square miles of varying depths. Two submarines, on routine maneuvers, both running stealthily at the same time so as not to be picked up on sonar, run into each other in those nearly 14 million square miles at the same depth. Who woulda’ thunk? If Vegas only took bets on that happening!
The powers that be, which include British Admiral Sir Jonathon Band, the First Sea Lord, (swear to god) quickly allayed any fears as to whether a nuclear strike could be launched if the situation arose at this very moment; “We can confirm that the capability remained unaffected and there has been no compromise to nuclear safety.” Well, that’s good to know! We can rest easy knowing there was no nuclear accident, but we can still kill people on purpose if necessary. Whew! That’s certainly a load off. There are more astounding real life quotes from esteemed and learned individuals; all said with an air of utmost seriousness, I shit you not.
Stephen Saunders, a retired British Royal Navy commodore and the editor of the prestigious Jane’s Fighting Ships, said “This really shouldn’t have happened at all…I find it quite extraordinary.” How’s that for expert insight. Mr. Saunders doesn’t quit while he’s ahead. He further states “The modus operandi of most submarines, particularly ballistic-missile submarines, is to operate stealthily and to proceed undetected. This means operating passively, by not transmitting on sonar, and making as little noise as possible.” Well, it looks like both subs achieved their goal. These statements fall under the heading of “No shit, really?”
Complex, long-winded excuses, or explanations, depending on your personal sentiment, included that France being situated outside of NATO’s command structure, so it does not provide information on the location of its mobile nuclear arms. Why pray tell? Well, “France considers its nuclear arsenal the most vital element in its defense capabilities,” said Jerome Erulin, a spokesman for the French Navy. Remember, this is coming from the folks who felt the Maginot Line was their best defense against the Germans.
Consider this nugget; it took six years to draw up the U.K.-French Bilateral Defense Cooperation Agreement, which called for regular exchanges on nuclear policy between navies. And we think the U.S. government gets bogged down in bureaucratic red tape. After this recent incident, Hans Kristensen, who monitors NATO’s weapons for the Federation of American Scientists stated “The fact that the collision occurred at all indicates that the two allies need to talk more.” Chalk another one up for the “no shit” column. I haven’t seen a picture of Mr. Kristensen, but the image of the scientist on The Simpsons comes to mind. Mr. Kristensen is not alone on “the big brain squad.”
Liberal Democrat defense spokesman Nick Harvey, said “While the British nuclear fleet has a good safety record…the people of Britain, France and the rest of the world need to be reassured this can never happen again.” I wouldn’t hold my breath. The HMS Trafalger in November of 2002 ran aground off the coast of Scotland. The British sub HMS Tireless, in 2003, crashed into “possibly an iceberg” while on patrol in the Artic. In May 2003 Pippa Dunlop, a reporter for the Telegraph News referred to this accident involving the Tireless, as “the latest in a series of mishaps to befall the British fleet.” This very same sub witnessed an onboard explosion that killed two sailors in March 2007. Mr. Harvey, I don’t think “good” is good enough when you’re talking about vessels that are nuclear powered and are armed with nuclear weapons.
Lastly, did you know that if this collision had been worse according to nuclear physicist Frank Barnaby, there could have been dire consequences? Really? Where do you want to start? He stated that “if the warheads were exposed to the sea, plutonium and highly-enriched Uranium could go into the water and be absorbed by marine life.” Sorry Frank, that’s doesn’t rank high on the import list with the earth blowing up and all.
The British Ministry of Defense issued this statement “because of the secret nature of these weapons. I think a degree of secrecy is necessary but the Ministry of Defense is, by nature, very secretive.” Huh?
Not one of these cerebral giants ever mentioned the word “radar.” I don’t give a rat’s ass about sonar. The last time ocean liners ran into each other was 1956, when the Andrea Doria was struck in dense fog by the Stockholm. Radar didn’t exist yet. For Christ’s sake, couldn’t somebody see a 500 foot long, 3 stories high, 16,000 ton blip on a screen? Let’s also keep in mind that 79% of France’s electricity is generated by nuclear energy. I sure hope none of the guys that run their utilities command a sub in their Navy. If so, Jon Stewart, SNL and the Harvard Lampoon are going to have a field day. I certainly hope the media keeps this story in the news. There so much more to make fun of than tired, old, boring, steroids.
Not one, but two different naval commanders from different countries could simultaneously come down with a case of the stupids. Slack-jawed, I stared at the television screen, and listened to the anchorwomen, in a voice normally saved for assassinations of heads of state, the passing of a pope, and declarations of war; inform the viewers of this tragedy in the North Atlantic. How did she do that and keep a straight face? Sure, two nuclear submarines crashing into each other is serious. But once she got beyond that, didn’t it cross her mind, “How the hell did that happen?”
Let’s first take a look at the players in this bizarre performance of a David Lynch screenplay. The British sub HMS Vanguard was launched in 1992, and refitted in 2007 as part of a $7 billion contract. The sub is not due to be replaced until 2024, unless someone sails off the edge of the earth first. It stands to reason after spending that kind of cash, every available piece of new technology was installed aboard this pride of the British fleet. It’s safe to assume that it would include sonar and radar.
The same goes for the French vessel Le Triomphant, sonar and radar have just got to be onboard, don’t they? A closer look at the details of this incident reveals that one sub is British, and the other French. You may think that’s stating the obvious, but under the circumstances one can’t be too sure.
The military past of the French has been distinguished by the incredible amount of money spent yielding little positive results. Napoleon’s march into Russia didn’t turn out so hot. The French foray in Viet Nam was a disaster. And the French should be thankful the United States entered World War II, or German would be the spoken language. Granted, the French came to the aid of the colonies versus the Brits, and we know how that turned out. One good turn deserves another.
The British and the French faltered during the battle over the Suez, and it was up to the U.S. again to set things straight. Sure America has had it’s setbacks as well, but they aren’t driving their subs into other folks. As a matter of fact, in 1992, a surfacing Russian submarine struck the USS Baton Rouge in the Barents Sea. If any countries subs should be slamming into other countries it should be the U.S. They’ve got submarines patrolling most of the world’s major bodies of water.
Speaking of major bodies of water; 70.8% of the earth is covered by water, about 139,000,000 square miles. 20.8%, or 27,800,000 of that 139,000,000 is the Atlantic Ocean. This recent freak incident occurred in the North Atlantic. For the sake of argument, let’s say the North Atlantic covers 13,900,000 square miles of varying depths. Two submarines, on routine maneuvers, both running stealthily at the same time so as not to be picked up on sonar, run into each other in those nearly 14 million square miles at the same depth. Who woulda’ thunk? If Vegas only took bets on that happening!
The powers that be, which include British Admiral Sir Jonathon Band, the First Sea Lord, (swear to god) quickly allayed any fears as to whether a nuclear strike could be launched if the situation arose at this very moment; “We can confirm that the capability remained unaffected and there has been no compromise to nuclear safety.” Well, that’s good to know! We can rest easy knowing there was no nuclear accident, but we can still kill people on purpose if necessary. Whew! That’s certainly a load off. There are more astounding real life quotes from esteemed and learned individuals; all said with an air of utmost seriousness, I shit you not.
Stephen Saunders, a retired British Royal Navy commodore and the editor of the prestigious Jane’s Fighting Ships, said “This really shouldn’t have happened at all…I find it quite extraordinary.” How’s that for expert insight. Mr. Saunders doesn’t quit while he’s ahead. He further states “The modus operandi of most submarines, particularly ballistic-missile submarines, is to operate stealthily and to proceed undetected. This means operating passively, by not transmitting on sonar, and making as little noise as possible.” Well, it looks like both subs achieved their goal. These statements fall under the heading of “No shit, really?”
Complex, long-winded excuses, or explanations, depending on your personal sentiment, included that France being situated outside of NATO’s command structure, so it does not provide information on the location of its mobile nuclear arms. Why pray tell? Well, “France considers its nuclear arsenal the most vital element in its defense capabilities,” said Jerome Erulin, a spokesman for the French Navy. Remember, this is coming from the folks who felt the Maginot Line was their best defense against the Germans.
Consider this nugget; it took six years to draw up the U.K.-French Bilateral Defense Cooperation Agreement, which called for regular exchanges on nuclear policy between navies. And we think the U.S. government gets bogged down in bureaucratic red tape. After this recent incident, Hans Kristensen, who monitors NATO’s weapons for the Federation of American Scientists stated “The fact that the collision occurred at all indicates that the two allies need to talk more.” Chalk another one up for the “no shit” column. I haven’t seen a picture of Mr. Kristensen, but the image of the scientist on The Simpsons comes to mind. Mr. Kristensen is not alone on “the big brain squad.”
Liberal Democrat defense spokesman Nick Harvey, said “While the British nuclear fleet has a good safety record…the people of Britain, France and the rest of the world need to be reassured this can never happen again.” I wouldn’t hold my breath. The HMS Trafalger in November of 2002 ran aground off the coast of Scotland. The British sub HMS Tireless, in 2003, crashed into “possibly an iceberg” while on patrol in the Artic. In May 2003 Pippa Dunlop, a reporter for the Telegraph News referred to this accident involving the Tireless, as “the latest in a series of mishaps to befall the British fleet.” This very same sub witnessed an onboard explosion that killed two sailors in March 2007. Mr. Harvey, I don’t think “good” is good enough when you’re talking about vessels that are nuclear powered and are armed with nuclear weapons.
Lastly, did you know that if this collision had been worse according to nuclear physicist Frank Barnaby, there could have been dire consequences? Really? Where do you want to start? He stated that “if the warheads were exposed to the sea, plutonium and highly-enriched Uranium could go into the water and be absorbed by marine life.” Sorry Frank, that’s doesn’t rank high on the import list with the earth blowing up and all.
The British Ministry of Defense issued this statement “because of the secret nature of these weapons. I think a degree of secrecy is necessary but the Ministry of Defense is, by nature, very secretive.” Huh?
Not one of these cerebral giants ever mentioned the word “radar.” I don’t give a rat’s ass about sonar. The last time ocean liners ran into each other was 1956, when the Andrea Doria was struck in dense fog by the Stockholm. Radar didn’t exist yet. For Christ’s sake, couldn’t somebody see a 500 foot long, 3 stories high, 16,000 ton blip on a screen? Let’s also keep in mind that 79% of France’s electricity is generated by nuclear energy. I sure hope none of the guys that run their utilities command a sub in their Navy. If so, Jon Stewart, SNL and the Harvard Lampoon are going to have a field day. I certainly hope the media keeps this story in the news. There so much more to make fun of than tired, old, boring, steroids.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
This Week's News
A bevy of news stories seem to be garnering a lot of attention, whether these items are deserving of such overblown coverage or not. However, America’s “slow down to gawk at the care wreck” mentality of the majority of our population will never be sated. Our televisions are cluttered with dozens of channels devoted to covering the cornucopia of carnival-like diversions. Eyes were glued to the endless coverage that Anna Nicole Smith provided ad nauseum. While we should be analyzing things such as why gas prices are going up though oil prices remain moderately low; and what exactly is in the government stimulus package, and how it will effect us,; and why are Wall Street bankers crying about their bonuses being less than last year; many of us are riveted to the Michael Phelps saga, Alex Rodriguez and steroids (still), and………..
Fourteen children. 14 Children. F-O-U-R-T-E-E-N children. Nadya Suleman decided that six kids wasn’t enough, she had to have eight more. The more time has elapsed, the more bizarre this story becomes. Unlike other forms of media, some who have declared they will not pass judgment until all the facts are in; I hold not such reservations.
My feelings are rooted in a conservative attitude toward population growth, a limited amount of global resources, and a gratifying and fulfilling experience as a single parent of one child. Let’s see if I can find anything remotely redeeming in having eight kids in one pop when you already have six…without a husband…without any source of income…when your parents are already helping raise the other six…after they’ve lost a home…after they’ve filed for bankruptcy…while you’re receiving government assistance.
Oh, that’s right Ms. Suleman, you don’t think you’re receiving government assistance. You believe the $490 per month in food stamps, and the disability checks three of your kids get are not government assistance, but they are part of programs designed to help people in need. Oh. Like you needed eight more kids. Did you really need six kids to begin with, without any viable means of supporting them. There’s a room full of cuckoo clocks chiming at this very moment.
A dear friend of mine has eight children. Thankfully, she had them at various intervals. After hearing this nugget of information from one of my colleagues, I was initially appalled. What about the planet being overpopulated I railed? What about the dwindling open spaces I mourned? Who’s going to pay for these kids and their needs I chided? And then I got to know this woman. She is easily one of the finest, kindest, most compassionate individuals I have ever known, and am privileged to call her my friend. I quickly reversed my snap judgments. I surmised that if any human being existed on this planet that should have eight kids, and the world would be a better place because of it, it is this woman. Each of her children is bright, more pleasant, more respectful, and better behaved than the next. Did I mention these children are all home schooled either by my friend or her husband? Did I mention my friend is a PhD. candidate? These feelings of mine do not extend to Ms. Suleman.
She has had “work done” though she denies it. Her lips and nose are quite different now then they appeared in earlier photographs. She is one of the growing population of persons who holds others accountable for what happens to them, and has filed lawsuits to prove it. And now she is holding various forms of media for ransom so the public can hear what she has to say. She has hired publicists to handle the offers, and insulate her from anyone who may expose her for what she is. Publicist Joann Killeen states that “My job is to protect my client.” That’s something a lawyer or agent would say, not a publicist. The amount of damage control for a lunatic must be overwhelming.
Ms. Suleman stated that she plans to support her children by the employment she’ll gain from completing her college education. In the very next breath she stated that she will be there to nurture and care for all her children, a quality she believes many parents lack today. How does she plan on doing both, particularly when eight of your kids are in diapers, and it’s still undetermined whether any of them will have prolonged medical issues? I am aghast at this height of egocentricity. I weep for the children.
I am ashamed that this “news story” has so irked me. I am upset that I’ve succumbed to my sense of morbid curiosity. I suggest that we should give Ms. Suleman virtually no media attention. Let her and her idiocy languish in the middle pages of various print forms. Hopefully, her fifteen minutes will be over. This is one case where if we ignore her maybe she will just go away.
Likewise with the Michael Phelps tale. Leave him alone, let’s move on. Our President smoked pot and we are not obsessed with the fact. Michael Phelps is a swimmer, not someone recently nominated for sainthood. Same goes for A-Rod and steroids; he’s a baseball player, not John Gotti incarnate. It’s funny how some folks want to pass judgment on a decorated Olympian, and the baseball stars of the era, but not on an obviously disturbed, misguided, selfish, burden to society……or…..
those Wall Street bankers from the first paragraph, remember them. Am I the only one who’s pissed because the men running an industry that lost $34 billion dollars in 2008 “only” got an average bonus that exceeded inflation by 406%? Who else in America gets rewarded for not doing their job states Rick Newman of U.S. News and World Report? How did you miss that little news item? Right, we’re busy paying attention to a woman in California who could profit by not having a job at all, and exceeding the average household population by 700%. We should bail on the coverage of Phelps and A-Rod, and take a closer look at those who are getting your tax dollars to bail them out.
Fourteen children. 14 Children. F-O-U-R-T-E-E-N children. Nadya Suleman decided that six kids wasn’t enough, she had to have eight more. The more time has elapsed, the more bizarre this story becomes. Unlike other forms of media, some who have declared they will not pass judgment until all the facts are in; I hold not such reservations.
My feelings are rooted in a conservative attitude toward population growth, a limited amount of global resources, and a gratifying and fulfilling experience as a single parent of one child. Let’s see if I can find anything remotely redeeming in having eight kids in one pop when you already have six…without a husband…without any source of income…when your parents are already helping raise the other six…after they’ve lost a home…after they’ve filed for bankruptcy…while you’re receiving government assistance.
Oh, that’s right Ms. Suleman, you don’t think you’re receiving government assistance. You believe the $490 per month in food stamps, and the disability checks three of your kids get are not government assistance, but they are part of programs designed to help people in need. Oh. Like you needed eight more kids. Did you really need six kids to begin with, without any viable means of supporting them. There’s a room full of cuckoo clocks chiming at this very moment.
A dear friend of mine has eight children. Thankfully, she had them at various intervals. After hearing this nugget of information from one of my colleagues, I was initially appalled. What about the planet being overpopulated I railed? What about the dwindling open spaces I mourned? Who’s going to pay for these kids and their needs I chided? And then I got to know this woman. She is easily one of the finest, kindest, most compassionate individuals I have ever known, and am privileged to call her my friend. I quickly reversed my snap judgments. I surmised that if any human being existed on this planet that should have eight kids, and the world would be a better place because of it, it is this woman. Each of her children is bright, more pleasant, more respectful, and better behaved than the next. Did I mention these children are all home schooled either by my friend or her husband? Did I mention my friend is a PhD. candidate? These feelings of mine do not extend to Ms. Suleman.
She has had “work done” though she denies it. Her lips and nose are quite different now then they appeared in earlier photographs. She is one of the growing population of persons who holds others accountable for what happens to them, and has filed lawsuits to prove it. And now she is holding various forms of media for ransom so the public can hear what she has to say. She has hired publicists to handle the offers, and insulate her from anyone who may expose her for what she is. Publicist Joann Killeen states that “My job is to protect my client.” That’s something a lawyer or agent would say, not a publicist. The amount of damage control for a lunatic must be overwhelming.
Ms. Suleman stated that she plans to support her children by the employment she’ll gain from completing her college education. In the very next breath she stated that she will be there to nurture and care for all her children, a quality she believes many parents lack today. How does she plan on doing both, particularly when eight of your kids are in diapers, and it’s still undetermined whether any of them will have prolonged medical issues? I am aghast at this height of egocentricity. I weep for the children.
I am ashamed that this “news story” has so irked me. I am upset that I’ve succumbed to my sense of morbid curiosity. I suggest that we should give Ms. Suleman virtually no media attention. Let her and her idiocy languish in the middle pages of various print forms. Hopefully, her fifteen minutes will be over. This is one case where if we ignore her maybe she will just go away.
Likewise with the Michael Phelps tale. Leave him alone, let’s move on. Our President smoked pot and we are not obsessed with the fact. Michael Phelps is a swimmer, not someone recently nominated for sainthood. Same goes for A-Rod and steroids; he’s a baseball player, not John Gotti incarnate. It’s funny how some folks want to pass judgment on a decorated Olympian, and the baseball stars of the era, but not on an obviously disturbed, misguided, selfish, burden to society……or…..
those Wall Street bankers from the first paragraph, remember them. Am I the only one who’s pissed because the men running an industry that lost $34 billion dollars in 2008 “only” got an average bonus that exceeded inflation by 406%? Who else in America gets rewarded for not doing their job states Rick Newman of U.S. News and World Report? How did you miss that little news item? Right, we’re busy paying attention to a woman in California who could profit by not having a job at all, and exceeding the average household population by 700%. We should bail on the coverage of Phelps and A-Rod, and take a closer look at those who are getting your tax dollars to bail them out.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Beating a Dead Horse
Raise your hand if you’re as sick of reading the never ending saga of steroids in baseball. It no longer has an appeal or redeeming qualities. We were once intrigued wondering which names the web of suspicion would ensnare. Once the stars were aligned, so to speak, there was nothing left to hold our attention.
A Congressional committee has been formed, the hearings televised, and testimony from the Snidely Whiplash’s of baseball was heard, or tuned out if you will. After a short period of relative dormancy, a new baseball season is now upon us, and with it comes tremors of discussion dotting the sports pages. On an interest scale, the steroids issue falls somewhere between pocket lint and Paris Hilton; and if it doesn’t, it should.
Drugs use in baseball is not new. Tim Keefe, a pitcher who played prior to the turn of the twentieth century. His illustrious career had five seasons of more than 30 wins. In two of those seasons Keefe had over 40 wins. In one of those remarkable years Keefe pitched 619 innings, in the other he registered 535 innings. Alas, Keefe’s playing days were cut short by injury. Keefe had once admitted that if he felt fatigued, he would pick up some “elixir” from the local pharmacy. Keefe pitched from 1880 to 1893, before the Pure Food and Drug Act was passed in 1906; long before the passage of the Harrison Drug Act in 1914. This is notable because prior to the passing of these two acts of governmental legislation opium, heroin, morphine, and cocaine were over-the counter drugs. Anyone could walk into a drugstore and purchase themselves these marvelous wonder drugs.
Please keep in mind most ballplayers during this period were not necessarily pillars of the community. The profession of ball playing had not yet gained complete social acceptance. The game itself was rife with gambling, and its step-brother cheating. The mind doesn’t have to make such a giant leap of faith to surmise ballplayers stooping to drug use to cure their ills; particularly if it meant collecting a paycheck.Notable personalities of the era were part of, not hiding underground, the drug culture. The famed psychiatrist Sigmund Freud wrote about the stimulant cocaine, and the talented but tormented writer Edgar Allen Poe, often used a variety of drugs; why would anybody think the ballplaying population would be exempt from sampling the narcotic wares of the day?
The next wave of drug use in baseball came shortly after the conclusion of World War II. Amphetamines were used extensively by soldiers to combat battle fatigue. “Next stop, the civilian population, all aboard!” In the ground breaking book Ball Four published in 1971, former New York Yankee Jim Bouton, took a candid behind the scenes look at baseball; he revealed that many notable players took these illegal narcotics in order to gain a perceived edge over their peers. Exposing this darker side of America’s game irked the fraternal hierarchy no end, prompting commissioner Bowie Kuhn to take a position of plausible deniability; denouncing Bouton’s book as a form of baseball blasphemy. Now we see that what Bouton wrote was tame, and exposed players for what they were; regular human beings with shortcomings just like the rest of us.
In the ‘70s and ‘80s cocaine made another appearance on the baseball landscape, in a new and improved form. Most Valuable Players Dave Parker and Keith Hernandez found themselves at the center of that firestorm of scandal. Tim Raines, the perennial all-star of the Montreal Expos was once asked why he slid head first so often when he stole a base. He replied that he didn’t want to break the cocaine vial in his back pocket. All these players went on with their superb careers. Again, baseball was reflecting the societal condition of the time.
And now we have steroids. But we also have smaller ballparks, and bigger salaries, and many players have personal trainers. We have weaker pitching, and we have a voyeuristic society with an insatiable desire to know the most personal details of its celebrities. If you combine those things with a “holier than thou” 21st century version of the Victorian mindset, it spells trouble; trouble for ballplayers, and trouble for our culture that loves to point fingers though the finger-pointers are far from chaste. We really needed a congressional committee to investigate steroid use? This is our government at work paid by our tax dollars? Doesn’t the government have bigger fish to fry? Christ! They can’t even police themselves, and their going to police baseball? Give me a break.
Twice before has government gotten involved with baseball, and both times it failed miserably. The first concerned baseball’s reserve clause. First challenged in 1885, it would take another 90 years for the judicial branch of the government to rule that baseball was indeed a business. The second had to do with the Black Sox scandal of 1919, when Chicago ballplayers were accused of throwing the World Series. Again our judicial system dropped the ball, pun intended, and cleared all players of any wrong doing. It took newly anointed baseball commissioner Kennesaw Mountain Landis to clean baseball’s house. He suspended the suspected players for life. Strike two federal government. And now they’re going to get to the bottom of the steroids scandal. I can’t wait to see how this one turns out. Oh, wait a minute, I can wait. As a matter of fact, I don’t care.
Sports writers and news journalists, the embodiment of all that is good in the world, have taken a stance against any player suspected of steroid use. Mark McGuire falls into this category. A point has been made to show how steroid rumors hurt his chances for the Hall of Fame. It couldn’t possibly be because he was a lifetime .263 hitter who struck out frequently could it? No, let’s make steroid the reason, voters will show him.
When did sportswriters become the moral entrepreneurs for America? They call the records set during this period tainted. No more tainted than the records set before integration. No more tainted than the records that were set before night baseball. No more tainted than the records set when ballparks had foul lines less than 270 feet from home plate, or pitchers regularly doctored the ball, or when only one umpire was used, I could go on but I’m not as pompous as those throwing the stones these days. Asterisks my ass, it’s just another turbulent time in baseball; disappointing yes, the decline of our civilization as we know it, not hardly. Sadly, something will come along to take steroids place. It's the way our society works if you haven't noticed for the last two hundred years or so.
The games stars implicated in this mess haven’t fallen, they’ve just moved with baseball’s celestial sky.
Did you ever notice how cumulus clouds occasionally can resemble bellybutton lint, now that’s fascinating!
A Congressional committee has been formed, the hearings televised, and testimony from the Snidely Whiplash’s of baseball was heard, or tuned out if you will. After a short period of relative dormancy, a new baseball season is now upon us, and with it comes tremors of discussion dotting the sports pages. On an interest scale, the steroids issue falls somewhere between pocket lint and Paris Hilton; and if it doesn’t, it should.
Drugs use in baseball is not new. Tim Keefe, a pitcher who played prior to the turn of the twentieth century. His illustrious career had five seasons of more than 30 wins. In two of those seasons Keefe had over 40 wins. In one of those remarkable years Keefe pitched 619 innings, in the other he registered 535 innings. Alas, Keefe’s playing days were cut short by injury. Keefe had once admitted that if he felt fatigued, he would pick up some “elixir” from the local pharmacy. Keefe pitched from 1880 to 1893, before the Pure Food and Drug Act was passed in 1906; long before the passage of the Harrison Drug Act in 1914. This is notable because prior to the passing of these two acts of governmental legislation opium, heroin, morphine, and cocaine were over-the counter drugs. Anyone could walk into a drugstore and purchase themselves these marvelous wonder drugs.
Please keep in mind most ballplayers during this period were not necessarily pillars of the community. The profession of ball playing had not yet gained complete social acceptance. The game itself was rife with gambling, and its step-brother cheating. The mind doesn’t have to make such a giant leap of faith to surmise ballplayers stooping to drug use to cure their ills; particularly if it meant collecting a paycheck.Notable personalities of the era were part of, not hiding underground, the drug culture. The famed psychiatrist Sigmund Freud wrote about the stimulant cocaine, and the talented but tormented writer Edgar Allen Poe, often used a variety of drugs; why would anybody think the ballplaying population would be exempt from sampling the narcotic wares of the day?
The next wave of drug use in baseball came shortly after the conclusion of World War II. Amphetamines were used extensively by soldiers to combat battle fatigue. “Next stop, the civilian population, all aboard!” In the ground breaking book Ball Four published in 1971, former New York Yankee Jim Bouton, took a candid behind the scenes look at baseball; he revealed that many notable players took these illegal narcotics in order to gain a perceived edge over their peers. Exposing this darker side of America’s game irked the fraternal hierarchy no end, prompting commissioner Bowie Kuhn to take a position of plausible deniability; denouncing Bouton’s book as a form of baseball blasphemy. Now we see that what Bouton wrote was tame, and exposed players for what they were; regular human beings with shortcomings just like the rest of us.
In the ‘70s and ‘80s cocaine made another appearance on the baseball landscape, in a new and improved form. Most Valuable Players Dave Parker and Keith Hernandez found themselves at the center of that firestorm of scandal. Tim Raines, the perennial all-star of the Montreal Expos was once asked why he slid head first so often when he stole a base. He replied that he didn’t want to break the cocaine vial in his back pocket. All these players went on with their superb careers. Again, baseball was reflecting the societal condition of the time.
And now we have steroids. But we also have smaller ballparks, and bigger salaries, and many players have personal trainers. We have weaker pitching, and we have a voyeuristic society with an insatiable desire to know the most personal details of its celebrities. If you combine those things with a “holier than thou” 21st century version of the Victorian mindset, it spells trouble; trouble for ballplayers, and trouble for our culture that loves to point fingers though the finger-pointers are far from chaste. We really needed a congressional committee to investigate steroid use? This is our government at work paid by our tax dollars? Doesn’t the government have bigger fish to fry? Christ! They can’t even police themselves, and their going to police baseball? Give me a break.
Twice before has government gotten involved with baseball, and both times it failed miserably. The first concerned baseball’s reserve clause. First challenged in 1885, it would take another 90 years for the judicial branch of the government to rule that baseball was indeed a business. The second had to do with the Black Sox scandal of 1919, when Chicago ballplayers were accused of throwing the World Series. Again our judicial system dropped the ball, pun intended, and cleared all players of any wrong doing. It took newly anointed baseball commissioner Kennesaw Mountain Landis to clean baseball’s house. He suspended the suspected players for life. Strike two federal government. And now they’re going to get to the bottom of the steroids scandal. I can’t wait to see how this one turns out. Oh, wait a minute, I can wait. As a matter of fact, I don’t care.
Sports writers and news journalists, the embodiment of all that is good in the world, have taken a stance against any player suspected of steroid use. Mark McGuire falls into this category. A point has been made to show how steroid rumors hurt his chances for the Hall of Fame. It couldn’t possibly be because he was a lifetime .263 hitter who struck out frequently could it? No, let’s make steroid the reason, voters will show him.
When did sportswriters become the moral entrepreneurs for America? They call the records set during this period tainted. No more tainted than the records set before integration. No more tainted than the records that were set before night baseball. No more tainted than the records set when ballparks had foul lines less than 270 feet from home plate, or pitchers regularly doctored the ball, or when only one umpire was used, I could go on but I’m not as pompous as those throwing the stones these days. Asterisks my ass, it’s just another turbulent time in baseball; disappointing yes, the decline of our civilization as we know it, not hardly. Sadly, something will come along to take steroids place. It's the way our society works if you haven't noticed for the last two hundred years or so.
The games stars implicated in this mess haven’t fallen, they’ve just moved with baseball’s celestial sky.
Did you ever notice how cumulus clouds occasionally can resemble bellybutton lint, now that’s fascinating!
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