I Spy

I am sorry to have disappointed you regular readers -all three of you- these past couple of weeks. I have been remiss in my postings; life got in the way. I hate it when that happens. I semi-carefully went through all my documents to perhaps find a blog I had stashed in case of a time allotment emergency. Alas, all I found were short stories, and that's how they'll stay. In the interests of time and space, I'll share here some of what I witnessed over the past couple of weeks.

My lecture at Stetson University was a roaring success given the great reviews I received. At its conclusion I made my way to Gainesville to visit Cory, and to my surprise, his significant other Cathy. She was supposed to be out of town. Fortunately for me, she had a change of heart.

My drive necessitated taking state route 40 through the heart of the Ocala National Forest. As I made my way north on route 17 from Deland -if you've never heard of it, you're not missing anything- I looked for signs for 40 west. I will forever be able to make this drive again even if the Florida department of transportation decides arbitrarily to change the numbers of every major highway in the state. All I'll need to know is to make a left at the ten foot tall, stainless steel, pink rooster.

If it weren't for my pressing desire to see my son, I most assuredly would have stopped at this incredible statue emporium. Every animal was built to scale. Elephants, giraffes, tigers; all painted with the appropriate markings. There was a ten foot replica of the Statue of Liberty, and so many other stainless steel monstrosities that covered every square inch of the property, it boggled the mind. What a great place!

After driving for a bit, I reached the forest. You know how I knew? What welcomed my entrance was a yellow caution sign with a silhouette of a large bear on walking on all fours notifying me that this was a bear crossing. Really. In Florida. Home of beaches, sunshine, Spring Break, and Disney World. It seemed rather surreal initially. I didn't know if I could handle another Salvador Dali moment following so closely on the heels of the stainless steel menagerie. However, Florida occupies a huge expanse of land. It is a very diverse state. Why not a bear crossing sign?

No more absurd than that bastion of journalistic excellence The Miami Herald,putting Spanish language ads in the sport section when they publish a Spanish language version of the paper called El Nuevo.

But the height of the ridiculous, as noted Renaissance man Oliver Wendell Holmes would say, is the proposed merger between the AT&T and T-Mobile wireless cellular service carriers.

When this tidbit was first announced I thought I was going to have a cerebral hemorrhage. A minor myocardial infarction at least. In layman's terms, I nearly shit myself, then I shit a couple of neighbors and their pets.

I left fucking AT&T for T-Mobile because of the awful customer service I had to endure from this former monopoly. That was back in the day when they were Bell Telephone. Back when everything they were involved in ran like clockwork and the service was phenomenal. That is, until the U.S. government decided they were a monopoly and broke Bell Tel up into little tiny Bell Tels. Pacific Bell, Bell South, you name one, they all performed half as well as prior to the breakup.

Now At&T is becoming a monopoly again. But this time they've spread their inefficiency to every smaller company they touch. AT&T has finally figured out the formula for success and profitability. Acquire lesser financially soluble companies, give their shitty service, because guess what? The stupid American consumer will keep paying for it regardless of how bad we fuck up. The wireless phone service is a prime example.

It has been highly publicized that AT&T has the worst service of every wireless carrier doing business. The best service belongs to T-Mobile. T-Mobile is a German based company that is not the largest, or the wealthiest, just the best according to J.D.Power. They don't spend as much on advertising as AT&T or Verizon. They don't sell the Iphone like AT&T and Verizon. T-Mobile just tries to do the best they can customer service-wise. They are not perfect by far. They also have a little bit of that "customers will keep on paying no matter what" mentality; they're just not so blatant about it. And now AT&T wants to buy up T-Mobile in an obvious effort to somehow shore up their customer satisfaction ratings.

This whole thing smells of the Exxon merger with Mobil Oil after the Valdez scandal. Don't see many Exxon stations around anymore huh? I wonder if AT&T plans on operating under the T-Mobile umbrella to generate some much needed goodwill. I certainly hope not. I will have to cancel my contract. No you say? Can't get out of it you say? Fuck AT&T I say. They won't release me out of my contract, I'll make their customer service people's lives a living hell. Just ask Sony.

Five and half years ago I had an issue with Sony. The abridged version shows I got a new TV. Yea for me and 22 hours of diligence. Well that TV has shit the bed. I'm at it again. This time however, Sony has offered me a new television at a reduced price. It is a generous and satisfactory offer...for somebody else. Not for someone who has been down this road before. Not after reading a testimony from one of the numerous small claims court cases that said Sony only expected the TV (my model) only to last four to seven years when they put them on the market. I'll get another new TV. It may take some effort, but it will be worth it. I'm not going to let these greedy bastards continue to sell us inferior stuff, and laugh while their doing it.

I wish the CEO's of Sony and AT&T were riding in the same car along a highway in central Florida, and become so startled by the sight of a ten foot tall, stainless steel, pink rooster, that they hit a bear crossing the road. It could happen...if Salvador Dali has anything to do with it.

Gym Rats

My wife Helen and I joined a gym nearly four years ago. This was my wife's suggestion. She works for Memorial HealthCare Systems, who besides hospitals, have a couple of gyms in their fold. I hadn't been to a gym since 2000. After six years of residing either in a classroom or at a computer, I had become, how can I put this; zoftig. My weight went from a rather healthy 205 to a rather unhealthy 257. The gym seemed like a great idea.

Initially, for the first six months, I dutifully went every morning six days a week. After the first three months, I felt the machines I was working out on no longer challenged me, nor were giving me the desired result. I had espied a couple who worked out together using the free weights. Nothing says romance more than a husband and wife lifting large amounts of weight together.

I went over and introduced myself and asked for their help. They were diminutive in height only. They obviously had to do some serious remodeling to their home just so Brad could get his massive shoulders through each doorway. Fran's shoulders were wider than mine, and the muscle definition of both looked as though it was drawn anime. But yet, neither thought they were all that. They worked out so strenuously because it made them feel good, not just look good.

They did not make fun of me when I could barely lift the equivalent of two large jars of mayonnaise. They shouted encouragement as I neared blackout due to the strain of lifting approximately the weight of a pair of shoes. They exhibited patience when they'd have to add and take off weights because of the huge differential between us. They'd add what equated to a small automobile, then take off all but the armrest.

Eventually, I caught up...to Fran. Months later I surpassed her personal bests. I would never catch up to Brad, but that wasn't the point as he constantly reminded me. "It's not about the weight" he'd say. "It's all about the form." He'd add "Are you pushing yourself beyond your preconceived limits?" he'd ask. That's what a good workout and results are all about, he'd share. My mind understood completely. That and he was ten years younger than I. He ate right and I didn't. But I showed up every morning, and with their help, there was a physical transformation; not very discernible, but one nonetheless.

Brad often reminded me that if I kept coming for three months, it would become a habit. If I came for six months, it would become a way of life. I've now been going for nearly four years. Oh, I've been injured and had to take a few weeks off. Helen and I would go out of town and I'd miss a week. But I'm still going, maybe not six days a week; now it's more like 3 or 4 depending on my schedule. I have met some wonderful people there. Some are still going right along with me, or should I say, me with them; they were there before I was. Then there are others still, who just come and go. The rest of this blog is about them.

There is always an influx of newbies after the first of the year. Most would last about four weeks, never to be seen from again. There would be others who'd stick around about six months, get in pretty good shape, quit, come back in about six months looking exactly as they did as when they started. Then there'd be those who'd show up religiously, work their fucking asses off; treadmill, elliptical, and spin (bike riding and not going anywhere), and after a year or years, nothing had changed. Two people come to mind that I could swear got fatter.

And then there's the Dirty Dozen or so that I see every time I'm at the gym. Christ only knows how long some of these folks have been going to the gym. Some are in great shape, some not so much; but they're all maintaining what shape makes them happy. They know what they're doing for themselves is beneficial. They do yoga, they spin, they lift free weights, they work out on machines, they do the stupid stairs, they attend organized classes, they stretch; on and on and on they go.

When I joined the gym no one talked with each other. I could see no harm in at least acknowledging people I was sharing space with everyday. One thing led to another, and a whole bunch of us were making going to the gym a semi-social activity, not just a mild sado-masochistic exercise to test our thresholds of pain and agony. One guy even talked more than I did, which I was almost unable to fathom. He'd had a heart attack back in his thirties. Doctors told him if he didn't want to die, he should exercise regularly. And exercise he does! He also assumed this meant his mouth as well as the rest of his body.

There is the guy going on seventy that flirts with every woman there whose age is within three decades of his. He thinks young, his body says young, why the fuck not act young. Good for him I say! There are the women with breast implants who are in such good shape they'd look awesome without the artificial bullshit. There are the housewives who go all the time, hit the wall, but maintain knowing it's not going to get any better unless they alter their diets, and that's not going to happen. They still get "A's" for effort. There is the eighty-six year old who looks fifty-six. On top of it, he's got great hair the bastard. There is the doctor with about 12% body fat, him I hate. He's a really nice guy, but I'm jealous. And then there's the pharmacist who goes after working for twenty hours straight. After relaxing like that, he feels the need to expel any excess aggression by lifting large amounts of weight. Better that than shoot people I always say.

We talk about everything. Sports, our kids, politics, the economy. Nobody argues, nobody gets mad, everybody respects everybody else. We laugh, we tell of our trials and tribulations, and then we go home so we can return to do battle another day. They are some of the most wonderful, genuine people I know, albeit peripherally. But somehow I also feel closer than just a shared gym experience. Aside from Brad and Fran, I have never socialized with any of them. (Brad and Fran have moved on to another gym and I miss them terribly.)
Yet, I forward them e-mails daily. They read my blog. One, I'm trying to help her son get into a particular college. And the pharmacist, he has provided me with moral support concerning so many endeavors.

Are these gym rats my friends? It depends upon how you define friendship. Are these people just acquaintances? We are too intimate to be only acquaintances. I will say this. If any of them were to move away, I think it would affect me profoundly. Would we keep in touch? I doubt it. We all seem to occupy a certain niche in each others lives. I'm glad they're there, and I'm grateful for the hour or so I share with them each morning. The gym helped me get more than just my body in shape.

Observe and Report

When I had just started my master's program in history, I took a class called "5060." The course was called Intro to History, or something along those lines. I don't rightly remember, or should I say maybe I don't want to remember.

I thought that maybe I had this academic process thing figured out, then along comes "5060." I learned an extraordinary amount of useful knowledge in that class, one nugget being I was a moron. I don't know if I really learned that, or was it merely being reinforced as a reminder to not get too heady.

The class was led by, I say "led" rather than taught because this professor gave us the tools, it was up to us to figure out how to use them. He "led" us to water secretly knowing some of us would drown. I love him for it. Taking that class allowed me to excel at the other classes that followed. Here is where I give props to Dr. Ken Osgood for many lessons learned, not all heeded at that particular moment in time.

One thing he told us in his introductory lecture was, besides that was to be his only lecture of the semester, was, and I'm paraphrasing here: "You'll never read a book, newspaper, or magazine; watch a television show, the news or a movie, in the same way ever again." With those words, and the subsequent teachings for the next two years; I became a critical thinker of the first order...or so I perceive myself.

The problem that has arisen from this metamorphosis is that, as my friend Gregg says, "I spend too much time thinking"... about pretty much everything. From the most mundane and commonplace, to the most complex or advanced; each and every observation has a context big or small. My company (which right now seems to be a non-profit organization) slogan for Wahdai Consulting is "We'll have to think about it." Draw your own conclusions.

How does this or that fit my worldview. How does this or that support theories I've developed about our culture and society. Who the fuck cares? But there have have been things I've observed the last couple of weeks that have summoned my powers of critical thinking.

The first I posted on Facebook. Here on Interstate 95 in Florida we have what is called the HOV (High Occupancy Vehicle; gas conservation you know) lane. Between the hours of 7:00am and 9:00am, and 4:00pm and 6:00pm, there must be multiple passengers in any vehicle for one to travel legally in this lane. This law is scoffed at by the thousands. Every now and again you'll see a State Trooper issuing a summons to a lone driver for such an offense; a true rarity indeed. However, what I found particularly galling one beautiful winter morn about 8:15, was a young lady driving a Prius Hybrid of all things, tooling along in the HOV lane. I queried on Facebook if this could be considered a paradox. A stereotypical tree hugger hypocritically flaunting her misguided, pretentious, conservation of the earth's precious resources illegally. I wanted to take a picture for posterity...and then shoot her.

The second I didn't post on Facebook but should have. Another environmentally conscious young lady (purely coincidence...or is it?), on her way to further her education at Florida Atlantic University, came upon what is now a normal occurrence; traffic back up at the traffic light at the Glades Road exit from the highway. The light offers two lanes to go left and two to go right -toward FAU. The self-centered, self-absorbed, inconsiderate shithead; merrily wheeled her Scion toaster with tires, into the left turn only lane, and then turned right so as to bypass all the folks patiently waiting to turn right. I noticed the bumper sticker she had affixed to the back door of her vehicle. You've seen them; it said "Coexist," with all the symbols of every organized religion (oxymoron) known to man.

My first thought was, coexist with whom? She obviously can't coexist with anyone else in humanity exemplified by her need to form her own rules. I assume the rules the rest of us abide by weren't meant for her. Besides, who'd want to coexist with a douche like that who'd exploit the meaning of a bumper sticker to get compassion from others. Fuck her too; just another hypocrite with some stupid half-assed agenda.

The last occurred at a traffic light near my house. Don't ask me why these all happened when I was driving, there were probably others, but these three peaked my curiosity.

As I've stated before, the United States has the largest church going population in the world, around ten percent. However, American Christians (perhaps another oxymoron?), seem to have this insatiable need to adorn their cars with some sort of paraphernalia that calls attention to their devout attachment to Christianity.
Recently, I was at a wedding where I met a gentleman who was French and had lived all over the world. I asked him if the other places he'd lived was there such a overt display of religiosity? He said flatly, "No, only here you see that sort of thing."

Fueled with this information that I had pretty much suspected all along, just needed confirmation; I observed two women (eerie if you ask me) in their respective vehicles in the two lanes in front of me. On one was a bumper sticker that read "I, a heart symbol, Jesus." On the other was not only one of those fish symbols, but for good measure a bumper sticker that read "God loves you." Why must these people feel the need to show everyone they come in contact with where their allegiance lay? I thought if I had a bumper sticker on my car, -if I was so inclined to even consider putting a bumper sticker on my car -that read "god is a superstition," these two people in front of me would follow me to where I was going, and as soon as I was out of sight, one would slash my tires, while the other keyed the paint.

I couldn't help think why not just act Christian rather than show or tell everyone you're Christian. Why not coexist rather than remind people to do so. Wouldn't that accomplish more? Why recruit if you don't even know the fucking cause? It's like those parents who take their kids to protest abortion clinics. What seven year old even knows why they're there unless the parents are already indoctrinating them? And, what kind of parent discusses abortion with a seven year old?

Maybe I'm not supposed to understand what motivated these people. Maybe I'm not supposed to figure it out either. Maybe I'm supposed to just readily accept every contradiction and hypocrisy that occurs in my daily life. Maybe I'm supposed to point these inconsistencies out to dolts like these. No, they're too into themselves to give a shit about what someone else has to say. Better for them to be oblivious to their state of mind, if they indeed have formulated one that doesn't require hours of extensive therapy.