The sun’s a little brighter, the sky’s a little bluer, and the air smells a little sweeter today. I’m a little giddy. It’s Friday morning, January 9, 2009, and the University of Florida football team are the National Champions for the second time in three years.
I’m kinda glad my voice is gone, that way I have to write what I saw, felt, and experienced yesterday with the rest of the Gator faithful.
The number of hearty souls at Dolphins Stadium in Carol City, Florida was guesstimated to be in the neighborhood of 120,000, of which 79,000 held tickets granting them admission to witness the game first hand. The rest were left in the surrounding parking lots to carry on with their revelry, and watch the titanic contest via satellite for those who brought televisions.
The five mile journey to football country began early yesterday morning, 9:00AM to be precise. After some minor preparations were taken care of prior to our departing from our homestead; Cory and I made our way to pick up two Gator brethren, P. Scott and Dan, the latter who had flown in from NYC for the game. The vehicle now carried all Gator alumni save me, though I’m still an active member, through association, of the Gator Nation. We headed off to the nearby Publix supermarket to purchase libations. As we made our way up and down the aisles, periodically we’d espy other UF faithful. We’d exchange goofy half-assed grins, like we were in on the same secret. However, several employees were completely oblivious to the game and its magnitude. One even inquired where the game was being played. I owed this to her recent arrival from the planet Zoog, and obvious unfamiliarity with the ways of our society. I found myself silently pitying all of these poor lost souls. We completed our purchases, and headed to the car, acknowledging all those wearing orange and blue.
You could feel the tension in the vehicle. Conversations seemed stifled, as if the wrong word would trigger some sort of synaptic catastrophe, thereby rendering further discussion unrecognizable. I urged my son to stop by Aficionado’s Cigar Shop to pick up celebratory stogies just in case. That request dashed what little serenity was left in the vehicle. Cory was wound pretty tight at that point, I feared for his emotional well being. It was ten hours till game time. The gates wouldn’t open for another hour. Cory yielded to my wishes, I was grateful. My gratitude mattered little. There was places to go, people to meet, partying to coordinate.
Other friends, and friends of friends were gathering at a local Wal-Mart parking lot, the rendezvous point. On our arrival we were greeted with the sight of no fewer than four congregations of Gator fans. We headed toward one, realized it wasn’t whom we sought, corrected our mistake, and backtracked. Once everyone was assembled, the caravan was off to Dolphins Stadium. It was nearing 11:00AM.
Signs ominously foretold of the upcoming traffic conditions that were anticipated. We encountered them the moment we entered the stadium facility. Unbeknownst to us, Gate 6, our intended entrance was closed; we were rerouted much to everyone’s chagrin. We began to lament such a travesty, tempers were rising, and they were exacerbated by the behavior of the pseudo-authority parking Nazis.
For some bizarre and unknown reason, it seemed as if there was some sort of master parking plan from which, under penalty of death, they were not to deviate. Countless man hours were undoubtedly devoted to this strategy. What resulted was a situation that went FUBAR almost immediately. Imagine putting ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag. All passengers tried calmly to assist Cory in his quest to negotiate the labyrinth parking area. Amid the constant phone requests for guidance, and our well meaning prodding, Cory understandably short circuited, albeit for a brief moment. Once parked, and while unloading the afternoons supplies, Cory’s mental equilibrium returned.
Weather-wise, it was a Chamber of Commerce Day, clear skies with a high around 80. The game was afoot! Vehicles emptied as if from a clown car. The Gator Nation had descended en masse and oh what a glorious sight indeed. Gator tents, Inflatable Gators, Gator flags, Gator chairs, Gator coolers, and Gator tablecloths for the more civilized. Oh yeah, there were a couple of Oklahoma Sooner fans. The partying had commenced, a controlled chaos would ensue, and continue for the next eight hours. It brought back fond memories of a time when I considered intoxication a sport, but this was of epic proportions. The picture postcard day faded into a moonlit mid-50s night. It was time to take our places.
As you may or may not already know, I was one of the fortunate few who possessed a ticket to this extraordinary event thanks to my son Cory, and his friends, who I now also consider my friends, Danny and Sara. I would enter shortly after 8:00PM, head to my seat, and not once from there on out would you find my ass in it.
Four bodies occupied the space allocated for the three seats where I was. I knew not a soul standing in my general vicinity. That point was moot; we shared a kinship that collectively would be the driving force behind a Gator victory.
I “Gator Chomped” with them, I waved my hat shaming a Sooner penalty. When the band broke into “Call Me Al,” I kept time as Dolphin Stadium physically rocked. I felt a tear roll down my cheek when we threw are arms around each other and swayed to and fro for the 3rd quarter rendition of “We Are The Boys From Old Florida.” When a late Gator touchdown iced the outcome I buried my face in my hands to try and grasp what I had been fortunate enough to observe. I raised my head in time to see my son lift up his splayed arms toward the sky in exultation. A vision that we be forever etched in my memory. We made eye contact and I felt for a brief moment what he was feeling, albeit on a lesser scale.
I stayed by my seat long enough to see the awards presentation. More significantly, I stayed long enough to hear the playing of Florida’s alma mater, the importance of which my son has conveyed to me on more than one occasion. When the echoes of the word “victorious” reverberated throughout the ¾ full stadium, the hairs stood erect on my arms. It was time for me to get back to the car and the victory cigars.
As I made my way through the ground zero of refuse, my back and legs protested in agony that I would request my 50 year old body to stay in lockstep with those 30 years my junior. But for this night, emotionally I felt 25, and that washed away my physical pain. Because on this night of nights the Florida Gators were victorious, just like the song declares. On this night, I was magically transformed, I somehow had cheated time. Thank you all who sat around me and made me feel like I was one of you. Thank you Cory. Thank you Danny and Sara. Can we do it again next year please?
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Check off one from the Bucket List
This week’s blog allows me the opportunity to amalgamate several points that have appeared in postings from previous weeks. The cause for this convergence is the NCAA FBS BCS Championship game (that’s a mouthful of abbrs.). The game is being played just a couple of miles from my front door at Joe Robbie Stadium, sorry, Dolphins Stadium. There are some name changes I’ll never get used to, and that’s one of them.
The contest pits the University of Oklahoma Sooners against my son’s alma mater, The University of Florida Gators, daaa-da-da-da…Gator fans respond here.
I know there are more pressing and topical issues that warrant attention. Bernard Madoff the jerkoff, who bilked millionaires out of many of their millions, and poorer schmoes out of their, in some cases, life savings. I guess you can say he’s an equal opportunity douche bag. Unlike Robin Hood, Madoof robbed from the rich AND the poor, and gave to himself. The wealthy may have cause to lament like Walt Kelly’s Pogo, “I have seen the enemy and it is us.” That’s the hot topic I should be writing about, expressing my outrage via my venomous keyboard. But I’m a sports guy. And if sports guys have to choose between sports and something else…well, something else will just have to wait. Also, I’m going to the National Championship Game tomorrow…really…no shit! My joy knows no bounds.
The Bucket List is a recent film starring Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman as two terminally ill men who make a pact to accomplish a series of goals prior to departing to the hereafter: things to do before they kick the bucket. The wealthy Nicholson character derides Freeman’s blue collar character for the philosophical nature of his meager desires. Nicholson entices, with a few suggestions of his own, Freeman to go big if you’re going to go.
My list is not devoid of things that will bring me personal spiritual enlightenment. However, all of them, no matter their nature, will take some serious coin to accomplish.
I want to walk the same stairs in Jerusalem where Christ carried his cross for crucifixion.
I want to stand at Khyber Pass where Alexander the not so Great (if you studied your history) stood surveying the conquered lands.
For you who have been reading for these past weeks know, I want to go to The Daytona 500 as well(see “Life in the Slow Lane”). Not as spiritual, but an event of relative importance as far as I’m concerned.
Just once I’d like to experience The Kentucky Derby.
I want own one more Corvette before I die; preferably, a ’67 Big Block convertible with auto and air.
Another item on my list is attending a Super Bowl. However, this has a proviso; the Cincinnati Bengals must be a participant. There are age and futility factors to be considered here, so I’m not going to hold my breath over that one.
I’d also like to be in attendance for a New York Mets World Series game. The odds for that one are considerably better.
College sporting events also made the list. Again, the likelihood of my alma mater Florida Atlantic University being in the National Championship before I depart is remote. The next best thing would be to see the University of Florida play in their stead. So tomorrow I can cross that one off my list. What makes this so special is with whom I’m to witness said event, and how this came to pass.
My son and I have gone to many significant, and many not so significant (aside from the company), sporting events. We went to New Orleans to see Florida Atlantic win its first ever bowl game in only their eighth season and third at the FSB level. We drove 14 hours each way, stopping in Gainesville on the way to, and returning from New Orleans. A magical experience for me.
We saw my beloved Bengals play at home in their first playoff game in 16 years. We saw the New York Mets in the playoffs in 1988. We saw the Florida Marlins twice, in 1997 and 2003; take part in World Series games. The less significant are too numerous to mention them all here. For the most part, I was the instigator, making sure we didn’t miss out. For tomorrow’s game, it’s all Cory.
I thought it would be hard to top going to “The Swamp” to see the Gators dismantle LSU back in October(see “The Event”). What the hell did I know? I received a phone call from Cory at the conclusion of the SEC Championship game. Amid his euphoria, and the pandemonium which surrounded him, I heard the words “Dad you’re going.” I knew what he meant, but I didn’t get my hopes up.
Cory was not one of the fortunate few who “won” the ticket lottery instituted by the University of Florida for the distribution of student tickets. Priority was supposedly given to those who had accrued the most credit hours. Bullshit! My son with 145 credits, and his friend Dan, with 309, did not merit a ticket voucher. The wheels were set in motion for an all out ticket harvest. This did not mean I was any closer to going than I was prior to the phone call I received from Atlanta.
There were Cory’s friends to consider, some of them alumni who would sell their collective souls to watch their Gators in this most momentous of games. I would bide my time to see what transpired. If it was meant to be, it was meant to be. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, let the chips fall where they may, no harm, no foul. Enough metaphors for you?
As luck would have it (how about a cliché then), a ticket did turn up. I would be attending the game with my son’s inner circle of Gator faithful. Most of them seem to tolerate my presence without complaint. They even make me feel as though I’m a welcome addition to their troupe. For this I am grateful.
Tomorrow night the collegiate football season comes to a close. A new National Champion will be crowned despite the protests from the USC camp, and someone who has brought an anti-trust lawsuit against the BCS on behalf of the undefeated University of Utah(see “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year”). Gates to parking will open at 10:00 for the 8:30 game time. Tailgating will commence almost immediately. I’ll be there with the Brothers McCoy, P. Scott, Brooks, Meredith, Fera, John Dom, 309 credit hour Dan(see “The Event” comments),and Dan as in Linden; all of whom are there for all the right reasons. Unlike the many “football fans” there to be seen, or because they are guests of some corporation, or they have too much money and they think they’re supposed to be there(see “What if They Held a Sporting Event and Nobody Cared?”).
Andrew Jackson might have it possible for the hoi polloi to enjoy sports (see “In Praise of Sport”). For me, Cory has made them more memorable.
The contest pits the University of Oklahoma Sooners against my son’s alma mater, The University of Florida Gators, daaa-da-da-da…Gator fans respond here.
I know there are more pressing and topical issues that warrant attention. Bernard Madoff the jerkoff, who bilked millionaires out of many of their millions, and poorer schmoes out of their, in some cases, life savings. I guess you can say he’s an equal opportunity douche bag. Unlike Robin Hood, Madoof robbed from the rich AND the poor, and gave to himself. The wealthy may have cause to lament like Walt Kelly’s Pogo, “I have seen the enemy and it is us.” That’s the hot topic I should be writing about, expressing my outrage via my venomous keyboard. But I’m a sports guy. And if sports guys have to choose between sports and something else…well, something else will just have to wait. Also, I’m going to the National Championship Game tomorrow…really…no shit! My joy knows no bounds.
The Bucket List is a recent film starring Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman as two terminally ill men who make a pact to accomplish a series of goals prior to departing to the hereafter: things to do before they kick the bucket. The wealthy Nicholson character derides Freeman’s blue collar character for the philosophical nature of his meager desires. Nicholson entices, with a few suggestions of his own, Freeman to go big if you’re going to go.
My list is not devoid of things that will bring me personal spiritual enlightenment. However, all of them, no matter their nature, will take some serious coin to accomplish.
I want to walk the same stairs in Jerusalem where Christ carried his cross for crucifixion.
I want to stand at Khyber Pass where Alexander the not so Great (if you studied your history) stood surveying the conquered lands.
For you who have been reading for these past weeks know, I want to go to The Daytona 500 as well(see “Life in the Slow Lane”). Not as spiritual, but an event of relative importance as far as I’m concerned.
Just once I’d like to experience The Kentucky Derby.
I want own one more Corvette before I die; preferably, a ’67 Big Block convertible with auto and air.
Another item on my list is attending a Super Bowl. However, this has a proviso; the Cincinnati Bengals must be a participant. There are age and futility factors to be considered here, so I’m not going to hold my breath over that one.
I’d also like to be in attendance for a New York Mets World Series game. The odds for that one are considerably better.
College sporting events also made the list. Again, the likelihood of my alma mater Florida Atlantic University being in the National Championship before I depart is remote. The next best thing would be to see the University of Florida play in their stead. So tomorrow I can cross that one off my list. What makes this so special is with whom I’m to witness said event, and how this came to pass.
My son and I have gone to many significant, and many not so significant (aside from the company), sporting events. We went to New Orleans to see Florida Atlantic win its first ever bowl game in only their eighth season and third at the FSB level. We drove 14 hours each way, stopping in Gainesville on the way to, and returning from New Orleans. A magical experience for me.
We saw my beloved Bengals play at home in their first playoff game in 16 years. We saw the New York Mets in the playoffs in 1988. We saw the Florida Marlins twice, in 1997 and 2003; take part in World Series games. The less significant are too numerous to mention them all here. For the most part, I was the instigator, making sure we didn’t miss out. For tomorrow’s game, it’s all Cory.
I thought it would be hard to top going to “The Swamp” to see the Gators dismantle LSU back in October(see “The Event”). What the hell did I know? I received a phone call from Cory at the conclusion of the SEC Championship game. Amid his euphoria, and the pandemonium which surrounded him, I heard the words “Dad you’re going.” I knew what he meant, but I didn’t get my hopes up.
Cory was not one of the fortunate few who “won” the ticket lottery instituted by the University of Florida for the distribution of student tickets. Priority was supposedly given to those who had accrued the most credit hours. Bullshit! My son with 145 credits, and his friend Dan, with 309, did not merit a ticket voucher. The wheels were set in motion for an all out ticket harvest. This did not mean I was any closer to going than I was prior to the phone call I received from Atlanta.
There were Cory’s friends to consider, some of them alumni who would sell their collective souls to watch their Gators in this most momentous of games. I would bide my time to see what transpired. If it was meant to be, it was meant to be. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, let the chips fall where they may, no harm, no foul. Enough metaphors for you?
As luck would have it (how about a cliché then), a ticket did turn up. I would be attending the game with my son’s inner circle of Gator faithful. Most of them seem to tolerate my presence without complaint. They even make me feel as though I’m a welcome addition to their troupe. For this I am grateful.
Tomorrow night the collegiate football season comes to a close. A new National Champion will be crowned despite the protests from the USC camp, and someone who has brought an anti-trust lawsuit against the BCS on behalf of the undefeated University of Utah(see “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year”). Gates to parking will open at 10:00 for the 8:30 game time. Tailgating will commence almost immediately. I’ll be there with the Brothers McCoy, P. Scott, Brooks, Meredith, Fera, John Dom, 309 credit hour Dan(see “The Event” comments),and Dan as in Linden; all of whom are there for all the right reasons. Unlike the many “football fans” there to be seen, or because they are guests of some corporation, or they have too much money and they think they’re supposed to be there(see “What if They Held a Sporting Event and Nobody Cared?”).
Andrew Jackson might have it possible for the hoi polloi to enjoy sports (see “In Praise of Sport”). For me, Cory has made them more memorable.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
The New Year in Review
Never ending streams of year end recaps are put forth by various media sources paying tribute to recent historical events that range from the sublime to the mundane. Some worthy of note which we should remember and savor, others will be quickly dismissed as mental offal. Often we care so little about our past and the effect if has on the direction we’re heading. America has become a culture which demands immediate gratification. We are not a society of waiters. Waiting means patience, a virtuous trait that has been on the wane for many years now. We cannot wait to see what potential outcomes might be. If we only slowed down and recalled historical events we can get a good idea of what the future has in store for us. With that being said, and keeping with the spirit of year end summaries, let’s take a prognosticatory look at the events of 2009.
In the world of sports, Texas will secede from the United States; rename it “Little America,” so the Dallas Cowboys can remain, in some form, America’s Team.
In March, the BCS will declare the New York Yankees World Series Champions.
Mormons consider certain forms of music to be against their faith. Under heavy religious pressure from the Church of Latter Day Saints, the Utah Jazz will change its name to the Utah Tabernacle Choir. Sales of new jerseys skyrocket.
In keeping with the spirit of rewarding mediocrity, all National Hockey League teams will qualify for the playoffs. At the conclusion of said playoffs, each team will be given replicas of the Stanley Cup Trophy. This way no one feels bad about themselves. Kids who Do Not make their schools honor roll receive free tickets to games by showing a copy of their report cards.
American football will universally be known as soccer, eliminating all the confusion.
Also in the NSL, formally known as the National Football League, a rule is passed declaring all uniform colors must be either earth tones or pastels so as not to create anymore fun than absolutely necessary. All unbridled joy is abolished.
A move to speed up Major League games is implemented. Pitchers will now be able to remove themselves from the game without the manager making the requisite trips to the mound. The pitcher who removes himself will also be allowed to summon his replacement.
Also, a coalition made up entirely of Caucasians, in a attempt to expand political correctness, petitions the Major Leagues to force Atlanta and Cleveland to change their names from Braves and Indians respectively, to “Native Americans.” Both team logos must now resemble Charles Eastman in a suit and tie. All tribes in America poke fun at the asshole white men.
In the National Basketball association, in an effort to increase scoring, a new 15 second clock is used, and 4 points will be awarded to anyone who makes a shot from beyond half court. Antoine Walker's career is rejuvenated.
At the high school level, any parent heard harassing coaches, referees, umpires or their own children; or professes to have any knowledge of a particular sport but clearly does not, shall be arrested.
At the recreational level, any parent or coach that does not take their charges out for ice cream after a game is also to be arrested. Behavior of adults improves dramatically.
On the political front, public outcry commences after Barack Obama does not completely change everything within the first 100 days in office. Impeachment proceedings begin after Congress resumes after the summer recess.
Sarah Palin, upset over Texas’ secession, orders the entire state to be moved off the coast of Alaska so she can keep on eye on it along with Russia for telltale signs of aggression. In her living will, she leaves her brain to science, all universities and medical research centers respectfully decline.
Marijuana is legalized. The tax rate on the drug is higher than that of alcoholic beverages and tobacco products. Farmers no longer need to receive government subsidies, taxpayer funded prisons see their populations dwindle, and organized crime activity reaches an all time low. The DEA budget is slashed by 80%. The government deficit is expected to be eradicated within 2 years. There is no longer a foreign trade imbalance. However, employee absenteeism is rampant.
2009 saw the Middle East’s potable fresh water supply dwindle to dangerously low levels. The U.S. comes to their aid offering to exchange barrels of fresh water for crude oil, driving the price per barrel to an all-time low of $12.00. However, gas prices never go below $1.00. Irate consumers demand an explanation. Oil companies and the American government unrepentantly cite “unadulterated greed” as the reason.
All Americans of legal driving age are issued handicapped parking stickers. Physicians universally agree that all Americans suffer some physical malady that hinders their ability to walk anywhere. This eliminates all the jealousies and sniping toward truly handicapped individuals.
The entertainment world has its share of surprises as well.
Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, in their continuing attempt to rid the world of all ills, adopt the entire island country of Madagascar.
During a particular down spring movie season, MGM releases a film of Will Smith sitting on the toilet reading the Sunday New York Times. It grosses $11 million in its first weekend.
To make television news appear a little less grave, a Whoopee Cushion is installed in Katie Couric’s anchor chair. CBS’s ratings soar.
Lewis Black is named the head of CNN.
Alas, things that affect us directly remain dormant. Our cable and satellite television still won’t work in inclement weather. Telecommunications companies allude to “shitty technology and apathy” for continued poor reception. Monthly rates increase.
A new Iphone is introduced; it’s a combination microcomputer/GPS/Ipod/Wii/taser. All functions work perfectly. However, phone service is spotty at best. Cellular service providers acknowledge this “snag” but admit “we really don’t care.” Monthly rates increase.
But the top story for 2009; McDonald’s Corporation, due to the legalization of marijuana, is no longer able to staff franchises. They ask for and receive a substantial taxpayer funded government bailout. The government points to the absolute need for Americans to remain fat, lazy and in poor health. No one raises an eyebrow.
Have a Happy New Year.
In the world of sports, Texas will secede from the United States; rename it “Little America,” so the Dallas Cowboys can remain, in some form, America’s Team.
In March, the BCS will declare the New York Yankees World Series Champions.
Mormons consider certain forms of music to be against their faith. Under heavy religious pressure from the Church of Latter Day Saints, the Utah Jazz will change its name to the Utah Tabernacle Choir. Sales of new jerseys skyrocket.
In keeping with the spirit of rewarding mediocrity, all National Hockey League teams will qualify for the playoffs. At the conclusion of said playoffs, each team will be given replicas of the Stanley Cup Trophy. This way no one feels bad about themselves. Kids who Do Not make their schools honor roll receive free tickets to games by showing a copy of their report cards.
American football will universally be known as soccer, eliminating all the confusion.
Also in the NSL, formally known as the National Football League, a rule is passed declaring all uniform colors must be either earth tones or pastels so as not to create anymore fun than absolutely necessary. All unbridled joy is abolished.
A move to speed up Major League games is implemented. Pitchers will now be able to remove themselves from the game without the manager making the requisite trips to the mound. The pitcher who removes himself will also be allowed to summon his replacement.
Also, a coalition made up entirely of Caucasians, in a attempt to expand political correctness, petitions the Major Leagues to force Atlanta and Cleveland to change their names from Braves and Indians respectively, to “Native Americans.” Both team logos must now resemble Charles Eastman in a suit and tie. All tribes in America poke fun at the asshole white men.
In the National Basketball association, in an effort to increase scoring, a new 15 second clock is used, and 4 points will be awarded to anyone who makes a shot from beyond half court. Antoine Walker's career is rejuvenated.
At the high school level, any parent heard harassing coaches, referees, umpires or their own children; or professes to have any knowledge of a particular sport but clearly does not, shall be arrested.
At the recreational level, any parent or coach that does not take their charges out for ice cream after a game is also to be arrested. Behavior of adults improves dramatically.
On the political front, public outcry commences after Barack Obama does not completely change everything within the first 100 days in office. Impeachment proceedings begin after Congress resumes after the summer recess.
Sarah Palin, upset over Texas’ secession, orders the entire state to be moved off the coast of Alaska so she can keep on eye on it along with Russia for telltale signs of aggression. In her living will, she leaves her brain to science, all universities and medical research centers respectfully decline.
Marijuana is legalized. The tax rate on the drug is higher than that of alcoholic beverages and tobacco products. Farmers no longer need to receive government subsidies, taxpayer funded prisons see their populations dwindle, and organized crime activity reaches an all time low. The DEA budget is slashed by 80%. The government deficit is expected to be eradicated within 2 years. There is no longer a foreign trade imbalance. However, employee absenteeism is rampant.
2009 saw the Middle East’s potable fresh water supply dwindle to dangerously low levels. The U.S. comes to their aid offering to exchange barrels of fresh water for crude oil, driving the price per barrel to an all-time low of $12.00. However, gas prices never go below $1.00. Irate consumers demand an explanation. Oil companies and the American government unrepentantly cite “unadulterated greed” as the reason.
All Americans of legal driving age are issued handicapped parking stickers. Physicians universally agree that all Americans suffer some physical malady that hinders their ability to walk anywhere. This eliminates all the jealousies and sniping toward truly handicapped individuals.
The entertainment world has its share of surprises as well.
Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, in their continuing attempt to rid the world of all ills, adopt the entire island country of Madagascar.
During a particular down spring movie season, MGM releases a film of Will Smith sitting on the toilet reading the Sunday New York Times. It grosses $11 million in its first weekend.
To make television news appear a little less grave, a Whoopee Cushion is installed in Katie Couric’s anchor chair. CBS’s ratings soar.
Lewis Black is named the head of CNN.
Alas, things that affect us directly remain dormant. Our cable and satellite television still won’t work in inclement weather. Telecommunications companies allude to “shitty technology and apathy” for continued poor reception. Monthly rates increase.
A new Iphone is introduced; it’s a combination microcomputer/GPS/Ipod/Wii/taser. All functions work perfectly. However, phone service is spotty at best. Cellular service providers acknowledge this “snag” but admit “we really don’t care.” Monthly rates increase.
But the top story for 2009; McDonald’s Corporation, due to the legalization of marijuana, is no longer able to staff franchises. They ask for and receive a substantial taxpayer funded government bailout. The government points to the absolute need for Americans to remain fat, lazy and in poor health. No one raises an eyebrow.
Have a Happy New Year.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Twas the Night before Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas, and all around the earth
Everyone was bitching and moaning, there were no thoughts of mirth. Long hours working, for those who had jobs, then it’s off to trim trees,
string lights, and go shopping with the rest of the mob.
After cursing the traffic on the way home, you load up the mini-van, crying children in tow. This is a misguided notion of quality time, when if you left them with a sitter, all would be fine.
Last minute gifts are the cause for this trek, while accumulated stuff lay dormant on the porch and the deck. If not stuff that we crave, it’s a much bigger house. That means a much bigger mortgage, hell, it’s no wonder we regularly go and get soused.
The worries of money, and our boss who’s a jerk; we can’t quit now, one more year before the really great perks. So we endure and we toil, whilst the essentials go wanting; that’d be our kids and our friends, we find personal relationships too time consuming and daunting.
After a fight with the wife, and bedding down of the brood; we go through the motions wrapping gifts and getting Santa’s faux food.
“Don’t want to disappoint the kids” you say to yourself, while it’s already too late you unjolly elf.
You’ve frittered away their most valuable years, preoccupied with investments and those fucking assholes the Jones. It’s been hard to keep up, but you’ve done it, through stock scams and short loans. Looks like you’ve passed them if that’s what you’re after; they’ve filed for bankruptcy, moved out, their life’s a disaster.
This train of thought is broken, by a noise before dawn. You throw open the front door and scream “Get off of my lawn!” “Through spring and summer I sodded and weeded and mowed, don’t you ruin my handiwork, I’ll call the cops and have that freakin’ sleigh towed!”
“I know the mayor,”and each councilman by name, on Liebman, and Goldberg, Hernandez and Smythe; on Bennett and Jenkins…” who cares, get a life. Can’t you be kind if just for one day? You add, “I’m also the president of my HOA!”
The neighbors you ignore all the year long, have all left their homes to witness this outburst. You rant and you rave, your behavior’s the worst. The man in the red suit shakes his head in disgust, where did it all go wrong he wonders, this visit’s a bust. Self-absorbed and conceited, they think their entitled, to what I don’t know, when they act so infantile.
The man in the red suit continues to muse; they’re in a big rush, honk horns, and give the finger to whoever they choose. They don’t need bigger garages to hold stuff so bigger cars will not fit. Let’s simplify, like George Carlin once said, be nicer to each other and don’t steal shit.
Let’s take a step back, so we can see the glass is half full; call a friend or a relative, go chat with those neighbors this Yule. Let’s try to stay that way all the year through; to hell with promotions and one-upping each other, make it a point to be better fathers and mothers.
I long for the day Santa’s bag is of little weight, the things Christmas should stand for, take up a space that’s much, much too great. If we can get our heads out of our asses, and hands out of wallets, we’d understand that we’ve got what we need, and stop being so callous.
The neighborhood residents look gloomy, no presents for them. Things will be different they swear if it means happiness for they and their kin.
The man in red has brought a gift for the irate jerkoff nevertheless, he hands over an envelope, and say “you’ve been served by the IRS.”
Everyone was bitching and moaning, there were no thoughts of mirth. Long hours working, for those who had jobs, then it’s off to trim trees,
string lights, and go shopping with the rest of the mob.
After cursing the traffic on the way home, you load up the mini-van, crying children in tow. This is a misguided notion of quality time, when if you left them with a sitter, all would be fine.
Last minute gifts are the cause for this trek, while accumulated stuff lay dormant on the porch and the deck. If not stuff that we crave, it’s a much bigger house. That means a much bigger mortgage, hell, it’s no wonder we regularly go and get soused.
The worries of money, and our boss who’s a jerk; we can’t quit now, one more year before the really great perks. So we endure and we toil, whilst the essentials go wanting; that’d be our kids and our friends, we find personal relationships too time consuming and daunting.
After a fight with the wife, and bedding down of the brood; we go through the motions wrapping gifts and getting Santa’s faux food.
“Don’t want to disappoint the kids” you say to yourself, while it’s already too late you unjolly elf.
You’ve frittered away their most valuable years, preoccupied with investments and those fucking assholes the Jones. It’s been hard to keep up, but you’ve done it, through stock scams and short loans. Looks like you’ve passed them if that’s what you’re after; they’ve filed for bankruptcy, moved out, their life’s a disaster.
This train of thought is broken, by a noise before dawn. You throw open the front door and scream “Get off of my lawn!” “Through spring and summer I sodded and weeded and mowed, don’t you ruin my handiwork, I’ll call the cops and have that freakin’ sleigh towed!”
“I know the mayor,”and each councilman by name, on Liebman, and Goldberg, Hernandez and Smythe; on Bennett and Jenkins…” who cares, get a life. Can’t you be kind if just for one day? You add, “I’m also the president of my HOA!”
The neighbors you ignore all the year long, have all left their homes to witness this outburst. You rant and you rave, your behavior’s the worst. The man in the red suit shakes his head in disgust, where did it all go wrong he wonders, this visit’s a bust. Self-absorbed and conceited, they think their entitled, to what I don’t know, when they act so infantile.
The man in the red suit continues to muse; they’re in a big rush, honk horns, and give the finger to whoever they choose. They don’t need bigger garages to hold stuff so bigger cars will not fit. Let’s simplify, like George Carlin once said, be nicer to each other and don’t steal shit.
Let’s take a step back, so we can see the glass is half full; call a friend or a relative, go chat with those neighbors this Yule. Let’s try to stay that way all the year through; to hell with promotions and one-upping each other, make it a point to be better fathers and mothers.
I long for the day Santa’s bag is of little weight, the things Christmas should stand for, take up a space that’s much, much too great. If we can get our heads out of our asses, and hands out of wallets, we’d understand that we’ve got what we need, and stop being so callous.
The neighborhood residents look gloomy, no presents for them. Things will be different they swear if it means happiness for they and their kin.
The man in red has brought a gift for the irate jerkoff nevertheless, he hands over an envelope, and say “you’ve been served by the IRS.”
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
“And the Winner Is…”
Over the last couple of months, numerous accolades have been doled out in many segments of what our culture deems entertainment. Those things we can’t get enough of; sports, movies, “reality” television.
Baseball concluded its season with the annual sports writer anointment of the best of the best. Each league had a MVP, a Cy Young, a Rookie of the year. Each also had its Silver Sluggers, Golden Glovers, and Bronze Jock Strappers. Hall of Fame ballots have gone out for this year’s class of honoree hopefuls. Shamefully, Pete Rose isn’t on it.
College Football is concluding the season with the Heisman, the Lombardi, the Butkus, the Maxwell, the Walter Camp, the Davey O’ Brien, All-Conference, All-American; not to mention the upcoming All-Star games. The Shrine game, The Hula Bowl, The Senior Bowl, The Blue-Gray Game, The Black and Blue Game, the I’m Singing the Blues Game. For you non-sport folk, the last two are made up…I think. There are more, need I go on? Yes I must!
The nominees have been announced for possible induction into the Professional Football Hall of Fame. The voting is in for the NFL Pro Bowl. You know that one, it’s the game at the end of the year, yes, even after the Super Bowl; the one that no one gives a shit about the outcome. The one many of the players eschew, even though it’s played in Hawaii…in February, which shows you how over football a lot of these guys are by then. Hell, many players have incentive clauses in their contracts which pay them sizable bonuses if elected to the team, and they still don’t go.
The Golden Globes recently checked in with their nominations on the finest the movie industry has to offer, whether the public concurs with them or not. The actors, directors, et al, all will tell you what an honor it is to be recognized for their work. The bottom line is what the hype will do for the movie at the box office. Before you know it, the Oscar nominations will be announced, and television entertainment news magazines will finally have endless mindless crap to talk about. Oh, they already do that.
In television, we now know who the best celebrity dancer is, and the winner of the Amazing Race. Three “experts,” one a former Los Angeles Laker cheerleader, told us what who the next American Idol will be. If anybody, she should know! We will soon find out who the Biggest Loser is, not the viewer for watching, but the person who lost the most weight. Let’s all hold our collective breaths ok? Lastly, we finally get to know who won Survivor- Journey to the Center of the Earth. What is it, the46th installment of that franchise? Maybe it only seems like it’s been that many. Man, I thought that show jumped the shark long ago. When is the public going to realize that the participant’s behavior is no longer spontaneous? You can’t really think the contestants never saw the show before and everything they do is original. As long as it continues to get ratings, and there are picturesque shitholes on the planet to go, the show will regretfully endure. Maybe the next one can be Survivor-Space Station. Let’s see how long the competitors can stand each other in close quarters. I’d watch that.
Who are the decision makers of the majority of the aforementioned distinctive achievements? For the sports realm, I n some cases it’s the coaches. For the most part, it’s the sports writers. The same people who occasionally lambaste and vilify the individuals nominated for the awards. In addition, the criteria on which they base their votes vary...widely, dependent upon what’s in vogue at the time. For the Golden Globes and the Oscars, who cares? Two sport awards that warrant further scrutiny here are Major League baseball’s MVP award, and College Football’s Heisman Trophy.
In 1941, Joe DiMaggio of the New York Yankees bested Ted Williams of the Boston Red Sox for the American League MVP. DiMaggio had his 56 game hitting streak; Williams became the last man to hit .400, both memorable accomplishments. Is one more feat momentous than the other? It’s hard to say. However, one writer left Williams completely off his ballot, unconscionable. Though, Williams’ relationship with members of the press was rocky at best. So how much you kiss the sports writers ass is taken into account? I thought it was all about what was accomplished between the white lines that mattered. (Pete Rose would beg to differ) In addition, DiMaggio’s Yankees won the pennant that year, and that should count for something, but sometimes it doesn’t.
In 1987, Andre Dawson won the award as a member of the last place Chicago Cubs. They could’ve finished in last place without him, so how valuable could he have really been? But his on field performance was significantly superior to that of his peers. So does it matter where your team finishes in the standings? Sometimes, if the wind is right, just ask Albert Pujols. His team didn’t even win their division, and he won the National League MVP this year. Outcry has been minimal due to Pujols’ amicable disposition, and humble demeanor. (Pete Rose should read Dale Carnegie’s book) Okay, I get it now. If you’re a really good guy, and even though the team you play for didn’t reach their goals, then you can still win because the writers like you. That sounds fair… not. The Heisman voting is no less suspect with its own share of intangibles.
In 1987, Charles Woodson of the University of Michigan, became the first primarily defensive player to win the prestigious Heisman Trophy. He intercepted passes, he returned punts, and he returned kickoffs, he could leap tall buildings in a single bound. Against archrival Ohio State, he intercepted two passes, returned a punt for a touchdown, and even caught a 37 yard pass while on offense that led to Michigan’s lone offensive touchdown. Wow! What a valuable player. But the Heisman is not given to the most valuable player; it’s given to the best player. Woodson finished ahead of Peyton Manning in the voting, but light years behind statiscally. The previous year, Woodson did not moon a female assistant athletic trainer, Manning did. When did sportswriters become the moral entrepreneurs of American society, and when did behavior have bearing on voting, or should it have any bearing at all?
Thank goodness the moral fiber has been above reproach for those up for the award in 2008. For the most part, it’s about gaudy numbers (not in 1987 obviously); except if you lose a big game down the stretch like Graham Harrell, the quarterback of Texas Tech did. And he had his worst game of the year against Heisman winner Sam Bradford’s Oklahoma squad. Harrell’s statistics matched up with the three finalists that made the trip to New York. But Sam Bradford and Tim Tebow team’s won their conference championship game. Colt McCoy’s Texas team was excluded from the conference championship because of the BSC ranking tie-breaker rule. All were deserving of the award. None of them ever pissed off anybody in the press, unless there’s a penalty for being too upstanding, and not one of them dropped trou in front of a young lady.
I wonder if any of those Heisman voters cast their ballots for O.J. Simpson when he won the award in 1968.
Baseball concluded its season with the annual sports writer anointment of the best of the best. Each league had a MVP, a Cy Young, a Rookie of the year. Each also had its Silver Sluggers, Golden Glovers, and Bronze Jock Strappers. Hall of Fame ballots have gone out for this year’s class of honoree hopefuls. Shamefully, Pete Rose isn’t on it.
College Football is concluding the season with the Heisman, the Lombardi, the Butkus, the Maxwell, the Walter Camp, the Davey O’ Brien, All-Conference, All-American; not to mention the upcoming All-Star games. The Shrine game, The Hula Bowl, The Senior Bowl, The Blue-Gray Game, The Black and Blue Game, the I’m Singing the Blues Game. For you non-sport folk, the last two are made up…I think. There are more, need I go on? Yes I must!
The nominees have been announced for possible induction into the Professional Football Hall of Fame. The voting is in for the NFL Pro Bowl. You know that one, it’s the game at the end of the year, yes, even after the Super Bowl; the one that no one gives a shit about the outcome. The one many of the players eschew, even though it’s played in Hawaii…in February, which shows you how over football a lot of these guys are by then. Hell, many players have incentive clauses in their contracts which pay them sizable bonuses if elected to the team, and they still don’t go.
The Golden Globes recently checked in with their nominations on the finest the movie industry has to offer, whether the public concurs with them or not. The actors, directors, et al, all will tell you what an honor it is to be recognized for their work. The bottom line is what the hype will do for the movie at the box office. Before you know it, the Oscar nominations will be announced, and television entertainment news magazines will finally have endless mindless crap to talk about. Oh, they already do that.
In television, we now know who the best celebrity dancer is, and the winner of the Amazing Race. Three “experts,” one a former Los Angeles Laker cheerleader, told us what who the next American Idol will be. If anybody, she should know! We will soon find out who the Biggest Loser is, not the viewer for watching, but the person who lost the most weight. Let’s all hold our collective breaths ok? Lastly, we finally get to know who won Survivor- Journey to the Center of the Earth. What is it, the46th installment of that franchise? Maybe it only seems like it’s been that many. Man, I thought that show jumped the shark long ago. When is the public going to realize that the participant’s behavior is no longer spontaneous? You can’t really think the contestants never saw the show before and everything they do is original. As long as it continues to get ratings, and there are picturesque shitholes on the planet to go, the show will regretfully endure. Maybe the next one can be Survivor-Space Station. Let’s see how long the competitors can stand each other in close quarters. I’d watch that.
Who are the decision makers of the majority of the aforementioned distinctive achievements? For the sports realm, I n some cases it’s the coaches. For the most part, it’s the sports writers. The same people who occasionally lambaste and vilify the individuals nominated for the awards. In addition, the criteria on which they base their votes vary...widely, dependent upon what’s in vogue at the time. For the Golden Globes and the Oscars, who cares? Two sport awards that warrant further scrutiny here are Major League baseball’s MVP award, and College Football’s Heisman Trophy.
In 1941, Joe DiMaggio of the New York Yankees bested Ted Williams of the Boston Red Sox for the American League MVP. DiMaggio had his 56 game hitting streak; Williams became the last man to hit .400, both memorable accomplishments. Is one more feat momentous than the other? It’s hard to say. However, one writer left Williams completely off his ballot, unconscionable. Though, Williams’ relationship with members of the press was rocky at best. So how much you kiss the sports writers ass is taken into account? I thought it was all about what was accomplished between the white lines that mattered. (Pete Rose would beg to differ) In addition, DiMaggio’s Yankees won the pennant that year, and that should count for something, but sometimes it doesn’t.
In 1987, Andre Dawson won the award as a member of the last place Chicago Cubs. They could’ve finished in last place without him, so how valuable could he have really been? But his on field performance was significantly superior to that of his peers. So does it matter where your team finishes in the standings? Sometimes, if the wind is right, just ask Albert Pujols. His team didn’t even win their division, and he won the National League MVP this year. Outcry has been minimal due to Pujols’ amicable disposition, and humble demeanor. (Pete Rose should read Dale Carnegie’s book) Okay, I get it now. If you’re a really good guy, and even though the team you play for didn’t reach their goals, then you can still win because the writers like you. That sounds fair… not. The Heisman voting is no less suspect with its own share of intangibles.
In 1987, Charles Woodson of the University of Michigan, became the first primarily defensive player to win the prestigious Heisman Trophy. He intercepted passes, he returned punts, and he returned kickoffs, he could leap tall buildings in a single bound. Against archrival Ohio State, he intercepted two passes, returned a punt for a touchdown, and even caught a 37 yard pass while on offense that led to Michigan’s lone offensive touchdown. Wow! What a valuable player. But the Heisman is not given to the most valuable player; it’s given to the best player. Woodson finished ahead of Peyton Manning in the voting, but light years behind statiscally. The previous year, Woodson did not moon a female assistant athletic trainer, Manning did. When did sportswriters become the moral entrepreneurs of American society, and when did behavior have bearing on voting, or should it have any bearing at all?
Thank goodness the moral fiber has been above reproach for those up for the award in 2008. For the most part, it’s about gaudy numbers (not in 1987 obviously); except if you lose a big game down the stretch like Graham Harrell, the quarterback of Texas Tech did. And he had his worst game of the year against Heisman winner Sam Bradford’s Oklahoma squad. Harrell’s statistics matched up with the three finalists that made the trip to New York. But Sam Bradford and Tim Tebow team’s won their conference championship game. Colt McCoy’s Texas team was excluded from the conference championship because of the BSC ranking tie-breaker rule. All were deserving of the award. None of them ever pissed off anybody in the press, unless there’s a penalty for being too upstanding, and not one of them dropped trou in front of a young lady.
I wonder if any of those Heisman voters cast their ballots for O.J. Simpson when he won the award in 1968.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Simple Pleasures for Simple Minds
The country is mired in economic doldrums the likes we’ve never seen according to all the Chicken Little’s in the media. Massive industry cutbacks and layoffs accompany the corporate begging for Washington’s dollars. The real estate market sucks and the stock market blows, or is it the other way around? It doesn’t really matter; both markets are in the toilet. The only things that are going up are the U.S. debt and unemployment. We’ve just elected our first bi-racial President, who has just inherited this huge pile of fiscal fecal matter. Enough! I say. Let’s broach a subject that is completely frivolous, chewing gum, specifically, bubble gum. More specific yet, Bubble Yum Sugarless Peppermint Bubble Gum. Insert angelic harmonies here.
You know how every once in awhile a product comes along that is infinitely better than anything else on the market. It knows no peer. The competition pales in comparison. Charmin Plus with Aloe toilet paper falls into this category. Never have I ever met anyone that declares that toilet paper is toilet paper. Sure, under duress, we’ve all used crude substitutions; either when camping, or on a desolate highway while on an alcohol fueled roadtrip. Anything will do in a pinch; no pun intended.
Many of our parents did not put a premium on TP. This was an area that one could be frugal when shopping. My mother was a Scott 1000 sheet roll woman, and she bought them in bulk. Who cared that it wasn’t eco-friendly; that you used twice the amount of the one-ply sandpaper facsimile. Hell, it was 10 for a $1.00 or some shit, again, no pun intended. Our generation obviously felt quite the contrary. We did not underestimate the importance of comfortable toilet tissue. You peruse the supermarket paper product aisle and you’ll find a wide array of bathroom tissue, many of the brands coming out in the last 25 years or so. Charmin alone has 5 or 6 different types for the truly discernable shopper. We were no longer relegated to the flimsy school TP, the grainy office TP, and the dreaded industrially abrasive brown Gas Station TP. We demanded more for our bungholes, and we got it by god! We spared no expense when it came to a more pleasurable bathroom experience. This new wave of toilet tissue became the cornerstone for this revolutionary step forward in premium potty time. Charmin Plus with Aloe is my personal fave, but not everyone concurs. Not so concerning Bubble Yum Sugarless Peppermint Bubble Gum. There’s those angels’ singing again.
Walter E Diemer, an accountant, should be nominated for sainthood as far as I’m concerned. In 1928, after his boss Gilbert Mustin gave up the ghost; Mr. Diemer picked up where Mr. Mustin left off in his quest for a suitable gum base. Neither man had any chemistry background. It was Mr. Mustin’s search for a better gum, and Mr. Diemer’s curiosity and never say die attitude, and a little dumb luck, that resulted in the invention of bubble gum. Chewing gum had been around for the better part of eight hundred years before someone attempted to not only make chewing gum satisfying, but fun as well.
Diemer claimed the bubbles were an accident. The men set out to make a gum that wouldn’t stick. But once the gum was found to be stable enough as to not fall apart, Mr. Diemer added the only food coloring available, pink, and came up with a batch of gum with greater elasticity than gums on the market at the time. When chewed, this new gum didn’t fall apart, and as an added bonus, stretched enough to produce bubbles. Those angels are becoming really annoying.
Walter happened to be an accountant for the Fleer Chewing Gum Company. They christened this new gum Dubble Bubble. Fleer sold $1.5 million dollars of the stuff in the first year alone. Walter eventually rose to the position of executive vice-president, but received no royalties for his ground-breaking invention. Soon, Bazooka and Topps vied with Fleer for bubble gum supremacy. It would be nearly fifty years after that first bubble was blown that the world would be introduced to Bubble Yum.
Bubble Yum was the brain child of the Lifesavers Candy Company. For nearly 5 years Bubble Yum was only available in the diabetic coma inducing sugar laden version. Sugarless bubble gum was for sissies. Sugarless versions were only offered by unheard of off-brands. No self-respecting bubble gum company thought a profitable market for the sugarless variety existed. However, as America became more health conscious, a large selection of low-calorie items dotted grocery store shelves. In 1980, Bubble Yum produced a gum that was easy on the waistline, and didn’t promote tooth decay.
Two years later, Hubba Bubba and Bubblicious joined in the fray of super bubble producing gums. In an effort to gain an additional share in the ever expanding market, Bubble Yum came out with a flavored adaptation of Sugarless Bubble Yum. Peppermint was their choice for this new venture. I’m eternally grateful.
A long time bubble gum chewer, I’d found my Holy Grail of gums. This product remained soft for extended periods of time unmatched by any gum I’d previously sampled. In addition, the minty flavor lasted long after lesser gums had lost taste appeal. Could this be the perfect gum? I never settled for anything less ever again.
I once sent a fellow employee on a mission to locate me a pack of the prized concoction. He was not to return without it. My cohorts must join me in this celebration of the mouth. Each and every person that tried Bubble Yum Sugarless Peppermint Bubble Gum from that day on agreed; it truly was the “best gum.” Excitedly, individuals I shared my bounty with, approached me over an hour later to tell me that the softness and flavor did indeed hold true. But as the years wore on, the gum of gums became more elusive.
In 1993, I moved to Florida. I was tickled to find that several merchants carried the gum that knew no equal. Alas, after the Hershey chocolate company acquired the Bubble Yum brand, the vendor numbers dwindled. I would often travel from store to store and buy what remained of the precious booty. I bought boxes at a time, often at per pack price. It didn’t matter. I got to enlist new waves of Bubble Yum Sugarless Peppermint Bubble Gum disciples with each pack I opened. Several months ago, my love affair with the “best gum” ever, came to an abrupt end.
My wife and I went from CVS to CVS, the last of the dying breed of appreciators of the finest gum I had ever encountered. After a near futile search of 5 stores unearthed only 3 packs, we inquired as to this tragedy. We were told Hershey was discontinuing the brand. Devastated, I returned home to see if the Internet could fill the impending void.
Several sites offered regular flavor Bubble Yum Sugarless Bubble Gum; a weak and inferior product that didn’t tickle my senses the way the peppermint variety did; my search continued. Eureka! Was it true? Did my eyes deceive me? After so many confectioner web site visits, 1, one, uno, solo, lone web site had a box of MY gum….at $3.00 per pack plus shipping. I had my limits. The gum did not provide any sexual pleasure, and I felt this should be included at that price. I was stymied, stonewalled, my Bubble Yum Sugarless Peppermint Bubble Gum days had come to an end. I was relegated to a barely passable replacement. But my fortunes were soon to change.
My friend Gregg, recently invited me a local theater production. As was the custom, I offered him gum. Gregg, who long ago had been introduced to the gum industries crown jewel, asked if it was the “good gum.” Downtrodden, I gave him the sad news. I no longer possessed, or had access to, any more good gum. Unbeknownst to me, he became a man on a mission.
Last night, I received a call. Gregg was on the other end. He informed me that he gotten me a Christmas present. We had ceased exchanging gifts several years ago. I was humbly taken aback. He told me I was now the owner of an entire box of fresh, Bubble Yum Sugarless Peppermint Bubble Gum! Hallelujahs and Hosannas reigned! I suspected that Gregg, he of more means than I, did not balk at the pricey outlet I came across on the Internet. I was surprised at his resourcefulness. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he was the father of two young girls and he couldn’t imagine them growing up without ever had the opportunity to sample the finest gum, bar none, ever made. Whatever the reason, I was thrilled, my exuberance was palpable. Like an unsuspecting reunion with a lost love, I am to be reunited. Fate and Gregg had brought us together again. I wonder if Barack Obama would like a piece. He sure could use some good something right now.
You know how every once in awhile a product comes along that is infinitely better than anything else on the market. It knows no peer. The competition pales in comparison. Charmin Plus with Aloe toilet paper falls into this category. Never have I ever met anyone that declares that toilet paper is toilet paper. Sure, under duress, we’ve all used crude substitutions; either when camping, or on a desolate highway while on an alcohol fueled roadtrip. Anything will do in a pinch; no pun intended.
Many of our parents did not put a premium on TP. This was an area that one could be frugal when shopping. My mother was a Scott 1000 sheet roll woman, and she bought them in bulk. Who cared that it wasn’t eco-friendly; that you used twice the amount of the one-ply sandpaper facsimile. Hell, it was 10 for a $1.00 or some shit, again, no pun intended. Our generation obviously felt quite the contrary. We did not underestimate the importance of comfortable toilet tissue. You peruse the supermarket paper product aisle and you’ll find a wide array of bathroom tissue, many of the brands coming out in the last 25 years or so. Charmin alone has 5 or 6 different types for the truly discernable shopper. We were no longer relegated to the flimsy school TP, the grainy office TP, and the dreaded industrially abrasive brown Gas Station TP. We demanded more for our bungholes, and we got it by god! We spared no expense when it came to a more pleasurable bathroom experience. This new wave of toilet tissue became the cornerstone for this revolutionary step forward in premium potty time. Charmin Plus with Aloe is my personal fave, but not everyone concurs. Not so concerning Bubble Yum Sugarless Peppermint Bubble Gum. There’s those angels’ singing again.
Walter E Diemer, an accountant, should be nominated for sainthood as far as I’m concerned. In 1928, after his boss Gilbert Mustin gave up the ghost; Mr. Diemer picked up where Mr. Mustin left off in his quest for a suitable gum base. Neither man had any chemistry background. It was Mr. Mustin’s search for a better gum, and Mr. Diemer’s curiosity and never say die attitude, and a little dumb luck, that resulted in the invention of bubble gum. Chewing gum had been around for the better part of eight hundred years before someone attempted to not only make chewing gum satisfying, but fun as well.
Diemer claimed the bubbles were an accident. The men set out to make a gum that wouldn’t stick. But once the gum was found to be stable enough as to not fall apart, Mr. Diemer added the only food coloring available, pink, and came up with a batch of gum with greater elasticity than gums on the market at the time. When chewed, this new gum didn’t fall apart, and as an added bonus, stretched enough to produce bubbles. Those angels are becoming really annoying.
Walter happened to be an accountant for the Fleer Chewing Gum Company. They christened this new gum Dubble Bubble. Fleer sold $1.5 million dollars of the stuff in the first year alone. Walter eventually rose to the position of executive vice-president, but received no royalties for his ground-breaking invention. Soon, Bazooka and Topps vied with Fleer for bubble gum supremacy. It would be nearly fifty years after that first bubble was blown that the world would be introduced to Bubble Yum.
Bubble Yum was the brain child of the Lifesavers Candy Company. For nearly 5 years Bubble Yum was only available in the diabetic coma inducing sugar laden version. Sugarless bubble gum was for sissies. Sugarless versions were only offered by unheard of off-brands. No self-respecting bubble gum company thought a profitable market for the sugarless variety existed. However, as America became more health conscious, a large selection of low-calorie items dotted grocery store shelves. In 1980, Bubble Yum produced a gum that was easy on the waistline, and didn’t promote tooth decay.
Two years later, Hubba Bubba and Bubblicious joined in the fray of super bubble producing gums. In an effort to gain an additional share in the ever expanding market, Bubble Yum came out with a flavored adaptation of Sugarless Bubble Yum. Peppermint was their choice for this new venture. I’m eternally grateful.
A long time bubble gum chewer, I’d found my Holy Grail of gums. This product remained soft for extended periods of time unmatched by any gum I’d previously sampled. In addition, the minty flavor lasted long after lesser gums had lost taste appeal. Could this be the perfect gum? I never settled for anything less ever again.
I once sent a fellow employee on a mission to locate me a pack of the prized concoction. He was not to return without it. My cohorts must join me in this celebration of the mouth. Each and every person that tried Bubble Yum Sugarless Peppermint Bubble Gum from that day on agreed; it truly was the “best gum.” Excitedly, individuals I shared my bounty with, approached me over an hour later to tell me that the softness and flavor did indeed hold true. But as the years wore on, the gum of gums became more elusive.
In 1993, I moved to Florida. I was tickled to find that several merchants carried the gum that knew no equal. Alas, after the Hershey chocolate company acquired the Bubble Yum brand, the vendor numbers dwindled. I would often travel from store to store and buy what remained of the precious booty. I bought boxes at a time, often at per pack price. It didn’t matter. I got to enlist new waves of Bubble Yum Sugarless Peppermint Bubble Gum disciples with each pack I opened. Several months ago, my love affair with the “best gum” ever, came to an abrupt end.
My wife and I went from CVS to CVS, the last of the dying breed of appreciators of the finest gum I had ever encountered. After a near futile search of 5 stores unearthed only 3 packs, we inquired as to this tragedy. We were told Hershey was discontinuing the brand. Devastated, I returned home to see if the Internet could fill the impending void.
Several sites offered regular flavor Bubble Yum Sugarless Bubble Gum; a weak and inferior product that didn’t tickle my senses the way the peppermint variety did; my search continued. Eureka! Was it true? Did my eyes deceive me? After so many confectioner web site visits, 1, one, uno, solo, lone web site had a box of MY gum….at $3.00 per pack plus shipping. I had my limits. The gum did not provide any sexual pleasure, and I felt this should be included at that price. I was stymied, stonewalled, my Bubble Yum Sugarless Peppermint Bubble Gum days had come to an end. I was relegated to a barely passable replacement. But my fortunes were soon to change.
My friend Gregg, recently invited me a local theater production. As was the custom, I offered him gum. Gregg, who long ago had been introduced to the gum industries crown jewel, asked if it was the “good gum.” Downtrodden, I gave him the sad news. I no longer possessed, or had access to, any more good gum. Unbeknownst to me, he became a man on a mission.
Last night, I received a call. Gregg was on the other end. He informed me that he gotten me a Christmas present. We had ceased exchanging gifts several years ago. I was humbly taken aback. He told me I was now the owner of an entire box of fresh, Bubble Yum Sugarless Peppermint Bubble Gum! Hallelujahs and Hosannas reigned! I suspected that Gregg, he of more means than I, did not balk at the pricey outlet I came across on the Internet. I was surprised at his resourcefulness. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he was the father of two young girls and he couldn’t imagine them growing up without ever had the opportunity to sample the finest gum, bar none, ever made. Whatever the reason, I was thrilled, my exuberance was palpable. Like an unsuspecting reunion with a lost love, I am to be reunited. Fate and Gregg had brought us together again. I wonder if Barack Obama would like a piece. He sure could use some good something right now.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Other People’s Money
A Congressional committee is currently hearing from the CEO’s of the not so Big Three from the automobile industry. It seems they too, are in need of financial assistance. Then again, aren’t we all. Unless you find yourself among that elite class of “ten-per centers,” you’ve probably taken a hit in the ol’ wallet. Are we allowed to go before Congress and plead our cases so the government will help us remain solvent? Noooooo! Maybe it’s time for the auto industry to man up, and bite the bullet. If they don’t want to bite the bullet, let them chew on this for awhile.
In an unprecedented appeal for government funds, five huge corporations have asked for, and received government fiscal dispensation. There have been only eight other requests between 1970, and 2001, with mixed results. And now the 3 largest American automobile manufacturers want to add their names to the ever growing list…again, for 2008. How soon we forget.
In May of 1970, the Penn Central Railroad needed a bailout of $3.2 billion dollars. President Nixon and the Federal Reserve supported the financial assistance. Congress said nay, and Penn Central filed for bankruptcy the following month, absolving Penn Central from its commercial paper obligations. How nice! On top of that, to counteract the aftershocks to the money market, the Fed provided the funds to commercial banks to meet the credit needs of its customers. Sound familiar? It just so happens that 5 other railroads were in the shitter as well, so they all got together to form ConRail. The government dumped $19.7 billion into the consortium. It took 11 years, but ConRail started to turn a profit. In 1987, the government sold ConRail for $3.1 billion. In addition, the Treasury received a $579 million dividend from the railway. Seventeen years it took for the government to get their money back. I’m glad I wasn’t hanging by my balls waiting for that ship to come in.
The government also bailed out Lockheed in 1971. That turned out really well for the good old U.S. of A. Not so for the Franklin National Bank bailout. We, -I say "we" because the government finances some of this stuff with taxpayer money- didn’t fair so well on that one, mostly to due corporate corruption and lack of legislation. If this piece was a game of “hide and seek” we’d be getting warm about now.
The NYC bailout in 1975, and the Chrysler bailout in 1980, netted the government some serious coin. In 1984, the Continental Illinois National Bank and Trust got a helping hand from Uncle Sam, but they picked their figurative nose before they took it. The FDIC took a $1.8 billion loss on that one; same for the Savings and Loan fiasco in 1989. John Q. Public got bit for $178.56 billion there. Do you sense a trend with these banking industry shitheads?
Believe or not, the government made money on the airline industry bailout. Profits were reportedly to be somewhere in the neighborhood of $141.7 million to $327 million. Big fucking neighborhood if you ask me. The government only did that well because Eastern Airlines, Pan Am, Braniff, National, and TWA to name a few, had the good graces to file for bankruptcy prior to 2001. The government had to step in to save the rest or we’d all be taking trains again. Or, we could start driving everywhere again, and make good use of our massive interstate highway system that is in such disrepair. But then, the ever profitable oil companies would start raising gas prices so the even more elite "one per centers" can keep garnering those huge dividends. Oh, we can’t repair the roads anyway, that would take tax dollars, and we’re too busy using them to bailout unregulated, mismanaged, greedy corporations that have spread themselves too thin.
So who heads the list of least likely to succeed for 2008? Lending institutions. These are the same guys the U.S. government has bet on in the past and lost. Of the-now here’s a big fucking number-$1,352,500,000,000.00 (yes, trillion) in government bailout monies so far, $1,327,500,000,000.00 went to Bear Stearns, Fannie Mae/Freddie Mac, A.I.G. and their credit default swaps bullshit, Troubled Asset Relief Program (Wall Street, and their credit default swaps bullshit), and Citigroup. The other measly $25 billion went to; yup you guessed it, the auto industry.
What’s ironic is that both General Motors, the biggest of the “getting smaller all the time 3,” and Citigroup, are on the Dow Jones. No wonder the damn average is behaving like a hummingbird with ADHD. Let’s remove these two slackers, replace them with profitable, stable companies, and see if things don’t mellow out a little. That’s what’s been done throughout the years.
The original Dow was comprised of only 11 companies; 9 railroads, a steamship firm, and Western Union. The last time the name of a railroad appeared on the Dow was 1927, the last year before the list of companies was expanded from 20 to 30. Since the expansion, companies have come and gone, some have lasted longer than others. Sear Roebuck & Company was added to the short list in January, 1924, and held its place until November, 1999. The huge retailer Woolworth came along in May of ’24, but was replaced by Wal-Mart in March of 1997. Woolworth not only was removed from the Dow, it went out of business altogether. How fast and far the mighty have fallen.
US Steel and Bethlehem Steel no longer share the distinction of making up the Dow Industrials along with Hudson Motors, Chrysler, and Studebaker. Studebaker hung around a little longer by merging with Nash, but they too have fallen by the wayside, and it's been quite awhile at that.
In The Godfather, Hyman Roth declared to Michael Corleone in 1959 that organized crime was bigger than US Steel. That’s nothing to brag about today. Some folks say that unions were the cause of US Steel’s woes, and that’s what’s ailing the automobile industry. That’s not entirely true. There was a need for unions for the coal miners and steel workers back in the 19th century. The premise was a good one; protect workers from greedy management in an unregulated industry. Things changed little over the years until unions became greedy, mismanaged, and unregulated. When union negotiations became versions of “Can You Top This” in the 1960’s, corporations didn’t count on worker life expectancies increasing exponentially. Now the auto industry is paying the price for their lack of foresight. Back when union deals were struck affecting individuals who are now living well into their 70’s, the average life expectancy was 62. That’s over ten more years of pensions and healthcare benefits.
So many things automakers didn’t count on; foreign competition, costs of doing business escalating, mismanagement, and the always popular, greed; the very same components that fueled the downfall of the steel industry in this country.
One thing that the rogue’s gallery of government titsuckers can count on is that the economy is cyclical. Every 14 years or so, it corrects itself. The fiscal elevator stops at all the floors on the way up, and on the way down, as they are becoming painfully aware. Those on this year’s ever expanding bailout list must not employ economists. Hasn’t history taught us anything? Doesn’t any of these overpaid upper management (is that an oxymoron?) wastoids, or Congress for that matter, pay attention to it?
Or maybe what it all boils down to is the acceptance of the rampant mediocrity that has permeated every aspect of our society. But that's a blog for another day... or several.
In 1907, J.P. Morgan bailed out the U.S. government due to unregulated stock speculations. Who is going to bail out the government when they’re done doling out trillions to failing industries? Maybe Bill Gates and Warren Buffet can pool their resources in case of emergency. Oh, that’s right they only make sound investments in adeptly run corporations that turn a profit, and none of those names on the 2008 government bailout list qualify.
In an unprecedented appeal for government funds, five huge corporations have asked for, and received government fiscal dispensation. There have been only eight other requests between 1970, and 2001, with mixed results. And now the 3 largest American automobile manufacturers want to add their names to the ever growing list…again, for 2008. How soon we forget.
In May of 1970, the Penn Central Railroad needed a bailout of $3.2 billion dollars. President Nixon and the Federal Reserve supported the financial assistance. Congress said nay, and Penn Central filed for bankruptcy the following month, absolving Penn Central from its commercial paper obligations. How nice! On top of that, to counteract the aftershocks to the money market, the Fed provided the funds to commercial banks to meet the credit needs of its customers. Sound familiar? It just so happens that 5 other railroads were in the shitter as well, so they all got together to form ConRail. The government dumped $19.7 billion into the consortium. It took 11 years, but ConRail started to turn a profit. In 1987, the government sold ConRail for $3.1 billion. In addition, the Treasury received a $579 million dividend from the railway. Seventeen years it took for the government to get their money back. I’m glad I wasn’t hanging by my balls waiting for that ship to come in.
The government also bailed out Lockheed in 1971. That turned out really well for the good old U.S. of A. Not so for the Franklin National Bank bailout. We, -I say "we" because the government finances some of this stuff with taxpayer money- didn’t fair so well on that one, mostly to due corporate corruption and lack of legislation. If this piece was a game of “hide and seek” we’d be getting warm about now.
The NYC bailout in 1975, and the Chrysler bailout in 1980, netted the government some serious coin. In 1984, the Continental Illinois National Bank and Trust got a helping hand from Uncle Sam, but they picked their figurative nose before they took it. The FDIC took a $1.8 billion loss on that one; same for the Savings and Loan fiasco in 1989. John Q. Public got bit for $178.56 billion there. Do you sense a trend with these banking industry shitheads?
Believe or not, the government made money on the airline industry bailout. Profits were reportedly to be somewhere in the neighborhood of $141.7 million to $327 million. Big fucking neighborhood if you ask me. The government only did that well because Eastern Airlines, Pan Am, Braniff, National, and TWA to name a few, had the good graces to file for bankruptcy prior to 2001. The government had to step in to save the rest or we’d all be taking trains again. Or, we could start driving everywhere again, and make good use of our massive interstate highway system that is in such disrepair. But then, the ever profitable oil companies would start raising gas prices so the even more elite "one per centers" can keep garnering those huge dividends. Oh, we can’t repair the roads anyway, that would take tax dollars, and we’re too busy using them to bailout unregulated, mismanaged, greedy corporations that have spread themselves too thin.
So who heads the list of least likely to succeed for 2008? Lending institutions. These are the same guys the U.S. government has bet on in the past and lost. Of the-now here’s a big fucking number-$1,352,500,000,000.00 (yes, trillion) in government bailout monies so far, $1,327,500,000,000.00 went to Bear Stearns, Fannie Mae/Freddie Mac, A.I.G. and their credit default swaps bullshit, Troubled Asset Relief Program (Wall Street, and their credit default swaps bullshit), and Citigroup. The other measly $25 billion went to; yup you guessed it, the auto industry.
What’s ironic is that both General Motors, the biggest of the “getting smaller all the time 3,” and Citigroup, are on the Dow Jones. No wonder the damn average is behaving like a hummingbird with ADHD. Let’s remove these two slackers, replace them with profitable, stable companies, and see if things don’t mellow out a little. That’s what’s been done throughout the years.
The original Dow was comprised of only 11 companies; 9 railroads, a steamship firm, and Western Union. The last time the name of a railroad appeared on the Dow was 1927, the last year before the list of companies was expanded from 20 to 30. Since the expansion, companies have come and gone, some have lasted longer than others. Sear Roebuck & Company was added to the short list in January, 1924, and held its place until November, 1999. The huge retailer Woolworth came along in May of ’24, but was replaced by Wal-Mart in March of 1997. Woolworth not only was removed from the Dow, it went out of business altogether. How fast and far the mighty have fallen.
US Steel and Bethlehem Steel no longer share the distinction of making up the Dow Industrials along with Hudson Motors, Chrysler, and Studebaker. Studebaker hung around a little longer by merging with Nash, but they too have fallen by the wayside, and it's been quite awhile at that.
In The Godfather, Hyman Roth declared to Michael Corleone in 1959 that organized crime was bigger than US Steel. That’s nothing to brag about today. Some folks say that unions were the cause of US Steel’s woes, and that’s what’s ailing the automobile industry. That’s not entirely true. There was a need for unions for the coal miners and steel workers back in the 19th century. The premise was a good one; protect workers from greedy management in an unregulated industry. Things changed little over the years until unions became greedy, mismanaged, and unregulated. When union negotiations became versions of “Can You Top This” in the 1960’s, corporations didn’t count on worker life expectancies increasing exponentially. Now the auto industry is paying the price for their lack of foresight. Back when union deals were struck affecting individuals who are now living well into their 70’s, the average life expectancy was 62. That’s over ten more years of pensions and healthcare benefits.
So many things automakers didn’t count on; foreign competition, costs of doing business escalating, mismanagement, and the always popular, greed; the very same components that fueled the downfall of the steel industry in this country.
One thing that the rogue’s gallery of government titsuckers can count on is that the economy is cyclical. Every 14 years or so, it corrects itself. The fiscal elevator stops at all the floors on the way up, and on the way down, as they are becoming painfully aware. Those on this year’s ever expanding bailout list must not employ economists. Hasn’t history taught us anything? Doesn’t any of these overpaid upper management (is that an oxymoron?) wastoids, or Congress for that matter, pay attention to it?
Or maybe what it all boils down to is the acceptance of the rampant mediocrity that has permeated every aspect of our society. But that's a blog for another day... or several.
In 1907, J.P. Morgan bailed out the U.S. government due to unregulated stock speculations. Who is going to bail out the government when they’re done doling out trillions to failing industries? Maybe Bill Gates and Warren Buffet can pool their resources in case of emergency. Oh, that’s right they only make sound investments in adeptly run corporations that turn a profit, and none of those names on the 2008 government bailout list qualify.
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