“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”

I enjoy reading the section of comments that follows most news stories found on the internet. Sometimes, there is a poignant comment posted before the conversation degrades into a name calling session between “big government liberals” and “bible thumping bigots”. I stay out of the fray, reserving my comments for my own blog, but I delight at the fighting the same way the Romans must have felt watching gladiators kill each other for sport.

This morning, I was drinking my coffee and enjoying the online bickering when I realized I had begun to see a term that was growing in popularity. People were referring to the president as “Obammy”. I’m smart enough to understand this play on words between “Obama” and “mammy”, but not smart enough to understand what is meant by the word. So, I started researching the word to determine what was meant. Strangely, though I found dozens of examples of this word being used, I couldn’t find any resource that explained the origination or the meaning of this term.

It was then that I came across a very interesting web site that explained the origin of the fictional character “mammy”. The page was one of a collection of pages that discussed racism – particularly images of racism. And the more I read, the more fascinated I became. You see, this web site was created by a black man who had been collecting racist images since his childhood. And what was fascinating is that he hated his own collection. But somehow, he knew it was important to create it.

By the time he had reached adulthood and began raising his own children, his basement was full of these racist images and he sometimes found his children playing with them. It was then that he realized he needed to remove this collection from his home and put them on display in a museum, where people could come to learn how these racist stereotypes came to exist. And so, the Jim Crow Museum of Racist Memorobilia was created.

As I read, I began to wonder, if we could take a poll of all the people who freely used the term, “Obammy”, how many of them would say that they identified themselves closely with the Tea Party? Assuming that number is relatively high, why then, would anyone want to willingly associate themselves with a political party who would also welcome these people?

Read about the Jim Crow Museum of Racist Memorobilia

Rick, please shut up. You sound like a moron!

The following is an exact transcript of Rick Santorum’s speech after winning the Republican primary in three states the other night. The remarks in red are the responses that my inner voice was screaming while I watched his speech.

Wow! Conservatism is alive and well in Missouri and Minnesota.

Conservatives? In Missouri? Wow! How surprising! I was pretty sure that the liberals would come out in droves to vote in the Republican primary. Oh, wait.

Thank you all so very, very much. It is great to be here. I just can't thank the people of Missouri; we doubled them up here and in Minnesota.

Um, you doubled them? Huh?

I want to also thank -- I have to always thank -- first off, let me just thank God for giving us the grace to be able to persevere through the -- through the dog days, and blessing us and blessing our family.

Perservere through the dog days? You mean the hottest days of the summer, when the Romans would typically sacrifice a brown dog to appease the rage of the god, Sirius? Those dog days? Isn’t this February? Does anyone know what the hell is he talking about?

My wife, Karen, here, what a rock. I mean, what a rock through these last few weeks. We have had -- we have had more drama than any family really needs. And -- and she has just been an amazing rock and a great blessing to me. And I just want to thank you in particular, my sweet, for all you've done. Thank you.

Frankly, your wife is not a rock, she’s a saint. I mean, she saw you there in that sexy sweater vest, and she slept with you anyway – more than once! Now that’s what I call taking one for the team! Millions of American women owe her a debt of gratitude. What’s the name of her web site? She’s the one who deserves the contributions.

I want to thank my kids, the two who are here, Elizabeth and John, and all the kids listening at home, I'll be home in a couple of days. It's been a while.

Why is he thanking the children? Did he make the kids lick envelopes? Is that legal? Oh well, thanks, kids!

And I just -- I just want a particular little note to my Bella, who I know is watching me and looking at her daddy. So I love you, sweetie. Thank you so much for getting healthy.

Aww.

Your votes today were not just heard loud and wide across the states of Missouri and Minnesota, but they were heard loud and louder all across this country, and particularly in a place that I suspect may be in Massachusetts.

Who is in Massachusetts? Mitt Romney is in Colorado tonight. What is he talking about?

They were heard particularly loud tonight. Tonight was not just a victory for us, but tonight was a victory for the voices of our party, conservatives and Tea Party people, who are out there every single day in the vineyards building the conservative movement in this country, building the base of the Republican Party, and building a voice for freedom in this land.

Vineyards? What vineyards? Why is the Tea Party in the vineyards? Are they chasing away illegal immigrants? I think all you Tea Party people should really get out of the vineyards now. This is not the appropriate place to build a voice for freedom in this land. Go back to writing letters to the editor and doing the crossword puzzle.

Thank you.

You are welcome.

There's probably another person who maybe -- maybe is listening to your cheers here tonight, also, and that might be at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. You better start listening to the voice of the people. But then again, I wouldn't be surprised if he isn't listening. Why would you think he would be listening now? Has he ever listened to the voice of America before?

He does listen. It is you who are not listening. According to the latest poll data, most Americans favor government involvement to help stop foreclosures, favor the legalization of marijuana use, favor the accelerated withdrawal of our troops from Afghanistan, etc., etc. You consistently side with the minority on almost every issue. Maybe it is you who need a hearing aid, to hear the voice of the American people.

He's someone who -- well, let's just go look at the record. If you look at when it came to the -- the Wall Street bailouts, did the president of the United States listen to you when it came to bailing out the big banks? Why? Because he thought he just knew better. He and his friends on Wall Street knew better than what was -- what was good for this country.

So, you would have instead opted for a complete meltdown of our banking system, sending our economy into another Great Depression? You are just a Monday morning quarterback. You had no better ideas then, and you have none now.

When it came to the problems that were being confronted on Obamacare, when the health care system in this country, did President Obama, when he was pushing forward his radical health care ideas, listen to the American people?

Yes, actually, he did listen. He wanted a single payer system, but the Republicans didn’t. So, he listened and he compromised, moving toward a government option that people could elect if they couldn’t afford or (or didn’t qualify for) a private health plan.

But the Republicans didn’t like that idea either. So again he listened and he compromised, moving to a system run entirely by the private market, using the idea (fostered by the Heritage Foundation) to implement a mandate that would force all Americans to be responsible and to purchase health insurance.

At the time, the Republicans agreed to this idea and a deal was struck based on fairness and compromise. And now after both sides agreed to the plan, and the law was enacted, it’s become a radical idea?

Why? Because he thinks he knows better how to run your lives and manage your health care.

Who is "he"? The president? Actually, the Affordable Health Care Act was enacted by the legislature, not the executive branch. Perhaps you need to take a class to understand how laws get passed.

When it comes to the environment, did the president of the United States listen to the American people, or did he push a radical cap- and-trade agenda that would crush the energy and manufacturing sector of the economy?

You mean the idea of telling industry that they cannot belch as much filth into the air it pleases is a radical idea? The idea of instituting a cap-and-trade plan, a plan originally created by one of Ronald Reagan's conservative White House lawyers, is radical?

Did he listen to you? No, because he thinks he knows better.

Yeah, he kind of does. But so did our last president. I think it goes along with the territory.

Ladies and gentlemen, we need a president who listens to the American people. When the majority of Americans oppose these radical ideas and they speak loudly against them, we need a president who listens to them.

This guy does not know how to read a poll. Here, Santorum…why don’t you do some reading before you run your mouth? You don’t seem to have any idea what the majority of Americans favor.

www.gallup.com

Here's the problem. The problem is, in this Republican field, you have been listening.

You think the problem is that the Republican primary voters have been listening? Huh?

Tonight, the voters of America, the voters here in Missouri, the voters in Minnesota -- and I'm hopeful the voters in Colorado, right?

Is there a verb in there somewhere? I can’t find it.

I hope you have been listening to our message, because if you've -- you listen to our message, and you found out that on those issues -- health care, the environment, cap-and-trade, and on the Wall Street bailouts, Mitt Romney has the same positions as Barack Obama and, in fact, would not be the best person to get up and fight for your voices for freedom in America.

I have to agree with you there. Mitt Romney is probably not the best choice to represent us. Though, he does look better in a sweater vest than you do. Gosh, Romney’s a handsome devil! I especially like his hair. Wait, what are we talking about?

Ladies and gentlemen, I don't stand here to claim to be the conservative alternative to Mitt Romney. I stand here to be the conservative alternative to Barack Obama.

Wow. I’m impressed!

Tonight -- tonight, we had -- tonight, we had an opportunity to see what a campaign looks like when one candidate isn't outspent 5 or 10 to 1 by negative ads impugning their integrity and distorting their record. This is a more accurate representation, frankly, of what the fall race will look like.

Governor Romney's greatest attribute is, well, I've got the most money and the best organization. Well, he's not going to have the most money and the best organization in the fall, is he?

It depends on whose Super Pac is more well-funded. My guess is that Romney’s will be.

No, we're going to have to have someone who has other attributes to commend himself to the people of America, someone -- someone who can get up and make sharp contrasts with President Obama, someone who can point to the failed record of this administration and say that Barack Obama needs to be replaced in the Oval Office.

People -- people have asked me, you know, what is -- what is the secret?

The secret? Yes, tell us please. What is the secret? I’m on pins and needles.

Why are you doing so well? Is it your jobs message? And, yes, we have a great jobs message, talking about everywhere we go

Yes, tell us oh Wise One. Is it your jobs message? Could it be your jobs message? Your jobs message is so impressive. Wait, what is your jobs message, again?

and particularly here in the industrial heartland of Missouri, where they still make things here in Missouri, by the way.

Things? Things are made here in Missouri? I was wondering where things are made. I thought things were made overseas, but now that I know that things are made in Missouri, I feel better. Perhaps I’ll take a road trip to Missouri. I was needing to pick up a few things, anyway.

It's a message of -- as the Wall Street Journal called our economic plan, supply-side economics for the working man,

Supply-side economics for the working man? You mean cut taxes for the rich and watch all those jobs open up? Didn’t we try that already? It didn't work out so great last time.

is resonating in Minnesota and here in Missouri and across this country. And you see that, when you have a Republican out there talking about growth -- talking about growth for everybody, right... ... that Americans respond, because I do care about not 99 percent or 95 percent. I care about the very rich and the very poor. I care about 100 percent of America.

Except the gay Americans, but the other 100%, yeah - them for sure.

The real message -- the message that we've been taking across this country and here in Missouri is a message of what's at stake in this election. This is the most important election in your lifetime.

The most important election in our lifetime? This is kind of presumptuous since most of your supporters have probably voted in at least a dozen other elections.

This is an election -- we've seen it so evident just here in the last week.

Why yes, oh Wise One. This is an election. Gosh, you are smart!

This is an election fundamentally about the kind of country you're going to hand off to your children and grandchildren, whether they are going to have the level of freedom and opportunity that you have. And we have a president of the United States, as I mentioned, who's someone who believes he knows better, that we need to accumulate more power in Washington, D.C., for the elite in our country, to be able to govern you because you are incapable of liberty, that you are incapable of freedom. That's what this president believes.

Huh? The president believes that I am incapable of liberty? The president believes that I am incapable of freedom? Are you high?

And I -- and Americans understand that there is a great, great deal at stake. If this president is re-elected and if we don't have a nominee that can make this case and not be compromised on the biggest issues of the day, but can make the case to the American public that this is about the founder's freedom, this is about a country that believes in God-given rights, and a Constitution that is limited to protect those rights.

You believe in a Constitution that is limited to protect God-given rights and you think this about the founder's freedom? Huh? You are high aren't you? C'mon, you can tell me.

The president does not believe that. The president over the last few years has tried to tell you that he, in fact, the government can give you rights, the government can take care of you and provide for you. They can give you the right to health care, like in Obamacare.

Wrong. The president believes that the government can ensure that we all have access to health care by requiring all Americans to become insured and by preventing insurance companies from picking and choosing who can and who cannot have access to health care.

But look what happens when the government gives you rights. When the government gives you rights, unlike when God gives you rights, the government can take them away. When government gives you rights, the government can tell you how to exercise those rights.

Yes. You are correct. This is the first thing you have said that makes any sense.

Let’s look at the right to free speech. The Constitution grants this right and the government both protects it and restricts it. For example, we all have the right to speak freely to express our opinion, but there is no right to free speech if your speech is intended to incite violence. This right is both granted and restricted by the government, all at the same time. That’s how it works. Do you understand now?

And we saw that just in the last week, with a group of people, a small group of
people, just Catholics in the United States of America who were told you have a right to health care, but you will have the health care that we tell you, you have to give your people, whether it is against the teachings of your church or not.

Just because a business, such as a hospital or university, affiliates itself with a religion, that does not give it the right to circumvent labor laws. What if the Catholic Church decided that it was a mortal sin for people to work past the age of 50? Does this mean that a hospital that is affiliated with a Catholic Church can now legally discriminate against workers over the age of 50? Nope.

If an organization chooses to do business, it must abide by the same laws all other businesses do. And if the law requires all businesses that provide health insurance to workers, including coverage for contraception, then all businesses must comply.

If the Catholic Church doesn’t want to comply, they can stop running hospitals and universities, and go back to being just a church, where no government agency will tell them what to do.

I never thought as a first-generation American, whose parents and grandparents loved freedom and came here because they didn't want the government telling them what to believe and how to believe it,

Aren’t your ancestors from Italy and Ireland? I’m pretty sure that these are democratic countries. Though admittedly, the Catholic Church does tell most of the citizens of these two countries what to believe and how to believe it. Oh, wait.

that we had a First Amendment that actually stood for freedom of conscience, that we'd have a president of the United States who would roll over that and impose his secular values on the people of this country.

Secular values espouse that religions have no place defining the role of government. Secular values have nothing to do with the First Amendment. By the way, the First Amendment has nothing to do with “freedom of conscience”. Now you are just making stuff up.

And it's worse than that.

Worse than that? Wow! Now I’m really frightened!

When one of the Catholic bishops tried to communicate that through Army chaplains, the Obama administration said, no, you can't do that, no, because your language is seditious, and they made them change the language of a letter from a bishop to his people.

Oh my, restricting the right of a specific religion to proselytize to members of a secular organization that is funded by taxpayer dollars? How terrible!

Ladies and gentlemen, freedom is at stake in this election. We need to be the voice for freedom.

All this talk of freedom is making me hungry for freedom fries.

And that founding document, the Declaration of Independence, at the end of that document, those founders signed their names.

They did? Wow! That changes everything! (As an aside, have you ever considered applying for a job at FNMA as a historian? You sure do seem to know alot about history!)

But the last clause of that document said we pledge our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor.

Ladies and gentlemen, every generation of Americans doesn't create freedom

“Every generation of American’s doesn’t create freedom?” What the hell does this even mean? Listen, if you don't have enough for everyone in the room, don't even bring it with you.

, but they have, in many respects, a harder job. They have to maintain freedom.

Mmmmm, freedom fries. Wait, what did he say?

Your charge tonight -- your charge tonight here in Missouri -- because we're not done yet with you here in Missouri. You've got a caucus coming up next month -- is to go out and pledge, pledge -- no, not your lives. Maybe your fortune. RickSantorum.com is the website.

Yes, all Tea Party folks should run out and pledge their fortunes to Rick Santorum. That is if you haven't already pledged your fortunes to Pat Robertson.

But your honor, the honor that you stand on, on the backs and the shoulders of your ancestors.

You know, that’s not really very nice. Get down off your grandma’s shoulders. She's not as young as she used to be.

The people here in St. Louis, the people here in Missouri, the people across this country who sacrificed for this country, for the freedoms we have. America's honor, your honor is at stake.

Your honor is at stake, America! Pull down your skirts! You all look like hookers!

Go out and preserve the greatest country in the history of the world.

We’re number one! We’re number one! Wait, where’s my giant USA foam finger?

Thank you all, and God bless.

No, Rick, thank you for showing us all what a complete moron you are.

Newt Gingrich has just clinched Obama’s re-election in 2012

On Saturday, South Carolina Republican Primary voters cast their votes for the candidate that they most believe represents their views. Though Iowa and New Hampshire delegates went to Mitt Romney, South Carolina cast its delegates to Newt Gingrich – and by a stunning margin. So with three primary races behind us, what’s different about South Carolina? The Tea Party.

South Carolina is as red as any red state in the Union. Its State Senate is made up of 27 Republicans and 19 Democrats. Its legislature is made up of 76 Republicans and 48 Democrats. It has a Republican governor. And the Tea Party is strong there, as it is in other states where the Confederate flag once flew.

So who is the Tea Party? According to exit polls it consists mainly of anti-abortion voters who lack any post-secondary education. (I’m not making this up.) In my mind, I picture a parking lot full of vinyl-topped Mercury Grand Marquis’ and assorted mini vans outside of Tea Party stronghold polling places, most of which sport some sort of sort of religious article on the back, like a chrome fish or a bumper sticker commemorating their most recent trip to vacation bible school. Some of the extra witty folks will have a bumper sticker that reads, "Nobama" or "I'll keep my guns. You can keep the change". (This part, I am making up.)

Today, and in the weeks to come, the pews of Baptist churches, the stands of Nascar races, and the checkout aisles of the local Piggly Wiggly will be abuzz with newfound enthusiasm from Tea Party voters. “We can win this thing!” they’ll say. “We can finally kick that Muslim out of office and take our country back!” The candidacy of Newt Gingrich has whipped the angry and divisive Tea Party into an overheated frothy foam. But like all frothy foams, they just dissappear back into a milky background when all the hot air dissipates.

What the Tea Party doesn’t seem to understand is that they have effectively split the Republican Party in half, leaving it weak. There are two kinds of Republicans now – moderate Republicans and Tea Party Republicans. Moderate Republicans bristle at the thought of being identified with the Tea Party. Moderate Republicans are more apt to be educated, critical thinkers who do not march in lock step. They lean just to the right of center, politically speaking, and while they may have different ideas from their left leaning counterparts, they are reasonable people who despise the Tea Party’s claim of dominance over the Republican Party. Moderate Republicans will not vote for Newt Gingrich.

The Republican Primary schedule does not return to the Deep South, stronghold of the Tea Party, until March 6th. And even then, most of the states casting their votes will be ones in which moderate Republicans are much better represented, leaving Tea Party voters largely without a voice until it's too late.

Here are my predictions:

1) By the time all the shouting is over on March 6th, Mitt Romney will be the Republican nominee for 2012 (or extremely close to being the nominee by a wide margin).

2) Voter turnout for the Alabama and Mississippi primaries, held on March 16th will be remarkably low, because the Tea Party voters will be feeling much less enthusiastic.

3) In November, Democrats, feeling angry and frustrated over the way their interests have been represented in Congress for the last two years, will come out in force to re-elect President Obama.

4) In November, moderate Republicans, feeling enthusiastic about the chance to win the White House will come out in force to vote for Mitt Romney.

5) In November, Tea Party Republicans, will have a tepid showing at the polls. Some will hold their noses and vote for Mitt Romney, because after all, voting for a white Mormon is better than having a black Muslim for president. But many Tea Party voters will not be coaxed from their deer blinds and VFW barstools to pull a lever on Election Day.

6) Finally, thanks to the candidacy of Newt Gingrich, who has given the Tea Party a temporary home for its anger, and left the Republican Party splintered, President Obama will win re-election in 2012.

Thanks Newt!

I just know something is wrong, and nobody will tell me

I believe that the best way to form an opinion is to listen to both sides of an argument. Instead of hunkering down in the liberal television foxhole that is MSNBC, I flip the channels to listen, even stopping on Fox News for a while to find out what those sneaky Iranians are up to. On Sunday, I read all of the newspaper editorials – not just the ones from that liberal lefty editor, but even the ones from the old folks who write to say we should pass a law forbidding baggy pants. When nobody is watching me, I’ll turn on the religious channel and listen to the preacher tell me about the many reasons I will surely burn in hell (unless I send a love gift). I wonder what I am missing when I only listen to NPR and MSNBC and I feel like I need to see how the other side thinks. And so I listen, I read, and I think.

The problem that I have with organized religions, political parties, and cable news channels is that they only tell one side of an argument, leaving the listener to either agree with them or to feel ostracized. Oh, they may pretend to be “fair and balanced”, but the liberal-leaning lefty always sits alone at the afternoon round table discussion, defending his arguments against the four other ferocious righties. He sits there like a silent lump, probably because he’s afraid to take a 5-inch heel in the eye from one of the patriotic prostitutes that sit closest to the camera, showing off their freshly shaved legs and American flag lapel pins. But I listen anyway, because it gives me the opportunity to think about what is being said and to hear the other side of an argument that I might not have heard before.

Lately, I have watched several of the Republican presidential debates in an effort to understand their side of the arguments. Occasionally, there is a small glimmer of truth in there surrounded by all that fire and brimstone. For example, during a recent Republican presidential debate, one of the candidates actually suggested that we bring our troops home to defend our own borders and stop running our deficit up trying to be the world’s police force. I was heartened a bit by his comments until one of the other candidates went on to say that we should legislate that all the married gay people be forced to get divorced, or some such fear-based nonsense.

Regardless of whether it is a conservative presidential debate, a conservative news channel round table, or an editorial written by a conservative senior citizen, it seems like I have heard it all before. I began to think about why every conservative conversation is starting to sound so familiar, regardless of the topic. It suddenly dawned on me that the single tie that binds the conservative platform is fear.

Conservatives are frightened. They are frightened of communists, of the Chinese and the Iranians, that gasoline prices will go up, that gay people will get married, that illegal immigrants will take their jobs, that the deficit will bankrupt our country, that the Socialists will take over the legislature, that the European Union or the Federal Reserve will try to create a one world currency, that the United Nations will try to impose its will on them. Conservatives are afraid that someone or something will take their stuff or their money or to try to change their minds about something. There is no shortage of boogeymen to keep them locked inside their homes watching Fox News, pulling their blankets further over their heads, and waiting for the Mayan calendar to end or for the middle-eastern flavor of the month to nuke us.

Conservatives are comforted only by the status quo – a lack of change. They like it when people look the same and dress the same. They flock to homogeneous suburban neighborhoods with houses painted in earth tones and surround themselves with plenty of weapons to defend themselves against anyone who wants to take their stuff or speak a different language.

But I am not frightened because I have begun to come to terms with the fact that change is inevitable. Although progress can be slowed, the world will keep changing. No matter who gets voted into office and no matter how long we try to maintain the status quo, in the end, nothing will stop the world around us from changing. We can hunker down inside our beige suburban houses, trying to shut out the changing world around us while we listen to the music of our youth. We can vote for geriatric Presidents to help us lead our legislature to victory over the evils of today’s changing world. Or we can simply accept that change is a part of life. And that’s what I have decided to do. And that is why I am not a conservative.

Most members of my family have a problem with anxiety, including me. We are a worried and nervous clan who have never slept soundly. Anxiety must be a genetic trait because one of our family stories is about the day my grandmother looked particularly worried. When asked what was bothering her, she replied anxiously, “I just know something is wrong and nobody will tell me.” People in my family actually worry that they have nothing to worry about! They thrive on worry and anxiety, conjuring up boogeymen where none exist.

I wonder if that’s why so many of them vote for Republicans.

p.s. - If you are a conservative and you are feeling particularly secure and calm today, you can find something to help whip up that comfortable old feeling of fear and anxiety that you thrive on by clicking here: http://www.foxnews.com/opinion/index.html

Dear Jesus, please help the Broncos win

When you think of Denver, what do you think of? The Rocky Mountains, right? But Denver isn’t in the mountains; it’s only near them. Without the mountains, the city itself would arguably be like most any other Midwestern city. There is a river running through it and there are some train tracks that long ago established it as a transportation hub. Aside from that, it has malls, restaurants, a few decent museums and such, but most all of it is merely mediocre in scope and scale – like dozens of other cities of the same size and climate.

But Denver joins a smaller more “elite” group of cities when judged by the number and popularity of its professional sports teams that play here. We have professional baseball, hockey, basketball, and football. (We probably have professional hacky sack, snowmobiling, and pumpkin chunkin’ teams as well, but really, outside of the big four, nobody cares.) And folks in Denver, like in other cities, love their sports teams – especially the Broncos. I suspect it’s because for a few moments it makes people feel almost as good as their friends who choose to live on one of the coasts or in some truly cosmopolitan place with actual culture.

Basically what we are talking about here is the fact that the people in Denver love the Broncos for the same reason middle-aged men buy expensive sports cars. It makes them feel important, virile, and relevant – if only temporarily. Some people here remember when the Broncos were more than a barely mediocre football team and they miss feeling relevant and virile, the same way a middle-aged man misses the hair that used to grow on the crown of his head.

And they’ll do anything to recapture that feeling of glory – even pray. Yep. Every week, Tim Tebow (the second-rate quarterback who replaced the Bronco’s third-rate quarterback some weeks ago) kneels on the sidelines and prays so hard it looks as if he’s about to sprain his eyelid muscles by squeezing them shut too hard. There he is every week, dressed in all that spandex, invoking Jesus’ name and losing game after game in full 60-inch high definition. Meanwhile, Jesus is either too busy to listen or just doesn’t care about football because the Broncos have lost their last three games, including the one just played against the quarterback Tebow replaced.

If you detect a little snarkiness here it’s for a couple of reasons: 1) I’m a little snarky, and 2) I’m embarrassed that the only way we can hope to win a few football games is to pray for help from a deity. I’d much rather the Broncos just tried to win games by practicing and improving, like other teams. But that doesn’t mean I want the Broncos to lose as they move on to their completely undeserved spot in the playoffs next week. In fact, I want them to win badly!

You see, when the Broncos play football, all of the middle-aged men with expensive sports cars are too busy kneeling on their living room floors praying for a win in front of their televisions to be out on the roads. Meanwhile, their wives and girlfriends are presumably too busy heating up another batch of Velveeta and Ro-tel dip to be out shopping. For a few short hours every Sunday, traffic in Denver clears like Moses parting the Red Sea. The zoo empties out, the restaurants are accessible, the need to buy movie tickets in advance is gone, and parking abounds at the mall – a real miracle. So Jesus, I don’t know if you are listening but can you please help the Broncos win a few more games? I need to go to Wal-Mart next weekend. In Tebow's name, amen.

The Facebook Experiment Is Over

So there I was those years ago, refusing to get caught up in the Facebook frenzy. But my friends begged and pleaded for me to join. They said that it would be such a wonderful tool for staying in touch. So I succumbed.

For a while everything was okay. I was receiving "friend requests" right and left and it was a lot like the old television show, "This Is Your Life." Old acquaintances were coming out of the woodwork; folks from high school, old childhood neighbors, you name it. I was even contacted by the girl who let me kiss her at church when I was four or five years old. I no longer kiss girls or attend church, but it was fun to reconnect anyway.

But after about a year, I noticed something. Nobody ever posted anything important. Hell, most of it wasn't even interesting. The fact that your dog took a poop shaped like Abe Lincoln did not add any value to my life. And then there was the religious and political tripe that many of my "friends" thought it would be great for me to know about. It wasn't. And I'll never forget the incredibly racist joke from a distant relative in my email inbox. I think it was supposed to be funny, but I was horrified.

And so, dear friends, I have decided to leave Facebook. I will not be joining GooglePlus, MySpace, YourSpace, FacePlus, or GoogleBooks either. I will not be linking in and I will not be requesting to be your friend. If we are friends, then we are friends. And for those of you that truly are my friends, you don't need my crummy picture beside the crummy pictures of your other friends at the edge of a web page for you to know that we are friends. You just know it.

But in case you are unaware of our friendship, here is a list of my friends and some of the other people I love: Laura, David, Dennis, Jim, Marcy, Renee, Mike and Cliff, Kelly, Kelli, Ronnie and Brenda, Kit, Vicki, Bob, Maria, Barb, Becky aka "Little Joe", Big Daddy Bruce, Beth aka "Ralph", Lisa, Deb, Julie, Detta, Chris and Julia, Rose, and Paul.

If you see your name listed here, you can relax and sleep well. Some of these names are used by multiple friends. If you are wondering if you are the specific "Joe" that I have listed, then no, you are not - because if you were, you wouldn't be wondering. If you don't see your name here, but think it should be, it is never too late to make the list. Just reach out and be a friend.

Now, as for my blog. This is a space for my political and religious diatribes. I will also share with you the shape of any President or celebrity that my dog's poop resembles. If you don't want to read it, don't come here. But I secretly hope you do.

Here's to my friends. I wish you all the very best 2012.

Too Old For Vegas

Some of you may still remember the glory days of Las Vegas when the drinks were free and the shrimp cocktail was cheap. If you do not remember free drinks and cheap food in Las Vegas, you also most likely do not understand the term “glory days”. Today, the only thing that is free in Las Vegas is a business card with a photo of a nude woman, handed to you on the sidewalk. The actual woman is not free, but might be considered by some to be cheap, though not in the same way the shrimp cocktail used to be.

When I was a young pup, my brother and I were roommates sharing a Southern California apartment. We used to ogle the print ads together each week in the L.A. Times, advertising incredible deals in Las Vegas. We would peruse them carefully and plan our next visit, always excited to see how much hotel we could get for our money. Once we were amazed to find an advertisement for round-trip airfare and a two night stay at a Las Vegas hotel for only $59.00 per person! We called immediately, eyes agape with astonishment at what we had just read, and asked if the advertisement was true. The woman on the phone said, “Jess, but jew haff to stay at the Junion Plassa.” With a look of confusion on my face, I held the phone to my chest to quiet my conversation and repeated what she said to my brother. “She says we have to stay at the Junion Plassa.”, I repeated. “Hang up”, he said. “I’ve never heard of it.” We were sure it was a scam. Still, we ended up landing a suite for only $39.00 per night at a brand-new hotel called the Rio.

Once in town, we would turn our eyes to the billboards to find the casino that offered the least expensive food and the cheapest blackjack table bets. One of our favorites became the Golden Nugget downtown. We would sit for hours under swanky chandeliers and play $1.00 blackjack while drinking free beer. Occasionally we would find ourselves as much as $10.00 ahead and would treat ourselves to a $1.99 New York steak and baked potato dinner in the coffee shop. Once after a quick $65.00 blackjack win, we sipped cocktails from the mahogany paneled bar atop the Landmark hotel’s (Google it) 32-story tower and took in the view. It seemed that we always ended up ahead of the game, even if only in the number of Heinekens we could consume before losing our money at the blackjack table. We were shrewd businessmen taking the casinos for all they had to offer.

This past weekend, I had the opportunity to visit Las Vegas again. As you all know, I lived there for many years, so it was a treat to see the city once again through the eyes of the tourist I am now. I was enticed with an email offer I received for a complimentary three-night stay at Aria in City Center, the city’s newest 8.5 billion dollar development. I was stunned when my reservation was confirmed for a holiday weekend! I was sure the deal would only be available on the third Tuesday of a month whose name contained the letter “K”. I snatched up two cheap plane tickets and reserved a car for the weekend. Upon arrival at Aria, I was blown away. The architecture of the complex was beyond compare. The hotel room was without a doubt the finest hotel room I had ever slept in. The next morning, I awoke as the automatic drapes opened themselves, to find a cup of coffee had been brought to me by my caring partner. I couldn’t believe how gullible these casinos were for allowing me to come. Don’t they ever learn?

What I didn’t know was that the coffee was $4.50 per cup. That morning, we had the breakfast of champions, a pair of hot dogs and sodas from Pink’s, the famous Hollywood hot dog stand; they cost $30.00. The dinner buffet later that evening was $35.00 per person. A cocktail at the casino’s bar was $11.00, while a glass of wine was $12.00. Before the gambling had even begun in earnest, we had spent well over $150.00.

We also noticed something odd about the casino’s patrons. They all appeared to be barely out of high school. Men wore hats, turned backwards of course, rendering them useless except when their Elvis-sized sunglasses were rested on the brims behind their heads. I thought this was an ingenious use for a hat brim as their sunglasses were undoubtedly too large to store in their shirt pockets. Women were dressed (if you want to call it that) in skintight dresses and high heels that were definitely intended to be seen and not walked in. Spotting hookers, an old free pastime for many Vegas tourists, was now impossible as they could no longer be discerned from the hotel’s registered guests. (Fashion tip for the ladies: if you have to have a bikini wax before you wear your dress, the dress might be a hair too short – pun intended.)

According to the mobile billboards on the Strip, hot babes were apparently now direct to you. (Had the hot babes been somehow detoured before now?) Minimum bets at blackjack tables hovered around $25.00 per hand. Fights broke out at the craps tables. Rap music blared at the swimming pool. On the way home, I overheard a young lady at the airport brag over her cell phone that she had, “like totally paid like one hundred dollars to like get into like a pool party.” The whole experience made me feel as out of place as a tube of lipstick at an Amish barn-raising.

I miss the old days, when the music at the pool had lyrics that were actually sung. A cocktail was just a free trinket dispensed to keep players at the blackjack tables. A hotel room was simply a clean, cool place to sleep between inexpensive meals. Vegas, you can keep your new megaresorts and Prada stores and Cirque du blah-blah shows. I miss feeling like a king with the city at his feet instead of a pauper begging the bartenders for free drinks. Somewhere, there must be a place for me. If any of you Vegas locals can tell an aging tourist where to go and feel like a king again, I’d sure appreciate it. I’m still too young to go to Laughlin.

Dear Recent High School Graduate

So you think you are ready for the world? You aren’t. Until now, you have been sheltered and protected. The world you have been living in is not real.

To celebrate your graduation, I could send you a gift card, but you would just forget about me after you used it. Instead, I’m going to give you a present that you can use your whole life – the gift of my experience.

The lessons below are in no particular order. They are lessons that it took me all these years to figure out. Some of these lessons came too late in life for me to take advantage of. I can’t go back in time, but it’s not too late for you. Commit these lessons to memory. Print this blog and stick it in your yearbook. Look at it twenty years from now. If you don’t think it’s absolutely true, I’ll refund 100% of your subscription fee to my blog.

1) Get an education.

a. Learn as much as you can about something, even if it means teaching yourself. You need to know more about something than most other people do. If you don’t, you will not be valuable to the rest of the world.

b. Do it while you are young. You will soon be too tired from working all day to sit all evening in a classroom full of 19-year old children who are all texting each other instead of listening to the teacher.

2) Save your money. I know that you think you need the latest iDoodad to complete your life, but in the end it won’t make you any happier for more than a few hours. At some point whatever you buy will become obsolete and useless. If you start saving now, you’ll be wealthy and able to enjoy your life when you are ready to stop working. Plan for that day and never forget about it.

3) Never pay a bill late. Once you pay something late, you will dig a financial hole so big you may never get out of it. If you don’t have the money to pay, be honest about it. Call them and let them know right away. They will work with you.

4) Never loan money out that you don’t expect to lose. The moment the money leaves your hands, consider it gone forever. If it comes back, you will be pleased, but the chances are high that you will never see it again. You should know that in advance.

5) Don’t use your good looks to succeed, either in business or in relationships. You are cute now, but you will be 40 years old in about two hours. (Okay, it just seems like it, but the effect is the same.) One day soon, you will wake up and see things on your face that look like you slept on a piece of corrugated cardboard – and they won’t go away. You will walk into a bar and nobody will pay any attention to you, except to laugh at your clothes. Cute is only temporary. One day, your boss won’t be interested in looking at you. And if your mate is only with you for your looks, you will eventually find yourself alone.

6) Buy your own home. Forget about whining to the landlord about your clogged toilet and learn to fix it yourself. You should never have to ask permission to paint the wall or change the carpet. Everyone needs a place to call their own.

7) The friends you have now are not going to be your lifelong friends. They are just people amusing themselves with you until they find lives of their own. When they have children, they will completely forget that you exist. During your life you will meet one person that you can truly call “friend”. It won’t happen until you have become the person you will be someday. You are not that person yet.

8) Nobody cares about you, as much as you do. My mother shared this one with me when I was a teenager. It’s always been true. Do not think that when you get married or when you have children that someone will take care of you. They have their own lives to live. Go back and read number 1 and number 2 again. If you do these two things, you will never have to rely on anyone else to take care of you.

9) When you choose a career, forget about the money and do what makes you happy. Don’t listen to the people who tell you that you will never make a living doing what makes you happy. If you are happy, the money will take care of itself. It is far more important to wake up and be happy than it is to wake up rich.

10) Get a good night’s sleep every night. Nothing good ever happens after midnight. Most good things happen before noon. Be awake when they happen.

11) Travel to other countries. There are as many different opinions of what is “normal” as there are cultures in the world. Go and experience some of them. Only by exploring other cultures, can you ever hope to have a real understanding of your own culture.

12) Never lie about yourself to please someone else or to gain their acceptance. Do not pretend to be something you are not. Be proud of who you are and what you have accomplished. Do not allow anyone to tell you that you are not good enough the way you are. When you are honest about yourself, some people will turn their backs on you. Those people were never there for you to begin with. You don’t need them in your life. The ones who stick by you, even after they know what you are really like, are the most important people in the world.

Let’s Pray for Summer

I don’t know what this past winter season was like at your house, but here in Colorado we got screwed. It was the most bone-chilling winter I can ever remember. Of course, some of you are probably thinking, “Well yeah, you live in Colorado, dummy.” But wait…for those of you that think we Denverites (Denveronians? Denverolinians?) are used to being cold, think again. You see, here at an altitude of only 5200 feet, we are considered “lowlanders” by our mountain neighbors. And we have this little bump of mountainous terrain that runs down the middle of our state that usually protects us from the worst weather. It’s called the Continental Divide. The rain that falls on the west side of it, runs toward the Pacific Ocean. The rain that falls on the east side of it runs out to somewhere in Kansas, I assume. (I don’t really care what happens to the water after I flush.) And for the most part, the Continental Divide is so high that it detours most of the winter storms that try to darken Denver’s skies.

How high is the Continental Divide? I’m not exactly sure, but I do know that trees are pretty stupid. They spend their whole lives just standing in one spot getting crapped on by birds and waiting to be cut down or burned to death. And even the stupid trees are smart enough not to attempt to grow up there near the top of the Continental Divide. Let’s just say it’s way up there, okay?

So anyway, there’s this mountainous, treeless bump. And every winter those socialist, touchy-feely liberals up in the Pacific Northwest decide they have to share their weather with us, rather than just their coffee beans and ugly sandals. Storm after storm moves over the Rockies all winter long. But the storms hit that bump and they think, “I’m tired and I feel bloated. I think I’ll just sit here for a while and take a dump.” (We call that place Aspen.) By the time the storms decide to move on, they go way, way up in the air (leaving Denver unscathed) until they finally fall back to Earth and begin dumping again somewhere over Nebraska. (Let’s face it, if you decided to live in Nebraska, you were asking for it anyway.) So essentially, we have this big sunny bubble over us here in Denver. People play golf year-round. And the birds sing all the time and everyone smiles. Oh, and did I mention that everyone’s farts smell like lavender?

But this year was different. The cold air wasn’t stopped by the mountains. It settled down here in our part of the world in October and it never went away. We all stared at the bank thermometers and wondered if it was really only 4 degrees at noon. We grumbled and flipped each other off as we drove the icy highways and pushed our grocery carts through the slushy remains of the latest batch of crap that fell from the sky that day. The birds didn’t sing, the people didn’t smile, and everyone’s farts smelled like, well, farts. It was the winter from hell.

But then something happened. The guy on the news announced that spring was here! Sound the trumpets and call the air conditioning repairman, the warm weather was on the way! Oh wait, March is the snowiest month in Colorado you say? So we waited and we grumbled and we trudged through the crap and the muck and we thought, “Hang in there. It’s almost April.” We thought of tulips and outings to the zoo and we marked the days off the calendar one by one until April came! And so did the snow. So we waited and we grumbled and we trudged through the crap and the muck, but we were brave because we knew that it was almost May. We thought of Mother’s Day brunch and Memorial Day picnics. We crossed the days off of the calendar and we held our breaths in anticipation until finally it was May! Sound the trumpets and call the air conditioning repairman for real this time! Oh, wait. Snow in the forecast you say? Really? Really?!

I’m sorry, but this is just not right. I called Pat Robertson. He said God was mad at us for letting women vote. “Christ on a crutch!”, I said as I slammed the phone down. “I knew those dames would screw it up for the rest of us!” God, if you can read this, I promise to start treating women as second-class citizens and I’ll even start watching the 700 Club, if we could just get a little freaking sunshine down here . Is that too much to ask? It’s almost June for Christ sake! Do you hear me up there you fat bastard!? Oh, sorry - I meant, Mr. Fat Bastard. Amen.

What is propaganda?

I have decided to resume my blog. I have shied away from the blog because I have been afraid of expressing my opinion for fear of having it rejected. I now understand that I must stand up for what I believe to be right and true. But I promise to present my thoughts as opinion – with a clear disclaimer that “actual results may vary”. You will find at least one new blog per week here – sometimes more. I hope you will come back often read my thoughts and to share yours. On that note, I would like to discuss the meaning of the word, “propaganda”.

In the past, before the Internet and 24-hour cable news, most of us got our news from newspapers. Newspaper editors disseminated articles presented to them and arranged them in sections. One of those sections was the editorial section. This section was reserved for the sharing of opinions, while the rest of the newspaper was reserved for the sharing of facts. For example, if a story was written stating that a new bakery had opened on Main Street, this was put in the section containing news. If a story was written that the bakery had the best muffins within a five mile radius, this was presumably put in the editorial section. It was easy for the public to understand what was news and what was opinion because each of them literally had their own sections.

Today, it is not so easy to determine what is fact and what is opinion. The lines have been blurred because cable news and Internet stories don’t come with disclaimers at the bottom of the screen. It is up to us now to determine when we are told something that is a fact and when we are told something that is an opinion. Unfortunately, it seems millions of us lack this ability.

Before we can understand the difference between what is true and what is false, we must understand be able to look at our sources of information objectively. We must have the skills to dissect what we are told and what we read and to recognize when we are given facts and when we are given opinions. Only when we understand what propaganda is, can we begin to decide for ourselves whether its message should be disregarded or whether it should be acted upon. Here is one definition of propaganda – “Propaganda is the dissemination of information aimed at influencing the opinions or behaviors of people.”

I don’t remember much about junior high. (Heck, I barely remember what I ate for lunch yesterday.) But one lesson stands out in my mind. It was a lesson in argumentation and debate where we were taught about several types of arguments that we should understand are propaganda; arguments such as “slippery-slope” and “red-herring”. As examples, we discussed several advertisements for products and were encouraged to recognize what type of argument was used to make their case for a particular product, and to recognize the difference between fact and propaganda. Only when we understand what propaganda is can we defend our minds against it.

One type of argument we were taught to recognize is the use of the words “always” and “never”. These words are overused in everyday speech, but they are powerful words and they are rarely true. You may remember being taught that on any multiple choice test, if one of the answers is “always” or “never”, it is probably not the correct answer. Let me illustrate. Choose the correct answer:
The weather in Fairbanks, Alaska is
a. always cold
b. never cold
c. sometimes cold

Even if you have never been to Fairbanks, it is easy to see that the correct answer is “c, sometimes cold”. You can automatically throw out any answer containing the words “always” and “never”.

This is the problem that I have with prominent conservative and religious mouthpieces. They present only one point of view, and further they present their views as fact. The words "always" and "never" are implied when they speak. As I look around at the people who call themselves conservatives I am saddened to see that they seem completely unable to decide for themselves when something that is presented as fact is actually just an opinion. They refuse to recognize that their primary sources of news are anything but “fair and balanced”. They repeat what they hear from their sources of news to others as if it were fact. There is no attempt to process information, decide if it based in logic and act based upon their independent assessments.

If you consider yourself to be a conservative and you find yourself watching only Fox News, reading only the Weekly Standard, and listening to James Dobson, recognize that when you are presented with only one point of view that you are not ingesting news, but instead propaganda. Remember that when you are told that Republicans are never wrong and that Democrats are never right, or that Christians are always right and that non-Christians are always wrong that you are ingesting propaganda. And only when you understand that you are being influenced by propaganda can you begin to think for yourselves. The choice is yours; parrot only what you hear from propaganda outlets and remain a tool, or become a free-thinking person with the ability to decide for yourself what is true, what is just, and what is right.

The Will To Travel

Growing up in small east Texas towns, my parents were not well-traveled as children. My father often recants his story of a canoe trip in Minnesota as a Boy Scout that he most likely paid for himself. I don’t remember my mother ever speaking of a family vacation. For them, there was no Southwest Airlines, no Priceline, and no Travel Channel. Outside of a visit with a distant relative, travel was something only wealthy people did. But they knew there was a world out there and neither of them were ever content to leave it unexplored.

During my childhood, shopping was never a matter of walking into a department store and simply buying something because we wanted it. Clothes and toys were almost always purchased second-hand or from the clearance rack. My younger brother and I spent hours amusing ourselves playing quietly inside clothes racks while my mother hunted for bargains. She was an absolute wizard at stretching a dollar. Long before there was mud wrestling, my mother was already tussling with other women over $1.00 bed sheets in the J.C. Penney clearance bins. Once, my mother even sent me to school wearing girls blue jeans because they were on sale. (I think we all know exactly where to place the blame now.) There was always ample food on the table and we always had a nice home, but to say that our family budget was on the frugal side is an understatement.

But there was one thing they would not let us go without – the experience of travel. Long before there was such a thing as a low-fare air carrier, or a hotel bidding web site, we saw much of the United States. We dined with real flatware served by smartly dressed stewardesses (that’s what they were called back then) on wide-body aircraft. We wandered the halls of the Smithsonian, climbed the stairs at the Statue of Liberty, and touched the crack in the Liberty Bell. We roamed the streets of the Magic Kingdom and skied the slopes of Vail. Once we were all piled into the car without knowing the destination. When we questioned our father as to where we were headed, he simply stated, “to the end of the road”. And we did reach the end of the road that day where we picnicked on the beaches of the Gulf Coast.

The desire to travel that was sparked by my parents was further fueled by the friends I made as a young adult, living on my own. My best friend was a tour manager whose job it was to take trips lasting several weeks, where he lead groups of aging American tourists through faraway lands. I marveled as he would prepare for these trips at the last minute by throwing a few clothes, some crossword puzzles, some canned tuna and peanut butter into a suitcase whose outside was riddled with stickers advertising destinations across the globe. After a few cocktails with friends and a short drive to LAX, he would be off again for three to five weeks at a time. His return was always met with great anticipation. We couldn’t wait to see what “treasures” he would bring for us, like the can of can of Diet Coke he brought for me from China, and a kitchen drawer full of hotel shower caps (used for weeks to cover leftover food dishes)from the Hong Kong Sheraton. I would hang on his every word as he would tell us about his latest adventures before retiring for a three-day “nap”.
 
Unable to allow my friend’s 500,000 frequent flier miles go unused, I talked him into allowing me to join him in Hong Kong for the end of one of his tours. It was my first trip outside the borders of the United States and the first time I had ever travelled alone, spending the first four days learning about Hong Kong on my own. It was a thrilling adventure and I will never forget the view of Hong Kong Harbour at night from the Star Ferry, the traditional way to cross from Kowloon to Hong Kong Island. The experience changed me forever.

Since then I have travelled as often as I’ve been able to afford it. I have stood alone in the early morning on the decks of cruise ships watching flying fish jump from the path of the ship’s course. I have sat alone on mile-long strands of secluded white sand beach in Kauai. I have been chased down the street in Amsterdam’s red light district by the proprietor of a brothel who was not happy that one of my friends had snapped a photo. I have driven alongside the Germany’s Rhine, gasping at each new castle as it came into view. I have lunched in the square facing the cathedral in Seville and gazed at Renaissance-era paintings in Madrid’s Prado. I have listened the bells of London’s Big Ben as they toll.

Travelling has taught me more than I have ever learned in any classroom. I have learned that for most of the world, there is more than one god and that the very meaning of god is different for different people. I have learned that other cultures have histories that make ours look like a flash in the pan, and that the world does not revolve around the United States, hanging on our every word. And I have learned that the measure of life is not what we have, or where we work, but rather a conglomeration of quiet experiences we do not share with anyone - the scent of incense from a Buddhist temple, the sound of the wind that reshapes the Grand Canyon, or the sight of the sun as it sets over the South Pacific Sea. Travel is not an activity, but an experience that shapes our lives and our view of the world and I am forever grateful to the people who have given me this gift.

New Flash: Michael Jackson Still Dead

I have not had much personal experience with death. I've only been to a handful of funerals in my life and I've never had a socially acceptable reaction to death.

The first funeral I remember was for my paternal grandmother. I was probably ten years old at the time. I remember snickering involuntarily at the service. I remember feeling both relief in expressing some kind of feeling and at the same time feeling ashamed of how I had expressed it. I now realize that I just didn't know how to deal with the sadness I felt and it had just "leaked out" in an innappropriate way. She was the first person I ever lost who left a space in my life where before there had been love.

In high school, I attended the funeral for a peer who had been an acquaintance. It was a Catholic funeral. Never having been exposed to a Catholic service of any kind, I was unprepared for the choreography that took place in the church that day, constantly kneeling and rising. (Note to self: the vats of water outside the church are not ashtrays.) The priest droned on, reading phrases that had been read hundreds of times before. My friends who knew the deceased better than I had were in tears, yet though I felt sadness, I remember feeling mostly confused. I wondered what all this kneeling and rising and reading had to do with our lost friend.

My maternal grandmother passed away a couple of years ago. I was unable to attend the service, but I had always felt a kindred spirit to her. She was a very offbeat woman, who always lived outside the norms. Perhaps this is why I felt so close to her. She was never afraid to let people see who she was. She wore her eccentricities like beauty pageant sash. She had her shortcomings as we all do, but she was never afraid to say "I love you". She always made me feel special. Love her or hate her, she let the chips fall where they may. She never pretended to be someone she wasn't. I was grateful to have known her and I appreciated all the love she showed me. When she died, the sadness was deep, but still I didn't cry or become paralyzed with sadness. Instead, I cherished her memory and to this day, I think of her with great fondness.

Then there are celebrity deaths. I get angry about the attention they receive. I remember the day that Princess Dianna was killed. One of my friends welled up with tears as the television news repeated the story. There was an unwritten rule that we should be sad for the rest of that day and I could not come to terms with that. I did not know her. She did not love me. Every day millions of people are born and millions of people die. Why was her death any more important than any other in this world? Why was her body to be paraded around while throngs of admirers sobbed in the streets? She was a person like any other and to me, no more deserving of all the attention than the death of the woman who was my grandmother, or anybody else in this world for that matter. She lived and she died, just like all of us.

For years I have wondered what is wrong with me. Why don't I take death more seriously? Why do I shrug it off so easily? Am I out of touch with deep emotions that I have pushed down to far to feel? Am I just ignoring my true feelings or are these my true feelings? Finally I have come to understand that death is a part of life, just like all the other parts that go along with it. I also think that much of the sadness we feel is really for ourselves and how our lives will be changed, rather than for the actual person who has passed. And the more I think about it, the more I think that letting ourselves get carried away with emotion is really just selfish and self-serving. It's not a tribute to the deceased, but perhaps just a realization that our own time is approaching and that makes us uncomfortable.

For me, I realize that my sadness is selfish - a reflection of the loss I feel and the hole that is left in my own life. It is not a tribute to the person who has died. The best way to honor the dead is to raise a glass and toast the memory of someone - to thank them for the influence they had on your life and to use that influence as you live your own life.

So Michael (and yes, you Farrah, Ed, Billy and Danny) here's to ya. Thanks for the music. Thanks for the camraderie I felt as I sat silenced in front of MTV watching Triller with my friends for the umpteenth time. Thanks for the joy I felt as I cranked your latest cassette on my mom's Cadillac stereo as a teenager. May we all be inspired to continue to share our talents with the world, however small they may be. Now, let's get on with it.

It's Been A While

I know it's been some time since my last blog, my friends. I don't know where the time goes. So much has been happening lately, yet not anything necessarily blog-worthy. I've been out every weekend enjoying the summer sun instead of sitting in front of the computer. I hope you have been doing the same. I do have several blog ideas running around my demented head and I promise to sit right down and put them to paper, so to speak, very soon. Stay tuned.

Southern California - Kill Me Now

Over Memorial Day weekend, I traveled to SoCal to visit with some dear friends. I now remember why I moved away.

The first stop was the Huntington Beach Hilton where I joined a friend for breakfast poolside. We decided to sit outside so we could enjoy the sun, fresh air, and view of the ocean on the other side of Pacific Coast Highway. As we were seated, we immediately asked the waiter to raise a nearby umbrella to block the sun. Apparently, we did not enjoy the sun as much as we thought we would. As we indulged in our seventeen dollar pancakes and reminisced about old times, I was constantly interrupted by thoughts of our expiring parking meters adjacent to the hotel. I had to excuse myself at least twice to go and pump more money into so we could "relax" over breakfast.

Eventually I decided I could no longer afford the view of the recretional vehicles that filled the beach parking lot across the street and we decided to reconvene at a local strip mall where we could sit outside a Starbucks and park for free. Here, we still avoided the sun and now we had no ocean view. Breakfast - $45. Parking - $103 (all in quarters). Catching up with an old friend -priceless.

Next, I was off to Long Beach - my old stomping grounds - for an overnight stay with one of my best friends. It was just like old times - literally! You see, his one bedroom apartment has not been remodeled since 1962. We circled my friend's apartment for what seemed like hours looking for a place to park. Eventually, we got tired of circling and settled on a spot three blocks away.

At the kitchen table, I quenched my thirst with a diet soda and then searched in vain for the non-existent dishwasher to put my glass in. We opened the windows to let the admittedly cool ocean air breeze through the apartment because there is no central air conditioning. As the ocean humidity filled the room, I asked if I might do a load of laundry as I had packed lightly and was informed that his designated laundry hours in the shared laundry room were from 2am -3am on Wednesday nights (or some such nonsense) and that doing laundry was out of the question.

Later we took his dog for a walk because she had been locked in the kitchen all day since he cannot afford a place with some sort of outdoor living area where the dog could excercise at will. While we walked, I caught a glimpse of the nearby apartment building where years earlier I had watched one of the residents pull a knife on a passerby. Turning my attention to the truly lovely flowers that populate the sidewalks, I pointed out an unusual and impressive variety that he said he had never noticed. Who can be expected to notice the flowers when you are too busy watching for knife-weilding neighbors? Still at $800 per month, I had to admit that his apartment was a bargain, especially since it was three blocks from an ocean park, which of course he had never personally visited.

The next day, it was off to Palm Springs for another reunion. As we drove, we traversed one freeway interchange after another. Freeway numbers in this part of the country are all preceeded by the word, "the" as if they are somehow unique. We all argued about the best route to take, finally deciding to allow our GPS to guide us. We took "the" 405 to "the" 22 to "the" 57 to the "60" to "the" 91 to "the" 10. Apparently we were not the only ones driving to the high desert this day and were almost sideswiped no less than five times. During our two hour drive, I remembered that it is against the law in Southern California to let people know your intent to change lanes by using your turn indicator. I also remembered that it was fuel efficient to drive three feet from the car in front of you at all times so as to cut down on wind resistance.

Upon arrival at the hotel, I had no choice but to listen as the guest next to me scream at the front desk clerk that he had spoken to "Jane" or "Joe" or someone and that he should be charged $189 for his room that night, and not the $219 as shown on his confirmation - and don't forget the 3% discount he was entitled to for using his American Express card! I decided not to announce that I had reserved the same room for less than $90 per night as I'm sure the front desk clerk was living in an old apartment that had not been remodeled since 1962. Surely he had come close to being killed several times while driving to work that day and was probably already having a bad day before he had even arrived at work.

After a lovely evening, we braved the freeways once again back to Long Beach and then on to LAX for our flight home. I noted that there seemed to be no rhyme or reason for the traffic patterns. The same number of people traveled at any given time in every direction, regardless of the time or the date or the city. Freeways and side streets were filled to capacity at all times in every direction. There was no compelling reason for the majority of people to head in the same direction, like in other cities, making it impossible to predict traffic patterns and avoid traffic jams.

I won't argue that Southern California has this country's most beautiful weather. But for me, the advantage of living there escapes me. Give me a Colorado winter day, automatic climate control, an unshared washer and dryer, a private garage to park in, an uncrowded freeway to drive on, and the freedom to enjoy it all without being trampled to death by the rest of the Souther California any day.

I'm On The Wagon

If you are anything like me, while you put your time in at work, you can easily think of several things you would rather be doing instead of working. All day long, thoughts pop into my head reminding me that I need to buy milk, write a blog, or find something on the internet. Thoughts of projects never started and tasks never accomplished breeze in and out of my mind all day while I work. Powerless to do anything about them, I relegate them to a little yellow sticky note that goes into my wallet. Then, the minute I get home, I don't even remember that I ever wrote myself a note in the first place. The next day at work however, I will remember my list and wonder once again why I didn't get anything done during my free time.

Today I began to wonder why this happens. I'm not sure, but I think I have an idea. The television gets in my way. Of course, none of you ever watch television. You are all Rhodes Scholars with personal libraries so large you have to build a new room for your books. You don't even have cable, right? Yeah, right.

Every morning when I get up, I make the coffee and flip on the tube. I sit drinking my coffee and getting frustrated at the number of commercials, the unecessary proclamation that there is still "unrest in the Middle East", and assinine news stories about squirrels, pandas, polar bears, or elephants that can water ski. Somehow, my morning is quickly lost and I find myself hurrying to get out the door. But even during those last few minutes of freedom, before my time belongs to "the man", I change channels furiously looking for something of interest.

So what do I do when I get home? Kick off my shoes, start dinner, and flip on the television of course. This time I'm regaled with the same squirrel story I already heard about this morning, reruns of sitcoms I didn't like the first time, and game shows full of idiotic applauding audiences. (What are they applauding for anyway? It's not like they get a share of the winnings.)

But still I watch. I watch while I cook. I watch while I eat. I watch until bedtime. I watch in bed. The television is turned off only just before my bedside lamp is extinguished.

This scenario has repeated itself practically every single day for as long as I can remember. And I have begun to wonder if television is the reason that I don't feel fulfilled. I wonder if my time could be better spent. I could read a book, learn something on the internet, take a walk, do some shopping, get some housework done, or God forbid even take a class.

So, readers, for the next thirty days I have pledged to myself that I will not watch television. I will not avoid television altogether, but I will not watch without purpose. I will not give up the pleasure of my Sunday evening Family guy chuckles. Also, I will not give up the Will and Grace reruns I enjoy watching in bed just before I fall asleep. These two programs are watched with purpose. I enjoy them. They bring me pleasure. I'm not giving them up. But I will not flip the television on without a specific program of interest. I will not waste hours accomplishing nothing except wearing out the buttons on the remote control and catching flies in my open mouth.

Why don't you join me? Leave a comment here. Tell me what you discover. I'll keep you informed of my progress. (I'll bet you at the end of the thirty days they'll still be talking about that damn water skiing squirrel.) So (pun intended), stay tuned...

Sportcasters Should Take Valium

Recently, I was subjected to several hours of the year's most important television program, the NFL draft. I could tell how important the draft was because the four sportscasters that were hired to narrate the program, were talking and sweating like four cocaine addicts that had just been released from a year in solitary confinement and each handed a bag of drugs.

It turns out that this draft is a bit different than other drafts because the draftees have actually volunteered to be drafted - confusing no? It would be a more genuine draft if the camera were to zoom in on some shocked kid sitting in a library in Miami as he receives a phone call telling him that he has been drafted by the Bears and will be leaving for Chicago tomorrow.

For several hours television cameras zoomed in on excited young men having cell phone conversations and then suddenly donning a cap with an NFL team logo on it. Then, because the audience is too stupid to understand what this means, four excited sportscasters would break in to explain which team the young man had just been drafted by. They would then go on to explain that the weather in the city where the young man would play was very different than the weather where the young man currently lived. Finally, an older man dressed in a suit would walk across a stage to announce the same thing that already been shown to us on camera and then explained to us by the four overheated sportscasters.

Basically my question is this - what is wrong with sportscasters? Do they get this excited about everything? Do they go to a special school to learn synonyms for the words "won" and "lost"? Imagine for a moment if all television news personalities delivered the news in the same tone as the sports team. "The Taliban pulls away late to grab a 2-0 series lead against the Pakistani Army! Details at eleven!"

The Era Of "Good Enough"

What is the meaning of the word enough? I don't mean the dictionary definition, but instead what does the word mean to me? It's something I've been giving a lot of thought to for the last few years.

There was a time in my life when I was all about the "stuff". It seems I could never get enough. I had the pool, the SUV, the boat, the enormous television, the French crystal and many bathrooms. I'll never forget the day a friend told me that my house looked "like Pottery Barn threw up". (I think it was a compliment, but with her, you can never tell.)

You know what I discovered? Pools have to be cleaned. SUV's are hard to back up. Boats have to be hauled and stored. Nancy Grace is scary as hell on a huge television screen. Wine doesn't taste any different in a Baccarat goblet. And no matter how many bathrooms you have, someone will mess up every one of them.

When we sold our house in Las Vegas, we got rid of a few things to make our move across town easier. When we moved to Florida, we got rid of everything that we didn't consider to be essential. When we moved to Colorado, we discovered that many of our "essential" items that we dragged to Florida had never been used, so we got rid of them as well. Alright, so we kept the Bacarrat. You never know when the Queen (okay, "a" queen) will drop by for a drink.

For the last year we have been living with one bedroom, one bathroom, one set of dishes, and one place to eat off of them. My dining room table only seats four people. My television screen is only thirty two inches. My Ipod only holds two gigabytes. My car does not have automatic climate control. And you know what? Life is getting easier. It turns out that all that stuff never really brought happiness afterall. It was just stuff.

You know what does bring happiness? Cleaning the entire house from top to bottom in one hour and spending the rest of the day doing whatever we want - together. Just being together is enough for me. Well, that and my new capuccino machine. Let's not get crazy.

Follow up to April 11

Well, it only took nineteen days, but my friend ***** finally took the time out of her busy day working for the government to read my blog. And she left a rather lengthy comment. So far the best reasons I've heard to join are that I can play Scrabble and find old friends from elementary school. Well, we all know that I have a limited vocabulary and since I don't even remember elementary school, I don't know if Facebook holds any benefit for me. However, since so many of you have asked me to join, I have decided to sign up. It remains to be seen whether I'll be a Facebook "superuser", but I guess I might as well check it out.

There was an editorial cartoon in Sunday's paper that showed a man and a woman sitting together in a typical Starbucks-like coffee shop. The man was using his laptop computer. The man says, "I blog, send emails and text messages, post videos and subscribe to Facebook and Twitter so that I can let everyone know what I'm doing." The woman says, "So what are you doing?" The man says, "I just told you."

Later in the week, I saw a news story posted about a woman who posted on the web that she was bored with her job, and quickly found herself fired. It seems her employer was doing a little snooping.

I believe a battle is brewing between what is good technology and what is destructive technology. People need to stop and ask themselves, what is the price to be payed for being wired in 24/7? When do the cons of technology begin to outweigh the benefits? Or is new technology always a good thing? I think the day is coming when people become so tired of being obligated to respond to every text and tweet at a moment's notice, and bound by the loss of privacy that technology poses. Some day there will be a backlash - a conscious move away from technology.

As for me, I enjoy email for communication and I enjoy this blog as a creative outlet. But I long for the days when people used to have inconvenient but close friendships. I miss the days when the number of friends a person had could be counted on one hand, and not a number on your Facebook page.

All Is Well

For those of you wondering where I've been, I seem to have become a bit uninspired lately. Fear not because several things have gotten under my skin lately and they will undoubtedly spew forth onto this page within days.

My Fingers Are Tired

This is a very hectic week for me. I need to take a mental break from the blog. I'll try to get back to it this weekend. I hope you have found it to be thought provoking. Check back soon!

April 12 - Rant Of The Day

Yesterday, we went out to buy some paint. We came home with a new car. Overall, this transaction was a relatively easy process. But it was still nowhere as simple as it should have been. Had the economy been stronger than it is now, I surely would have been put through the ringer at the dealership, the same way I always have been in the past. In most cases if you want to buy a car, you can forget the words "quick" or "simple". The process of buying a car is a ridiculous exercise that has never benefited a single buyer.

Imagine what it would be like if buying a new pair of shoes was similar to the car buying process. First you would arrive at the shoe store where a group of shoe salesmen would be smoking and drinking coffee near the entrance. As you exit your car, one would approach and offer friendly assistance. The two of you would go inside where the salesman would point out different features and make suggestions, trying to convince you that his shoes are much better than anyone else's shoes.

After trying a few pairs on for size and walking in them a bit, you would make a selection. "Ah yes", the salesman would say. "Those plastic flip-flops are our most popular model." "I don't know", you say nonchalantly. You try your best to act indifferent to the flip-flops, but you are imagining how good those giant plastic flowers will make your feet look. As a display of your indifference, you slowly walk toward the exit. Suddenly the salesman offers you some delicious coffee and comfortable seat. "Don't leave. You are going to love those flip-flops when you get them home", the salesman says. "What will it take for me to get you into those flip-flops today?"

You yawn. (This is not your first day at the rodeo.) Your old flip flops are still in perfectly fine shape, but they don't have that "new flip-flop smell" anymore. Inside, you know you won't be happy until you have the new ones with the big plastic flowers. "Don't let on that you like them", you think to yourself.

"I'm sure we can make you a very good deal", the salesman says. Suddenly, he whips out a piece of paper with four squares on it. In each square he writes a different number including the asking price for the flip-flops, trade-in value of your old flip-flops, and the recommended down payment and the monthly payment for your new shoes. He slides the piece of paper to your side of the table where you are shocked to see that the salesman is asking twice the going rate for this new pair of flip-flops, your old flip-flops are worthless (even though you know they are in good shape), the down payment is more than you have ever had in your checking account, but the monthly payment is only twenty eight cents.

You try to keep a poker face and you make a sly counter offer. You know what those new flip-flops are really worth and you are not going to be taken for a ride, just because those flowers on the toe are the perfect shade of purple. You and the salesman continue to haggle. Every time you make a counter offer, he leaves you waiting for fifteen minutes while he goes to talk to the manager who sits behind a glass enclosed booth. The salesman appears to plead with the manager while the manager yells at the salesman just loud enough for you to hear.

After you send the salesman back with your twelfth counter offer, the manager leaves his booth and comes to speak to you personally. You and the manager strike a deal. The salesman shakes his head and looks sad. He's been beaten by a better negotiator. The negotiations have taken three hours but you feel victorious. You can almost feel the envious stares of all the other pedestrians who are still wearing last year's flip-flops.

Next, you wait to speak to the cashier. You think you are in the clear but you are not. "Would you like to buy the extended warranty with those flip-flops?", he says. "What about fabric protection? Imagine how you'll feel if those flip-flops get dirty. I don't think we can finance those flip-flops for you for anything less than 32.9% interest. How about if we go seventy two months on those?"

April 11 - Rant Of The Day

I have made it a policy to always speak of people in the third person on this blog, and never to use a person's name. But today, I'm making an exception. This blog is dedicated to my friend *****, who is just the latest in a string of friends to tell me that I need to sign up for Facebook because she can't be bothered to read my blog. Apparently, it is terribly inconvenient for her to use any method other than Facesbook for staying in touch. As a bet of sorts, I promised her that if she would leave a comment on my blog, that I would remove her name from the posting. I doubt it will happen.

I have never looked at the Facebook website. I am anything but an expert on the subject. But from what I gather, it is a place where you can group all of your web contacts together on one page. Then as your contacts add diary entries or photos, you can see all of their updates at once on one page, making it easy and convenient for you to keep track of your friends and their daily lives.

On the face of it (no pun intended) it sounds like a good idea and I can see how this might be useful in certain situations. But here's the problem - I believe that instead of using Facebook as an additional tool to maintain contacts with folks they might only speak to rarely, people are using Facebook as the primary way to maintain their friendships. Facebook people have decided that rather than to reach out to the people they love, that they would rather sit back and let everyone come to them. They don't have to call, write, read a blog, or even send an email. Instead, they can maintain their friendships passively, without lifting a finger to reach out to anyone.

Now, if any of you Facebook people believe I am wrong about this, I'm listening. But so far, I have not heard anyone explain it to me in a better way.

This weekend, I promised myself that I would sit down with my address book (okay my address spreadsheet) and call all of the people that I feel have been missing from my life lately. One of the people on my list was Kelli, who when asked if she ever read my blog, told me that although she saved it in her list of favorites, that she had not read it in months. Then in the same breath she said, "You should get on Facebook." After hearing this a dozen times from other people, I had had it. At that point, I pretty much had a conniption fit right there on the phone and I let her have it (with love of course).

After listening to my, "I'm sick of hearing about Facebook" speech, her only response to me was, "But I've found people that I went to Elementary School with." To which I replied, "And they are the same people who you didn't care enough about to maintain your friendship with in the first place! Meanwhile, the people you have been friends with for the last fifteen years are being ignored because they are not on Facebook!"

Facebook is nothing but a jiggling,shiny set of car keys in front of a baby's face. The baby is distracted by the action in front of them, and momentarily forgets all about the other goings-on of their life. The entertainment requires no effort, but also results in nothing accomplished. Meanwhile, after the laughter, all that is left is a dirty diaper.

Facebook may be an entertaining way to follow the lives of people you once lost touch with. But it is no substitute for the real effort it takes to make and to keep a friend. Therefore, I would just like to say for the last time, on the record, "I will not sign up for Facebook. If you want to talk to me, pick up the damn phone."

Kelli, this poem is for you:

I will not Facebook in a box!
I will not Facebook with a fox!

I will not Facebook here or there!
I will not Facebook anywhere!

I would not, could not in a tree!
Not in a car! Now let me be!

I will not Facebook you lazy pile of Spam!
I will not Facebook Sam -I- Am !

April 10 - Rant Of The Day

There is one word in the English language that is more powerful than any other that I can think of. This word can immediately reduce a person's efforts to the point that they seem inconsequential. The word is used to infer that the process of doing what is asked is simple and requires no particular skill or effort. The word is "just".

Remember Nancy Reagan's anti-drug slogan, "Just say no"? Does anyone want to take a guess why the word "just" is a part of that phrase? What if the phrase was instead, "Say no"? The efforts of a herione addict to avoid feeding their addiction are not lessened by the use of the word "just", but it does sound easier doesn't it?

Years ago, a co-worker of mine used this word with me to request a monumental task. We both laugh about that day when we talk now, but at the time I couldn't believe she could be so flip as to use that word. I thought I would come completely unglued.

It came up again the other day when I pointed out to the author of a functional requirements document, that she had neglected to account for a particular scenario that I had encountered when building piece of software to her exact specifications. The additional time needed to develop the solution was to say the least, significant. I couldn't see her as we were speaking on the phone, but I swear she must have shrugged her shoulders as she said, "Why can't you just plug that in?"

Using the word "just" does not make something simple, nor does it dimish the efforts required to accomplish a task. And when you are the one asking for something, it does not make your request any less inconvenient. So, why don't you just bite me?