Know-It-All

I have been doing quite a bit of introspection lately. This is due to a number of reasons, but chief among them is the desire to live the rest of my life happy, joyous and free. And it has become very apparent that one of the main roadblocks to that is how I interact with others.

People piss me off.

That phrase – right there – is the crux of my issue. I am arrogant. I flaunt superiority at the expense of others. I build myself up at the expense of others. This makes them upset at me which makes me upset at them. And when they express it I redouble my efforts to show them how wrong they are. In other words, my initial premise is ‘I am right and you are wrong’, and when you challenge me on that, it becomes a contest that I must win. And when you try to explain that it is no longer about the argument but rather how I am arguing it (arrogantly), I will try to win that debate. In other words, if you say I am being arrogant, I will argue arrogantly that I’m not being arrogant.

This helps explain why I am 53 and alone.

Who wants to be around that? Gawd, if I were dealing with someone like that I would tell such a person to go fuck themselves. Which, by the way, is quite an arrogant statement.

Where did this all start? Well, like most of our personality traits, as a child. Being the youngest, I felt I had to ‘earn’ airtime in our family. And to do so required (so I thought) outrageous behavior or statements. I thought my older brother was very smart and cool so I emulated that behavior. And finally, knowledge was highly valued in our tribe, so I embarked on obtaining two college degrees. Add all this up, and I became cocooned in my own smugness. Arrogant behavior became my subconscious and automatic response to most everything. I worshipped at the altar of ego, and equated happiness with being right. So I reveled in the win of the argument.

Well you know what? Oftentimes I did “win”. And then I was alone.

To the victor goes the isolation.

As I got older, I started to recognize that people didn’t like a know-it-all, but I was unable to put the brakes on my arrogance, so I developed a counter-balancing personality trait. Charm. My thinking was, yes, I have this negative aspect of my personality, but if I couched it in a pleasant, flattering persona, it would at least be tolerated. Take the good with the bad, right? I thought I could still be loved with this construct. Well, I was loved. Briefly. The ‘Charm Offensive’ worked for a while until girlfriends figured out it was a façade that hid my true essence.

But what really is my ‘true essence’? If arrogance was a learned trait in childhood and adolescence, that’s not my true essence. So what is the real me? Gosh, I just don't know. I do know I want to be liked by everyone, so the foundation for my behavior is unrealistic to begin with. So, basing my behavior on a ridiculous premise is a sure recipe for unhappiness.

I now recognize that arrogance and flattery were things I picked up along the way, so if those were stripped away, what’s left? Here’s where I am with that. I am human. Sometimes I am right, sometimes I am wrong, but more importantly, who really cares? I am just another bozo on the bus, trying to get through life like everyone else. And one thing I have learned is, I can’t do this gig alone. I need help. And that phrase right there – I need help – is, I believe, the key to breaking through the icy shell of arrogance that I have constructed. I don’t have the answers.

So here I am, and here’s what I have deduced so far. Arrogance was a learned behavior just like charm was. I piled crap on top of crap hoping the sweet smell of one would offset the acrid smell of the other. 

So if you were to conclude that I am full of crap, grab a prize.

So who am I, really?

My gawd. Stay tuned. As soon as I figure that out I will let you know.

And I don’t mean that arrogantly.

Deja Vu

“These students have to learn what law and order is all about” - President Richard Nixon, to General Robert Canterbury, Ohio National Guard, at Kent State University, May 4, 1970

“I, for one, am increasingly concerned about the growing mobs occupying Wall Street and the other cities across the country.” - Rep. Eric Cantor, describing the Occupy Wall Street movement, October 7, 2011

Quick question. Describe the most important  American value, the most inalienable right that we as Americans have. Life? Liberty? Pursuit of happiness? Yes, those are all guaranteed in our Constitution and are pretty damn important. But I am going to offer up what I think the most important right we as citizens have -

The right to dissent.

Dissent. The right to freely express disagreement with a person, an institution or a government without fear of reprisal; without fear of your life, liberty or pursuit of happiness  being infringed upon. The right to protest perceived injustices. This, to me, is what makes us unique in the world. We not only allow dissent, we embrace it.

That is, until someone in power does not like it.

I placed two quotes at the top of this story to illuminate. The first was how then-president Nixon described the student protests at Kent State University. For context, Nixon had chosen to invade Cambodia five days earlier as part of the expansion of the Vietnam War. This touched off protests around college campuses, and in the instance of Kent State, to students holding rallies on campus that included the burying of the Constitution since, it was concluded, Nixon chose to ignore it by invading a country without seeking Congressional approval first. To be fair, there was some violence - students trashed downtown Kent and set fire to the ROTC building on campus.

Five days later, the Ohio National Guard opened fire on the protesters who were peaceably assembling on campus, killing four and wounding nine.

Fast-forward to 2011 and the Occupy Wall Street movement. Now this movement does not have the same level of starkness as Kent State; in other words, the OWS movement seems more concerned about economic unfairness rather than escalation of a war that students soon saw themselves forced to fight - and possibly die - in. But that does not make their cause any less just. It is dissent over injustice. And it is spreading.

Now, read Eric Cantor’s quote again. Note the use of the word ‘mob’. I do not know about you, but that one word sends a chill up my spine. These are people that, to date, have been nonviolent young people dissenting. They are practicing an inalienable right of all Americans. They are, in essence, patriots. Our country was founded on dissent. They are simply mimicking the behavior we revere when we read about Revere.

The chilling aspect of Cantor’s quote is this is how the table gets set for violence. We have seen it before at Kent State - first you vilify the protesters, then you shoot them. As an aside, there were a number of things the Kent State protesters were being called - “Brown shirts”…”The worst kind of humans”…and this was by the governor of Ohio at the time, James Rhodes. It was no wonder that armed soldiers were placed on the campus at his order. They had to, as Nixon’s quote said ‘learn what law and order was all about’.

Well they did.

So I now have a familiar fear about these OWS protesters. The political propaganda machine, at least on the Republican side, is being geared up. They are not dissenting Americans, they are now ‘mobs’ according to Cantor.

The slippery slope to violence has started. Touched off, not by those exercising their rights, but by those who take exception to their use of them. I fully expect in the coming days of a “report” of these dissenters vandalizing property or endangering the lives of regular folks. Because that will give Cantor and his ilk the ammunition needed to, well, show them what law and order is all about.

And we will have to bury more young people killed at the hands of their government.

It Ain’t Easy Being Brown

It is October, and we are smack in the middle of the football season. I love October – the weather cools, Friday nights belong to High School football, Saturdays are the domain of the colleges, and Sunday belongs to the pros.

The pros. Ugh.

This is not an indictment of the professional game. Instead I just got that uncontrollable chill go up my spine. It happens when I think about my beloved team, the Cleveland Browns.

Ugh. It just happened again.

I grew up in northeast Ohio, about 35 miles south of Cleveland and about 15 miles from the pro football hall of fame in Canton. The roots of the professional game were planted there. The league was formed in 1921 in a car dealership in Akron, my hometown. As a child in the 1960’s, Sunday afternoons in the fall had the same ritual – my mom would cook a vat of spaghetti sauce and all the relatives would come over to watch the Browns lay waste to their opponent week after week. Like clockwork.

Because, this may be difficult for anyone under 40 to imagine, but the Browns used to be really good. Consistently good. Not catch lightning in a bottle for one season good, but year in and year out in the playoffs good. The saying back then was, there are two things you can count on in December – snow and the Cleveland Browns. They were called the New York Yankees of pro football.

So that was the environment I was raised in, and I fully expected my adult life to be one of glowing pride of celebration of multiple NFL championships. In 1970, when I was 12, the NFL and AFL merged, and three teams from the NFL moved to the AFL – the Colts, the Steelers and the Browns. The reconstituted AFC Central was formed consisting of the Browns and three shitball teams – the expansion Cincinnati Bengals, the AFL-doormat Houston Oilers, and our perennial whipping boys, the Pittsburgh Steelers. At that moment in time, the Browns’ all-time record against the Steelers was 52-9. I kid you not. This was not going to be pretty, I thought – we would own that division for years on end.

Then in 1972 Franco Harris scooped a ball off the turf and the Steeler dynasty was born.

Ugh. It just happened again.

The 70’s and early 80’s featured glimpses of glories past, such as the upstart Kardiac Kids of Sam Rutigliano and Brian Sipe, but hopes were dashed on a ridiculously cold January day in 1981 when the first chink in our psyche, Red Right 88, was planted. The late 80’s brought a string of dominating teams led by Bernie Kosar that could not get past one person – John Elway. The Drive and The Fumble got added to the list of acrid memories.

The 1990’s brought turmoil. We hired a coach you may have heard of. Bill Belichick. But this wasn’t the hoodie-wearing genius Bill Belichick. This was the arrogant young punk version who had the nerve to cut Bernie Kosar. In mid-season. With the team in first place and the starting Quarterback, Vinny Testaverde, injured. That day made Belichick a vilified assbag in the minds of the fans. A 11-5 record in 1994 did not matter – Bill Must Go was the chant.

Well, he did, but unfortunately, so did the rest of the team. After the 1995 season Art Modell moved the team to Baltimore. And all those previous disappointments paled in comparison to having the Cleveland Browns….are you effin’ kidding me? taken away. Three years later, through incessant demands from the fan base, the NFL gave us a new team.

I use the word ‘team’ very loosely in this instance.

It was a team in name only. What it was, was the most horrid collection of truck drivers in football uniforms ever assembled. Just God-awful. 2-14, 3-13…records that we never dreamed of happening to the Cleveland Browns became regular occurrences. We changed coaches and general managers the way people change their underwear. Bust draft picks, overpriced free agents and snake-oil salesman general managers all conspired to turn the New York Yankees of pro football into the Washington Generals – the patsy team that every other team circled on their schedule as an easy win.

The newest incarnation of the Browns appears to be heading in the right direction, but I just don’t know. Not that I do not trust the people in charge, it’s that I cannot believe this team can ever be consistent winners. Somewhere along the way we apparently pissed off the Football Gods and they are making us suffer. As a result, our fan base is probably the most neurotic in professional sport - the only other team/fans I can compare to are Chicago Cub fans. We always assume the worst is going to happen, and often it does. LeCharles Bentley, Brady Quinn, Derek Anderson, Butch Davis, Willie Green, Bottlegate...and that's just the new incarnation of this team - we already carried Red Right 88, The Drive, The Fumble & The Move in our psyche before we got the new team.

So we assume the worst. And until 'the worst' stops happening to us, we will continue to go there. Sucks, but that's just how it is. We are like a beaten, abused dog - whenever we hear a newspaper being rolled up, we cower...even though we still love our 'owner' unconditionally. He can beat us and we still love him. Even when he just may be rolling up that newspaper to swat a fly - we think it's coming for us.

This helps to explain our collective psyche. You think Steeler fans think like this? Hell no. They're dogs that have been fed Filet Mignon and sleep on a feather bed. They got 6 Lombardis to ogle at. We get a glimmer of hope, and we think, 'How are we gonna eff this up?'

Here comes another ugh.

Often I am asked, ‘Why are you a Browns fan?’ Great question, and one I have pondered often, usually on the heels of a blowout loss. And I have come to this conclusion:

I blame my parents. They could have conceived and raised me anywhere else but northeast Ohio, and I would have been none the wiser. I could have grown up a Dolphin fan and at least have had two Super Bowl victories in my youth to point to.

But no. Cleveland it is.

And you know what? One day when the Browns win that Super Bowl, which will hopefully happen before I lose my marbles and being fed through a straw and am wearing a diaper, it will be a wonderful day. It will make all those years of mind-numbing catastrophes all worth it.

Go Browns.

Transcending Transience

Frequent visitors to my blog know a couple things about me. One, I was born and raised in northeast Ohio – I have burned a lot of bandwidth writing about my upbringing there. Secondly, I now live, and have for about 25 years, in Florida. From Boca Raton to Orlando, and most places in between. I presently reside in Altamonte Springs, a suburb of Orlando.

When I first moved to Florida in the early 80’s, one of the large knocks on the Sunshine State was its transience-ness. Many lamented over the fact that the state was loaded people from everywhere else and as a result the place had no sense of community – nobody knew their neighbors, and even if you took the time to know them, they’d be gone in six months anyway. That trendy new restaurant down the street? Better hit it fast, because it will be gone this time next year.

My dad used to call Florida ‘The Land of the Hustle’, and he wasn’t referring to disco. He meant it was a place to make a quick buck then get the hell out before the authorities caught up with you. Trying to find a reputable person to tile your roof or remodel your bathroom was like playing Russian roulette insofar as getting someone to actually commit to finishing the job. The shores were teeming with bales of washed-up drugs and Haitians. The growth rate was around 20 percent annually, and with it came anyone that ever swung a hammer, even if they couldn’t pass a background check or a drug test. People were on edge, scared. Looking over their shoulders. Nobody trusted anyone.

But something has happened over the past 30 years. For sure, I got older, so perhaps I view things differently now – it’s one thing to be 24, drinking beer and smoking pot on the beach with my buddy Gary while we took running starts from the road and tried to jump as far as we could off sand-duned cliffs to the beach below, risking broken bones and concussions, to being a homeowner with a good job and a teenage son. Perhaps time has mellowed me.

But I don’t think so. Rather, I think time has mellowed Florida. Things have settled. Tracts of homes became neighborhoods. People got nicer. They stayed. They grew roots here. Schools have dramatically improved, or at least they are on a par with the rest of the country – there was a time that wasn’t so. For example my son is in a magnet arts high school in West Palm Beach. 85% of their graduates receive college scholarships. Palm Beach County boasts two of the top-ten public high schools in the country. Read that again – in the country. There is a lot to be proud of here, and it has nothing to do with Mickey or Mojitos.

This is not to say we do not have our problems, but now they are universal in nature. In other words, problems all areas have – unemployment, scarce jobs and the like. But nothing endemic to just Florida anymore. This stabilization can be felt and touched. Restaurants have endured. My neighbors on the street that my house is on are still there – Rufus and Jocelyn from Miami live on one side, and Butch and Deena from Metairie, Louisiana on the other. People smile now. They ask how you are and mean it. When Hurricane Jeanne hit my neighborhood in 2005 and power went out for days, Rufus had everyone over for a cookout. We helped each other out. In other words, we became a community – one of the main things that we lamented was missing from our until-then dysfunctional slice of paradise.

See, we are all still from somewhere else, but we have all made Florida our home. Not for a summer, not until our parent’s money runs out, and not until the authorities from up north catch up to us. This is our home. And I love it here. I am proud of my Ohio roots, but I am equally proud of my adopted home.

All Floridians should feel the same.

Let There Be Rock

To quote Joan Jett, I love rock and roll.

Which, I know, makes me about as unique as a grain of sand. It is the music of my generation, shared and adored by millions of baby boomers, gen x-er’s. millenials and whatever other demographic is out there of anyone under 65 years old. My son - born in 1994 - loves rock and roll, and now boasts having every Beatles song ever recorded on his iphone. Proud papa me. My song list includes the Beastie Boys, Rage Against The Machine, The Who, Korn, Nirvana, Average White Band, Soundgarden, Fatboy Slim, Prodigy...to name but a few.

Rock and roll came of age in 1995. Why? Because that’s when a Hall of Fame was opened to honor the greats of this genre, on the shores of Lake Erie in Cleveland, Ohio. That, to me, defined it's arrival - a shrine built to house the greats.

I have been to the Rock and Roll Hall Of Fame many times, and I still love going there. You are greeted by a giant ‘teacher’ from Pink Floyd’s The Wall hanging from the ceiling ever reminding you that ‘If you don’t eat your meat, you can’t have any pudding!’ The exhibits are fantastic - under glass is the original manuscript of Born To Run, written on notebook paper by Bruce Springsteen. Over there is Janis Joplin’s Mur-say-deez Benz…the Lord did indeed bought her one. In another section you get the geographical influences, from The Eagles representing SoCal to Booker T and The MG’s representing Memphis. A piece of the fuselage from the plane that Otis Redding tragically died in is on display.

However, the R&R HOF is not without controversy. There are a number of individuals/bands that have not been inducted, such as Chicago and Rush, and others that have been whose induction has been questioned, like Leonard Cohen and Madonna.

It is Madonna’s induction that seems to really make people go postal. Madonna? SHE’S NOT ROCK AND ROLL!

Okay, fair enough. Then I have one simple question for you  -

Define Rock & Roll.

What exactly 'is' it? A sound? A lifestyle? Both?

Unlike other musical genres, rock & roll really has no definition. And when you go to the R&R HOF and see the exhibits of the early influences, you see why. It was the bastard stepchild of gospel, delta blues & country, basically. Poor blacks were creating a sound that was later cribbed by Elvis Presley. Early country artists like Hank Williams (SENIOR, thank you very much) were influencing it. It even has the influences of Caribbean, Afrikaan and Big Band. Throw all that together, shake your hips violently, toss in some pyro and good drugs, and voila. Rock and roll. It's sort of like when that judge tried to define pornography by saying 'I know it when I see it'. That's rock & roll - a mindset on an individual level that changes from person to person.

So what does that have to do with the R&R HOF? Everything. Cuz that's what you find there. A little bit of everything. Including Madonna.

Because, to me, the ‘mindset’ aspect of rock & roll is, it’s an all-inclusive party. It is the furthest thing from intellectual snobbery you can find. It is come one come all, stop that grinnin’ and drop that linen, let yourself GO revelry. Rock out with your cock out. It’s a dead man’s party, leave your body at the door.

And to that I say, effin-a right. Nobody, not even the cops, was ever kept out of a rock and roll party. So hell yes. Madonna should be in there. While you’re at it, put Donna Summer in there too -  she’s up for nomination this year. I didn’t care for disco, but it got me laid. So should Donna get in I will recall my bell bottom polyester slacks, airport-hangar-wide lapel shirts, and Love Hangovers.

Just keep KISS out. Because they suck.

I still have standards, ya know.

The Best Time of the Week

Quick question – what is your favorite time of the week? Friday at 5pm? Saturday night?

Mine is right now.

What is right now? 10:30am Sunday morning in the Fall. Got Sunday NFL Countdown on TV, a cup of coffee in front of me and a wad of nicotine gum in my mouth. I am going through websites trying to fine-tune the starting lineups of my four fantasy football teams, and am concerned about Beanie Wells’ ankle and Mario Manningham’s concussion. Will Mike Vick be productive with a bone bruise on his non-throwing hand at home against San Fran or should I take a flyer on Flacco Sunday night against the Jets?

And that’s just one of my fantasy teams. Got three more to cogitate over, and two hours in which to do it.

I will then don my autographed Bernie Kosar jersey and head over to Post Time Lounge in Longwood to join my fellow Orlando Browns Backers for this afternoon’s game against Tennessee. The TWO-AND-ONE Cleveland Browns. Tied for first place in the AFC North Cleveland Browns.

Life is good.

Now, by 4:00pm all this hopefulness may evaporate. The Browns may lose. Vick may be on the bench with a broken ankle, having amassed me three fantasy points as I face the prospect of heartbreaking losses.

But right now, it is sunny and hopeful.

For others, Sunday morning is shhh be quiet time due to over-imbibing on Saturday night. That’s fine; I am not about to pass judgment on other people’s favorite time of the week. I am just thankful that I woke up clear-headed and sober.

Hey, when you have to decide between Felix Jones’ dislocated shoulder and Jermichael Finley’s ankle, you better be lucid.

Bias, or By Us?

I have had an interesting last few of days in the blogosphere, mainly due to a couple of stories I posted that generated some comments – thank you for that. Sadly, it seems like only my stories involving politics seem to generate a bunch of interest. Which is too bad, since I think it is kind of cool that Sam Snead never won a U.S. Open.

Anyway, I have been debating about a phrase that has been tossed around for years – “Liberal Media Bias.” It is used by those mainly on the right as a reason to cry foul for never getting a fair shake from the broadcast media. The point has been honed to a sharp point by some, namely Sarah Palin, as a badge of honor; as a way of painting any Conservative as an underdog in any contest – not only do they have to defeat their opponent, but they have to do it with a media machine that is decidedly tilted against their cause. They even take it a step further, implying that this ‘Liberal Media bias’ has been so pervasive (and apparently so subtle) that all us unwashed masses do not even recognize it. Ergo, they are here to free us from this brainwashing.

Thanks much.

I am a Liberal, so much of what I am about to write will be dismissed by many as myopic, since those on the other side of the aisle will claim that I wouldn’t criticize what I agree with, or would not even be able to recognize the bias. To them, I am one of the brainwashed. Fine, if that’s your take then stop reading.

If you’re still here, ponder this. Give the following a bit of cogitation:

A given media source may have a bias, but media, on the whole, does not.

Still here? Good. Time for elaboration: For every Fox News there’s an MSNBC. For every Los Angeles Times there’s a Wall Street Journal. For every Rush Limbaugh there’s a, uhhh…

Okay I’m stumped on that one. There is no bellicosity on the macro level on the left that compares with His Rushness. Based on that fact alone, one could conclude that Rush’s unchecked pomposity would singlehandedly tilt the scale of bias towards the Conservative side. But I am not going to fight fire with fire – I am not going to purport that there is a Conservative Media Bias as a retort to the claims of Liberal Media Bias. Instead, I am going to claim that there is bias everywhere, that, when added up, essentially balances the scale.

If you can’t get with that assertion, then I will offer that you only see what you want to see – if you’re Liberal you scream about Hannity while ignoring Maddow. If you’re Conservative you scream about the San Francisco Chronicle while ignoring the Christian Science Monitor. If that fact escapes you, it is you that is myopic. Media, collectively and completely, has no bias – the myriad of television, cable, newspapers, magazines, websites, blogs, added up, equals no bias. Because it is so voluminous and encompassing that there would be no way to assure a commonality along any ideological line.

It is not media bias. It is media by us.

Look, I watch MSNBC. I personally think Rachel Maddow does a very good job at giving her opinion. Re-read that last sentence. I said giving her opinion. I am intelligent enough to recognize an opinion when I hear it, whether it is one I agree with or not. Opinions, by definition, are biased – they are based on the person who is stating the opinion’s paradigm. So, those on the right that claim there’s a media bias and further that it is so subtle that most of us do not see it, you are insulting us. Stop it.

Therefore, do not tell me that, if I watch the NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams that Brian is feeding me the news through some left-leaning prism. Don’t claim that Scott Pelley is a moll of the left when he’s doing the same job on CBS. Because it is disingenuous at the least, and insulting at the most. There is news and then there is opinion. I know the difference. Do you?

A blogger took me to task for this claim of no bias on the macro level. His point was that his father was in the broadcast business for 25 years and he experienced this purported liberal media bias, therefore it exists. My reply to that is simple – my dad was a plumber for 40 years but I can’t fix a toilet. As well, what occurred in our parent’s day is not relevant – cable and the internet has made any comparisons to 1968 moot. So don’t tell me that you heard from someone who heard from someone that they were told that someone said there’s a bias. Prove it.

Or, in keeping with the American Way, just change the channel to something you agree with.

The Politics of Superficiality

This is a tale of two former female governors. Two kind of hot former female governors. One is a Republican, one a Democrat. One is well-known, the other not so much so. One who, whenever she opens her mouth, says a bunch of words that she hopes results in a coherent sentence by the time she finishes it. The other speaks with depth and with a complete understanding of the subject matter.

And you want to know what’s sad? The ditz is the one being courted to run for President.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Sarah Palin and Jennifer Granholm.

When Palin was picked by John McCain to be his running mate in 2008, there was a collective ‘WTF’ around the country and a scurrying to Wikipedia to find out who this person was. Fortunately (or not) for us, it became extremely apparent in short order who she was – a Mama Bear gun-toting God fearing Lamestream Media-trashing vacuous airhead. This is usually where my Conservative friends turn on me, which is fine. I imagine they are right now taking exception to my use of the term vacuous…or are looking it up. That’s why I followed it up with the word airhead. It was an intentional redundancy. They essentially mean the same thing.

Granholm was governor of Michigan for eight years. And let me just cut to the chase in order to contrast her to Palin on the intellect scale. She was seriously considered for the Supreme Court. Of the United States.

Really?

You Betcha.

So why am I doing this comparison? And further, why am I centering it around something as shallow their looks? To make a point. A somewhat general one, but there lies at least a portion of truth to it – they like us dumb – ‘they’ being politicians. And more specifically, Republicans. I use Palin as an example of this - many on the right are ga-ga whenever Palin speaks, but just ponder the messages being sent by the Republican party over the past decade or so. They like to over-simplify complex situations into sound bites – ‘You’re with us or with the terrorists…Cut and Run…Appeasement…Class Warfare…’ Part of this has to do with a necessary simplification for understanding, but it goes too far to the point of insulting. Take the ‘class warfare’ moniker. Republicans want us to believe that an attempt at having rich people survive at a pre-Bush tax rate somehow is deserving of the word ‘warfare’.

It is not only disingenuous, it is also vulgar to those that have served our country and truly know what the word warfare means, which has nothing to do with tax rates. But that’s how the Republicans roll. Oversimplify, then inflame. It is the only way to get enough middle-class and poor people to agree with them that making Rush Limbaugh pay more in taxes is anti-American.

Some may be saying okay Jer, but I am still missing the point of bringing Palin’s & Granholm’s looks into the discussion. Fair enough.

I am attracted to intellect. It is downright sexy to me. You can take a person with average looks but with a strong intellect and I am aroused. Conversely, you can take a very attractive woman who is a ditz and as soon as she opens her mouth it knocks the hot right out of her. Kinda like a stripper in a Steelers jersey.

And I swear, whenever Palin talks, either it’s that twangy Alaskan accent or the fact that it’s a mishmash of words and mixed metaphors, but it feels like nails on a chalkboard to me. Just the other night, on Fox naturally, when asked for the umpteenth time whether she was going to run for president, in her rambling sing-songy reply she actually said ‘If I decide to throw my name into the hat…’

Jeezus H. Christ on a chicken sandwich, woman. The phrase is throw your hat into the RING.

Granholm, on the other hand, has intellectual heft. Her sentences are thoughtful, let alone grammatically correct. Not to mention actually completing her term as governor. Whoops – make that terms as governor. She served two. Completely. I could go on, but a video is worth a thousand of my words. The following is an excerpt on an interview with her:

Now. Disagree with her policies if you must. But you have to respect the intellect.

Or not. Because in many Conservative circles, intellect is now a dirty word. But in my world, it is attractive.

But fear not, Republicans. Granholm was born in Canada so you don't have to worry about her running from president. She's disqualified.

Shame.

Phrases That Tick Me Off

I can sometimes be kind of picky when it comes to the English language. Don’t get me wrong – I have my set of quirks, such as ending sentences in a preposition, as in ‘Where are you at?’ I am not referring to those kinds of practices, although I am sure many cringe whenever I let my Midwesternness come out with those kinds of verbal tics.

What annoys me are clichéd or misused phrases. Especially when used by people trying to appear smart when they really aren’t. Yeah I know, that targets me as grandiose or better-than, but at least I try to be what I am. I would just ask the same in kind – if you don’t know what a word means, please do not act like you do, okay Sarah ‘Refudiate’ Palin?

Anyway. Here is the first phrase that makes me go cold whenever anyone says it –

“The fact of the matter is…”

First off, the phrase is “The fact is…” to add in ‘of the matter’ is some lingual infusion in an attempt to relevantize the issue being spoken of. What it really is is redundancy. Further, I highly doubt the person using that phrase has any idea what ‘the matter’ is anyway. But beyond the awkwardness of the phrase is the assumed hubris of the person using it, because what usually follows is their opinion. Not fact, let alone fact of the matter. Opinion. Think about this – how many times have you heard someone say ‘Well ya know, the fact of the matter is, monkey can indeed fly out of my ass.’

Okay, probably never. Work with me here.

Politicians use ‘The fact of the matter is’ often as a precursor of their stance on a given issue. They are about to launch into how the feel or think of a situation. Those aren’t facts! Ah, but a politician’s job is to convince people that what they say are indeed facts, whether they are or whether they are pulling shit out of their ass. Chances are good it’s the latter. So in summary, ‘The fact of the matter is’ can be translated into ‘I am about to give you my opinion framed with a fancy pretense so you’ll hopefully duped into thinking that I truly am stating some irrevocable truth of the universe. Vote for me.’

Well you know what? The fact of the matter is, you’re ignorant.

Next –

“At the end of the day…’

Arrgh. This hits 10 on the cringe factor. Some use it as an attempt at finality, as an attempt to get people out of the weeds of a discussion and to fast-forward to the endpoint. As in ‘At the end of the day, we are all in this together.’ Gee thanks so much for your insight, Gandhi. Can we now go back to giving each other verbal wedgies? Cuz that was kinda fun.

But really, it is just an attempt at predicting where things will go. In other words, giving your opinion couched in a fancy-sounding precursor. Save us the tea-leaf reading and come get dirty with the rest of us.

Here’s what I do at the end of the day. I go to bed.

NEXT! –

“Basically…”

How many times have you heard someone start an answer with this word, then launch into a five-minute dissertation that can be called any of a number of things such as complex, circuitous, grandiose, mind-numbing, or making you want to jab pencils into both eyes? Their answer is anything but basic. Therefore it cannot be categorized as basically. So stop it.

Because basically, the fact of the matter is, at the end of the day I want to filet these people like a legal-sized snook and use their skin as protective clothing and their bones as drumsticks.

But maybe that’s just me.

Confessions of a Dweeb

I have trampled on this planet for 53 years now. And while I have hardly been a world traveler, I have been around a little bit. Grew up in northeast Ohio, lived in Houston, Miami and Orlando. Have done some cool things in my life but have not partaken in many others – for example, I highly doubt I will ever jump out of a perfectly good airplane. People that know me consider me, generally, as a nice guy that’s kind of cool and with it.

It’s all a façade. 

I am a geek.

I was born a geek and I have been a geek ever since I was old enough to realize that I loved Lost in Space and wanted to be Will Robinson because I wanted a silver space suit. While other kids were aspiring to be football players, I was building model rockets and launching caterpillars into low earth orbit. When puberty hit me violently hard and late at age 15, I thought the girls would be impressed by my Hot Wheels collection. I played professional Putt-Putt golf. At one time I wanted to be a ventriloquist. In school my favorite subject was math and reveled in understanding L’Hopital’s Rule. Google it.

Or not. Cuz it is about the most uncool thing ever created.

When I got to college and starting rifling through calculus, I discovered drugs and alcohol, which was wonderful at the time, because it mainstreamed me into society but also landed me on academic probation – which was considered actually kind of cool. Girls paid attention to me, because after a few Budweisers I dropped the geektense and was able to ooze out smooth comments about their hair or butt. Comments like ‘You have nice hair and a nice butt.”

Suuuuuuu-ave.

During this time I let my hair grow out and by virtue of having grown about 6 inches in three months, was rail-thin. I looked like a Q-Tip. But for 1978, that was tres cool. And it was also the time of Disco, and being an aspiring head-banger (which was after being a geek fan of The Monkees until my really cool brother assured me they were a fake band of actors), I was able to at least understand that girls liked to dance and they didn’t like Led Zeppelin. So I pretended to like the Bee Gees. These actions were able to sufficiently suppress my inherent geekiness so I was able to get laid.

But I was not being true to myself. I looked cool. I acted (more or less) cool. But I was never cool. It was manufactured coolness with the aid of tight fitting pants, polyester suits, platform shoes, and marijuana. The geekness went into the closet, but it never went away.

My brother, bless his ultra-cool heart, tried to school me on coolness. He tried to impart upon me that girls didn't care about the capital of South Dakota or whether Johnny Miller won the 1973 US Open with a final round 63.  He tried to impart a modicum of bullshit into my persona in order to impress. For example, rather than saying I played miniature golf professionally, say I was a professional golfer. Or just flat-out lie to them. Say I was the bassist in Supertramp. They weren't going to check it out, and even if they did, it would be after I was able to tap that ass a few times.

I tried, I really did. Problem was (and still is), I am a terrible liar. That's another habit of geeks. The truth eventually comes out, usually about five seconds after the lie - "Hi. Yeah I'm a roadie for Zeppelin....no I'm not."

So here I am, 35 years later and much too old to care about such pretenses anymore. The problem is a re-re-programming to get back to my geek roots. This story is part of that process. Getting back to my true essence – reveling in knowing the last 50 US Open champions, understanding the value of regression analysis in determining transit ridership trends, and working on limiting the movement of my left foot in the backswing in order to keep from swaying off the ball. None of those things are impressive to anyone else. None are going to get me laid or invited to where the cool kids go. But I am too old to care now.

I am letting my Geek Flag fly.

Stop Before You Kill (Yourself) Again

In conversations I have had, many due to my recent blog posts, there seems to be a good number of people that are absolutely certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that Barack Obama has zero chance of being reelected. Okay. Let’s discuss.

Not from the standpoint of what he has or has not done, as that is obviously subject to a wide range of opinions. Rather, let’s look at it from another angle. The most critical angle, if you ask me –

Who will run against him?

Now do me a favor. Don’t say, “It doesn’t matter! Obama is such a total and complete failure that they could run anyone against him!”

Well, have you looked at the Republican candidate field? It pretty much defines the word ‘anyone’ – Romney, Perry, Bachmann, Cain, Huntsman, Gingrich…and Palin waiting in the wings. And to recap, Perry was urged to join due to disenchantment with the field…which was after Bachmann was urged to join due to disenchantment with the field…which was after Gingrich was urged to join due to disenchantment with the field.

And ya know what, apparently they are still disenchanted. The flavor this month is New Jersey Governor Chris Christie. Republicans claim, why, if The Big Man From The Garden State joins, look out Liberals! Next stop The White House! Just like they did when Perry threw his hat in. And Bachmann. And Gingrich. The way this thing is going, if Christie’s shine lasts more than a month it will set a longevity record for this latest round of eating of young that the Republicans are engaged it.

Here’s the problem with the Republican Party of 2011-2012. It’s been hijacked by ideological purists on the far right. And too many of the candidates are tripping over themselves to out-Tea Party each other. Well look, I’m not electorate scholar, but I know math, and if candidates are trying to appeal to an ideological fringe that represents far too small of a percentage of the populace to elect anyone on a national level, that is just not smart. It is a guaranteed-to-lose strategy. 20 percent of the vote means 80 percent did not vote for you. 80 is greater than 20.

Think I’m off base with that claim of far-right hijacking? Okay. Have you been watching the Republican debates? In one a gay soldier serving in Afghanistan asked a question…and he was booed by the audience. Doesn’t matter if he has honorably served his country – he is turned on by men so that disqualifies him from hero status in their eyes. A moderator in another debate asked a question about a 30-year old without health insurance facing a deadly disease – the audience yelled ‘Let him die!’ And in both cases, not a single candidate came to the defense of that war hero or that dying young man. Nobody chided the crowd for their response.

You stay classy, Tea Party.

The problem here isn’t the candidates. The problem is the people that have become the representation of their party. And it has become the problem of the candidates because they feed off such sentiments. Instead, the candidates, or at least one of them, need to step up and grab a hold of their party – the Party of Lincoln and Reagan.

Abe and Ronnie are rolling in their graves, gang. This party and what they stand for bear little resemblance to those giants. In fact, Reagan would be drummed out of this incarnation of Teapublicans as being too liberal – he raised taxes and compromised with Democrats for crying out loud!

To be fair, there is one Republican candidate that has tried to grab the wheel and veer this metaphorical car away from the cliff’s edge and back onto pavement. John Hunstman. Huntsman is actually trying to infuse sanity into his party’s self-immolation. So how is Huntsman and his pragmatic, center-right stance playing with the base? What do the polls say? Look down in the single digits. You’ll find him waaaay down there.

So yes. I feel extremely confident that Obama will be reelected. And it’s not because he has done such a wonderful job. I personally think he has gakked on a number of issues. The main reason that reelection is a near certainty is he has moved to the center that has been violently vacated by the Republicans, who are test-fitting their tinfoil hats for the enjoyment of their fringe supporters.

Makes for good applause sound bites in Republican strongholds but it ain’t gonna play nationwide. Barry Goldwater tried that schtick in 1964. He got the John Birch vote, the Tea Party of the day, but he got waxed by Lyndon Johnson in the general election. Just like Obama will do to whoever comes out of this ideological scrum the Republicans are presently engaged in.

So to paraphrase Mr. Goldwater, since it is a perfect fit for this political climate –

Extremism in the attempt to gain national office is no virtue.

The Best Never To…

How would you like to play, or even follow, a dream foursome consisting of Lee Trevino, Sam Snead, Byron Nelson and Arnold Palmer? Four players that are legendary, all Hall of Famers. Would be totally awesome, to say the least.

What would you say if I told you that each has a glaring hole in their professional resume? Multiple Major winners, all, each capturing three of the four Majors. But they never won that fourth crown. And when you see this list of names, the mind boggles. Sam Snead never won a U.S. Open? Really?

Yup.

So here we go. This list of players that, due mostly to the cruel winds of fate, never got that fourth big trophy:

The Best Never To Win the Masters: Lee Trevino. Lee Buck had a ‘thing’ about the Masters. For a while he bemoaned their deep south, genteel manner that did not look kindly towards minorities. He then changed his tune to say his game did not fit Augusta National. Let me tell you something - in his day there was not any course that didn’t fit Lee’s game. Many consider him one of the greatest ball strikers in the game, on a par with Ben Hogan and Moe Norman. Lee simply could not get his head straight when it came to the Masters. Thus, not only did he never win it, he rarely contended. He'd shoot 74-77, missed the cut and got the hell out of there.

The Best Never To Win the U.S. Open: Sam Snead. This falls into the ‘you gotta be kidding me’ category. Sam was born a golfer. God graced him with the most natural swing ever seen. Double-jointed, he could kick his leg over his head into his seventies. Literally, a freak of nature. Ah, but as God is wont to do, He placed Sam in rural West Virginia without a ton of smarts. Don’t get me wrong - I am not saying Sam was a dummy, but his tendency was to just keep swinging that amazing swing of his without much regard for the situation. Case in point, the 1939 U.S. Open where he had a one-shot lead going into the final hole, a relatively easy par 5. Par to win, a 6 for a playoff. He made an 8.

The Best Never To Win the British Open: Byron Nelson. To be fair, in Byron’s day not many American pros bothered to travel to Great Britain to play in the British Open. Was too expensive and the prize money was too low - this was before the advent of jet travel, so it involved taking a steamer across the Atlantic and three weeks out of your schedule...to lose money. Most would rather stay on this side of the pond and hustle in cash games. To give you an idea of how hardscrabble it was back then, Byron won 18 tournaments in 1945, 11 in a row, and pocketed the paltry sum of $63,000 for the year. Which at the time was astronomical, but with today’s purses, Byron’s 1945 season would have netted him about $20 million. Lord Byron retired in 1946 at age 34 after he won enough money to fund his dream - a ranch in Texas.

The Best Never To Win the 
PGA Championship: (tie) Arnold Palmer, Tom Watson. Both of these are head-scratchers. Both had multiple chances to with the PGA but just got snake bit. Arnie being Arnie, he rarely played safe whether he was up 7 or down 7, and his legacy was one where he lost almost as many tournaments as he won. Well, count the PGA in that group. In Watson’s case, there was literally no reason for him not to win a PGA. He lost in a playoff to John Mahaffey in 1978, was tantalizing close many other times. It was simply a matter of the Golf Gods saying no Huck, you ain’t getting this trophy. Both Arnie & Tom made amends for this oversight by capturing the Senior PGA Championship.

And in the consolation category, I give you the Best Never to win any Major:

Colin Montgomerie. Sergio Garcia can be added to this list, but he still has time on his side. Monty’s days of serious contention are essentially over. Seven-time European Order of Merit (Leading money winner on the European Tour), Ryder Cup hero. Never won a Major. Only needed to make a par on the last hole from the middle of the fairway in 2006 to win the U.S. Open. Made double-bogey. In 1992 he was being congratulated by Jack Nicklaus for winning the U.S. Open when Tom Kite pitched in to steal it from him.

Gene Sarazen, Jack Nicklaus, Gary Player, Ben Hogan, Tiger Woods. There is your elite of the elite group of players who have won all four Majors. Anyone else who has ever placed a ball on a tee has fallen short. Including that aforementioned group that came closer than anyone else.

I’ll Fix This

Okay. Yesterday I wrote a story about the huge debt this country is in. And I went on a singular approach on how to address it – raise taxes on the rich. A stance befitting of the bleeding-heart socialistic Marxist tree hugger polar cap melting person some believe me to be.

I would rather think it’s just common sense. The rich have an excess of what this country needs. Money. I do not see it much of a sacrifice if a person that brings in, say, $3 million a year net, has that reduced to $2.5 million net. Just have a hard time grasping the hardship of that scenario. The one-month vacation to France may get cut to two weeks. Maybe Junior will have to drive a Lexus to college instead of the Beemer.

But okay. Some think that to be class warfare. Some think that to be Un-American. Some think that to be penalizing those that succeeded.

It is a fiscal crisis, people! Time for sacrifice! The middle class has already taken it up the five-hole repeatedly. And the poor, well, they’re freekin’ poor. They’re not the answer, when the answer is money. You don’t ask a ballerina to play middle linebacker, don’t ask the poor for money.

So I have an alternative to forcing Rush Limbaugh to let go of more of his money that he will never spend. Here’s my proposal. One fell swoop, one law change, and this all goes away. Ready?

Legalize marijuana.

First off let me state this – I don’t smoke pot. This is not an entreaty so that I can personally enjoy burning tree. So spare me the ‘Suuuure Jer. Blaze on dude’ responses.

Legalizing marijuana will have a wonderful dual benefit. First off, the government can tax the shit out of it and it will still be cheaper than what the street rate is, which according to my, ahem, sources, is around 80 bucks for a quarter ounce. That’s $320 an ounce! More expensive than gold! I am not an agricultural expert, but I would assume that a pack of Jamaica’s finest, if legal could be produced at a cost in the range of North Carolina’s finest tobacco. Let’s say around $5 a pack. Sell a pack of 20 blunts for $50 and everyone is happy. Literally. Giggly happy, in fact, for the blazers out there.

The second benefit is a major cost savings. Prison construction, which in case you haven’t noticed, is about the only grown industry left in this country. There are tens of thousands of people incarcerated for the crime of scoring a lid. And for the life of me, and if anyone can elucidate please do, I do not see the societal benefit of this. How am I safer because some stoner that likes to get baked and watch Ren and Stimpy while gorging on Twinkies is caged up in some medium-security fortress? I don’t know about you, but I do not recall one single violent crime committed under the influence of crippy. It is, literally, a victimless crime.

So to recap, tax revenue goes up and public expenditures go down. Win-win.

Now here comes the outcry – what about the War on Drugs, you tree hugger!

News flash, gang. We lost that war a looooong time ago. Think of the billions that has been spent fighting that “war”. Now think how much harder it is to score illegal drugs. What’s that you say? It’s still as easy as texting your dealer to meet you behind the Circle K in ten minutes?

I rest my case. War on drugs: Drugs 100, Warriors zero. Scoreboard. Move on.

Okay, there actually is a downside that bears a few sentences. Inhaling toxic chemicals is a health risk. Odds are good that condoning a substance that is smoked will result in increased rates of cancer, emphysema, COPD and other physical issues. As such, we cannot in good conscience actually have such a substance being legal, can we?

Hold on. Let me ask the Marlboro Man or Joe Camel.

I know. Considering such a societal seismic shift is enough to make someone drink. Which, coincidentally, is another mind-altering substance that is perfectly legal to ingest. And if we are going to talk about how being under the influence of pot is such a bad thing, tell me how many times a man got baked then beat the hell out of his wife and kids? How many bar fights centered around who lost the roach clip?

Nope, alcohol has the monopoly of those activities. People drink, they can get violent. People smoke pot, and they forget whatever the hell they were mad about.

So let me end with this. Let’s be adults here. Spare me the moral lesson that some would advance to decry such legalization. Any Holy Rollers (or politicians) that would be against this, I say this: Let he without sin cast the first stone.

Mr. Marley said it best. Legalize it. Don’t criticize it.