A Few Thoughts About The Flag

One of the issues that is roiling on the opinion pages of newspapers recently is Flag- burning.  There have been a few incidents since the election where some knuckleheads have set fire to Old Glory in protest to the results of the election.  Kind of a mixed message when you burn the symbol of democracy and freedom because the election didn't go your way.  Seems like a childish and unthoughtful expression for a US citizen.  Like burning a picture of your mother because you grew up with an ugly nose.

Trump could not resist tweeting: "Nobody should be allowed to burn the American flag — if they do, there must be consequences — perhaps loss of citizenship or year in jail!" 

I believe one's opinion holds weight commensurate with the sacrifice one has made.   As a non-combat veteran, I  will yield to the strong feelings of any vet who fought and bled under the banner of the stars and stripes.

My own 2 cents about flag burning:  I vigorously disapprove of it, but I agree with the Supreme Court decision that protects freedom of speech.  (They have ruled that the Constitution protects your right to burn your own flag.  Not my flag or one owned by the government.)

I think flag-burners should be treated like any case of arson with regard to property ownership, damage and safety of the public.

I was proud to serve my country under the banner and will always respect the flag as a symbol of the ideals we share as patriots: Freedom, equality, justice.

But it's a symbol, not a sacred object.

I have to admit that I am not a purist on this issue.  I  recognize the valid feelings of those who are offended by certain odious expressions of free speech (Neo-nazi parades, disrupting funerals or other solemn occasion).  

I would suggest that a specific misdemeanor should apply to cases of "Justified Assault" - when someone is being so offensive that you just have to punch them in the mouth.  This offense should be punished by a slap on the wrist and an admonition not to do it again (wink, wink)

A Real Thanksgiving Memory

Family Traditions  - 2010

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday.  Growing up in Watertown, MA my memories of those family feasts are of happy times.  The holiday began on Thanksgiving Eve when my mother would start preparing the stuffing.  The house would be full of delicious odors as mounds of chopped onions and celery and  breakfast sausage were sauteed,  then mixed with bread crumbs, seasoning, and “secret Irish spices” – which was our joking reference to plain salt and pepper.

Mom would be up at six the next morning, making the final preparations and getting the turkey into the oven.  By the time we kids got out of bed, the house was already warm with the aroma of roasting turkey.  Store-bought turkeys always came with a bag of bird parts, called “giblets.”  Mom would boil the giblets in a pan to feed them to the cats, so they could have Thanksgiving too.

I read somewhere that some of our most vivid memories are associated with odor.  To me, there is nothing that says “home” quite like the fragrance of a turkey cooking in the oven.  The whole house smells like peace love and harmony.

I have happy memories of those days when we were all young and healthy.  My grandparents came to our house for holiday feasts.  They lived in a tiny cottage near Revere Beach.  They would drive 17 miles east along winding Route 16  to our house on Robbins Road.  I still remember one time when they arrived at our house in the old maroon Plymouth sedan.  Grandpa was a careful driver and he would frequently get honked-at for moving too slowly for some speed demons.  He would respond with colorful curses picked up during his Navy days.   We were very amused when we asked my grandmother about the traffic, she remarked, “Well, there sure were a lot of bastards and son-of-a-bitches on the road today!” She was of course quoting the words Grandpa had yelled out the window to anyone who honked at him.  

Usually we kids would go to the Watertown-Belmont football game. Dad might walk down with us if the weather was good.  After the game we would return home, and the smell of the roasting turkey would hit us as we walked through the door.  We had various chores.  Mine was to peel and cut the turnip and squash for boiling.   While the vegetables were boiling, Mom would serve hors d’oeuvres of cooked shrimp, nuts, celery and olives. For drinks there was always chilled cider and sodas for the young people and plenty of bubbly for the adults.    

Finally the dinner would be served and eight of us would gather around the table.     We all stuffed ourselves on roast turkey with mashed potatoes, squash, turnip, green peas, cranberry jelly, dinner rolls.  Everyone raved about Mom’s gravy. She always said that it was because she used the same water that was used to boil the turnips and onions. I still do not know how mom got everything on the table while still piping hot.  We didn’t have microwaves back then.

A few years later my daughters would grow-up in Wellesley, but we celebrated Thanksgiving in a very similar manner. Thankfully, when the time came, my wife Judy took on the role of hostess and kept the same cherished recipes for stuffing, gravy, and all the rest: the traditional football game (against Needham), the dinner with all the fixin’s --  even the visiting grandparents.  .

A few years ago, the Thanksgiving baton was passed to my eldest daughter.  She has assumed the role as holiday hostess and will again be cooking the turkey this year.

Now, we are the visiting grandparents.  We will be driving over to Natick just after noon next Thursday. If you are going that way and you see a silver Camry that seems to be going too slowly, please refrain from honking. I am just being a careful driver. It runs in the family.

The Real Thanksgiving Story

Just for the record,  the real Thanksgiving Dinner went off very well with no scenes from "Hotel California." 

My daughter reports that the 22 lb turkey from a local organic farm cost $125.  Holy shit!  That's like almost $6 a pound.   It was delicious and moist.  Still cheaper than fish or beef.

We did not mention the election, except for the 16 year old grand son who wanted to see the adults fight.  He kept making anti-Trump statements.  (His dad was a pro-Trump guy). 

It was peaceful and congenial and we were all thankful for our blessings.

...

We did not talk about the terrible choices Trump is making for his cabinet.  I was always disappointed that Obama did not select the strongest people for his administration, (especially Treasury and AG and Sec of State, twice), but he looks like a genius compared to the Twitterer-in-Chief (elect)'s announced appointments and reported considerations,  Nikki Haley is an ok choice for UN Ambassador -- what the heck do they do, anyway? 

 I am not feeling to confident when the guy who has been named Attorney General is a racist homophobe (Sessions).  Ben Carson, who admits that he has no administrative experience is gonna be HUD Secretary.  Two others are blatant plum jobs as a reward for rich donors, who are utterly unqualified to be Cabinet members.  If Rudy Guiliani gets Sec of State, I'm moving to Mexico, if they will let me in.. 

Thanksgiving 2016

It’s a cloudy day in New England.  The family gathers for the annual dinner and opportunity to reconnect.  We arrive and get hugs all around except from the grandchildren who barely look up from their electronic devices, with a “Uh, Hi.” Then back to the chase or battle or grand theft felony games.  

Fine, we think, accepting the proffered bloody marys; we prefer adult conversation anyhow.  But there are warnings this post-election year.  The wrong guy has been elected and those of us who are in the majority must be careful not to talk about it.  “No politics! Period,” our host commands.  

Several members of the family voted for the wrong guy and will very likely be displaying some offensive righteousness, if allowed to enter a free-for-all discussion.  The majority, wallowing in moral superiority and fear, cannot bring ourselves to even acknowledge the reality of what has happened, because it can't happen here. Or so we thought.   How could the opposition not see the calamities that will surely fall upon all our heads?

We, who are proud to profess our tolerance of all human behavior, except what we call hate-speech, remain steadfastly intolerant of people who disagree with us on which candidate was worse.

No, we must not allow talk about it.  Like being at a wake, we shall not speak ill.  We make a list of approved topics – Mmm the stuffing is especially good this year. Is that a new painting hanging on the wall?  So, how about them Patriots?  How is that cure for nagging rectal itch working out?  Cold, isn’t it?  What a cute kitty,  (to grandkid:  Hows school going? What grade are you in now? Really?) and etcetera. 

(Speaking of grandkids, one grandpa I know tells me that when he would visit his grandkids, which was not often, they would ignore him and keep playing or watching their devices.  He decided to start giving them each a crisp twenty dollar bill.  He reports that now every time he comes in the door they compete with each other to run and give him a big hug.) 

       

But I digress.  

At the Thanksgiving gathering, we,  the majority, stand around, sipping our drinks, nervously waiting for the Alt-right contingent to arrive.  We hope they will not be gloating about the election outcome -- or worse, complaining about the not-my-president  riots protests.   And if we hear any talk about immigration, the wall, locking-her-up, extreme muslim terrorists, trade pacts, China, guns, or the revered cast of “Hamilton,” we will be furious.  The more we think about it, the more pissed-off we get.

Who do they think they are, lording it over us like that?  Those fucking deplorables!

We gather at the window as the hate wagon arrives with it’s gaudy Trump/Pence bumper sticker. 

“Hello everyone,” they greet us warmly. 

We see through that phoniness, and stab them with our steely knives.    

More Post Election Prattle

In the aftermath of the Trump election earthquake, pundits are still sifting through the ruins, looking for causes.  The shambles of still smoking expectations resemble the landscape of a dystopian fantasy.
   
Shocked and dismayed, some wander the information highway like philosophical zombies searching for meaning.  Others gather into distraught groups standing with scrawled signs, crying out their anger, grief and disappointment to the pitiless sky.

For many, including me, the suddenness of this new reality came out of the blue. We would have been less surprised if large UFO monoliths suddenly appeared in the skies.  The reality is a temblor measuring at least 6 on the Richter scale, enough to crumble old beliefs and assumptions.   

Many progressives have stuck their heads in the sand, declaring with absolute certainty that Trump's election was simply more evidence of discrimination against a woman becoming President (similar to the way many on the left were quick to dismiss any criticism of Obama as racism).   Of course there are misogynists and racists in the general public, but I contend that those prejudices are less of a factor than the issue of Trust.

In case you hadn't noticed, plenty of women and minorities have been getting elected and appointed to important posts in government and business internationally.   Remember Golda Meir, Maggie Thatcher, Angela Merkel?  In recent decades, there has been a steady quota of about 20 female heads of state in the world. 

There are six  incumbent female Governors in  the USA.  Currently 125 elected members of congress/senate are Women. So this is the reality that Hillary supporters must come to grips with: it wasn't her gender that lost the race.

I am convinced that whatever latent prejudices a person might have, they will vote for the person that they believe will do the best job.  

Time will tell whether these beliefs were well-founded in last week's election.



  

Speechless, Almost

I am not a fan of election night coverage.  Call me old-fashioned but I prefer actual vote counts to exit polls and breathless projections the minute  the polls close.  So, last night I was reading a book at the kitchen table  (Grisham's newest novel "The Whistler," if you must know,) while Judy was following the various returns, and the all-important analysis on cable TV.   

 Around midnight she announced that she was going to bed, and with a look of trepidation on her face, said, "Trump's going to win."  She said it in the same tone a doctor might have used to inform you that you have inoperable cancer.

My first thought was "This cannot be..."  I had never entertained the thought that Trump might actually succeed in fooling most of the people.  

I woke up this morning and realized it was not just a bad dream.  I was not feeling great. I was stunned. I wondered how even the most ardent Hillary-hater could forget that Trump is little more than a bag of wind  -- a phony two bit reality show celebrity, a pussy-grabbing, multi-bankrupt, tax evading, petty blowhard.     But the numbers are there in blue and red.   

I am still stunned (if not speechless), and coming to grips with the new reality show that we will watch unfold.  I feel a few pluses: At least, Hillary is never going to be president.  This time she will not get a nice cabinet position.  Hopefully Hill and Bill will exit stage left and fade into history.  

Also, the stock market has not crashed -- as was feared during the early morning hours -- at least, not yet!. 

It is too early to do an effective autopsy, but one cannot help opining on cause and effect.  Many of us who are stunned today must admit to being deaf to the numbers of disaffected people.  

I think it will become clearer that Trump's election is to a great extent ( but not entirely) due to a backlash to the speed of changes that progressives/liberals have been inflicting on the not-so-silent majority.  Political correctness has gone amok, where many voters felt their rights and beliefs were being trampled in the progressive dust while the PC gang remained intolerant in smug moral superiority.   Hillary's failure to be elected has little to do with her gender and a lot to do with the fact that she is generally disliked and distrusted.

So now it is up to Mr. Trump to follow through on his promises to make America great.  Will that be manifested by  "Trump" being etched in big letters into the White House Portico? Will he invite Putin to spend a few nights in the Lincoln bedroom while they plan world domination?  

Or, will he actually help Veterans, reform immigration, improve the balance of trade, appoint responsible judges to SCOTUS, etc.?

Time will tell.   I am not optimistic.  

Not Voting for Trump

Since you asked, I may as well reveal my political preference.  

I'm voting for the second-worst candidate.   I'm not happy about it.  Her election will keep us at status quo, a deadlocked congress, corruption at the highest levels, weak economic growth.

At least we won't be going to war to settle Donald's grudges and debts.  No intelligent person who actually listens to what he has said over the course of the campaign could want this person as Commander in Chief.  I couldn't even vote for Trump for Permanent Latrine Orderly (PLO)

Pro Football Thoughts

8 Changes I would like to see in Pro Football TV broadcasts:

1. No more than two consecutive commercials during the break after a score, injury or 2 minute warning.

There are simply too many commercials.  They interrupt the pace of the games, and are largely irrelevant unless you 

a) need more insurance, 

b) are thinking of buying a new luxury SUV or Pickup Truck,

c) are amenable to changing your brand of beer.

2. More time covering cheerleaders, less time with sideline commentary and injury reports.

Currentlly, too much time is devoted to injury reports, arcane statistics, fans in outlandish costume, people with signs, what the Qback's mother thinks, etc.  Personally I think the perky young cheerleaders who spend a great deal of time preparing their routines should get more camera time.

3. Ability to mute commentary but still hear crowd noise.

As mentioned in the previous point, too much time is spent yakking about stuff that is not the game-at-hand.  Sometimes the booth staff gets carried away with their own cleverness, and you just have to mute them. There should be an option to shut off the commentary but still hear the ambient noise of the fans.

4. More diversity on teams.

I notice that most of the pro teams appear to be over-represented with African-Americans.  Is this fair? In the spirit of equal representation, there ought to be an affirmative action program for Caucasians, Jews, Indian- and Chinese- Americans.

5. Eliminate Holding penalty for offensive blockers.

More seriously, I would abolish the penalty for offensive holding.
The Quarterback is a vulnerable position - as evidenced by the number of key QB injuries.  Blockers should be allowed to trip and hold opponents from access to the QB or other runner. 

6. No Throw back uniforms

This is an annoying waste of fabric, and serves no purpose.  The uniforms are usually ugly and disturbingly different from the uniforms that viewers are accustomed to.  They might as well be wearing clown masks. 

7.  Eliminate the over head camera.

Un-necessary distraction.  I worry the the cables will snap and fall on the players.  I don't need to experience the angles that the overhead camera gives.

8.  No player or coach interviews.
Invariably, these exchanges are both un-informative and un-interesting.  The only entertaining sideline interview was when Suzy Kolber talked to a drunken Joe Nameth.

Had Enough

Keith Oberman,  Progressive commentator and chief critic of the Bush Administration in the day, is back.  

He says, " I would rather endure a third term of George W Bush than 5 minutes in a Trump presidency."

Add caption

This rant is pretty good Click here.    7 minutes, but worth it, if you've had enough..

Remember the Everly Brothers?

Last night we went to our favorite local venue - The Center for Arts in Natick (TCAN) - to see the Everly Brothers tribute band called "The Bird Dogs."  It was an entertaining and enjoyable return to the 50's and 60's when the Everlies produced hit after hit.  They played a lot of the old songs that we loved.  My only complaint is that they were too loud, but I feel that way about a lot of modern music.
Returning home after the show, I was moved to click on some of the Everly hit tunes on You Tube.  While listening to the 1984 Albert Hall Reunion Concert, I checked-in with Wikipedia to try to learn why the brothers had split-up in the first place, after such a successful run of hits as a duo.

I was surprised and dismayed to learn that the pair were plagued by jealousy, drugs and alcohol.  At one point they wouldn't even record together.  Phil refused to be in the studio with Don, so he sang his  part and later Phil would record the harmony. They sang together onstage but not in the studio.

Don  attributed their estrangement in later life to  "their vastly different views on politics and life"
Could it be true that a big reason for their enmity was political differences?  Jeeps, this would be a poster example for how ideology can ruin relationships.  Come to think of it I suppose it's been going on since the Civil War.  So sad to watch good things go bad.

Phil died in 2014 from COPD shortly before his 75th birthday.

AFTERWORD:

Don is said to be supporting Hillary Clinton in the upcoming election.

Carpe Autumn

There is nothing as magic as an early morning stroll under a bright New England sky in October. The crisp, moist air hangs like golden wisps of smoke, whispering ripe apples and pumpkins. 

Emily Dickinson found the slant of light on winter afternoons to be oppressive, but the hue and angle of the light in autumn is a tonic for the soul.

Yes, you can feel the promise of frost in the damp air and the dew glistening on the grass. One night, very soon, the tomato vines and marigold leaves will turn black. We will pull them up and toss them on the compost pile.  

Though we will sorely miss the freshly picked tomatoes for our salads and homemade salsa, and we will long for the luxury of golden pungent marigolds in vases, but we will not mourn their passing.   We are already thinking of the spring planting. Renewal.

Perhaps it is the knowledge that we only have a few precious weeks to savor the fruits of our cultivation makes us appreciate them more than if we could expect them every day. And invites us to look ahead with hope to the inevitable Spring

We who love the change of seasons welcome Autumn, and in turn, Winter. We do not carp about weather. We celebrate the changes in the skies.  

You will not hear us complaining about the rain or the heat or even the hurricane. We take what comes, knowing that, if there is a god, then it is his will.  Despite our prayers or wishes or puny technology we have no power over weather - we can only try to endure.

You may hear us remark that the lawn is brown or the snow is too deep to go to work.  These are not complaints they are merely observations.  We are Buddhists.  We cannot make the weather happen.  We can only sit and hunker down when the winds blow, and wait for the lovely days.

This is life.  Because the earth is off-kilter, we have seasons.  

As I get older I truly appreciate the seasons. Predictable changes give us a sense of urgency - adding commas and semicolons to our life sentences.  As we see the lifeline getting shorter, we eschew comfort and tedium. We embrace the challenge of slip and skid against our aging bones. Let the winds and seas rage. Let the snow pile high. Let the power lines fail and the toilets freeze. We'll survive.

Or, maybe not.

In our hearts, we know that the temperature of the earth is constant at a depth of six feet. And, lord knows, there will be plenty of time for that.

Treedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb

Don't ask me who won the Vice Presidential Nominee debate last night.  After watching the first  fifteen minutes, I bailed, and went back to reading my book.

Instead of showing us something new and fresh, both candidates made it clear that they came to replay the samo-samo party lines of their running mate.

Since I have heard those stale and half-true claims and accusations already dozens of times I did not want to waste any more time listening to these two stooges.

The moderator, whose name I did not get, was wearing too much make-up and looked completely fake.  She was ineffective in keeping the schoolyard antagonists from interrupting each other (Kane was the worst offender - I felt like punching him in the stomach.)  

I will not put much stake in the opinion polls.  If someone actually stayed and watched the whole
show, I would not value their opinion anyhow.

Too bad they didn't invite Bill Weld, the Libertarian VP nominee.   He might have livened things up a bit.  Since Gary Johnson has embarrassingly flubbed several easy foreign affairs questions, Weld has apparently given up on Johnson.  He tells the Boston Globe that he plans to spend the next five weeks blasting Trump.  His chief goal is to keep Trump out of the White House and take a lead role in rebuilding the GOP.  Good luck with that plan.  

Tax Evasion

TAX EVASION

At the debate the other night Hillary launched her "October surprise" on Trump, suggesting that he refuses to show us his birth certificate oops I mean tax returns because he doesn't pay any taxes.

Then a copy of Trump's tax return for 1995 is mysteriously "leaked."    It showed that he claimed a nearly billion dollar loss and subsequently paid no taxes.    Trump says, "That makes me smart." Accountants say this is legal, since tax rules that favor wealthy filers would have allowed writing-off up to $50 million in taxable income per year for up to 18 years.

By stark contrast, a middle-income earner reporting a $30,000 loss would only be allowed to take a maximum of $3,000 as a write-off for that tax year.  And the carry forward loss is capped at $3k per year, even if there are further losses.

I am reminded of Leona Helmsley the hotel heiress who famously remarked "We don't pay taxes. Only the little people pay taxes." (She went to jail for tax evasion, sentenced to 16 years, but was able to buy her freedom after only 19 months.)

Mark Cuban thinks the"loss" was probably a quasi-legal tax shelter.  I think it was tax evasion.

NeverHillary vs NeverTrump

Dorothy Rabinowitz, writes an interesting op-ed essay in today's Wall Street Journal.   "The Hillary-Hatred Derangement Syndrome" compares the compelling arguments between the "anti-" groups.

Ms Rabinowitz is a member of the Journal's editorial board so Clinton haters cannot dismiss her writing as the product of leftist kool-aid drinker mentality.  Her conclusion, surprisingly, is to urge for the election of Mrs. Clinton because "She alone stands between America and the reign of the most unstable, proudly uninformed, psychologically unfit president ever to enter the White House."



Since base supporters on either side are largely deaf to criticism of their chosen candidate, the election will likely be decided by the voters who will hold their noses and then vote for the second-worst-choice.

"You told me that already."

On Repeating Oneself

One of the more annoying phrases in current American parlance is, "You told me that already."   For me, it's a conversation killer.
Everyone repeats themselves.  If you have a good story, you tend to tell it to more than one person.  It's not a personality disorder to forget the names of everyone you have already told the story to.  Paradoxically, the ones most-likely to call you on repetition are, themselves, the worst repetition offenders. 

  I have politely listened, for the second or third time, to some tedious story about some former neighbor's niece's cocker-poodle who desperately needed a kidney transplant.    Shouting "Yes, you already told me that." seems like an unnecessary rebuke.  Si I sit quietly, nodding at the appropriate junctures,  not interrupting, until the tedious end. 

Because I understand that it is therapeutic for you to tell this story, I smile and nod. Rather than embarrassing you with an interjected, "You told me that already,"  I let you tell the story beginning to end, again, up to and including the solemn ceremony placing of little Max's ashes in an urn on the mantle.


Perhaps the motives of the person informing you that you are repeating yourself are completely innocent.  Perhaps they just want to let you know that they were indeed listening the first time you told them that joke or anecdote.  In my opinion, they are just being rude. 

The thought occurs that maybe the solution for me is to get out and meet more new people who have not heard any of my fascinating stories and knee-slapper jokes already.   

Labor Day Thoughts 2016

It has been 13 years since I was a full-time employee of a company.   Since I "retired" I've had a few part-time (retail) jobs, one very lucrative 12 month contract job and a dozen or so "gigs" involving writing, editing or database work.   Currently my only commitment is to a volunteer job which requires 3 hrs a week. And lunch.

Most of the time since 2003, I have been free to do anything I wished, whenever I wish. Within certain parameters, (eg physical limitations, fiscal constraints and of course, permission from my wife.)

In general, I like being retired a lot more than I liked working for a living. No more meetings, daily commuting, no more trying to look competent to an audience of doubters.  Being unstructured is liberating.  Now, I only have one boss, and she is often too busy with her own agenda (grandkids, art classes, painting, museums, part time work) to place too many constraints on my activities.    

But I do my best to remain connected with interesting people I once worked with.  And I meet new people all the time who share interests.  Good books, poetry, fishing, eating, etc.

 Occasionally, I feel nostalgia for the structure and sociability of working in a corporate environment -- belonging to a team of people trying to accomplish a common goal. And I do miss my lavish salary.  (Ok it wasn't that lavish, but,  unlike social security, it paid the bills.)

I try to justify spending those decades  at the office by saying, "Well I helped make the process better for my coworkers." But the evidence of my "work" is not visible, unless you regard folders full of charts and plans as accomplishments.   Most of it was really useless paperwork demanded by some would-be Napoleon who had clawed his way into the executive ranks.  At least if I had worked on an assembly line or built a wall, I'd be able to say, "I did that."  

When you look back and realize that nothing that you did has made a damn bit of difference, it's a wee bit humbling.  It seemed like I was working hard at the time, but in retrospect, it probably made little difference whether I came into the office or called-in sick.  None of the companies that I worked for from 1972 to 2003 are still extant.  None of the applications I designed and helped develop are running today.  Obsolete and forgotten.

You might think this perspective would leave me wallowing in disappointment and regret.  But, not so.  I actually feel pretty good about my "career."  True, I did not accomplish anything permanent or important. No one will compose epic poems about my accomplishments.  No statue will commemorate my contributions to civilization.  My name will not be etched into a bronze plaque at some hall of fame.

But I did keep a record of activities.  I started writing a journal in the early 1980's.  I can go back to those pages and validate the earnestness of my intention to do good things.  Pages filled with conflict, disappointment and a few glorious wins.    

And, it pleases me to imagine that most of my coworkers, if they remember me at all, will remember me as a guy who trustworthy, creative and anti-authoritarian, who was trying to have fun in a disapproving corporate world.

If anyone asked me (and believe me, no one has) for career advice, I would tell them:

1. Never take a job that requires you to drive East in the morning. You will be driving into the sun every morning and every evening.  It's not worth it.
2. Avoid working in retail.  Retail managers do not value individuality.  They want interchangeable parts who do not ask challenging questions about process.
3. Do not take a job that requires you to carry a pager or work-supplied cellphone.  They will wear you down with 24-7 connection.  The stress will make you sick and shorten your life.
4. Make lunch the focus of your day.  Avoid eating with assholes.  Never eat at your desk.  Work will wait.  Don't drink martinis at lunch.
5. Try not to share the boss's sense of urgency.  You can't avoid dealing with it and complying with it, but never let it own you.
6.  Seek a career in a field where your accomplishments are palpable. Be a builder or a maker or a healer.   If you become a bureaucrat, at least keep a journal so you can have something to show for your time.
7.  Do mix pleasure with work whenever possible.
8.  If you hate your boss, or vice versa, quit and go somewhere else.  Good bosses are hard to find.  Keep looking.
9.  Do not get a tattoo that is visible when you are dressed for work.
10.  At some point between the ages of 40 and 50, you will come to the realization that almost nothing is worth the time it takes to do it right.  Figure out what is really important and do those few things right.  




 

Standing for Something

Racist symbol?

Why do we stand when the US National Anthem is played?  If you refuse to stand, what does it say about you?

A huge flap was kicked-off when a SF 49ers football star quarterback decided to sit when the Anthem is played.  He says, “I am not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses black people and people of color.”

What a dipshit!


Now don't get me wrong.  I am not a flag waver.  I don't fly a flag on a pole in my yard, I don't have flags waving from my pick-up truck. Nor do I flaunt my so-called patriotism with bumper stickers or embroidered clothing.   But when I am at a sporting event where the Anthem is played, I get up and stand respectfully, like everyone else.

To me it is an expression of unity.   I regard the National Anthem and flag as symbols that represent the highest ideals that we share as Americans:  Freedom, Equality, Justice.  For all.

Everyone is standing except one dipshit

When I am standing, I am thinking what a great world it would be if everyone could be free to follow their own path in life, free from poverty, oppression and hatred.  When the crowd rises I imagine that they do so in an act of sharing a momentary sense of togetherness and pride.  It's an expression of gratitude to those (civilian and soldier) who have sacrificed time, treasure and blood, to keep our way of life secure.

(Full disclosure:  I'm also thinking that the beer is wickedly over-priced)

I recognize some folks see the flag as the symbol of all  the injustices and evils that have been done, often under the guise of "defending our freedom."  I get that we see what we want to see. If you feel like a victim, someone must be to blame.  And I acknowledge that every individual has the right to express their view.

And, what country is he talking about?  South Africa?

He certainly is not referring to the USA that I live in.  I am not saying that racism against blacks and other minorities doesn't exist.  It exists everywhere in the world, in every institution.  But I don't know of any country where minorities have a better chance to get ahead in terms of  jobs, education, wealth and power.   

Mohammed Ali is often cited as a man of principle.  He refused to be drafted during the Vietnam conflict, famously saying "

“I Ain't Got No Quarrel With The VietCong...No VietCong Ever Called Me Nigger.”

He lost his championship title for that principled stand.  Most Americans respect a man who stands-up for what he believes, even if it isn't popular.  

But sitting down, showing contempt for the symbols of freedom, justice and equality, not-so-much.

Safe to watch again

Well, finally, the RIO Olympics is over.  All the spoiled elite whiny so-called athletes can go home.  No more endless video images of  Michael Phelps, with his obscene number of gold medals (Hey Mike, give someone else a chance for chrissake).  The last thing the Olympics is about is sportsmanship.

And goodbye to that other cringeworthy swimmer, Ryan Lochte whose brief flame has been extinguished by his ugly-American antics.

No more tedious medal counts to re-enforce America's claim to be #1,  Now I get it, the other countries hate us because we run faster than them, oh wait except Jamaica.

No more watching grown athletes cry because they lost, or instead of shaking the hand of the winner, saying they played like cowards.  Apparently, nobody told these entitled little pricks that the agony of defeat is most nobly endured with a wan smile.

I did not watch any of the events, except a few fragments when some contest was playing on the big screen at my favorite watering hole.
I do need to amend my previous comments on one discipline: synchronized swimming.  I was amazed at the talent and strength that these swimmers displayed.  My opinion of synchronized swimming has undoubtedly been affected by the SNL comedy rendition.  (Done at the kiddie end of the pool).

Clearly the routines are very demanding and even interesting to watch.  But if this is an Olympic Sport then so should be teh Cirque Du Soleil acts.  Juggling is pretty demanding physically and mentally.

Anyhow it is over.  Perhaps it's safe to watch the evening news again.

Isn't there an election going on?

Zika infected awimmer

Remembering Woodstock 1969

(Updated from an August 14, 2009 post )

Man, who could forget that moment in history, forty seven  years ago, when we gathered, half a million strong, for those few days of Peace, Love and Music? OK, so maybe I was not there, but I heard about it on the radio. Hey, my wife and I had jobs in those days; responsibilities - rent, careers, and a baby on-the-way.

It was actually a memorable summer for us - but, not because of any music concert. In July we had taken a cruise to Bermuda as a sort of delayed honeymoon. We were young, clean cut, and had probably never heard of Jimmi Hendrix or Janis Joplin. We were still under the musical influence of Bobby Darren and The Kingston Trio. The gathering at Woodstock would never have appeared on our radar. We were trying to break-in, not drop-out. We did not even know anyone that did drugs or practiced free love.

One of my musical memories was driving through the Sumner Tunnel in Boston and hearing an unfamiliar but haunting song that was playing loudly on someones 8 track tape. (In those days there was no radio reception in the tunnels). The vocal harmony was magnetic and thrilling to me, but I did not recognize the artists. It was only when the Woodstock movie came out, I was able to identify the group and the song - "Judy Blue Eyes" by Crosby, Stills, Nash and (I think) Young. Ok, I know what you are thinking, I was out of touch. So sue me.

When the story came out about Woodstock - 3 days of sharing close proximity with masses of drugged out hippies who had not bathed recently, dancing in the mud and blocking your view of the stage, standing in line for the few porta-potties with 399,000 other bursting bladders, I was secretly glad that I was not there. I say 'secretly', because as I later discovered everyone thought you were cool if you could claim to have been there. Only a clueless dolt would admit that a) he didn't go and b) did not regret missing it.

Most of the performers at Woodstock are probably dead by now, if not forgotten. And, most of the attendees who survived drugs and STD's would be at the age where they are retired and forgotten. For me, it is hard to believe that forty seven years have rushed past like an express train in the night.

Smoking Baby Backs on a Gas Grille

If I was still on Facebook, I'd probably post this photo of me, yesterday, smoking a small slab of baby-back ribs on the gas grille.

Yes, I said GAS grille, as in propane.  I know, it's not the same as being slow-cooked over hot coals on the smoker, but they were still pretty awesome.

add more water after 2 hrs

It still takes about 4 hours of cooking at consistent low heat (235 degrees).  Only the leftmost burner is used to keep the temp low.  I rack the meat over an oven-proof cooking pan, 1/2 filled with water,  on the "cool" side of the grille.  

The water in the pan tends to keep the temperature stable, and probably needs to be re-filled after a few hours.

A hand full of wood chips are wrapped in a heavy duty aluminum foil packet (air-tight except for two small holes to let the smoke out). The packet of wood chips is placed directly on the burner heat covers (on my Weber they're called flavorizing bars) under the grate.

The smoke from the packet should not be overwhelming, just a constant small trail, that you can smell, but you don't need visible clouds of smoke to infuse the meat with that hickory flavor.

If I was cooking for a larger group I would definitely use the smoker, which has a lot more cooking space.  But for a small slab (just enough for 2) I save a lot of work using the gas grille.  

I use a meat thermometer to check, looking for a reading of about 190 degrees to indicate doneness.  The meat should not be "falling off the bone" unless you like them overcooked and tasteless.  If overcooked you will need to add barbecue sauce to give them flavor. 

 The results are much better than downtown.  Try it yourself.  Serve with sauteed greens, rice and beans.  

ooh

Wacky Brews

I like beer as well as the next guy, unless the guy sitting next to me at the bar is ordering one of those girlie beers that you need to top-off with a piece of orange or lime.   For me, there is a red line between drinkable beer/ale and the myriad of wacky brews that cater to people who really don't like the taste of beer.

My Grandmother thought beer tasted like "horse piss!" (In retrospect, one wonders how she came to that knowledge.)  Nanny preferred Gin and Orange Juice  (an Orange Blossom to bartenders) with "not too much belly-wash."  

In the Boston Globe today, I'm reading these words*,

"Order a pint at your local pub today, and you might very well be sipping a brew also made with elephant dung, candy bars, or, in the case of one New Hampshire brewery, the head of a wild boar.

WTF? Elephant dung?  If this isn't compelling evidence of a world gone awry, I don't know what is.

They say that Millennials like to keep trying new things so the brewers are just trying to keep up with the demand for something new.

Well, I don't know what you call something that features coffee beans found in elephant excrement, fermented skittles, kelp or road kill, but it ain't beer.

I love bacon as much as the next guy, but this is too much!

*Globe article by Dugan Arnett  "Seaweed, Skittles, and bear meat. Do you know what’s in your beer?"

Are We Doomed?

They say the world is divided between those who see the glass as half-full and those who see the same glass as half-empty.  To an Engineer the issue is simple: the container is too large for the volume of liquid.

Half empty

I think it depends on what is in the glass.  Some may think that I am a grumpy pessimist because I see a half-full shot glass of Jameson as "almost empty."

I must confess, I feel less confident about the future every day. This sense of impending doom grows deeper and darker every day as I watch the news on TV and read the morning paper.

No sensible person can deny that the Earth's climate is changing.  You can be a skeptic about the root cause and the popular solutions, but you cannot ignore the warming trend that has created droughts, wild fires and smoggy skies across the globe.   

It wont be long before we see vineyards dying off in Pasa Robles and popping-up north of Vancouver. 


On the election front, we are faced with the two worst-case candidates imaginable.  Both major party candidates carry so much baggage that the only way to get elected is to assert that "I'm not as evil as the other candidate."

With negatives that would dissuade a rational person from running for POTUS, neither candidate displays a high regard for the truth.  

An article in the Globe today reported that independent fact-checkers say 70% of what trump says is partially or wholly untrue. Hillary's score is only slightly better at 35%. 

Many informed voters see an un-resolvable dilemma. They are thinking of voting for the minor party candidates as a statement.  I think this is a mistake. 

Fact: Either Trump or Clinton will be elected president in less than 100 days.  The next president will be nominating the next two or three supreme court justices.  Decisions of SCOTUS reflect the character of our nation.  

A Trump supreme court would turn back many of the advances gained by liberals over the past several decades.  
Not to mention that his behavior demonstrates that he is unfit for any public office - including dog-catcher.

The only way to prevent this outcome is to elect Clinton.
Hold your nose and vote for progress.

Or we are most certainly doomed.

Lucky Day at the Track

Live Racing Not Dead Yet 

If I was still on Facebook, today I would have brag-posted: "Went to Suffolk Downs yesterday and won big."

But I'm not still on Facebook.  So I can give you all the glorious details of a pretty good day at the races.   First of all, you may have thought that horse racing was finished in Massachusetts.  I certainly did until a few weeks ago.  But it seems the news of Suffolk Downs' being dead was premature.  They had announced the end of racing back two years ago when they lost the casino bid.  But somehow, they managed to hold a few races last Fall and several dates this Summer.  They are open most days for simulcast betting. 

Before Dana and Vic moved to New Mexico 5 years ago, we would traditionally go to a race track on Fathers Day.  We prefer watching "flats" to harness racing.  We bet modestly, and when it comes to gambling, the races are the slowest way to lose money.  Sometimes we went to Suffolk Downs,  and other times it was Rockingham Park in New Hampshire.  

Now that the P's have moved back in Mass.,  Dana suggested that we all go to the races for Fathers Day.  But, alas, no one was racing that weekend (June 18 &19).  Suffolk only had a limited schedule selected weekends  during July, August and Sept this year.  Rockingham has completely given-up on live racing (except harness & dogs) and seems to be more like a casino these days.      

So, this year we decided to defer our "Fathers Day at the Races" to yesterday.  We arrived just in time for the second race.  From the number of cars in parking lot, it appeared that a lot of other families had decided to go to the races also.  There was no admission charge even for seating in the clubhouse where it was air conditioned.  The Racing program cost a mere $2.00.   We like to watch the horses as they are walking around the paddock, before they are saddled and mounted.  Judy makes her decisions exclusively on how she perceives the horse's attitude.  The spunkier the better.

My betting decisions are more scientific: I bet on the horse's name, the odds, and the record of the horse's performance in previous races.  I always bet $2 to win.  In the past this has nearly always cost me money.

Vic likes to play perfectas.   That is, choosing the two horse combination of 1st and 2nd , a riskier bet with a high payoff.  He had a good day, winning twice for a total take of around $300.00.
Judy won several times, validating her look-at-the-horse strategy, raking in a nice $75.00 - including a 30 to 1 shot that paid $62.45 on a $2 bet.  
Even I came away with more money than I bet.  I hit a nice 17-1 win in the 4th race for $37 and another in the 7th race for $7.00.  To me, this is winning big.

We left after the 7th race with a bit more cash than we arrived with,  despite the exorbitant cost of beer and food. 

There is another racing event in September; we will probably go back and give them the money back.

Over the long term, the house always wins.  But at least horse racing is fun to watch, unlike crew or swimming events.

Got Olympic Fever? Maybe it's Zika.

If I was still on Facebook, I'd have posted:  "Who gives a crap about the summer Olympics?"

I went to bed early and  missed the opening ceremony, featuring somebody nobody ever heard of, lighting the flame.  

Spare me.  In recent times the once revered Olympic Games have morphed into Theater - Over-hyped, ultra- commercialized and super-dull.  Do you enjoy watching people swim, when the difference between winner and loser is hundreths of a second? Is Rowing really a sport? Four chicks bashing a volleyball back and forth in the sand?  (Ok, maybe that is worth watching) Gymnastics - a totally corrupt judging system?   

 For me, these hyper-nationalistic competitions are complete yawners.  I would only tune in if I needed a good snooze.  


The most interesting aspect is the threat of Zika, or that the outdoor swimmers might encounter a dead body in the surf.    

Commercialism: I'm surprised Michael Phelps doesn't have a Nike tattoo festooned on his back so he can garner more $$$.  I yearn for the old days when US only sent amateur athletes and still did well against the competition.  Now, everyone cheats, because it is winning that is all-important.  Forget the thrill of competition at its finest.  

Zika, Zika, Zika

Other than Boxing, who gives a crap about the Olympics?  I can't wait until the games are over.


Here is my take on the "games" 

Archery - people shooting at targets. followed by more people shooting at targets. They need to be shooting apples off a relative's head to make it interesting.

Badminton - Not an olympic sport; a backyard frivolity of the rich and poor alike.

Basketball - don't we already have enough basketball on TV? No longer amateurs, just a bunch of off-duty pros who have not practiced enough to play well together as a team.

Boxing - I might watch boxing if there are Cubans fighting USA.

Canoe Racing - yikes is this really a "sport"?    

Cycling - BMX

Cycling - Mountain bike

Cycling - Road

Cycling - Track - Wow! 4 types of cycling competition.  As we know all cyclers are doping or taking steroids, especially the ones who categorically deny it. Right, Lance Armstrong?

Diving - into filthy bay water?

Equestrian - forcing captive animals to jump over things.

Fencing - ooh I'm touched.  They should actually have duels to the death. 

Field hockey - for atheletes who never graduated from high school.

Golf - putting a ball an inch and a quarter in diameter on a ball 8,000 miles in diameter and trying not to hit the big one.

Gymnastics - Girls damaging their hips and backs for entertainment.  They will be cripples by age 40.

Handball - fun to play. Tedious to watch.

Judo - everything happens so fast you need to watch the replays in slow motion. Boring too.

Marathon swimming - Watch out for crocs.

Modern pentathlon - I liked the ancient pentathalon better.

Rhythmic gymnastics - for girls who don't want to be cripples at age 40.  Boring too.

Rowing - good exercise boring to watch.

Rugby sevens -honestly, don't know anything about this sport; don't care, either.

Sailing - People should sail for fun, not for sport.  Most people who sail have no sense of humor.

Shooting - this would be good if they got some death row inmates to chase down and kill.

Soccer - Lets be honest the only action in a soccer game is the riots among the spectators.  

Swimming - Snoozer supreme.

Synchronized swimming - probably more fun than it looks.  Not a sport, though.

Table tennis - ping pong, ping pong, smash.  Been there, seen it before.

Taekwondo- where you can get your kicks if you are into that sort of thing.

Tennis - serve, return, hit, hit, lob, smash.  Kid run and pick up ball.  Seen it. Who cares.

Trampoline - not a sport.  Backyard entertainment until kid damages spine in freak accident.

Triathlon - exhausting to watch.  Tri-atheletes have no personality and no sense of humor.

Volleyball - ok to watch if the chicks are good looking.  Tedious otherwise.

Water polo - a good way to get drowned, IMHO.  Watch out for brain-eating ameba. 

Weightlifting - not a sport worthy of olympic competition. Weightlifters are fat and stupid.

Wrestling - Always makes me uncomfortable to watch two guys in such intimate embraces.