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.

Don't Skimp on Bargain TP

The fallacy of bargain toilet paper:

You save 1/3 off the price of the quality brand.

You use 3 times as much to get the job done.

Why I Got Unplugged

We are back from a glorious two-week vacation at the Cape,  Our rental house overlooked a secluded, picturesque pond.  It was also just a few minute's drive to one of a half-dozen salt water beaches in Falmouth.  It was a quiet and relaxing location.  The  sound track was mainly honking waterfowl, squealing kids, jumping off the raft and the swish of wind in the trees.  No sirens, passing trains or idling diesel engines to disturb the serenity.  We swam, fished, read our books, floated our boat (ok it was a rubber raft) and spent a lot of time just looking at the water.

On the drive home the conversation turned to how pleasant it was to be unplugged.  Although we had wifi access to the internet, the clunky 10 year old laptop was so slow that we were not enticed to be constantly checking emails and Facebook as we normally would. Our phones were somewhere upstairs, not on the table in front of us.  In truth we were not totally disconnected. We had uploaded a few photos of us, savoring boiled lobsters and enjoying the ocean beach.

It is de rigueur, don't you know, to post smiling evidence of a life well-lived on social media.  No doubt our FB friends felt envy for us and our fabulous lives.

It's a seductive idea: to imagine that other people are as fascinated by our lives as we are. So, we post cute kid and pet photos, vacation pics of us standing in front of churches and mountains, or check-in at the restaurant/concert/amusement park, so those back home can share our joy, and, hopefully, wallow in envy.  Yes, the dark side of FB is that it enables our innate desire to brag about our experiences, in hopes that others will find our lives interesting and enviable.  

We copy links from others' that either amuse us, raise our hackles, or -- worse -- carry some innocuous message of hope and good will.  We signal our virtue by sharing any message that demonstrates how morally superior we are.  

I wondered if I would be missing anything if I never went back to FB.

By the time we returned home, I had decided to opt out of Facebook and Twitter.  I confess that I'd been a regular reader and poster on both of these sites.  But I've been increasingly annoyed by the irrelevant information I had to plow through in order to find some content that was  A) interesting or B) informative or C) amusing.

My so-called "news feed" was cluttered with posts from people I did not know or care about, or blurry cell phone videos of amazing oddities or stupid quizzes or... need I go on?  Most of it was chaff.  It wasn't floating my boat.

Now, I know what you are thinking: Doesn't  Facebook have a way of managing your "feed" so that you only see posts from people you want to see?    Well, it is true that you can "block" a person who regularly posts annoying pictures or stupid jokes.
So, you say, what's your problem?  You can un-friend or block anyone who annoys or offends you.     Well, the problem is that Facebook does not give the user a way of filtering-out Friends' activities without blocking the friends' posts.  If one of your friends clicks "like" on some stranger's post, that post appears in your feed.  If one of your friends comments on another's post, that shows-up in your feed, too.

So your news feed is cluttered by all manner of irrelevant posts that are braggy, boring, lame, and uninteresting.

Here is my last post.  They call it an epitaph:

After being virtually 'unplugged' from social media for two weeks, I've concluded that I am not interested, informed or entertained by 95% of the content on Facebook.  Therefore,  I am giving 24 hours notice that I will be leaving FB.  Please be assured that I am not de-friending you, I am de-friending myself.  Please note that I can still be reached by phone or email if you have news that I need to know.  

I am free at last.

editorial musings

Editorial Musings

The editor was sitting at his PC reading emails.   Mostly glance and delete.  Then  boom.  One of his clients – the high maintenance cowboy film director who thought his writing didn’t stink – had written a snarky epitaph to the final edit of his essay.   “I found a few more typos, which I EDITED.” 

The Editor took a long swig of his Sierra Nevada and burped.  He had a reputation for being a ruthless murderer of other people’s  darlings, those bon mots and delicious gems that add nothing to the story,   and a butcher of  clichés, mindless puns, and digressions.    His crimes typically went unpunished,  as he had possession of an class #007 Editorial License.

But, this was not good.  Typos in the final edit were showing up more often lately.  He was embarrassed and grumpy.   He picked up the phone and dialed.

“Hello.  Fazool Editorial Assistants, How can we help you?”

“Achmed?  This is Ed.”

“Ah, Mister Ed, I am pleased to hear you calling. How may I be of service?”

“You know that document I sent to you yesterday.”

“Oh yes, the cowboy film director.  That was indeed a challenge.  His draft was 1300 words and we cut it down to 625 words so it could be published.  We had three of our best writers working on it. “

“Well the motherfucker complained that it still had typos.”

“Vishnu tells us that no one is perfect, Sahib.”

“Cut that shit out or I’ll fire all of your asses.”  Another loud belch.

“Ok, ok, Just kidding, dude. Jeez.   Very sorry about the typos – our spell checker was in the shop this week for repairs.”

“So, I don’t want any of these complaints in the future.  You get that?”

“I promise on my mother’s eyes, we will not let any typos get through in future.  Oh, did you get our invoice?”

“Yes, you will be getting the same – if the thing gets published – as agreed, two cents per published word.”

“Ok, boss.  Any chance we could boot it up a few pennies?  The writers have families….”

The editor burped loudly into the receiver and pressed the off button.  He jotted a note in the ledger and wondered to himself whether outsourcing was such a good idea.