You Talkin' to Me?

Today's Moment of Happiness

2012-01-25T21:10:00.001-08:00

A Perfect Note

2012-01-25T21:08:00.000-08:00

Placing my hand upon her head,

I brush her as she lie on my bed.

Running my fingers down her neck,

Itching to pluck, first I check

To be sure no one can see us

As we begin to build a truss

Of love and laughter, weep and moan

To house our music, we postpone

All the world’s demands of time;

Our sudden rapture must be a crime

To deny the knocking of the door

Of which each mouth fables lore

Telling stories of working weak

Killing arts before they speak.

So I shut the clanging out

That we may take a roll about

My bedroom filled with shrieking sound

Of lust and pain and stress profound-

Enough to crack the panes of glass

Which mirror lines along my lass,

Upon her body deeply shone

From years of her vibrating tone.

Her edges sparkle like ivory keys

As I adjust her upon my knees

And marvel at her center navel,

How it holds all my world stable

And grounds my feet upon this earth

O! Her fruit, our time, a dearth!

So as I tune her one last time,

Stopping my hand right on the dime,

I wonder:

Does a Stradivarius guitar

Feel the same ecstasy at bar

As the player in his part

When he conjures a perfect note from her heart?

What I learned this year

2012-01-24T17:42:00.001-08:00

Did you know that “to reiterate” is repetitively redundant? Yes, “to iterate” literally means “to do over again or repeatedly.” Therefore, “to reiterate” would mean “to repeatedly repeat.”

This is among the many cool things I’ve learned this past year. I believe in constantly learning as part of a kaizen process. So, on the final day of 2011, I’d like to recap some of the best things I’ve stumbled upon by accident and by forced mistake:

One need only perfect a single major chord progression on the guitar. Then you can slide that same pattern all over the neck to find all the other major chords. Of course, the same principle applies for minor chords. I finally shelled out some dough to figure out how to play that confounded piece of wood and string that I’ve been groping for the past decade. In the end, school time supplanted practice time and advance was halted.

Everyone has religious and political beliefs. I don’t care what yours are and don’t have the energy to tell you why mine are right.

There are only 24 hours in a day. Count them. The little hand hits each major notch 12 times, twice a day – no more. I’ve been aware of this nugget, but I’ve never fully comprehended it before. Time is precious and should be used wisely. Spending 7-8 hours of it sleeping is a good use. That leaves you 16-17 hours to eat, poop, study, work, love, and have some fun. I’ve spent a quarter hour so far on this article.

Staying regular provides high utility in an economic sense. Look it up.

We have more time than we think we do. The average American human life lasts 78 years. That is 78 summers, 78 Christmases, 78 Thanksgivings, 78 football seasons, 78 World Series, 78 annual family vacations, and 78 spring mating seasons. That also leaves for a small handful of marriages, graduations, vacations with friends, good dates, extended family holidays, etc. You only get one life that lasts 78 years. Live fully, laugh heartily, love completely, leave work early, and build something that outlasts you.

Money is a number. It is a very important number, but a number nonetheless.

The more grains the better. I have expounded on my knowledge of brewing beer exponentially this year and can now brew a better beer than most commercial suds. Beer has been added as a new passion of mine. I brewed a cloudy wheat this week and look forward to opening my honey brown next week. The process has been consuming but rewarding. Try something new, nurture ideas, take up a hobby, do something you can share with friends and family.

You cannot stop Dirk Nowitzki. You can only hope to contain him.

Cars are named after women for a reason. If you don’t listen to them and give them what they need, they will turn on you viciously. My car’s clutch gave out halfway home on a four-hour trip, at night, on New Year’s Eve. I spent my midnight as the only guest in the Heartbreak Hotel in McAlester, Okla. I took the bus the next week to pick her up at an outrageous dealership price. Five months later, the oil pump failed, and she broke down in the middle of the highway at one o’clock in the A.M. After returning home three hours later, I got around in a rental until the perfect deal on a truck appeared. All her fluids have recently been changed.

For you single guys, any woman will talk to you. Just say, “Hello.” Nut up. You only get one life. Live it.

To live and let live.

James Joyce was a genius but is still damn hard to read.

You can only connect the dots going forward, not backward. Steve Jobs laid this out for us in his Stanford commencement speech years ago. Now that he is gone, this is his lasting impression on me – not the iPhone, not the MacBook Pro, nor the iPod. Pursue what interests you, what you love, then put the past together as you move forward. Your product will be more natural, it will be more enjoyable to make, and you will enjoy learning more.

Baseball carries the rhythm of my heartbeat.

Lists. They’re the only way to get things done.

Art is the hardest work to complete…because it’s never done!

Anything worth its weight in salt should be built from the bottom up. That way it will last and bear tenfold the fruit that you used to grow it.

I’d rather be weird than find myself fitting someone else’s norms.

People are more afraid of the temperature than getting hit by a car whilst chasing a hat in the wind across a 40-mph street at 5 p.m. on a weekday.

Never trust anyone that desires power.

You still have to pick someone to lead.

Nature is where we came from. It’s to where we’re returning. It’s how we were meant to live. I’ve dived into yoga, meditation, hiking, natural remedies, acceptance, family in all senses, and truly drifting on the wind. I still work hard, but I listen to my atmosphere so much closer.

My brother is the raddest dude I know.

My sister has enormous capacity for love.

My dad fits in everywhere.

My mom has no end to her dedication.

When the moment passes, it’s gone; but another one is around the corner.

I’ve learned so much more, and many of these have clarified this past year. The turn into my final semester of law school got me thinking about all that has accumulated. I hope you take stock of the important things, big and small in your life. If you’re reading this, thank you for listening.

Today's Moment of Happiness

2012-01-05T20:46:00.001-08:00

Dew's Promise

2011-09-23T11:27:00.000-07:00

When the morning sun rises

Before streets begin to rush

We walk out among the brush

And hear the stillness of the hush.

Dew covers each blade of grass

Coating in a sheer veil of white

Along the sun’s ray of light

Painting a foreboding sight.

She feels softness of the sun

Pouring o’er her dew-dripped fur

As she takes her daily tour

Through the silky bush du jour.

She reminds of life’s innocence

Basking in a white-washed garden

As her doughy eyes ask for pardon

To play before dew will darken

Even the walls fall to the sun’s

Dominion over the morn.

When the dew drop pawns adorn

The canvas, the idea is born.

Mid-morning will come to pass

Rising with it the tart of heat.

Dew will break before sun’s beat.

The day will churn, like waving wheat.

As the sun gains ground on us

And my furry companion sleeps

Our lust for the setting sun keeps

Close our hearts’ butterflies in heaps

For when the pure dew returns

To bathe the earth among crisp air

The touch of soft fur shan’t compare

To the scent wafting from your hair.

Musings - August 30, 2011

2011-08-30T10:56:00.000-07:00

Awful, like a tattered rag

Like nails on a chalkboard among a roomful of students trying to read

Like the useless arrangement of dead flowers

One thought infects her worn brain

Nothing poetic do I attest

Just simply a loss of rest

By the dilapidated words that ooze from her mouth like a volcano that erupted last week

Prairie fires have been less destructive

Than the negativity that mirrors my work

Six years is a long time to take the abuse

But my God!

She chose to remain guarding her burned trashcan

I wish she would have that cigarette for lunch

For then a modicum of joy might pervade her warped view

Just taking it in the form of cancer would be better than the cancer her mind has become

Work all the day while

Mind has swam at least for a mile

The rooster crowed, the dog let out

The drive to work coupled by coffee stout

“Coming around the corner!”

The chain of flow broken like the lace of my favorite shoe

So abrasive, like a bridezilla sanding something borrowed

The day’s thoughts turn to pudding, desperate for a rope

I shall continue to cope

For six years she suffered

(Probably raised to complain from the cradle,

Her parade of horribles after winning the lottery would make Macy’s look like used floss)

And damnit, she IS right

God knows I’ve suffered, too

But when does it end?!

When will she learn?

She tries to train the old dog to perform new tricks

She should be training herself

My work suffers blows

My attitude hardens like a wart

Time to release the woes

To my inner march I must comport

Musings - August 28, 2011

2011-08-28T18:20:00.000-07:00

The hum of the engine lingers in the heat
As the mother unbuckles her child from the seat
Exiting slowly, taking each breath by step
'Tis only a simple trip to the corner pharmacy
So pure, like a painting, except

Their canvas moves to the beat of her arm
Guiding her child down to avoid minute harm
She moves to the back end of the car
And notices his unwound shoelace
Overseeing his tying bent over the lot's dried tar

She touches his head, each strand sings
As if the crack of a hatched egg brings
New life with each ray of light
A new skill is learned by his hand
And her heart subtly leaps at this sight

I imagine they're out for milk
Or cough medicine to make his throat feel like silk
But every errand or task is another scene
In his burgeoning life's story
And his mother may be here in a portrait serene

When the innocence leaves, it leaves forever
Yet by her eyes, remains tied by a tether
Never shall it leave her maternal heart
Never shall he grow out of her image
She has built a David to transcend art

Parading its youthful exuberance
No ding, nick or scratch breaks its trance
Until the ultimate touch breaths life in
He'll move like sliding rock from a canyon
His cracks will scar his infected skin

The beating he takes from the sun's rays
She cannot prevent despite that she prays
So the simple act of a boy tying laces
No matter what ruins may come
Enlivens her heart, 'tho suspended time races

This Afternoon's Moment of Happiness

2011-08-26T12:56:00.001-07:00

Today's Moment of Happiness

2011-08-26T08:38:00.001-07:00

Musings - August 18, 2011

2011-08-19T07:16:00.000-07:00

Day breaks the dew on the East horizon
Wash'd o'er the tufts of new hair on your head
Reaching for the sun as a gold crayon
O simple things dreamt whilst lying in bed
Hitting the road makes your father's pride swell
Along with the fear of highwaymen's snares
Race for the blue sea and draw from they well
Of all thou loves' hopes you capture your cares
Peace shall you find when at last you touch home
No need to speak when you pass through the gate
The table set, feel chill melt from thy bone
O then shall you eat, 'til ye become sate
So ride on, sweet prince, t'ward the ocean's roar
And rest eterne on His bright Western shore

Musings - August 15, 2011

2011-08-15T11:57:00.000-07:00

My sweet Nancy Pants, weep not for thy state
Great goodness supplants grief when you release
Thy tragedy, you succumbed to no hate
Doth not now thee take thy pleasure in peace?
Or would thou rather take hold of your hurt
Thine love fasten’d to his ghostly eidólon?
Pay not tribute to others thou find curt
And right thy mast, trusting in Poseidon
Lest ye recall him lain with you in bed
Conjure the feeling pad’ling in his boat
Whilst thy duvet’s cloak wrapped sound ’round your head
His kiss upon thine lips keepeth remote
Remember him as you would a scar’s blot
With fond memories of how it was got

Today's Moment of Happiness

2011-08-14T18:43:00.000-07:00

Today's Moment of Happiness

2011-08-13T20:02:00.000-07:00

Musings - August 13, 2011

2011-08-13T19:53:00.000-07:00

Feeling like I caught the sight

Of a girl’s glance in the night

I took her by the hand and led her to the band

That makes everything all right

My arm across her shoulder

When she leaned I wasn’t bolder

The moment passed, I missed the cast

Now she’s a fish in the pond

There I with false hope, not to elope

But merely dancing

In our two young hearts, playing the parts

Of a couple kids romancing

As the years roll by

Her memory’s always nigh

Steeped with loss, openly

Turning back the clock

My heart becomes a rock

With my sister I fought, she always thought

That I should walk off a dock

Jumping in the dark water

I tried to acquiesce her

But it never would do, each said we’re through

Now I am left competing

With the pleasures of herself, I myself

Left in the cold

Her impression struck me dear

Her venom nae growing old

Now that we are mature

Let’s admit that we’re not pure

Steeped with loss, openly

These thoughts prove burdensome

Stewing costs a hefty sum

What they say is true that the things we do

Define who we become

This lesson will surely teach

To treat life like a peach

Equipped with this, I shan’t expect bliss

’Twas not the story penned

Rather an epic, prolific

Moments pass before us

Hold each other tightly for

All moments end, they must

The clock I will rewind

Live by my heart sans mind

Steeped with loss, openly

Steeped with loss, fruitfully

Musings - August 11, 2011

2011-08-11T18:27:00.000-07:00

Tribulations of young life’s growing years

Unfurled the banner for kinship up close

Forced engagement laid down pearls of our tears

And gnashing of teeth in speech quite verbose

Mere crossing of wires marred true peace from sin

Your rebuke justly, my affliction real

Thy fruits at odd, noble patience wears thin

So stirs the pot, our forking paths must peel

The hand-woven bushel frays thy thought

That we shall someday be true kin with love

Your righteous anger splits what my heart sought

Blood to blood we might be what I thought of

Vast distance now divides our parted hearts

I long for the day when acceptance starts

Today's Moment of Happiness

2011-08-11T17:35:00.000-07:00

Today's Moment of Happiness

2011-08-09T20:24:00.001-07:00

Musings - August 8, 2011

2011-08-08T18:01:00.000-07:00

Live just for right now
Lone seat to my right
Still running dirt cold
The same every night
Never to fear
Don't oversteer
There'll be other days
There'll be other ways

Rush off from breakfast
No sweet goodbye kiss
Never have I known
How much was amiss
Never to faint
I just must wait
There'll be other days
There'll be other ways

Headlong through the day
Trudging o'er the hours
Work stiff for yourself
Tis not yet for ours
Never to care
Nere a dispair
There'll be other days
There'll be other ways

Nighttime hath arrived
Once gone meager meal
Twas tasty I thought
Still lacking your seal
Never to need
Ignored thy seed
There'll be other days
There'll be other ways

Thirty years gone past
Seems like yesterday
You lain on my step
Couched soft in plush hay
Never to speak
Always too meek
There'll be other days
There'll be other ways

Now I think of you often
Sometimes lulling me to sleep
Praying for return of youth
To prevent this aging weep
Always have I lied
Profess that I tried
Long last day
No more way

Musings - August 6, 2011 + Today's Moment of Happiness

2011-08-06T16:25:00.000-07:00

It’s that time again. With the lockout over, folks are really ensconced in the NFL’s pending season. Especially sports talk radio guys. Here’s a recent conversation I took in while barreling along the road. Let’s see how Oklahoma men talk football:

Coach: “Let’s do a run down of all the NFL teams’ quarterback situation and tell me if it’s elite or not."
Lackey: “Alright.”
Coach: “Washington.”
Lackey: “No.”
Coach: “Giants.”
Lackey: “Well, yeah.”
Coach: “Dallas.”
Lackey: “No.”
Wannabe producer: “He’s had just the one playoff win.”
Coach: “Well, ok. Philadelphia.”
Lackey: “He certainly was electrifying last year.”
Coach: “We’ll put that down as a maybe. Atlanta.”
Lackey: “Yes.”
Coach: “New Orleans.”
Lackey: “Yes.”
Coach: “Carolina.”
Lackey: “No.”
Coach: “Houston.”
Lackey: “Aaaah…maybe.”
Coach: “San Franciso.”
Lackey: “No.”
Coach: “Seattle.”
Lackey: “No.”
Coach: “Arizona.”
Lackey: “No.”
Coach: “St. Louis.”
Lackey: “Definitely could be.” ← of course
Coach: “Minnesota.”
Lackey: “No.” ← really?
Coach: “Green Bay.”
Lackey: “Oh, yes.”
Coach: “Detroit.”
Lackey: “No.”
Coach: “Chicago.”
Lackey: “I don’t think so.”
Coach: “Jets.”
Lackey: “Could be.”
Coach: “New England.”
Lackey: “Yes.”
Coach: “Buffalo.”
Lackey: “No.”
Coach: “Miami.”
Lackey: “No.”
Coach: “Indianapolis. Oh, well, of course. Baltimore.” ← much easier than New England, of course
Lackey: “No. Well…”
Wannabe producer: “Could be.”
Coach: “Yeah. Pittsburgh.”
Lackey: “Yes.”
Coach: “Cincinnati.”
Guy just handing around: “Wait. What was the question?”

Today's Moment of Happiness

2011-07-18T20:04:00.000-07:00

Musings - July 18, 2011

2011-07-18T19:57:00.000-07:00

Day broke through the cracks of the white Venetian blinds. The light spilled over the piles of unopened mail, down the dusty amplifier, onto the scratched hardwood floor, and then right through the eyelids of the man of the house. He was not ready for morning.

He moaned into his pillow and rolled toward the middle of the bed. His head spun and throbbed, but he definitely could tell someone else was in his bed. And it wasn’t female.

He lifted up his pulsating head with a strain of his neck and saw that skinny, shaved white dome and forced himself to remember that Tony had led the night of debauchery.

Oh, it wasn’t that horrible. True, he would have to sleep through the afternoon, down four Excedrins, and chug enough water to drown a porpoise; but all-in-all it was a tame evening.

Before Tony had shoved him to the other side of the bed, he and Hank had showed up for some light pre-drinking. Three beers and five cigarettes later, they were ready to roll. So the three hopped into Tony’s black Equinox to hit the downtown bars. As luck would have it, the top-40 rap station was on that night. As the sound of Lil’ Wayne, Pitbull and some old school Jay Z casually ruled the airwaves, Tony popped another drag and casually bobbed his round dome back-and-forth. Boyz Night.

The trio inaugurated the July evening at the Max, taking in some of the video arcade and drink specials among the low-rent hipsters before ditching it for the breezeless patio of Arnie’s. Hank and Tony, ever the domesticated lions, blew past the cute hippie reading for her psych test after she checked their IDs. They talked shop for an hour and a half as the bachelor bought a couple rounds as an excuse to interrupt the hippie. Not yet a company man, he found the lack of a wingman unfortunate; but as he strode back to the patio, Tony got his juice flowing with talk of the next boyz night in October.

The fourth horseman would be headed in from the East Coast for OU-Texas. The conversation picked up speed as they colluded on hotel plans, party scenes, and escape routes. Tony didn’t want to have to bail his boy out again.

It seemed so long ago now even though the bachelor was still in his twenties. His compatriots had fully embraced their strides into the next decade. Each married with a child, steady pay, living for the weekend. Hank had designs on a house in the good part of town. Tony was already there, housing a dog on the outskirts. Yet, Tony, for all the responsibility he had learned the hard way to shoulder, yearned to relive the hard way. So – perhaps out of man love, perhaps because they were boozehounds themselves – the three embraced their inner wild child every time Tony came to town.

The scene shifted to McNellie’s and the men took it upon themselves to close it down. Beer after shot after beer, they reveled in drink and smoke as the memories washed their swimming heads to a place not too far down the road. Maybe it wasn’t Norman, but the man who would never leave the Mecca led the charge into the night.

~ ~ ~

To be continued…

Today's Moment of Happiness

2011-07-15T21:31:00.000-07:00

Musings - July 14, 2011

2011-07-14T11:30:00.000-07:00

Words swirl in his throbbing head
Resting just behind his sweating head
The time to depart mysterious
Causing ventricles to swell in size

Searching to relieve the pressure
His concave chest beat like a drum
Spilling into the untame world
Indifference paints the conundrum

To speak is to judge
To listen is to prepare
Doth better to follow the patient guide?
Or unfurl arrows on those sans care?

Silence is golden, doffing to film
In light, nuggets more akin to dung
Like the color of hackberry branches
Freshly torn from their rung

Therefore he waits, to ponder more
Trepidly defers to the wind
Torn palm open for boomerang
A returning chore does he tend

Musings - July 13, 2011

2011-07-13T21:32:00.000-07:00

“Hold on. I have to blow into my breathalyzer.” Radcliffe heard a low, vibrating hiss cascade out of the other end of the phone.

“Why do you have to do that? I thought you were already driving.”

“What?”

“You were already driving, right? Or did you pull into a Sonic on your massive fucking commute?”

“I have to blow into it every 30 minutes to make sure I don’t have a drink while I’m driving.”

Brilliant.

“I have some good news! I’m officially done with my court stuff today,” Heath announced.

“How’s that?”

“I turned in my community service paperwork today. I’ve paid my fines and I’m on my way!”

“What community service did you have to do?” he asked with intrigue.

“Now I just got one month of this breathalyzer and I’m fr–”

“But what community service did you have to do?”

“I was supposed to be working on cleaning up Venice Beach from 6 a.m. to 1 p.m. for two weeks.”

Radcliffe saw where this was going. “You actually did that? What was it like?”

“I didn’t actually do it. I paid a guy $800, and this guy signed all my paperwork.”

He thought to himself, Why the hell would a court clerk accept some random-ass idiot’s signature on this stuff? “Explain to me how this works.”

“I found someone that was in a position to sign my paperwork. I needed his signature and he needed the money. Win-win.”

“Interesting.”

Heath tried to climb on his garrison, but he had pretty much left the gate open as he pulled out with his Brown Bag Special. “I don’t fucking have time for that. I can make more money waiting tables at L’Idiot for two weeks than it cost to buy him off. It was a business decision.”

“Fair enough.”

“All right, well, I’m almost at work,” Heath let out with relief. “I have to let you go, brother. What are you doing tonight?”

“I’m writing a speech on volunteerism.”

“Fuck me.”

Musing - July 11, 2011

2011-07-11T19:49:00.000-07:00

My boss pulls me into her office. I can feel the sweat dripping off my chest inside my shirt. My heart pounds as I sit down. Just then, she snatches my timesheet and rips it in half, bites into her pencil then goes to town on me. Yep, just the conclusion to another hourly workday.

Given the choice, would you take a guaranteed salary or an all-you-can-eat hourly wage?

The answer, of course, will depend on your personal situation. For me, hourly wages lead to questions about how I spent my time. My head pounds just thinking about how I’m wasting clients’ dollars each time I go to the bathroom, reach for another handful of sunflower seeds, or – God forbid – yawn.

If you’re a temporary employee like me who could be let go at any time, a guaranteed salary would be very nice upon which to rely. If you’re a workaholic company man, the hourly wage would be a deserved raise.

However, consider the ramifications of each. A salary makes a man complacent, satisfied. A raise has a tough time adhering to the next promotion. Extra work tends to be spoon-fed to the salaried because it costs the company nothing more.

The hourly wage, though, goes away at every holiday. Each vacation costs a week’s pay. Time equals money, literally. When your time is bought, every second of it is expected to be of value. If you’re not completing billable work, you’re wasting company resources.

It’s an interesting dilemma from which to choose. Right now, it’s nice to be able to garner overtime pay and have extra hours actually pay off. I’m not looking forward to a year from now upon graduation and landing a job where I can be manhandled into toiling the nights away at my desk for no marginal compensation. But the pressure of the expectation of productivity can sap an hourly man’s soul.

I know that even a salaried man must account for his time. I’ve been there, too. 60-hour work-weeks were barely a blip on the radar. But you put them in and your boss praises you. You work 60 hours on wages and your boss rips you for those 20 time-and-a-half hours. Are you kidding me?! I have literally been given “permission” to work overtime. I have to tell you, that was a weird exchange.

Life is a trade-off and it’s easier to climb the ladder when your boss is not worried about giving you extra work. Here’s the next question: Do you want to spent your accounted-for time and stress units climbing the ladder or building your wallet?

The answer to that consideration makes a big difference of not only which job you choose but how you structure your career.

Two married men from two similar upbringings. One chooses grad school to get a solid, salaried, demanding, but outlined career and weeks. The latter chooses an entrepreneurial venture full of daily and financial volatility, but passion and endless possibilities.

The former is an easy man with which to hang while the former clasps to his business constantly. Both are lovable in their own rights, with devoted wives and children. Yet neither could ever grasp the other’s life. I mean, it’s as if one is West Coast, the other East. One from America, the other Japan. I stop short of pitting opposing gods, but the comparison is not that far off.

And I think about how easy it is to choose one path or the other and the consequences of each. It comes down to stability versus passion. Comfort or engagement. Building a system, or building a legacy.

Neither choice in itself concludes with sheer enlightenment (giving due consideration might); however, the choice makes the man. I cannot recommend letting life choose for you.

How do you want to get paid? When do you want to get paid?

Next time your boss pulls you into her office while you are sleeping, will it be a daily nightmare? Or will it be an erotic dream?

Probably ought to write a version for the ladies…

Today's Moment of Happiness

2011-07-11T18:39:00.000-07:00

Musings - July 6, 2011

2011-07-06T18:40:00.000-07:00

Heath watched in helplessness as Radcliffe furiously packed the car. He was determined to cram every last article he could into that economy Honda SUV. They would not be lacking for a knife, a tent, firewood, or anything a survivalist Tenderfoot could not live without. It wasn’t even an hour into their drive when Radcliffe realized he had forgotten his little Weber-100.

Both brothers had been longing for this moment when the intensity of the world melted away, leaving them only their wits with which to survive; that and three cans of propane.

Heath could almost see out of the back window, but Radcliffe had no other place to store the sleeping bags since he had decided to bring his dog. So every once in while, Heath would crane his neck towards the side mirrors and into his blind spot to change lanes. Radcliffe felt visibly bad for his insistence to pack his brother’s car, but couldn’t muster an apology. After all, he was the one that used to camp as a newbie Boy Scout as a kid. Fifteen years later – including the two he always had on Heath – Radcliffe still knew better.

“I’m so glad we did this,” Heath pronounced.

“Yeah,” Radcliffe echoed with subdued excitement. He was still wiping the summer sweat from his forehead and chest. He glanced back at June, panting at the window as she watched the North Texas road fade into Eastern Oklahoma.

Planning was the bitch of the trip. Now that they had gotten all their junk on wheels, Heath was ready to enjoy the open road with some bonding time with his brother.

“Tell me about your job, Rad.” An easy enough question.

“What do you want to know?”

“What’s it like? Do you like it?”

“Yes, I guess. I’ve just been so buried for so long that I don’t think about it that much anymore. I just do.”

Radcliffe worked for himself, writing freelance copy for magazines, newspapers and advertisers. He fell in love with the beauty of writing, fancying a future as a Steinbeck or Twain. Instead, he found a labor of drolling formulaic blurbs and retread VW Beetles that never should have hit the shelves in the first place. He lied to his brother because he had tired of complaining and didn’t want to defend why he hadn’t done anything about it. Each day started with a cup of coffee at his parents’ house in Dallas and proceeded with a search for apartment-deposit funding, sapping what little creativity he had left. He attempted to break up the monotony by joining the rank-and-file of twenty-somethings who stayed fit and took up cool hobbies. Radcliffe’s was distance running and acting like he knew what he was doing whilst casting a spinner. He would never admit it, but Radcliffe loved his brother and missed him. It’s really why he invited his little bro on this camping trip.

Heath, on the other hand, had no problem saying, “I love you,” or giving people toothy smiles. He told his brother he missed him. And he had no problem with letting Radcliffe plan the trip as long as he got to visit home. He had moved to the City of Angels after college to become an actor. In other words, he was a waiter. Every spare moment he had he used to comb the message boards for bit parts. He was prepared to struggle some, but money had become so tight that he had to scrap his favorite indulgence, the L.A. Times. Once the Times went, his momentum followed. It was his window to the world; it was how he started conversations. Now he had to talk about the latest TV show, of which there was never a shortage of interlocutors. He hated taking calls from his friends and family back home because the question always came: Did you get the part? His consummate retort: You’ll know when I know.

Radcliffe indulged Heath’s probing a bit, then turned the question over to Heath’s verbosity. Fifteen minutes later, they came to a fork and missed it without even knowing it.

The Oklahoma highways are just what you’d expect. Ranches stretched for a mile before a tree along the barbed wire line gave a horse some momentary shade. Cows waded in mass at reservoirs – or fishing holes, depending the age of the person describing it. Every once in a while they’d spot a billboard for a prairie dog farm or a five-legged cow. It wasn’t until the sign for Caddo that Radcliffe had realized they had gone too far.

They bickered for a bit at who missed the exit, but ultimately winded through town East, towards the trees, towards the hills, towards the river. So far, they had lost two hours.

Musings - June 27, 2011

2011-06-27T20:14:00.001-07:00

The phone rang. John was over on the other end.

“Hey, brother,” the good-souled African said. “How you doing?”

“Good, man.” Michael couldn’t ever bring himself to tell John the whole truth. John knew this, but he never asked farther. The goodness and glory that surround John would not ever allow him to break down a wall. It endeared him to all he met, but it also hindered him more than he could realize. Michael had once tried to tell him this, but Michael’s heart sank when saw the look of the meek in John’s eyes. It was almost a tragedy for Michael never to know the entirety of the world because Michael felt he might be the one man good enough to save the world. And it would have been a tragedy had Michael flung the shutters open to him. “What’s up?”

“I need your help, brother.” This came as no surprise. “I am trying to make this document work but I can’t get Word to cooperate.”

“Word? What’s the problem?”

“Well, I just can’t figure out how to fill out the form.”
Michael rolled his eyes behind the wall of the mouthpiece, thankful that John was on the far side of town. All-in-all, though, he found it entertaining that this heartful African transplant was putting his all into getting his ducks in a row for his charity book drive, yet he needed remedial help, almost persistently. “Ok, John. How is it laid out? Is it actually in Adobe format? Is it an Excel file?”

“No, it’s Word.”

“It’s Word?” Michael asked again. “I’m not sure how to help you from here; it’s a pretty basic word processing program. It’s self-explanatory.”

“I know, I know. I need your help, my brother. It’s frustrating me no end.”

“All right, all right. Where are you?”

“Two minutes from your house.”

Pause. A languid smile etched across Michael’s face.

After a quarter-hour, John’s problem was solved. Satisfied, but wearily, he hammered away on the keyboard completing all his forms. Michael desired the quiet, but welcomed the company. So he occupied himself at his bookshelf. He pulled down Chronicle of a Death Foretold, flipped through it, but couldn’t bring himself to part with it. Next came All Quiet on the Western Front. He hadn’t read it since high 10th grade, but he had bought this copy from the used bookstore with noble intentions. “Besides,” he told himself, “I’m saving the kids from reading about horror, and death.”

Then he came across his book of Greek dramas. “This is good,” he thought. “It has comedies!” It didn’t strike him until he had given the book over to John that all the greatest Greek dramas were tragedies.

John packed his things to head home to sleep.

Michael held on for a moment. “If Death were knocking on that door right now, would you be scared to answer it?”

“I’m confident where I’m going,” replied the faithful man.

“Is it better than here?”

“Anything’s better than here. It’s like 50 Cent said, ‘Death’s gotta be easy because Life’s so hard.’” Even the righteous has a criminal for inspiration.

As John left through the same dark door, Michael imagined how beautiful ignorance could be. He quickly realized that knowing nothing brings no peace, for it is only the awareness of knowledge’s weight that allows one to image peace. And one must have a vision of peace before one can attain it. This is what made John so good. He knew peace on Earth is not reachable in this life, but he sought it anyway. He believed in his heart that one day the meek would inherit the Earth. So he battled on with gusto each day. It would have been a real tragedy if Michael had never known him.

Today's Moment of Happiness

2011-06-21T07:14:00.000-07:00

Today's Moment of Happiness

2011-05-24T09:02:00.000-07:00

Extra! Extra! Read all about it!

2011-04-13T15:39:00.000-07:00

Rangers lose again - Wash on the hot seat

The Rangers' bullpen put together a yeoman's effort Wednesday afternoon in
the absence of Colby Lewis. The offense put together just enough to take a
late lead on a locked-in Max Scherzer. Mark Lowe relieves and blows the
lead. Darren Oliver holds the tie in the 8th. Elvis Andrus strands Julio
Borbon at 3rd in the top of the 9th (second stranding at 3rd of the day).
Ron Washington watches the elderly lefty Oliver nearly walk a lefty batter
before getting the first out of the 9th, then Wash ignores the hollering of
the rest of Ranger Nation to bring in the rested righty Nefty Feliz to face
the righty Brandon Inge. Instead, Oliver serves up a first-pitch dinger to
Inge for the Rangers' first losing streak. Great call leaving in Oliver,
Wash.

On a side note, Hamilton is calling for Dave Anderson's head. Good things
on the horizon, I tell ya.

2011 Baseball Season Revealed

2011-04-03T20:33:00.000-07:00

Even though the season has commenced, 162-games leaves a lot to be determined despite Opening Weekend. With that in mind, here is how I see the 2011 season shaking out:

What we learned from Opening Weekend — Nothing. The Yankees, Rangers, Reds, Orioles, Royals, and Phillies all looked strong. But with players on the DL to open the season, mid-season acquisitions/call-ups yet to commence, and new players yet to get acclimated to their new environment, anything can happen from now until September.

Best starting rotation — Philadelphia Phillies. Nos. 1 – 4 are golden: Halladay, Cliff Lee, Oswalt and Hamels are all No. 1 All-Star-type pitchers. And the No. 5, Blanton, is workhorse guy in the prime of his career. However, can all five stay healthy? Will nobody have a down year? Will the depleted batting order come through? Will the bullpen hold up? Can they overcome everybody’s best shot? It’s going to be tough, but they’ve said all the right things so far.

Best bullpen — Hard to tell right now. Bullpens tend to shape up around mid-season. The Padres will be unseated. The Rangers and Yankees had a strong ’pen last year and upgraded with All-Star Rhodes. The Yankees upgraded from Kerry Wood to Rafael Soriano at set-up. The Red Sox made the ’pen a priority among several other things. But if pressed, I like the young San Francisco Giants barring a long DL stint by closer Brian Wilson. They have the WS experience combined with an entire year of being tested by the stingy offense.

Best lineup — This is a two-horse race with the Texas Rangers barely edging the Red Sox. Reigning AL MVP Josh Hamilton anchors a line-up literally devoid of a weak spot. They upgraded at catcher to Torrealba/Napoli. All-Star 2B Kinsler starts the season healthy. The 1B problem is now over with four quality options of Moreland, Davis, Napoli, and Young. The addition of Beltre at 3B gives them the luxury of being able to plug the potential top Ranger of all-time, Michael Young, in anywhere necessary. They have one of the best pinch players in Murphy. And they have Cruz, who is turning into the most powerful slugger in the game. The only possible issue is Borbon in CF, but if he hits like he did in Spring Training, he will make himself an asset. The Red Sox made splashes by adding Adrian Gonzalez and Crawford, but catcher is a question mark, Scutaro is not fabulous, and you just never know if a new player with a shiny new contract will perform as paid.

Most interesting story line — Seeing how Moneyball: Part Deux plays out with the New York Mets. There has been controversy galore coming out of the Mets’ camp all winter-long. New general management starting with Sandy Alderson and DePodesta harkens back the glory days of Billie Beane’s A’s. Ownership is embroiled in legal troubles caught up in the Madoff ponzi scheme. They have a new manager in Terry Collins continuing his mop-up duties of late 2010. The Mets have a lot of money tied up in personel and haven’t made the playoffs since 2006 – bad for a town like New York. Finally, can Carlos Beltran actually contribute? Not a good sign in relinquishing CF.

Best Manager performance — There are a few guys with a chance to shine. 1. Ozzie Guillen: With a lot of money being thrown around Chicago (including additions of OF Dunn and P Edwin Jackson), the White Sox are expected to contend for WS despite a noticeable lack of star pitching and defense. If he can live up to expectations and keep his emotions in check, Ozzie is deserving.

2. Jim Leyland: He and his GM’s jobs are at stake this year while have to compete against the White Sox and Twins. But he has an All-Star pitcher in Verlander leading his staff, a fireballer in the ’pen in Valverde, an MVP candidate in Miguel Cabrera, and a powerful new toy in V-Mart. Could be the perfect storm.

3. Buck Showalter: His Orioles showed a lot of promise in closing out 2010, and he started a mini-war-of-words with Boston. In a division where the four others are all better on paper, and two of them are perennial contenders, this youth group just might respond to the hard-nosed Showalter and be a major surprise in August or later.

4. Mike Quade: The Cubs made some moves to contend but are unlikely to surge ahead of the Brewers or Reds. But the players from 2010 love Quade and the franchise looks determined to turn things around. No one expects that much from Pinella’s successor, but 3B Aramis Ramirez and P Zambrano both need a good year to keep their jobs and the pitching additions of Kerry Wood and Garza give the Cubs a chance to succeed especially since the Cardinals seem to be falling on the DL one-by-one.

5. Fredi Gonzalez: The Braves new skipper succeeds one of the all-time legends in Bobby Cox. The Braves return a playoff team largely intact. If Gonzalez can repeat or better Cox’s 2010 team, he’ll be in the running.

Best AL pitcher — Felix Hernandez. I don’t see any reason why King Felix can’t repeat his Cy Young performance with a modicum of better offense supporting him. The soon-to-be 25-year-old has the best pure stuff in the game and a bulldog mentality. Watch for C.C. Sabathia to put the Yankees on his back this year. Watch for the Oakland’s Trevor Cahill to continue his emergence (2010 was no fluke, he was aces every outing). Watch for either Jon Lester or Clay Bucholtz to shine with little pressure on these top pitchers with a loaded staff in Boston. I like Verlander, but I don’t see him progressing much more. I like David Price, but I think with the reduced payroll squeezing the Rays, the pressure of having to lead the team back to the playoffs will be too much for the 25-year-old.

Best NL pitcher — Cliff Lee. These two words have been the official chant of the playoffs the last two years. He’s bounced around teams, leagues; now he’s healthy, settled and happy with his contract and employer. Nobody is as calm in big situations, and he reminds of Greg Maddux’s pinpoint control. With Lee in his prime and joining a power-packed staff, much like the Red Sox, Lee will be loose every outing and determined to earn every win. Each Phillie starter is well versed in how the ’90s Braves only won one WS in 1995. Watch for Halladay, he’s still the iron horse of modern pitchers. Watch for Josh Johnson, the new Texas-bred fireballer. Watch for Carpenter: if the Cards win the Central it will be because he pitched like a maniac. I like Lincecum, but the WS hangover is looming. I like Grienke, but the expectations on the Brewers might prove too much for his fragile psyche. I like Jiminez, but he ran out of gas in the 2^nd half of 2010 and I think that’s due to batters figuring him out. I like Kershaw, but I think it’s too early.

Best AL batter — Miguel Cabrera. Josh Hamilton was amazing last year, but don’t forget that these two were neck-and-neck for the MVP until Cabrera got hurt and the Tigers faded. There is less need for Hamilton to carry the Rangers this year, and Cabrera is playing for a team desperate to win now. Watch for Adrian Gonzalez; he hammered NL pitching, imagine what he can do against AL pitching. Watch for Robinson Cano to continue his trend toward the best overall five-tool player in baseball. Watch for Ian Kinsler to mirror Cano’s performance (if he can stay healthy). Watch for Nelson Cruz to collect the lion’s share of RBI on the Texas offense. I like Longoria, but he has too much on his shoulders in a tough division. I like Konerko, but his age is a factor. I like Mauer, but I don’t think he has the power to keep up with the rest of the field. I like Teixeira, but he doesn’t hit for a good enough average. I want to go on record and say Morneau might be done after that concussion, A-Rod might not reach the career HR record because he’s off the juice, and Jose Bautista will end up getting suspended for juicing.

Best NL batter — Albert Pujols. He’s been the best hitter in baseball during the course of his career. With the Cards riddled by injuries and Pujols in a contract year, expect Albert to hit to the max of his capacity. And he is virtually injury-free, so don’t hold your breath there. Watch for Ryan Braun to emerge as an elite bat as the Brewers vie for contention. Watch for Buster Posey and Heyward to turn in an amazing sophomore seasons as well. Watch for reigning MVP Votto to play like he wants a fat contract elsewhere. Watch for Howard to try to reach the level of his pitching counterparts. Watch for Car-go to take another step towards elite. I like Fielder, but he’s a bit of a loose cannon. I like Kemp, but it might be too early. I want to go on record and say Werth will stink up the joint.

And now how the standings will shake out —

American League

West — The Rangers have the best offense baseball. Their pitching has too many question marks but enough to sabotage the light-hitting A’s and M’s. Expect the A’s to contend with their amazing pitching rotation and improved offense.

1. Texas Rangers

2. Oakland Athletics

3. Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim

4. Seattle Mariners

Central — The White Sox management is determined and there are too many holes in rotations of the Twins and Tigers. I’m not crazy about Buerle, but Danks has emerged and the only other scary pitcher in the division is Verlander.

1. Chicago White Sox

2. Minnesota Twins

3. Detroit Tigers

4. Kansas City Royals

5. Cleveland Indians

East — The Red Sox are loaded from top to bottom. It’s not a matter if it will work, but how many wins this group can rack up. The Yanks’ rotation is porous after Sabathia. While the Jays and Rays are in rebuilding mode, don’t be surprised if the upstart Orioles surprise those two.

1. Boston Red Sox

2. New York Yankees

3. Toronto Blue Jays

4. Tampa Bay Rays

5. Baltimore Orioles

National League

West — The Rockies offense can compete with the Rangers and Red Sox; and they feature a legit ace and closer. The Dodgers have good things going, but it’s still early (even for the manager). And the Giants should compete to repeat, but I foresee a WS hangover combined with another meager offense. (And what if Lincecum gets hurt?)

1. Colorado Rockies

2. Los Angeles Dodgers

3. San Francisco Giants

4. San Diego Padres

5. Arizona Diamondbacks

Central — The Reds are for real. They can be good for the next few years, but need to improve their starting pitching to top the Cards consistently. However, injuries hurt the Cards. The Brewers aren’t as complete as the Reds, and the Cubs don’t have a clear enough direction yet.

1. Cincinnati Reds

2. Milwaukee Brewers

3. St. Louis Cardinals

4. Chicago Cubs

5. Houston Astros

6. Pittsburgh Pirates

East — The Phillies have the pitching and experience. I’m not sold on their offense, so don’t count the Braves out. The Mets and Marlins must learn to fall before they can walk. The Nationals are exciting because of their potential but still a year or two away.

1. Philadelphia Phillies

2. Atlanta Braves

3. New York Mets

4. Florida Marlins

5. Washington Nationals

AL Playoffs

Divisional Series

Red Sox over A’s

Rangers over White Sox

Championship Series

Red Sox over Rangers

NL Playoffs

Divisional Series

Reds over Dodgers

Rockies over Phillies

Championship Series

Rockies over Reds

World Series

Red Sox over Rockies

Today's Moment of Happiness

2011-03-29T17:32:00.000-07:00

Absolute Zero

2010-12-05T20:39:00.000-08:00

Watch the full episode. See more NOVA.

Today's Moment of Happiness

2010-10-26T17:56:00.001-07:00

Today's Moment of Happiness

2010-10-01T14:38:00.000-07:00

Statistically speaking...

2010-09-29T15:43:00.000-07:00

People use suffix prepositional phrases to get a chuckle. For example, “…in bed” following a fortune cookie (see “You are wise beyond your years…‘in bed;’” “You will come into a great deal of money tomorrow…‘in bed.’”), or “…that’s what she said” following just about anything (see “That tabletop is pretty hard…‘That’s what she said;’” “Shoot, I stained my pants…‘That’s what she said.’”). But where is the humorous prefix phrase that can be employed in virtually any situation for instant contextual laughter?

Today, I give you, “Statistically speaking…” This prefix phrase can be inserted into any conversation that is either freestanding or preceding a comment in response to a question. It’s very important, though, to recognize the situation you find yourself in before using such a device in order to maximize its effectiveness.

One) This is the purest form of the prefix usage – the standalone prefix statement. You casually stroll up to your friend and tell him, “Statistically speaking, my coffee tastes better in the morning.” This can be verified by a personally conducted study of your taste buds’ reaction to coffee in the morning versus afternoon or evening. True, your friend may think you odd, but if he really is your friend, he will tolerate (or better yet embrace) your whimsical humor.

We can extend this to a stranger on the street. You walk up next to a person at the crosswalk and exclaim, “Statistically speaking, this light turns green every three minutes.” He does not know if this is true or not, nor does he know you just made a joke. What you have done is thrown down a conversation starter (or thrown down the gauntlet if you happen to have bumped into a city-planner enthusiast).

It works equally well with the random girl at the bar. There is a beautiful redhead, with legs to boot, sitting at the end of a booth with her friends. (For this to work, it is optimal to target a redhead – statistically speaking, they tend to be more open to inane comments.) You walk up, and without even bothering to preface with an “Excuse me…,” you open with, “Statistically speaking, I’ve seen fewer gorgeous women at this establishment than there are strings on my guitar. There’s no reason to waste an opportunity to talk to one now.” Not only have you made her smile with your contextual prefix, but you’ve also complimented her looks and clued her in to your musical ability. Jackpot.

Two) This is the response-oriented usage. A friend walks up to you and asks, “How you doin’, man?” Your reply: “Statistically speaking, I am three sheets to the wind.” Notice the instantaneous reflex of the answer. Normally, one would say, “Good,” or “What’s up?” sans answer. The questioner is expecting the instant reply, so one must jump on the opportunity to employ the prefix phrase immediately. Before the questioner knows it, he has been victimized, not to realize the significance of your reply until you have already blown by him.

Another way to use the response-oriented version is to confuse and ward off authority figures. Let’s use a simple example. Your mother walks into the living room to see you watching baseball, or playing guitar, or any variety of amazing alternatives to doing work. She barks at you, “Go clean up your room!” This is where numbers turn to your advantage. Surprise her with your vast knowledge of information with, “You know, Mom, statistically speaking, an amphibian can regenerate its own tail at a rate of three per week.” This will stop the authority figure dead in her tracks. However, it is extremely important to speak to her in a calm and confident voice. Her mind, focused on the messiness of your room, will hone in on the respect and self-assuredness of your tone and address of “Mom.” (“Mother” would be too formal, and she would detect that you are patronizing her.) The “statistically speaking…” prefix sets her to up to hear something profound coming from her good-for-nothing son. Finally, the non-sequitur information is inconsequential, as it only has to sound like you know what you are saying. Can an amphibian actually regenerate its own tail three times per week? I don’t know, but neither does your mom. By this time, though, she has forgotten all about your room and can only walk away in either confusion, amazement, or utter horror. The reason, again, is unimportant, because the goal of the exercise is ward her off your free time. Mission accomplished.

Probably the most practical use of the response-oriented version is with the girlfriend. She walks out of the dressing room and asks you, “Does this dress make me look fat.” (!!!!!!!) The fire alarm should be going off in your head at this point. Ahhh, but you can quickly diffuse the situation with a deft use of “Statistically speaking…” There are two alternatives here. First, “Statistically speaking, you have never looked fat a day in your life.” She will love you for this one. Sans the awesome prefix, you run the risk of her feeling like you are dodging the question (which you are). The question would be repeated and you would be what we call “up shit creek.” However, the prefix gives you your paddle. She will find your quirky sense of humor cute and adorable. Coupled with the compliment, you have successfully evaded a landmine and have set yourself up for a long night of romance (and possible hanky panky).

The second use with the girlfriend will take you down another road. “Does this dress make me look fat?” Your response: “Statistically speaking, yes.” This reply radically departs from the common number reference with which we have previously stuck. You could stretch the argument to be a reading-between-the-lines reference to the number of her weight. Really, this response gets you no brownie points. It’s actually just a poor excuse to use your brand-spanking new humorous prefix, “Statistically speaking…” But let’s face it, you wanted to break up with her anyway.

If you master the usage of “Statistically speaking…,” you may begin to feel things getting stale. Not to worry. You can always spice things up by using the variation prefixes, “If we look at the numbers…,” or “All things being equal…,” or even “After doing the calculations…” If you employ these prefix devices correctly, you will assuredly impress folks and make new friends; however, you will also make many enemies who hate free-thinkers like us. You want this. When you encounter these disillusioned individuals, simply retort with the classic suffix, “Your mom.”

Bonus: Today, Prof. Butkin made a funny in Basic Corporations. “This case reminds me of that funeral joke. An atheist died and was dressed in a nice business suit and put in an open casket. A funeral attendee walked by and remarked, ‘What a shame, all dressed up and nowhere to go.’”

Today's Moment of Happiness

2010-09-29T07:17:00.000-07:00

Chasing the Wind

2010-09-23T16:09:00.001-07:00

There’s a man with a cane in his hand

Sporting the hat of Vaudeville band

His Ragtime clothes, pulled off a wire,

Must have spent the night around a trash can fire

Prowlin’ the gutters of Louisville Street

His wicked hairs wave like Kansas wheat

He spins on a dime to point his stick

At me flyin’ by on short-timed wick

Chase that wind

Walk that line

Run from them all

Burn another bridge

She carries her purse by a tattered string

Her muddy sequins echo and ring

The clothes of a mother adorn her stance

Nothing can escape her siren’s trance

Roamin’ the curb of lonely 7^th Street

Her perfect hair lays straight as a sheet

I hear out my window as I speed past

Something angry the sea would spray on my mast

Chase that wind

Walk that line

Run from them all

Burn another bridge

Her image flashes inside

More often than it should

But the thrill is gone

I knew it always would

Once you miss the boat,

You can never return

You can swim all you want,

You will never catch up

You just have to catch

The next ship coming in

Still I chase the howl

Of the winds that blow out

I try to walk

Along the line that draws on

Running away

Never does any good

The flames of each bridge

Chases me down each street

Dickey writes his own story of redemption

2010-09-22T11:25:00.000-07:00

Print

09/22/10 10:00 AM ET

Dickey writes his own story of redemption

Introspection pays off in emergence as successful knuckleballer

By /

Re ∙ demp ∙ tion

[ri-demp-shuhn]

-- noun
1. an act of redeeming or the state of being redeemed

2. deliverance; rescue

Redemption. It is a subject that hits R.A Dickey at the core.

The 10-letter noun is the theme of Dickey's own story, you see. In it lives his past and present, the two connected by a most circuitous path. It strikes at the idea of starting flawed and emerging whole.

That is Dickey's story.

He knows about stories, too, having immersed himself in literature as long as he can remember. An English major at the University of Tennessee, Dickey is drawn to the written word. For years he has examined literary characters and analyzed motifs, intuitively drawing comparisons to his own existence.

Dickey is a connoisseur of language, a geek for obscure vocabulary words.

Most know him because he is a Major League pitcher -- and not to mention, one of the brightest spots in the Mets' tumultuous season. But he makes sure to begin a recent interview by making a crucial distinction.

"I'm much more than this world," he says, gesturing around the Mets clubhouse, one day after tossing a complete game against the Pirates. "This is what I do and not what I am. And it's important for me to have it that way."

"I think everyone has their own story. It's how self-aware they are in their own story that makes their life rich."

-- R.A. Dickey

Yes, Dickey is a pitcher. He is also a father. A Christian. An academic. A husband.

He is a 35-year-old man whose career appears on the way up after 14 years of it being up, down and all over. He is a knuckleballer who houses a dictionary and thesaurus among other books in his clubhouse stall. He is a medical anomaly defying doctor's expectations by even taking a mound to begin with.

"I think we all are given a story," he says. "You. Me. I think everyone has their own story. It's how self-aware they are in their own story that makes their life rich."

Redemption. That is Dickey's story.

Maybe it's because he is admittedly drawn to literature illustrating a redemptive theme -- "That theme really appeals to the human heart," he opines -- that he is so acutely aware of his own story. Nevertheless, there are chapters in it that Dickey is especially forthcoming to recount.

About how he gave his life to Christ at the age of 13 and continues confirming that faith through outreach service. About how the discovery that he was missing the ulnar collateral ligament in his right elbow shaved the Rangers' signing-bonus offer from $810,000 to $75,000 after he was drafted in 1996. About how he toiled through his first six seasons in the Majors only to intertwine demotions and promotions with a 5.43 big-league ERA.

Then there is this 2010 season, a chapter all its own. With an 11-7 record, Dickey has two more wins than he's ever had in a season. His 2.92 ERA is 10th best in the National League.

Like any story, though, it is part of a greater body of work.

"I think it's grown and been a real evolution that started in 2005," he says in an effort to explain what seems like sudden success. "Well, even before that. I think the genesis of it started when I was drafted and the whole signing-bonus thing happened. Those things teach you things that you can't learn otherwise. And those things that I have learned along the way might not be the things that have gotten me here, but they are the things that I feel like are going to help me stay here."

Redemption. That is Dickey's story.

It took a cast of knuckleball pitchers -- a select and tight fraternity -- to put Dickey on the precipice of a breakout season. Charlie Hough mentored the right-hander first, doing so when Dickey was still in the Rangers organization. Tim Wakefield came next. Phil Niekro invited Dickey to Atlanta after the 2008 season, which he'd spent in Seattle and Tacoma.

Together, they all helped Dickey perfect the knuckleball, which, quite frankly, was his last resort. The right-hander knew he would be nothing more than an average pitcher -- at best -- without it.

"I had access to their acumen," Dickey recalls. "I could talk to them, and they had walked a mile in my shoes. I don't think it was one 'ah-ha!' moment, but it was perpetually, I was getting these 'ah-ha!' moments."

If there was such a moment, it came through self-realization.

One thing that must be understand about Dickey is that while he is analytical to a point -- what English major isn't? -- he craves depth. When he seeks answers, he digs. He passes by the superficial, hopeful that he can unearth the root.

Dickey has observed how such a motif plays out in literature. How tackling the source instead of dealing with the symptoms offers a better chance at solving the problem.

In mastering the knuckleball, that root issue initially lay with Dickey trying to be someone he wasn't. Dickey slowly realized that he didn't have to emulate Wakefield. That meant ending his attempts to slow down his knuckleball to Wakefield-like speeds and quitting efforts to mirror Wakefield's mechanics.

With that came the freedom to be himself. With that, came redemption.

"When I embraced that," he begins, "things started to turn a little bit, both as a human being and as a baseball player. Mastering this pitch has always been something that I wanted and that I feel like I had been given the guts to do so."

That is part of Dickey's story. The part that has gotten him here.

An aspiring author, Dickey plans on penning his narrative one day, likely in a book of non-fiction essays. He keeps a journal to preserve his baseball memories and admits that he has "a lot of ideas floating around up there."

"This is my 15th year in baseball," he says. "So I have a lot of things that I've written and thought about and cogitated over that I think would be interesting."

The thing is, Dickey's collection of baseball anecdotes doesn't appear to be complete. He has plenty of tales about the journey but not yet enough about the destination, which seems to be what he has finally reached in 2010.

As Dickey confidently explains, "I don't feel like I'm at the zenith on my way down, let's put it that way."

Consider the late success of the knuckleballers who have come before him. Hough collected 147 of his 216 wins after he turned 35. Wakefield has tallied 102 victories since his 35th birthday. Joe and Phil Niekro combined for 313 wins after reaching that age.

Dickey turned 35 last October and did so with only 22 career wins to his name since making his Major League debut in 2001. He has already tallied half that number this year, still with two starts left to make.

On the surface, Dickey's career seems laced much more with failure than achievement. Dickey would disagree. And he would argue that this is the only way his story was ever supposed to be told.

"I could never have done what I'm doing now as a 25-year-old," he says. "I think there's something to throwing this pitch well that you need a level of maturity. For me, there's a real correlation between being older and dealing with what this pitch requires that you deal with."

Starting flawed. Emerging whole.

Redemption.

And don't think for a moment that Dickey misses how it all works together: "I really feel like that anything that you sincerely believe, ardently desire and enthusiastically act upon has a good chance of coming to pass."

That is Dickey's story.

Jenifer Langosch is a reporter for MLB.com. This story was not subject to the approval of Major League Baseball or its clubs.

MLB.com

Music is Happiness

2010-09-16T15:56:00.000-07:00

Someone once asked me, “Are you happy?” I was, so I replied in the affirmative, followed by, “Why do you ask?” She told me, “Because you’re singing. People sing when they’re happy.”

Without even realizing it, I was singing to myself. I don’t remember if I was actually happy or I was just trying to float on a cloud for a bit. Regardless, the point stuck with me. Happiness and music were intrinsically interconnected.

Some might argue that pain and music can also be deeply linked. But that’s the link: pain, not unhappiness. What is closer to the truth is that unhappy people who make music are looking for a release to their pain. Music gets them there. It is an outlet for their pain. Perhaps these folks do not find happiness after finishing their music, but at the very least they are lost in the music while they make it. For example, guys like Peter Ham, Kurt Cobain and Elliot Smith were tortured artists at the time of their deaths (God rest their souls), yet they chose to pursue music. My suspicion is that they felt that release of pain – not unlike a drug – when they played.

I understand many may disagree with the above paragraph, but because music is so deep, complex, diverse, let us continue to find why music holds such a profound effect on us rather than its connection to happiness for the moment.

When I play, all of my body, belly, eyes, ears, mind and soul engage. I have felt nothing else in life that makes all of who I am feel alive at the same time. My fingers move, air rushes from my belly through my throat, I am both listening and creating something. When I finish, my music evaporates; therefore, I cherish each note as it occurs that much more.

When I listen to live music, the sight and sound of the music hits me at once, much like a movie. Everything else around seems to fade into the background as I watch someone perform. In hearing someone else’s music live, I get to peer into the musician’s soul for a moment. You hear the lyrics, you feel the emphasis of the notes, you see how carefully the music is crafted. It can tell a story, describe an emotion, show utter humor, or rejoice in the music, among many other objectives.

A party is a celebration of life. It is no coincidence that music is invariably found at all parties (with strange exceptions). And people dance – they dance because the sound and rhythm of the music dictates that their body moves. And there is where music transcends even the magic of the movies. Emotions can flow from the stories movies, but they don’t dictate how a body moves as well. Furthermore, a movie is a single story, capturing a slice of life. People sometimes ask what a song means. I answer them, “Whatever it means to you.” It meant something to the artist at the time it was written, but once it is in someone else’s ear it can be taken in any context a listener finds oneself.

The party description is also the argument for happiness. If a party is the celebration of life – and one is happy to be alive – and music goes hand-in-hand with a party, then music and happiness are, in fact, interconnected. One is happy, so one sings or listens and dances to music. One is listening to music, and it makes one happy because the soul begins to dance. If one is unhappy at a single moment, you will rarely – if ever – see that person singing.

I’ll give you dissenters this much: if you are unhappy with life, you will not be a huge music fan. For the record, vice versa is not the truth here. Look, I argue for those who are unhappy with life to listen to more music. I think if you do you will see, hear and feel more energy in your life. That energy may not cure your unhappiness, but it certainly will bridge gaps in your life. You will feel more humanity. You will be able to feel a connectedness with other people without having to explain yourself, without owing anyone anything.

Music is the celebration of life. Embrace it, sing it, share it. Let happiness ring throughout your being.

Today's Moment of Happiness

2010-09-15T15:45:00.000-07:00

Today's Moment of Happiness

2010-09-14T17:12:00.001-07:00

Today's Moment of Happiness

2010-09-12T17:46:00.000-07:00

Today's Moment of Happiness (for Jason)

2010-08-31T18:18:00.000-07:00

It has been quiet
Too quiet to expect song
But it comes to dawn

There in the shadow
A violence grows with pressure
There is no measure...

Today's Moment of Happiness

2010-06-07T16:51:00.000-07:00

Steve Jobs' commencement address to Stanford (2005)

2010-05-31T20:14:00.000-07:00

I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world. I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this is the closest I've ever gotten to a college graduation. Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories.

The first story is about connecting the dots.

I dropped out of Reed College after the first 6 months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop out?

It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: "We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?" They said: "Of course." My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college.

And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn't interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting.

It wasn't all romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends' rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example:

Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn't have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can't capture, and I found it fascinating.

None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, its likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.

Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.

My second story is about love and loss.

I was lucky — I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with over 4000 employees. We had just released our finest creation — the Macintosh — a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired. How can you get fired from a company you started? Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.

I really didn't know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down - that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I even thought about running away from the valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me — I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over.

I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.

During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer animated feature film, Toy Story, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I returned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.

I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired from Apple. It was awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith. I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.

My third story is about death.

When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.

I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and I'm fine now.

This was the closest I've been to facing death, and I hope its the closest I get for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual concept:

No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.

Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

When I was young, there was an amazing publication called The Whole Earth Catalog, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960's, before personal computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors, and polaroid cameras. It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: it was idealistic, and overflowing with neat tools and great notions.

Stewart and his team put out several issues of The Whole Earth Catalog, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: "Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish." It was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.

Thank you all very much.

Today's Moment of Happiness

2010-05-24T08:17:00.000-07:00

The Desires of your Heart

2010-05-24T06:22:00.000-07:00

In the words of Oscar Wilde, "In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it. The last is much the worst."

Translation: My will gets me into trouble. I aim for some goal or other, but even when I get it, I am rarely satisfied. It doesn't make my life complete, so I raise the ante, set a new goal, and push even harder. Or I don't get what I want and feel inadequate or deprived. Maybe that is why not one of the Twelve Steps talks about carrying out my will.

The only times I have ever found lasting satisfaction were when I let go of self-will and committed myself to seeking the will of my Higher Power. Prayer and meditation are two means by which I seek to discover what God's will holds for me, and they help me to gain access to the power to carry it out.

Sometimes my hopes and desires are forms of guidance. When I am willing to place God's will above my own, those dreams have a chance of becoming a wonderful reality.

Today's Reminder

The path to my true heart's desire is to surrender to the will of my Higher Power.

"We know that God can and will do anything that is for our ultimate good, if we are ready to receive His help."

~ The Twelve Steps and Traditions

Today's Moment of Happiness

2010-05-20T22:09:00.000-07:00

The Truth

2010-05-20T22:04:00.000-07:00

There is only one truth in this world, and that is the truth. You can wait your entire life for the answer, and it will never come. The truth must be sought out. It must prayed for. It must be in your heart. Life contains joy and pain. It contains love and war. These are equals and opposites. I submit that you must work for joy and love, and fight pain and war. Mother Teresa said, “I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.” Love without reservation. Love is the truth. And the truth can hurt. Never give up on the truth, though. Whatever you feel in your heart is the truth, and that is love. It does not leave you. So give your love freely, give until you are empty. Love cannot be killed by war, you will be restored. When you feel empty, seek the truth. It will lead to more love. Celebrate life, celebrate each other. God is love, and He put each of us on this earth for the purpose of loving. So share your love and trust that it will be reciprocated. When you empty your burdens, you are free to be refilled with love. Trust the truth, your heart will smile, and the whole world will smile with you.

Today's Moment of Happiness

2010-05-12T12:45:00.000-07:00

The Church of Baseball

2010-04-21T23:28:00.000-07:00

The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
he restores my soul.
He guides me in paths of righteousness
for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.

~ Psalm 23

I am but a small man. Compared to the LORD I am nothing. Through the business of life, school, heart, family, it is easy to lose sight of the LORD. Yet He constantly watches over us, whether we are aware or not. It’s funny how I pray everyday for him to be with me, with us, and to guide us because even if I don’t pray for his presence, He is still there. This is not to say one has no need to pray for his presence. On the contrary, the act of praying for him restores my soul.

Remember the line from Field of Dreams where Terrance Mann says, “And they’ll watch the game and it’ll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters”? No? Well, I do. It’s about baseball, but I am convinced W.P. Kinsella (the novelist of Shoeless Joe, on which the movie is based) thought to himself, “Hrm…Psalm 23:2…” as he wrote that line. And I don’t think it’s any coincidence that Annie Savoy claims she belongs to the Church of Baseball in Bull Durham. In many ways, the beauty, ritual and nation of baseball resemble a church. It teaches discipline, deals with ethics, each team develops it’s own adapted philosophy, and there’s even the Eucharist of the beer and hot dog. The point is that in the hubbub of daily life, we take time out to watch a baseball game, commune with friends and family (or even in solitude), and meditate on the intra-workings of a higher order than ourselves; in that timeout, as we survey the green grass of the outfield and sit beside the flowing white chalk foul line, our souls become restored.

It is the same with the Lord. When we take the time to study and speak to him, commune with our congregation and family (or in solitude), and pray and question the intra-workings of his kingdom, Psalm 23 happens. The LORD is always shepherding; it’s just up to us to take the time to close our eyes and open our hearts.

Today's Moment of Happiness

2010-04-19T18:01:00.000-07:00

Old Chinese Proverb

2010-03-31T17:04:00.000-07:00

There was a poor man who lived a small village. One day his only valuable possession, his horse, ran off. His neighbor said, "This is the worst thing that could ever happen!" The man replied, "We will see."

The next day the prized horse returned to the man with a stampede of wild stallions. The neighbor exclaimed, "This the greatest thing that could ever happen!" The man responded, "We will see."

The following day the man's son rode one of the wild stallions, fell, and severely broke his leg and would walk with a limp for the rest of his life. The neighbor despaired, "This is the worst thing that could ever happen!" But the man still said, "We will see."

On the fourth day, the Red Army came knocking on the man's door to draft soldiers for a bloody war. They could not draft the man's son because of his broken leg. The neighbor delighted, "This the greatest thing that could ever happen!" The man mutedly said, "We will see..."

———————————————————A†Ω———————————————————

If one were to put happiness on a scale of 1-10, I would prefer to flow between 4-7, staying as close to 7 as possible. It's good to be happy, and it's good to experience unhappiness to appreciate and recognize happiness when you attain it. But much like a pendulum, when you reach a 10, the only place to go is down, and it is often a hard fall.

This is why Solomon said, “Have no fear of sudden disaster or of the ruin that overtakes the wicked, for the Lord will be your confidence and will keep your foot from being snared.” Proverbs 3:25-26 (NIV). The truth is that we each need to “trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” If we each, “in all your ways acknowledge him…he will make your paths straight.” Proverbs 3:5-6. The poor man in the village had no understanding

The Lord is our rock. If we delight in Him, we can never fail, fall, or fatigue. Instead, we will always be happy, healthy, and healed. These are not absolutes, though. We can still feel burdened and let down. That is human nature, people disappoint. Only Jesus was perfect. But if we strive to act like him and ask, “What would Jesus do?” we just might be happy more often than sad, having the energy and motivation to accomplish a lot more good, thus bringing more joy to others.

Take the Genesis story of Joseph and his brothers, for example. Joseph had his father’s favor and a richly ornamented robe. He received dreams of grandeur, where all bowed to him. He did not bask in the dreams, rather shared them with his brothers. His brothers despaired, stripped Joseph of his robe, and sold him into slavery. Jacob, his father, thought Joseph dead, so he wept; but there was no need because he lived, and prospered.

Meanwhile, Joseph’s brother, Judah, ran amuck, sleeping around, and forcing others to sleep around. This angered the Lord, so He struck many down. Joseph, however, maintained his chastity in Egypt. His master, Potiphar, put him in charge of his home. Joseph recognized how relatively good he had it and refused Potiphar’s wife come-ons. But she eventually framed him, and Joseph was thrown in jail. Buuut, “the Lord was with him; he showed him kindness and granted him favor in the eyes of the prison warden.” Genesis 39:21. And Joseph ran the prison as well. In his gratitude, Joseph freely interpret the dreams of fellow inmates as a favor.

After two years, one of the inmates informed the Pharaoh of Joseph’s skills. Joseph was able to interpret the Pharaoh’s dreams and was given the keys to Egypt, saving food during a famine. His brothers fatly ate before the famine and starved. This gave Joseph the chance to encounter his brothers after 13 years, putting them to the test. They freaked and so did Jacob, their father! They spent so much time worrying about what Joseph would do to them, but he had only compassion for his brothers. In fact, at the sight of his youngest brother, Benjamin, Joseph wept. He realized how fortunate he was to be with his family once more; in his gratitude to the Lord, Joseph gave five times the portion of food to Benjamin and the family feasted together.

When Joseph revealed himself to his brothers, he forgave: “‘And now, do not be distressed and do not be angry with yourselves for selling me here, because it was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you.’” Genesis 45:5. He looked on the bright side of the road, the Godly side. His dreams of all bowing to him had been fulfilled, but only by being sold into slavery could the prophesy be fulfilled. It was God’s plan.

As such, even upon their father’s death, Joseph reassured his brothers of his forgiveness and lived in prosperity.

This started out as an argument to maintain a steady level of happiness. It still is, but I think it’s also true that to persevere in happiness, one must have faith in God. His will is to be done, not ours. And if God is good, then all things thrown our way are of Him, and as are good. Therefore, we can celebrate each joy, each tragedy, and each neutrality to His glory. That alone has the power to bring us happiness, if we let it.

It’s all about faith. After all, it all works out in the end, there’s no other way!

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2010-03-31T14:58:00.000-07:00

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2010-03-22T22:20:00.001-07:00

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Life in a Nutshell

2010-03-12T23:17:00.000-08:00

Life is hard. It’s tragic. It’s painful. But it’s also beautiful. And if we can just learn to receive it, it can be something amazing.

It’s the cry of a newborn. It’s the belch of a baby. It’s a dog licking your hand. It’s the breeze against your cheek. It’s sunburn from a day at the beach. It’s the smile of a sibling. It’s the laughter of a dear friend. It’s the arms of a parent around you. It’s the sense of accomplishment. It’s the generosity of a grandparent. It’s the kindness of a stranger. It’s the warmth of home. It’s the kiss of a lover.

It’s the cold of the rain. It’s the breaking of a glass. It’s the emptiness of loneliness. It’s the despair of hopelessness. It’s the uselessness of worthlessness. It’s the break-up of a relationship. It’s the sense of rejection. It’s the death of a loved one.

It’s the faith of God. It’s the companionship of Christ. It’s the breath of the Holy Spirit. It’s the sacrifice of service. It’s everything good and bad in the world wrapped into a single woven blanket of forgiveness. It’s what we take for granted and what we cherish each moment we stop to open our eyes.

We can believe we are being punished in our misfortunes, yet lavish ourselves with praise in our triumphs. We can curse bad luck, yet battle in preparation for opportunity. We can hate at the same time we love. We can long for a family, pine for a lover, hope for a chance, wish for a change, demand justice, kill in the name of life.

I have no great ambitions anymore but to love with every decent fiber of my being I have left. I wish only to recognize every blessing God bestows upon me at the moment He gives it. I alone cannot change the world. But with a lot of love, and a lot of help, I have faith I will create something good out of His blanket of forgiveness.

There is no call to action. Just listen and follow what moves in your heart. I know life will show you something amazing.

The Pendulum

2010-02-18T11:21:00.001-08:00

The pendulum swings back
All the way back
Suddenly opposite is true
And clouds change hue

The storm crashes in
It’s felt once again
The hard, cold rain will fall
Left outside the wall

The torque of the tether line
The cloud left behind
The sprinkling gathers
The resistance shatters

Running to catch the sun
Eventually bears none
This drenching will be fresh
No help from mere mesh

Umbrellas are for the weak
The Earth inherited by the meek
Falling to my laborious knees
I must run again, please

Another Haitian Foundational Crack

2010-02-06T12:55:00.000-08:00

The enlarged hearts of the world have found their way to ravaged Haiti. This country has felt the wrath of poverty for its entire existence. Now the earthquake that ravaged this already destitute land on January 12 has put the world’s focus on the minute region with over 212,000 dead estimated.

Philanthropists from all over the United States have poured into Haiti over the last three weeks to bring food, water, and shelter. Laura Silsby from Idaho takes special heed of the shelter charity. Her life’s work has mounted to housing orphaned children. Her plan before the earthquake was to begin an orphanage in the Dominican Republic for all children on the island containing both countries. The New Life Children’s Refuge house was bought in 2008. It is described by Silsby’s nanny, Charisa Coulter, as “dedicated to rescuing, living and caring for orphaned, abandoned and impoverished Haitian and Dominican children, demonstrating God’s love and helping each child find healing, hope, joy and new life in Christ.”

Personally, Silsby has had struggles with her finances back home. Her entrepreneur venture of PersonalShopper.com has been on its way out of business and she is facing creditors who seek hundreds of thousands of dollars as well as payroll lawsuits from former employees. Even with the business failing, Silsby shelled out $358,000 for the New Life house and had even grander plans for an orphanage back in Idaho. Despite these mounting albatrosses, Silsby decided it wise to leave her own young children (sans nanny, as Coulter traveled to Haiti with her) to seize the moment and aid in Haiti after the earthquake.

At this point, the story is not clear. Silsby and nine other Baptist missionaries picked up 33 Haitian children and led them to the Dominican border to take to the New Life orphanage, which is not yet completed at this time. However, it is known that the majority of the children are not orphans. Conflicting stories say Silsby and company rounded them up on their own, or they were given to them by the parents for the opportunity at a better life elsewhere, or the parents expected the children to remain in the Dominican and return to Haiti to visit frequently. The New Life orphanage website actually says its children would be eligible for adoption though U.S. agencies. The group got local Haitians and Dominicans to provide paperwork to comply with local laws; however, all did not go smoothly. The 10 missionaries were sent back from the border and arrested in Port-au-Prince for child abduction and criminal association, which carries a punishment of nine to 15 years in prison. The children never made it across the border.

Let’s recap: 1) mounting debt and lawsuits, 2) no income, 3) buying and planning expensive properties for non-profit, 4) leaving own children at home sans nanny, 5) taking risk of breaking felonious laws in unstable foreign country. Let’s put aside the obvious political position in which Haiti and the U.S. are. Let’s even forgive the fact that Silsby broke Haitian law, assuming she obtained all the children’s parents’ permission and was honest with them. Even if Silsby had all the proper and legal documentation, what was she thinking?!

I possess two core values, community and personal responsibility. One has an obligation to give to one’s community to uplift individuals within the group; likewise, the one receives support from the community and grows to a position in which one can help others. In this dynamic, everyone helps each person grow. However, one cannot help another if one is not on stable footing. One must take the personal responsibility to join the community, participate in it, be open to receiving help, and take care of one’s personal affairs. Only then will one be ready to fully help the community grow. Reciprocally, a healthy community gives one the encouragement needed to take personal responsibility.

In this situation, Silsby is focused on a world community, one in which members of prosperous countries reach out to members of destitute countries. Silsby and her missionaries have hearts of gold. They dedicated themselves to helping children in need. They bring them love, support, and food. The missionaries were seen smiling as they were taken to and from the courthouse. I would venture a guess that Silsby houses orphans in her own home. I’ll be she is a wonderful person. Now the evil Haitian government is putting her on trial. And the horrific U.S. government is sitting by idly!

I do not question the goodness in what Silsby desires to do. The situation in Haiti is subhuman, and the country needs positive. But her results are turning out terribly. She led a group of missionaries into committing a felony in a foreign country. She left her small children at home. They could be orphans for nine to 15 years if she is convicted. She has abandoned reformation her debts at home and taken on new ones elsewhere. It is her unstable foundation that has derailed her well-intended mission. Silsby has not taken personal responsibility.

There is no one that can clean up Silsby’s debts but Silsby. No one can be Silsby’s children’s mother except Silsby. And by not going through the proper channels, she has gotten herself and nine others arrested.

I enter exhibit A showing why one cannot have a healthy community without individuals taking personal responsibility.

Sits with a Smile

2010-02-01T17:28:00.000-08:00

She sits with a smile
It radiates across her round face
It echoes straight ahead
And balloons to fill the bubble she has put you in

You can feel the bubble
It pulsates around your lost head
You notice it surrounding your stable body
Then your trusted body weakens, bends and torques

Your body is foreign to the smile
It harkens memories long lost
But it does not connect to your warped mind
Instead it carries you inside a low lying cloud

That cloud knows not the time
It speaks of longing known only to all persons
Who have ventured on their own
Only to find the courage to remain in the cloud

The smile comes pushing through the cloud
It offers peace in solitude
It offers hope in the face of desperation
The wayward son emerges from the dank bubble

Mere men are offered the choice
Every day of their stretched lives the options weighed
The cowboy bangs the fence post into the earth
On his left the pasture, on his right the rushing cars

The smile fades into herself
The bubble’s walls grow thicker
For a moment the light refracts just so
As the straw breaks, the smile returns

The cloud blinds the light
The evanescent mirrors fall into place
The show you a dark world
One which no man deserves save Dante’s imagination

Your lips part like a pond of reeds
The wind blows straight through
It carries on it the words of time
And whistles silently like the ruins of lost generations

Where was that smile last decade?
This soapy bubble has cleansed
It has merely broken and slapped you in the face
The body responds by snapping back into place

The work of your generation is still left to toil
The body aches as the mind bends inward
So the singular smile will have to wait
Until the next day’s eternity falls from the brink

The Midnight Light

2010-01-30T22:37:00.000-08:00

It is as if God himself were calling me
The night falls still but the people keep playing
My hands freeze and my soul grows
It grows with the midnight light

The dark sky shrinks to white
It collects all ambient light and mirrors the thick ground
Tomorrow the children will play once again
And I will watch them sleigh from the window

The brightness of day blinds me like night
But the painting of night wakes me up with the birds
Each light-footed step is a mile in rackets
They pass over my feet like sands of an hourglass

I chip off the lucid melting icicles
Only to see them reappear under the midnight clouds
And they speak to me from Heaven
I comprehend they’re tremendous silence

God is in this bright place
He may depart by the busy morning
The gentle devil pushes my sporadic work
For he has never laid eyes upon the midnight sun

Did You Bring Your Bags?

2010-01-30T10:56:00.000-08:00

Our nation’s capitol has decided to raise taxes. This is nothing special in and of itself. The items taxed have people up in arms. The city of Washington, D.C., has begun taxing five cents for every grocery bag. The city hopes to increase reusable bags and cut down on pollution in the Anacostia River. Instead, it has increased pollution in business models.

The ploy has forced non-food stores to eliminate the sale of impulse-buy food items at the registers. Some stores make the majority of their profits on non-food items, yet 20 percent of their business could come from food sales. That 20 percent has had to disappear.

The tax is made all the more complex by the exceptions that stores must sort through to see if they can get away with not charging for plastic or paper bags. Some food-related items the city legislature will allow to be bagged tax-free, some not. Some goods MUST be bagged in paper or plastic, so the city makes the judgment on if it will be taxed. More confusing still, restaurants are not required to charge for doggie bags, but most restaurants do not realize this. Patrons walk out of dining establishments with their food in their hands sans support. This exercise happens in liquor stores as well, causing customers embarrassment at either their purchase or when the food spills to the ground. A sandwich shop must charge for a bag unless it has tables and chairs, but even then it must go to the extremes of using 100% recyclable bags made up of at least 40% recycled material with which to begin and have orders printed on the bag to recycle it.

OK, stop. All this for some lousy bags? This cultural way of thinking is spreading. There will be towns in California imposing this tax before the end of the year if some have not already. Here in Middle America, reusable bags are sold left and right, so this tax could make its way to the more conservative parts of the country as well.

A consumer poll in The Washington Post showed shoppers split on the tax. Some do not mind having to haul in a ton of reusable bags to shop for groceries, or paying for a convenience stores have always covered before, or the fact that this better for environment. Some do mind, choosing to shop in Virginia to avoid the tax, or like the convenience of free bags in their local grocery store, or being able to make a spontaneous stop for a few items without being nickeled by the Man.

The city declares it would be happier with earning less revenue from this tax, since it would mean the Anacostia would be cleaner. I find it hard to believe the D.C. coffers would not miss the $3.5 million it projects the tax to collect this year. Maybe it is the cynic in me that predicts the tax on reusable bag sales will go up in an inverse relationship to the decline of the new plastic/paper bag charge revenue stream.

Now get this from The Wall Street Journal: “Stores keep one cent of every five cents they charge for bags, and two cents if they give customers a credit of at least five cents for each bag (of any sort) that they bring to the store.” Understand? Do not worry, it took me three readings to wrap my mind around that one. Think about how clerks and shoppers interpret that mess at the checkout stand every day in the capitol.

I am not against saving the environment. I am just more for free enterprise. Half of customers do not have a problem with this tax. So be it, they can buy their recyclable bags and shop with those. Personally, I avoid using a bag whenever possible. It is one more thing to have to put somewhere when I get home, and it is wasteful. Allow customers to choose to be environmentally conscious on their own, but do not force it down the throats of the other half. That makes folks resentful and mistrusting of the government.

How about this instead? More bag recycling centers outside grocery stores. Finding cheaper ways to manufacture reusable bags. Advocating recycling in our schools. Rome was not built in a day, nor will consumers’ views on recycling change in a day. But it will change. People are more and more aware of their impact on the environment all the time. We are not talking about oppression, civil rights, discrimination, etc.; we’re talking about grocery bags! Not only does the government not need to force change down consumers’ throats, but it disrupts the economic balance of the marketplace.

Environmental policy should not have a large impact on the minute workings of the economy. Some folks take their business outside the city. Some risk the loss of items due to not using bags when they probably should. Some have anger and stress increase when they enter the grocery store. And some simply factor in the additional $10 cost each year by cutting out $10 in another part of their budget. I am no economic expert, but taking $10 out of the revenue stream of the private sector and putting it into the revenue stream of a government entity that claims it does not want this revenue seems like it would damage the marketplace.

People need to take more personal responsibility for their lives, environmental impact, and wallets. They should not be looking to the Man solve their problems. As the Lord giveth, He taketh away.

The Quarter Parrot

2010-01-07T10:23:00.000-08:00

Along my block back home in Caddowood Creek, there was an older woman who could no longer walk well. Margaret Quarter was a widow and her children were scattered throughout the country. She could not care for a dog like she used to, and she hated cats. But she did have one old companion: a talking parrot. Satchel was green with a yellow and red beak, but the bottom half of the beak was broken at the tip. And with Satchel being around 60 years old, Margaret had to break up his food before she gave it to him. Parrots can live to be 80 or 90, much like people, but Margaret had not always had Satchel. About 10 years ago, Margaret’s husband had passed away. Margaret’s good friend Susie Cook ran a bakery in the neighborhood. Around the same time as Margaret’s husband’s passing, Helen Hodge patronized Susie’s bakery. Helen headed up the Home Observance Tour in Caddowood. The Tour was made up of elderly women in the neighborhood with nothing much else to do anymore other than fix up their houses and show them off to each other. They liked to refer to themselves as the HOT Women. Most people speculated they forced the “Observance” to get the acronym. Susie was also a member and Helen thought it would be nice to show her own home with catering from a fellow member. So Helen bought several platters of baked goods on credit from Susie. Unfortunately, after the HOT showing and before Helen could pay for the platters, Helen suffered a stroke and died. Instead of demanding payment from Helen’s son, she asked that Helen’s surviving parrot be given to her for a good home. Susie in turn gave the parrot to her good friend and recently widowed Margaret for her birthday.

Margaret grew to love to talk Satchel, but he was demanding. Satchel was a vegan and thus became very upset at Margaret if she did not feed him properly. Consequently, Margaret spent much of her time shopping for and feeding Satchel. As an older male parrot, Satchel became more and more like Margaret’s husband. With very few ambitions of her own at this point in her life, Margaret tended to bow to all of Satchel’s suggestions. One day, the Quarters had just finished a big meal of black-eyed peas, raw squash, and turnips, and had sat down to digest in front of the television. Margaret flipped through the channels until Satchel squawked at her to stop at an infomercial. It was for one of those Rascal scooters you can apply for to get one free. Satchel blurted out, “Go for a walk, go for a walk!” This annoyed Margaret immensely as not only could she not walk anymore, but also she used to be a champion distance runner. She warned Satchel, “Shut it or I’ll break the rest of your beak!” He replied, “Call ’em up, call ’em up!” She didn’t have the strength anyway, so Margaret picked up the phone and applied for her free Rascal. Lo and behold she got one. Its arrival brought a newfound surge of energy to Margaret. She found she could go places once again. She could “walk” to the grocery store. She could “walk” over to Susie’s Bakery. She could “walk” to her husband’s grave. But Margaret grew tired of Satchel’s constant whining whenever she stopped at places. So Margaret decided to pick up her old sport to keep Satchel occupied and quiet. Now, everyday you can see Margaret doing laps back and forth along Springdale Road between Plateau Lane and Walnut Creek on her Rascal with Satchel perched on her left shoulder. If you call to her, “Making good time today?” Satchel will interrupt her, “New record son, new record!” For her birthday this year, Susie gave Margaret an eye patch and bandana. Margaret was hoping for a miniature ball gag.

Thanksgiving

2009-12-14T17:08:00.001-08:00

The opportunity to live is short. We have but a handful of moments to make use of it. We owe it to ourselves to use that time to experience all that we can, to love fully, and to share our joys and concerns. Do not guard your heart, but cast it to the wind in the hope it finds and spreads joy. Eat well and share what you can spare. Smell the roses and invite others to smell the good ones. Live for yourself; accept help that is granted to you; and give away as much time as possible. When you pass to the next plane, do not fear, for you have sucked as much out of the tree of life as you can stand. When you live life, you transcend death. Thank you for life.

Freedom isn't free

2009-09-24T07:16:00.001-07:00

A buddy of mine posted this. I liked it. I hope you'll like it too.

Where do questions get us?

2009-09-16T17:24:00.000-07:00

Father, what is the purpose of life?
Why do you want to know, my son?
I want to know my place.
Then you will.

What am I supposed to accomplish?
What do you want to accomplish?
I want God to show me the way.
Then He will.

What does God want from me?
What do you have to offer?
All I have is myself.
Then that is enough.

But how do I hear Him?
How do you hear me?
I hear you fine.
Do you?

How do I live a full life?
How did your father raise you?
He raised me with a full family.
Then you are wise.

What must I do to escape loneliness?
Why must you escape it?
I wish to find my better half.
Then you will.

Why is it so difficult to find wholeness?
Why do you ask me?
I have been empty during my life.
Then your bucket will be full.

Why do friends come and go?
Why do the geese migrate each year?
But why does trust not last?
Why do boys grow into men?

Father, why do you always answer a question with a question?
Son, why don’t you ask yourself?

FAFSA-tation

2009-07-07T12:07:00.000-07:00

I just got off the Live Help function of the FAFSA website (federal student aid -- optimal word "federal"). In order to get the best loans rates and conditions for school, one must first register on this website.

Naturally, I figured I would go back to the website after registering to find out how much federal loan money I was authorized to take out. Much to my chagrin, I could not find a link that led me to that screen. I did, however, find a status check link. My application had been processed!

Still unable to locate the dollar figure, I discovered the Live Help function. I explained my situation. The agent asked me for all of my personal information that I had already entered into the website so that she could check my status. Instead of citing all that to her (a repetitous act indeed), I cut to the chase. I had already seen my status; now I need the result. No can do, she told me.

It turns out that the FAFSA website only exists for registration purposes. ANY other information must be gathered directly from your school's financial aid office.

Excuse me?! Parlez vous france? So what, pray tell, is the function of the employees at FAFSA's Live Help? To eat up our tax dollars by regurgitating useless state drivel, telling us to ask someone else?

I could only laugh to keep from crying...

2009-06-19T07:45:00.000-07:00

Every Thursday evening, I exercise my privilege to participate in my Toastmasters Club. It's a place where one grows his or her capability and confidence in public speaking and leadership. (And it looks great on a resume!) But more than that, Big D Toastmasters Club has given me so many wonderful friendships and networking opporutnities in my career path and in my life's many endeavors.

I encourage all people to join a local Toastmaster's club for more than just the self-improvement, but also the comraderie that will not let you slip off into the dark without reaching out to help. The following is a column I wrote for the June 2009 edition of my club's newsletter, The Big "D" Amplifier:

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It’s a warm blanket on a cold evening. It’s a cool drink on a hot day. A home-cooked meal after a week on the road.

Big D brings the kind of dependable comfort you can only find among old friends. Many members here are, in fact, old friends. For a 60-year old club, there better be old friends!

Still, most of you, like me, are relatively new to Big D – or new to Toastmasters, period. Nonetheless, week-in and week-out, Big D offers all of its members and guests a warm greeting and a fun meeting. And after we’ve had to drag ourselves away, a great sense of ease and peace rushes over us with the knowledge that we’ve just been in the company of good friends.

Our club holds tremendous pride to contribute a massive volume of strength to the Toastmasters organization. We induct more new members than any other club in our district. The quality of individuals that progress through Big D is a P.R. campaign in and of itself.

However, of the eve of our Fall 2009 officer induction gala, let us not forget the social aspect of our club. Old friend, John Sessions, loves to promote this soiree by pointing out how this year’s event marks the 29th anniversary of fellow club veteran Cliff Hutchinson’s tryst with his wife.

Big D’s parties come naturally. You can sense their evolution at the end of each meeting. Even after two (plus) hours, we still have the energy and enthusiasm to fraternize for another half hour (plus). We genuinely like each other. And we can’t wait to get to know guests and hear ice-breaker speeches.

Diversity makes each Thursday evening unique. Everyone brings something different to the table that piques most attendees’ interest. Because of this, my favorite statistic of Big D is that, to date, not one new member has died while giving his/her ice-breaker.

This vitality allows us to continue to discover new facets to new members and offers the guarantee of not only survival, but also progression of every member into something he/she did not know was capable. But like a good friend, Big D knows the possibilities of every soul are limitless. And we encourage this in every evaluation, every hearty applause, and in the aftermath of each meeting.

The best advice I can give any new member is this: lose consciousness of yourself. You do not need to worry about what you are saying, how you are saying it, the way you posture or present yourself. You’ve already made it clear you are serious about bettering your life by attending, now let the flow of the club be your guide.

Everyone wants to see you succeed, I promise. When you enter the meeting room, everyone is your best friend. You can feel it in the positive and constructive evaluations. You can feel it in the enormous and genuine smiles on each member’s face. In the comfort of good conversation.

Let the comfort of friendship wash over you. And then you will be able to experience everything that this welcoming club has to offer. Like a good neighbor, Big D is there.

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For more information about Big D Toastmasters, please visit http://www.dallastoastmaters.com/
For more information about finding a Toastmasters club near you, please visit http://www.toastmasters.org/find/

Thanks for reading!

Watching MSNBC is Torture

2009-05-07T09:13:00.000-07:00

By Ann Coulter

The media wail about "torture," but are noticeably short on facts.

Liberals try to disguise the utter wussification of our interrogation techniques by constantly prattling on about "the banality of evil."

Um, no. In this case, it's actually the banality of the banal.

Start with the fact that the average Gitmo detainee has gained 20 pounds in captivity. There's even a medical term for it now: "the Gitmo gut." Some prisoners have been heard whispering, "If you think Allah is great, you should try these dinner rolls."

In terms of "torture," there was "the attention grasp," which you have seen in every department store you have ever been where a mother was trying to get her misbehaving child's attention. If "the attention grasp" doesn't work, the interrogators issue a stern warning: "Don't make me pull this car over."

Farther up the parade of horribles was "walling," which I will not describe except to say Elliot Spitzer paid extra for it.

And for the most hardened terrorists, CIA interrogators had "the caterpillar." Evidently, the terrorists have gotten so fat on the food at Guantanamo, now they can't even outrun a caterpillar.

Contrary to MSNBC hosts who are afraid of bugs, water and their own shadows, waterboarding was most definitely not a "war crime" for which the Japanese were prosecuted after World War II -- no matter how many times Mrs. Jonathan Turley, professor of cooking at George Washington University, says so.

All MSNBC hosts and guests were apparently reading "Little Women" rather than military books as children and therefore can be easily fooled about Japanese war crimes. (MSNBC: The Official Drama Queen Network of the 2012 Olympics.)

Given what the Japanese did to prisoners, waterboarding would be a reward for good behavior.

It might be: waterboarding PLUS amputating the prisoner's healthy arm, or waterboarding PLUS killing the prisoner. But waterboarding on the order of what we did at Guantanamo would be a reward in a Japanese POW camp.

To claim that the Japanese -- architects of the Bataan Death March -- were prosecuted for "waterboarding" would be like saying Ted Bundy was executed for engaging in sexual harassment.

What the Japanese did to their POWs made even the Nazis blanch. The Japanese routinely beheaded and bayoneted prisoners; forced prisoners to dig their own graves and then buried them alive; amputated prisoners' healthy arms and legs, one by one, for sport; force-fed prisoners dry rice and then filled their stomachs with water until their bowels exploded; and injected them with chemical weapons in order to observe, time and record their death throes before dumping them in mass graves.

While only 4 percent of British and American troops captured by German or Italian forces died in captivity, 27 percent of British and American POWs captured by the Japanese died in captivity. Japanese war crimes were so atrocious that even rape was treated as only a secondary war crime in the Tokyo trial, similar to what happens during an R. Kelly trial.

The Japanese "water cure" was to "waterboarding" as practiced at Guantanamo what rape at knifepoint is to calling your secretary "honey."

The Japanese version of "waterboarding" was to fill the prisoner's stomach with water until his stomach was distended -- and then pound on his stomach, causing the prisoner to vomit.

Or they would jam a stick into the prisoner's nose so he could breathe only through his mouth and then pour water in his mouth so he would choke to death.

Or they would "waterboard" the prisoner with saltwater, which would kill him.

Meanwhile, the alleged "torture" under the Bush administration consists of things like:

"failing to respect a Serbian national holiday"; or

"forgetting to wear plastic gloves while handling a Quran."

Finding out who started the tall tale about "waterboarding" being treated as a war crime after World War II would take the talents of a forensic historian, someone like Christina Hoff Sommers.

After years of hearing the feminist "fact" that emergency room admissions for women beaten by their husbands soared by 40 percent on Super Bowl Sundays, Sommers traced it back to an unsubstantiated rumination erupting from a feminist rap session.

But the lunatic claim was passed around with increasing credibility until it ended up being cited as hard fact in The New York Times, The Boston Globe and on "Good Morning America."

One of the earliest entries in the "waterboarding as war crimes" myth must be this October 2006 article in The Washington Post, citing a case raised by Sen. Teddy Kennedy -- and heaven knows Kennedy understands the horrors of a near-drowning:

"Twenty-one years earlier, in 1947, the United States charged a Japanese officer, Yukio Asano, with war crimes for carrying out another form of waterboarding on a U.S. civilian. The subject was strapped on a stretcher that was tilted so that his feet were in the air and head near the floor, and small amounts of water were poured over his face, leaving him gasping for air until he agreed to talk."

Even if that description of what Asano did were true -- and it isn't -- the only relevant word in the entire paragraph is "civilian."

Any mistreatment of a civilian is a war crime. So every other part of that paragraph is utterly irrelevant to the treatment of prisoners of war, much less non-uniformed enemy combatants at Guantanamo, who could have been shot on sight under the laws of war.

What Americans need to understand is that under liberals' own "laws of war," they will invent apocryphal incidents from history in order to give aid and comfort to America's enemies and to undermine those who kept us safe for the past eight years.

Remember the Alamo!

2009-05-05T07:40:00.000-07:00

Growing up in Texas, schools made sure we knew Texas history. The most important moment in this state’s history comes as little surprise to most. This key moment always seemed odd to me, however, because it came during a battle at a small mission fort in San Antonio in which the Texans and volunteers lost.

Many Texans can recall the Dallas Cowboys winning the Super Bowl in 1992 and ’93. Because of football’s prominence in the state, they might even be able to recall the New York Giants and Washington Redskins’ Super Bowl victories in 1990 and ’91, respectively. But every football fan knows the common denominator of these four consecutive Super Bowls. Each time, the losing team was the Buffalo Bills.

The most infamous losing streak in all of sport, the Bills reached the pinnacle of their league four straight years and fell flat on their faces.

Most people consider Michael Jordan the greatest basketball player to ever walk the earth. His sophomore year of high school, his coach cut him from the varsity squad. Undaunted, Jordan then dedicated himself to outworking everyone on the court, in the weight room, and in the classroom. He parlayed that work into a college career at North Carolina in which he hit the game-winning jumper in the 1982 national championship. He went on to win six NBA world championships with the Chicago Bulls and five league Most Valuable Players awards.

Jordan once said, “I’ve missed over 9,000 shots in my career. I’ve lost more than 300 games. I’ve been trusted to take the game winning shot 26 times and missed. I’ve failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.”

Sports are easily quantifiable. You win, you lose. You succeed, you fail. But success from failure occurs in everyday life as well. Personally, I’ve been told to shape up or ship out twice at my current job. Each time I learned something from my failure and turned that aspect into a success. Now, I am my company’s most valuable asset at my level.

Human beings are inherently flawed; therefore, everyone has failed at some point. It might have been at a job interview, or a school exam, or raising your first child. Hopefully, you learned from that failure. You figured out what you did wrong, corrected it, and succeeded on the next opportunity.

It’s not always that simple, though. College football fans know the heartache I’ve experienced over the last decade as an Oklahoma Sooner football fan. OU is the winningest football program since WWII. As a third-generation Sooner, I eat, sleep and breath OU football come every autumn. I was there in 2000 when second-year head coach Bob Stoops led OU out of the doldrums of its miserable ’90s into the national championship at the Orange Bowl. As a high school senior, I experienced OU beating Florida St., 13-2. The next year I formerly became a part of the family tradition by matriculating to the University of Oklahoma.

Over the course of the next nine years, five times I have so believed that we were on the verge of our eighth national title that I made the long trek to a deciding game. Five times I witnessed our season of success turn into utter failure as our team spit the bit and fell flat on its face. OU strung together success after success after success, only to fail in realizing its ultimate goal. It is no small task to get up off the mat time and again to face rebuilding. But that’s what this Sooner football program has done. And that’s what all successful people do.

A single man made it out of the Alamo alive. He escaped through a hidden exit and galloped through the Mexican army, taking a bullet in the jaw in the process. Imagine how Gen. Sam Houston must have felt when the messenger arrived and literally had to hold his jaw up to its broken hinges in order to tell the general that they had lost the Alamo. Gen. Santa Anna and the Mexicans slaughtered every man, woman and child. The savage Mexican army batted babies upon bayonets like volleyballs. How could Gen. Houston tell his outnumbered men to continue the fight when he knows that they put not only their lives in great jeopardy, but also those of their wives and children?

Houston did not run and hide from the failure of the Alamo. Instead, he took a lesson from that defeat. He realized that an outnumbered army could not bunker into a fort expecting to defeat a massive force. So the general led his men in a surprise attack on the Mexicans at San Jacinto, and the Republic of Texas was born under the battle cry of “Remember the Alamo!”

Quoteth Sir Winston Churchill: “Never give in. Never, never, never, never…”

China's democratic movement

2009-03-31T20:25:00.000-07:00

The People's "Communist" Republic of China has a democratic following. Who whudda thunk it? You can quickly breeze through the update from the Wall Street Journal link below.

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB123845907632271769.html#mod=djemEditorialPage

This is a good thing. It means freedom of choice is catching on in the Red Empire. Perhaps we should ask those captialist pigs for another loan?

Shame on him

2009-02-23T05:36:00.000-08:00

The movie "Milk" did not capture my attention because I inherently disagree with Sean Penn and his messages; and "Milk" seemed like another one of his political messages. I should have known better than to think I could watch the Academy Awards without getting bombarded by his political agenda.

If there was ever any doubt as to which way Hollywood swung, Penn sewed up those loose ends for us. The arrogance! The audacity. But then again, it was to be expected.

Throughout the awards it was a total love-fest. I don't really understand how it doesn't turn more people's stomaches. Before each major award, a slew of past winners got up and spoke gushing, high-school-crush-like words to each nominee. Robert Deniro wraps up his man-lovin' on Penn by mentioning how he advises world leaders. What??!! Come again??!! Excuse me??!! He did NOT just say that.

But oh yes, he did. Penn aparently is reveered for his international counsel. I'd like to meet the screwed up individuals and see their respectively shattered countries in which Penn betowed his righteous wisdom upon. If he is so brilliant, why not abandon profit-seeking movies to run for political office rather than play policy in the magic of movies, a.k.a. not reality where people can actually benefit from actions.

He was honored last night for his acting performance, but turned it into a political rally. Absolutely dishonest and misplaced. He accomplished nothing except turning those who disagreed with him further away, and possibly turning away fans who realized his political agenda.

I work hard for goodness, prosperity, righteousness, and truthfulness. But I have apparently shamed Penn and his disciples. I stand against gay marriage. Penn telling us "shame on you" for voting against gay marriage wins no new supporters.

I have gay family and friends, and they know my stance on this issue. It has nothing to being against gays. It has everything to do with being for families and the well-being of children.

Penn his misplaced good intentions. I have good intentions as well, but I am apparently shamed like a bastard step-child because I disagree with Penn.

No, Sean Penn. Shame on you for hating others. Shame on you for taking advantage of your platform. Shame on you for alienating movie fans. Shame on you making this world a little more difficult in which to live.

Recruiting Wars

2009-02-06T05:58:00.000-08:00

The following is a speech I presented on February 5, 2009:

“In human affairs of danger and delicacy successful conclusion is sharply limited by hurry. So often men trip by being in a rush. If one were properly to perform a difficult and subtle act, he should first inspect the end to be achieved and then, once he had accepted the end as desirable, he should forget it completely and concentrate solely on the means. By this method he would not be moved to false action by anxiety or hurry or fear. Very few people learn this.”
~ John Steinbeck, East of Eden

I learned this. Some lessons take multiple failures to embed their morals. I’ve rushed to several goals while not stopping to think. But attempting to enlist in the military forced to me to learn this lesson once and for all.

About two years ago, I became a lost, young man. I had left my first job out of college and had no desire to continue in the field of journalism. Without employment, my mind had time to wander. It occurred to me that I believed in what the military accomplished. And since they’ll hire just about anyone who wants a job, I began the enlistment process into the Air National Guard. As this was a part-time job, I also applied for full-time citizen employment.

The process proved long – too long for a 24-year mover-and-shaker like me. I landed a full-time job before I could complete my enlistment process and couldn’t pass up the opportunity in order to enter boot camp for a shiny part-time government job. So my frangible passion to serve faded.

“In human affairs of danger and delicacy successful conclusion is sharply limited by hurry.”

By default, this turned out to be the correct decision.

“So often men trip by being in a rush.”

My recruiting officer did not actively pursue me. Why? Because the Air Force and Air Guard have a surplus of applicants. Only the best and brightest get into this military branch. I would have been a lowly peon for six years had I joined the Air Guard. The only way to advance would be to join the Air Force full-time and strive toward an officer’s commission. As the passion for my new job subsided, my ache to become a serviceman resurfaced.

“If one were properly to perform a difficult and subtle act, he should first inspect the end to be achieved…

I needed more information about what I was getting into.

…“And then, once he had accepted the end as desirable…”

This is where I forced myself to stop. What did I want out of the military? Where did I want my career to go? In the meantime, I had discovered I wanted to become a lawyer. So how do I practice law in the Air Force?

“…He should forget it completely and concentrate solely on the means.”

Turns out I can’t. Anyone that has ever been arrested cannot serve a legal function for the Air Force or Air Guard. When I was 20 years old, I drank a beer, was pulled over and thrown in the slammer – the whole nine yards. It didn’t matter that my troubles were behind me. It didn’t matter that our three most recent presidents have abused alcohol, marijuana and/or cocaine.

Disillusioned and frustrated by this arduous and fruitless journey, I turned to the Navy. Those recruiters had me signing paperwork and ready to enlist in two days. During that timeframe received a panicked call from an officer recruiter telling me the enlistment recruiters would take me completely away from my goal of becoming a legal officer. Snake-bitten, the enlistment recruiters came back at me with an overwhelming amount of information to the contrary. This was last week.

“By this method he would not be moved to false action by anxiety or hurry or fear.”

I threw up my hands and said I need the whole story. I’m not listening to any more recruiters. I spoke to former enlisted men. I spoke to officers. I spoke to former officers. What would really happen to me if I joined full-time? How can I reach my career goals while still in service? Actually, beginning law school is my first step. Only then would my next step of entering the military come around. So enlistment is out of my mind, and the integral first step has my complete concentration.

“Very few people learn this.”

Night-runner

2008-11-27T21:50:00.000-08:00

There, night-runner
We both pound against the ground
Though your face covered in a shroud
Blackness envelops your presence
Still, I sense the ounces of your essence
The moment passes without question

Who night-runner
Ceases to exist along the path
There is no feeling of wrath
Only the whip of the wind now
The dicates of the body allow
The moments fail to happen

Again, night-runner
The eyes sink to the floor
No requests for more
The loop is our friend
We follow to its end
The moment passes without question

Which night-runner
Each stuck in its place
Never look at a face
The air provides us silence
The world again makes sense
All moments pass, no notice

Hello night-runner
Your world is shattered
Questions leave you tattered
Mine is of wonder
If this be a blunder
The moment passes with new direction

No more night-runner
Bodies continue to pass
The silence breaks like glass
Others emerge from the shadow
Yet the blackness turned callow
The moment fades into our beaten paths

Western history books tell of momentous eras in human history. The so-called Dark Ages (Europe) were a time of little scientific advancement and small-minded arts.

Yet the great eras carry names such as the Golden Age (Greece), the Renaissance (Italy), and the Enlightenment (France). These were times of giant leaps in scientific advancement and history-making arts. It’s little wonder these titles bear a striking opposition to the Dark Ages.

Out of the Enlightenment came names such of Locke and Rousseau. Their writing, and many others in Europe played an enormous role in shaping the thoughts and lasting documents to emerge in the American Revolution.

John Locke’s motto – simply put – was life, liberty, and property. Farmers, townsfolk, indentured servants, and slaves fought the Revolutionary War. However, men like Franklin, Adams, Madison, Hamilton, and Jefferson constructed the government these soldiers fought to form.

These American thinkers wrote a government that preached fair representation, equal rights, and balance of power. Yet they also set up an electoral college that cast the actual ballots for the new country’s president. Thomas Jefferson took Locke’s motto and replaced the word property with pursuit of happiness.

These deep thinkers and governors of the young American citizens had the time to debate life’s great questions because they had the time. The power-holders in this time period and all recorded Western history previously had the spare time for activities such as writing meaningful correspondence, constitutions, and poems because they were fortunate enough to own land.

Property has been the ultimate power throughout Western history – even in the Dark Ages, especially in the Dark Ages. Locke wrote philosophy. Jefferson wrote a Declaration of Independence that had direct application to a new government. He had a responsibility to realistic. The new United States of America’s wealthy would be so under the same conditions as the rest of the world’s wealthy regardless of what any document said. So out with property as a basic human right in the U.S. of A.

The ironic thing is, though, that the greatest strides in human rights made in history were done with John Hancock’s signing of Jefferson’s declaration despite its apparent “Let them eat cake,” laissez faire undertones.

These revered American founding fathers put together the best government this world has seen to date because others worked their land, cooked and served their food, ran their trades, and zillion other tasks all other independent citizens are required to take care of for themselves in order to make a living and support a family. Let’s not forget the majority of these workers on their land were slaves.

Most of our founding fathers had their land because the British government granted it to them. They generally did not have to pour out their sweat, blood, and tears to earn the money to purchase the land. So as they grew older, they used their vast spare time to study, write and discuss the greater thoughts of life and government.

Men and women of wealth earn themselves the time to do these things today, but scholars and academics also indulge in these endeavors regularly. And the former spend a great amount of their lives thinking about these matters. Yet the wealthy have the power. And so they hire the scholars and academics to advise them – sometimes. Sometimes they employ fellow colleagues of power whom have the hands-on experience. The system of thought today does not meld time, power, and intelligence into singular people anywhere near the scope of the individual founding fathers.

The Obama followthrough

2008-11-23T18:00:00.000-08:00

It’s now been one week since America elected Barack Hussein Obama its next president. I’ve withheld public judgment until now because I’ve been trying to regain control of my emotions. Had I spewed out what was on top of my mind last Tuesday night, I would be no better than the leftists that wrongly accuse the right of hatred and speak unfiltered from the heart.

Obama will definitely put liberal justices on the Supreme Court bench; therefore, America has moved schizophrenically moved from an all-liberal national government to an all-conservative one, to a moderate one with a conservative president, and now back to an all-liberal one. Though it was the likely scenario with George Bush’s approval rating at historically low numbers, I’m still disappointed in America. It put no check on the Democrats’ agenda. Nancy Pelosi and Harry Reid inquired about using some of the $700-billion financial industry bailout plan on the auto industry. That would be deceitful and against the law, but America has spoken.

Obama will be my president on January 20, 2009. I will not move to another country, nor hollowly threaten to do so – as many liberals did when Bush was re-elected in 2004. I will support him with a sharp tongue. Notable conservatives have moved on from the McCain campaign very quickly and pointed out that Obama has done nothing wrong as president yet. These same conservatives noted what a fine victory speech he gave last Tuesday night in Grant Park in Chicago. It was a nice, if dour, speech of the same variety he eloquently gave throughout his 21-month campaign.

Stop. Think about that for a minute. Our next president ran a nearly two-year presidential campaign when the country knew virtually nothing about the man – and it’s still learning quite a bit. Very impressive, and the fact that he is half black marks a pivotal moment in American history. That’s all I have to say about race. Obama had more to say, though. He told Americans that his opposition would try to scare them by pointing out that he was black and had a funny name. McCain scrupulously never mentioned Obama’s race, nor did he speak Obama’s middle name. I wonder if it was ever part of the Obama campaign’s goal to convince America it was still racist to guilt-trip it into voting for the black man on the ticket.

One of the major issues of this campaign was campaign reform. Obama agreed on virtually every reform policy John McCain backed, yet it was Obama who ran this unprecedented long and expensive campaign. He vowed to use public funds, but turned his back on that promise when he realized it would give away an advantage. He even bought a 30-minute primetime infomercial as a lead-in to the World Series! Although he socialistically espoused “spreading the wealth,” he would not share one penny with the McCain camp. These two presidential candidates had a golden opportunity to set precedents as to how to run a modern campaign. They both failed. McCain said all the right things. Obama agreed. Then Obama backed out, just like he did on the “anytime, anywhere” town hall meetings, and McCain followed suit to stay in the race. So instead of losing the election rather than his bearings, McCain lost both.

I think Obama ran a smart, but ruthless campaign. Despite the fact that as president he has done nothing right or wrong yet, there will be one of two outcomes. Either he will enact the socialist policies he advocated during his campaign, and American capitalists will resent his administration for it; or he will go back on many of his policies as he finds out they can’t feasibly be done. Either way, he will succeed, as I believe this country has shifted from center-right to center-left. The left will still want to keep likely Republican candidates Mitt Romney, Sarah Palin, Tim Pawlenty, or Bobby Jindal out of the White House in 2012.

But all is fine in the Obama house at the moment, because he has the power. He has so much power that he is trying to impose his will upon the current administration by putting the blood of the auto industry bailout on Bush’s hands. America will be socialist come hell or high water. It doesn’t matter, though. To the prince, the end justifies the means.

Educate Yourself

2008-10-31T12:25:00.000-07:00

Who would you trust to give you the truth about your car? Your mechanic who gets paid on commission; or your neighbor who’s driven the same mint-condition Camaro every day since 1978?

Who would you trust to give you the truth about your financial plan? Your Fidelity advisor who knows you’ve been considering switching to Schwab; or a friend who works in the industry, warned you to be prepared, but never pimped his own service?

Who would you trust to give you the truth about the wars in the Middle East? Gen. Patraeus or a journalist?

The first two examples are obvious. It’s the one that has no vested interest in the outcome of spilling that truth. The third one is much grayer. You might think it the journalist, who has devoted his life towards a profession that espouses no biases. But you’re about to find out that oftentimes journalists do actually have a vested interest in the message of their writings.

I studied journalism in college and spent two years as a professional sports writer. I will reveal to you what interests journalists have invested, how to separate various news pieces, and why being able to recognize all this is important.

The first thing you need to know about me is that I am an American conservative. I say this because it’s the personal values of a journalist that have an ability to dictate how he writes his pieces. So as I define the topic, it’s vital to know the definition of the source.

In sports, it’s simple. This is what the score was, this was the star of the game, this was the turning point. However, say you’re trying to get a one-on-one interview with a star athlete. You may slant the story to be more favorable to the star in order to attract other stars to intimately interview with you, thus advancing your career.

This is not a big deal in your community; but in covering a metro beat, you may find yourself in a situation where your writing has consequences. For instance, say a convenience store gets robbed. You arrive at the scene and the police tell you they’ve taken a man into custody for questioning. You talk to the store clerk, he says the man was milling about in front of the store with a hat pulled low over his eyes, and he was black. Now say you covered a robbery before where the lookout got off scot-free and happened to be black – or maybe another race – it may slant how you write your piece about the one man taken in for questioning.

But maybe you’re trying to right a wrong in your community by presenting specific stories that fall in line with your views and arguments. A news story is not the proper channel to do that in.

A news story is generally written in an inverted pyramid style. The most important aspect of the story is written in the lead paragraph, followed by the next most important and so on. That way, the editor can lop off less important junk from the bottom to fit the page. News stories are like Dragnet, “Just the facts, ma’am.”

The style of journalism for telling stories with an agenda is an op-ed column. You tell the story but highlight certain aspects that point out your logic of thinking. “Of course the man standing outside the store during the robbery was the only man arrested. He’s black!” Pointing out the apparent racism involved. Ah, did you notice how I changed “taken in for questioning” to “arrested”? This phraseology can mislead a reader without ever letting him know what hit him.

A related piece is the lengthier investigative piece, exploring a topic in-depth like I’m doing now. While it may seem like they’re just elongated news pieces, be careful. The writer has your complete attention and can pick and choose what information he presents to you, and he can without certain information that you do not have access to. (The Los Angeles Times is doing this right now with an Obama/Ayers/Khalidi tape that directly links the three.) The shear fact that he has picked that topic to dive deep into says something about what he thinks is important.

The final style of writing is a straight up opinion piece. It is brazenly one-sided and allows the writer to tell you exactly what he is thinking and why.

Opinion pieces are written from a specific side of the spectrum, and you can tell how an opinion writer shifts his views by carefully following all his columns. But most opinion writers do not tell you where them come from. That’s something you have to figure out.

Writers’ opinions are usually just under the surface, but you have to read carefully to see them. Once you recognize a few from each side, you should be able to pick up new writers’ stances fairly quickly.

Never take opinion pieces as the gospel. The writers have taken in the facts, processed them, determined what’s important to them, and written their takes. There’s so much filtering involved, you’d be compelled to label yourself lazy if you decided to accept an opinion piece as your view without doing your homework.

Finally, recognize biases. This is why I took the time to tell you I am a conservative in the beginning. I’m about to argue against a leftist medium. You deserve to know where I come from. Look at MSNBC. The network has so blurred the lines between news and opinion that there is no way to watch it as a pure news source without having the same leftist lean. On the other hand, the news network I ascribe to, Fox News, has straight news programs followed by separate opinion hours that are labeled as such.

So remember, journalists oftentimes do have a vested interest in what they’re covering. It’s a big reason they do what they do for so little money, and it’s a big reason I exited the profession. You can tell the good ones from the poor ones by their ability to properly identify their writings as news, op-ed, or opinion. These are important to recognize because of a good writer’s ability to write his opinions in a news style, again misleading an ill-informed reader.

It was Mark Twain who warned us in the warmest of ways, “Get your facts straight, and then you can distort them as much as you please.”

Bring back the runner-up

2008-10-03T07:24:00.000-07:00

Thursday night is why I think America should go back to the old system of choosing vice presidents: the runner-up in the presidential election. True, there would probably be more assassination attempts, but those are the two people that America wants most. It would also be the greatest example in the political world illustrating bi-partisanship. It would truly be the executive branch’s responsibility to lead all factions of the country. The maximum number of constituents would be represented properly. Plus, we wouldn’t have this farce of a debate going on where none of what Gov. Palin or Sen. Biden said was all that consequential.

Palin misses her chance

2008-10-03T07:16:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Spin Alley. That’s what CBS aired directly following the vice presidential debate Thursday. First question from Katie Couric to Joe Lieberman: what did Joe Biden do well? Answer: I’m not here to tear down Sen. Biden, etc. He spoke glowingly of Sarah Palin, but refused to speak negatively of Joe Biden. Lieberman’s counterpart’s answer directly went at the head of Palin and then proclaimed Biden the unadulterated winner.

I use this as a precursor. It’s despicable how the left treats the right, but not vice versa. It’s a factor in why I’m voting McCain-Palin. With that in mind, Gov. Sarah Palin lost the one and only
VP debate this election season. Any conservative that says otherwise is spin-doctoring. That’s not a bad thing. Her ticket I believe will serve this country more effectively than the Obama-Biden one, so it’s justified to defend Palin. But in keeping with the facts, she lost last night.

Biden clearly demonstrated his longer tenure in politic, had answers for foreign policy questions, play the crowd beautifully with smooth speech and an award-winning grin. Palin, in contrast seemed caught in the headlights somewhat at times, reaching to find the point she wanted to make. She had the ability to seem unprepared, which I did not expect. To her great credit, however, Palin did not stumble or back down. She did no damage to McCain, but I did not walk away thinking she had what it takes to “shake up Washington.”

I loved her start, taking the bull by the horns by saying to Biden as they met, “It’s nice to meet you. Can I call you Joe?” Loved it! Direct slap at Obama’s calling of Sen. McCain as John on Monday night. The problem was that she didn’t follow up by actually calling him Joe. Every once in a while she did, but she said it timidly. It was mainly “Sen. Biden,” “the senator,” “him,” “you.” Biden never called Gov. Palin “Sarah.”

She tried to corner the “down-to-earth” corner to death. But she didn’t need to. Palin already had that one won the first week of her nomination. Every other line referenced her children, her husband “Todd and I,” hockey moms, the working class. While Biden tried to horn in with his Scranton and small-town Delaware references, I doubt that many people bought it. She was right. She’s the definition of Middle America, but she beat a dead horse too often, and it got tiresome. I wonder how often she did that in order to avoid the issue questions, because the only issue she seemed to know is the energy crisis.

“No, I don’t agree. But since that’s such a short answer, I’m going to use my remaining time to talk about something I want to talk about. And that’s energy. You know in Alaska…” Ugh! My head! Stop, lady, stop! Every time she spoke of energy she put another hole in her foot. She clearly did not answer the question, and in fact blatantly admitted to bringing up energy on her own. She glossed over foreign affairs (not that Biden said much of anything substantial, but he did sound damn good with his time on it). There were clear lines drawn on fundamental policy, but it was nothing to shake a stick at. Obama and McCain have already done that and will continue to do that in the next two debates.

But some things weren’t so clear. One example that stuck out to me was definition of marriage. Based on what each candidate said on the matter, they agreed. Biden spoke first and said he was not in favor of changing the definition, but he did favor granting homosexual couples the same basic rights as heterosexual ones. Asked if she agreed, Palin could not bring herself to say as much. But her answer did not distinguish her belief as any different that Biden’s. Oops! But not so fast – the truth is that they have the same belief but different views. She just couldn’t think on her feet fast enough to challenge the senator.

Here’s what she should have said: We share the same beliefs but have opposite views in our actions. For example (something she specifically failed to provide throughout the debate and something Biden hit home time and again), regarding abortion I’m pro-life. You’re pro-choice. We both believe in the sanctity of life and would not choose abortion. However, I’m for enacting that into law because I believe that abortion is murder. I walk the talk. You simply talk the talk because you tolerate murder by giving women the right to choose it. Likewise, I say make the definition of marriage as between man and woman law. However, because you and Obama stand idly by while states like California and Massachusetts legalize gay marriage, your view is to allow that to happen. Therefore, the results of your actions contradict your views. I, on the other hand, keep my views, actions, and beliefs all in the same line.

But she didn’t. Palin failed to show how her stances, views, beliefs, policies were better than Biden’s. And the door was open for her to. But this is why I’m still voting Republican, because her and McCain’s views are superior to Biden’s and Obama’s even if she didn’t articulate them last night.

A Glorious Games

2008-08-26T05:21:00.000-07:00

My column has been tardy of late for one reason: the Olympics.

The swimming and gymnastics were utterly consuming. But after the first week, the television became a vacuum that pulled me in and didn’t spit me out until I had passed out on the couch well past my bedtime.

Though I cheered my guts out for the U.S. of A., rooting against the Chinese became almost as intoxicating. As the stories poured in by the bucketful, it became glaringly obvious that a shroud of darkness clouded the Games. And I’m not even talking about Beijing’s smog.

The fortnight kicked off with the Chinese government disabling most cars in the capital to help alleviate the smog. It followed with the silencing of Free Tibet protesters. Outside of the muffled picketers and American President George Bush, no other human rights advocates spoke up. That is a tribute to China’s highly oppressive government.

One of the main ways to differentiate between the East and the West is the mindset of the people. The West expresses individualism, bringing differing people together to maximize a group’s potential. The East sees individuals as the building blocks of the larger organization, sacrificing personal endeavors to operate as one. This was clearly seen by the actors en mass during the Opening and Closing ceremonies to create such a masterpiece of grand illusion. Then the London performance for the games of 2012 came along with every actor dressed differently, having a different movement and different task. It combined the voice of a great recording artist with an opposing sound of hard rock by legendary guitarist Jimmy Page.

Japan uses this Eastern trait of its people to create an enormously successful economy from a relatively small population and land area. China uses the trait to will its subjects to serve the government, though labeling it “for the country.”

The International Olympic Committee has an age limit of 16 by the end of the Olympic year exactly for reasons China provided during the Games. It had a goal to capture all eight diving gold medals. It accomplished that by pulling kids out of regular education early in their lives and putting them in the sports the government believed they would excel in. Didn’t you wonder why the U.S. star is 30-year old Laura Wilkinson and the Chinese star is merely 15?

Of course the women’s gymnastics saga is well chronicled. At least two of the children on the gold medal-winning Chinese team are most likely underage. Whether or not that gets proven is another story. My bet is the truth would not come out due to the Black Hand that is the Chinese government. However, I say don’t strip the medals from the underage athletes. They did win them after all. It was their government that cheated, not the athletes themselves. They were told to train and perform, and so they did lest they be jailed.

One story NBC told was how revered the educated are in China. The “cool” kids are the ones that make good grades and go to school. Playground equipment consists of maybe a rusted basketball hoop. If a student shows a propensity for athletics, they are quickly pulled out of his/her normal schooling and put into a national training program. One such athlete was an expert women’s gymnastics vaulter that called her parents crying about wanting to come home. Her parents did not dissuade her. They denied her that option. And thus she became an Olympian. Heartwarming, huh?

You could see it on the faces of most of these Chinese athletes. The over-joyous exuberance winning the gold provided most athletes seemed to escape many of the 51 Chinese champions. The image of each Chinese diver taking his/her routine, expressionless bow to the crowd after each jump still burns in my retinas. The programmed smiles of the Chinese gymnasts starkly contrasted to that of Americans Shawn Johnson and Jonathan Horton’s happy-go-lucky attitudes.

I use gymnastics and diving as such prominent examples because A) they are primetime sports, and B) they embody the dominance for which China aimed. The government made no bones about it – it trained athletes in the sports that had the most events. This way one great athlete could capture two or three gold medals.

However, that’s exactly what I found so fabulous about the American athletes. They excelled at the team sports. Basketball, volleyball, relays, softball, baseball. NBC reported how much better Horton performed in a team environment while he competed individually. Michael Phelps and company showed more emotion in winning their relays than in any individual event. Despite the lackluster showing by the men and women 4x100m track teams, the U.S. still performed admirably overall in track.

As a side note, the U.S. track team has some soul-searching to do reminiscent of basketball two years ago and hockey six years ago. This year’s track team came out focused on themselves as individuals, and it showed in the interviews and the 4x100m team’s performances. They did not represent America as ambassadors well.

Regardless, the track athletes and the vast majority of the world’s Olympians competed because they chose to pour their heart and soul into training for this moment. They made commitments to themselves and loved their countries enough to burn with that desire to compete wearing their colors.

Not so much with the Chinese. Every medal stand where the Chinese national anthem played carried that sense of obligation -- that sense to serve the country that dammed up a river for rowing competitions while simultaneously depriving rice-paddy farmers water, thus starving entire villages containing its own subjects.

A glorious Games, indeed.

Olympic Thoughts

2008-08-12T06:41:00.000-07:00

Here’s what I took away from the opening weekend of the 2008 Beijing Summer Olympic Games:

• The Chinese are unbelievable artists. The opening ceremonies took place in a gorgeous building (National Stadium a.k.a the Bird’s Nest) that played as the canvas for a motion painting. There were brilliant colors surrounding ingenious choreography. The earth coming out the floor was great; but the hundreds of tai chi masters all performing in sync especially impressed me.

• The most important thing to come out of the opening ceremonies was the announcement that Russia had bombed inside Georgia. Despite the intoxicating ceremonies and the moving inclusion of the nine-year-old earthquake hero marching in with the Chinese flag-bearer, Yao Ming, the world was reminded of the sobering reality of international conflict.

• Though not the intention back in 1896, the Olympics are a quad-annual political summit of the world. It was impossible not to notice the gobs of leaders at the Games, from U.S. President George Bush, to French President Nicolas Sarkozy, to Russian Prime Minister Valdimir Putin.

• For Americans, no one could miss Bush’s four-day romp around Beijing. And he did a marvelous job as the ultimate ambassador. Everything he set out to do he did. Bush denounced the lack of human rights in China. He attacked the lack of religious freedom from a state-sponsored church. He praised China’s economic and industrial progress. He spoke both in private and openly – including a funny, honest, and “candid” interview with Bob Costas. The operative word for Bush was “candid.” His straightforward approach at a delicate event earned him more respect in my eyes, and hopefully in many others’. And he wasted no time speaking to Putin about the escalating situation in South Ossetia.

• It’s good that the Olympics are so politically charged. Besides the obvious pressure on the host country to get its ducks in a row, it brings political friction to the forefront for the layman international politico to view. How many fewer people would know of and care about the Georgia-Russia confrontation if it hadn’t occurred during the opening ceremonies? It forced Sarkozy to make a decision about whether to support cooperation with China or not. It gave Bush the stage in China to draw a definitive line of where the Western world believes China should be. The IOC had to make a decision on Iraq. They showed how weak and partisan they are in letting Iraq in but so late as to shut out the majority of its qualifiers. In short, the Olympics forces the political issue and provides a benchmark to hold world players accountable.

• Michael Phelps is a freak of nature.

• Olympic basketball will continually fall by the wayside as a result of allowing professionals to participate. It’s just not as interesting as an NBA game.

• It’s a shame that despite advancements China has made on the international level, North Korea – a major country under China’s sphere of influence – has not made comparable advancements. It squandered much of the goodwill it earned with shutting down nuclear facilities by refusing to march with South Korea in the opening ceremonies.

• Chinese architecture may be the most innovative in the world. The swimming cube may be the coolest athletic facility ever constructed. And it all takes place among magnificent natural scenery. It’s an absolute shame that it’s set in a smoggy haze as well. I have not once seen a clear day in an outdoor sport. However, once China’s industrial revolution slows, its air-cleaning technology should more consistently improve, as has been the pattern in every other country that has progressed through an industrial revolution.

• As an American sports fan, the U.S. men’s 4x100-meter freestyle relay gold-medal race packed the most excitement since Keri Stugg’s broken-ankle vault. And they beat the arrogant French head-to-head!

Don't give up on democracy yet!

2008-08-03T17:13:00.000-07:00

Even if Democrats and Republicans don’t agree on most issues, at least they can agree that they love their country and will stand up and fight for it. Oh, wait. Nevermind. I was confusing bipartisanship with tyranny.

I recently engaged in a series of intriguing emails with a left-wing liberal democrat who holds Barack Obama on a pyrite pedestal. She is your standard well-educated, working, wisdom-lacking, American-voting, citizen-of-the-world that looks at things through rose-colored glasses. My ideas, of course, were “absurd” (as well as a host of other descriptions I will not list off for sake of time). But here’s the bottom line: If you could be born and live in any country in the world, where would you choose to live?

Most leftists dodge the question and give superfluous evidence to an unstated point. They say everything except a straight answer to the question. Not this cat. She prattled off a large handful of central European countries. I was shocked. This liberal was actually straightforward. So I give her John F. Kennedy’s inaugural address and ask her to name the speaker. You know the one: “Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country.” Ooh! Rejection! Your greatest democrat hero just told you to stick it out and fight! How do you respond to that one, ma’am?

She informed me she is studying for Greek citizenship to move there and be able to work anywhere in Europe. (Dramatic pause.) OK, so my point backfired in my face. But this raises the question as to why she would engage in a lengthy debate with me on American politics at all. Why isn’t she turning her head east to Greece? If she’s getting the heck out of Dodge, why should she get a voice as to who governs me? She needs to forfeit her vote!

Our founding fathers established the Electoral College to protect democracy. After all, pure government theories do not work with imperfect human nature. It would go to ensure that ill-informed Americans could not elect the wrong leader for themselves. It does not make sense to me that educated Americans (such as the one I email-debated) would vote for such a power-hungry individual in Obama. But that’s the point. The College would protect less well-informed Americans from electing Obama. But it won’t. “Educated” Americans are trying to put him in the White House.

There is nothing anyone can, or should, do to stand in the way of someone with a legal right to vote of casting her ballot. But that person, especially someone of education, should have the morals and common decency to abstain from voting in an election that will not affect her. Attempting to change the tides of leadership and leaving after your effort is useless to that person. It’s arrogant and oppressive. (It’s also the same thing Obama is trying to do by pulling out of Iraq before the democracy and freedom has been firmly established.) If you’re moving out of the country and changing your citizenship, I’m the one who has to live with your vote, not you! It’s immoral and disrespectful.

However, freedom is what makes this country of America great, so I would never stand in the way of someone voting if she has that legal right. She should not cast her vote, I affirm. Since no one stands in her way, it becomes incumbent upon her to decide what is right. If she chooses to punch that chad in November, whether it’s blue or red, she chooses of her own free will to tyrannically oppress me and my fellow American citizens who are leaving our country, who are not asking for a handout, who are asking how we can help make our great country even greater.

Phil Gramm is right, but don't let anyone know it

2008-07-27T11:09:00.000-07:00

The U.S. economy is down. Luxury sales are standing pat. Phil Gramm is telling us to shut our yaps. Obama is in the hen house, and McCain is loading both barrels.

Nothing seems to be as it appears these days. Up is down, down is up. And I’m looking for some duct tape to keep my head on straight. So let’s settle down and examine this rationally.

The “receding” economy has two major things working against it: the price of oil and the weak dollar. So when Texas Sen. Gramm says Americans complain too much, it might be worth a listen. True, he’s no deft politician, but he was an economics professor and knows a thing or two.

First, take oil. What causes oil prices to rise? Many factors. But in the simplest form: supply and demand. The supply is shortened by controls in the Middle East. It is shortened by laws against drilling in certain domestic areas. And it is shortened by usage. The demand is high because so many Americans use gasoline and use a lot of it. They use fuel-inefficient vehicles. Falling supply versus rising demand equals increased prices. Duh. So why do Americans look to the presidential nominees to remedy the situation?

Because by their very nature, they’re lazy and want things fixed for them. University of Chicago professors Cass Sunstein, law and political science, and Richard Thaler, behavioral science and economics, have constructed a book called “Nudge: Improving Decisions about Health, Wealth, and Happiness.” It illustrates how people can be so lazy that simply by narrowing street lanes can get people to slow down, putting fruit at eye level in the cafeteria lines can get kids to eat healthier, and automatically enrolling employees in 401k plans can get them to invest wiser. Likewise, the presidential candidates are telling citizens how they’re going to get gas prices down.

The reality of the situation is new ways need to be utilized to get people to use less gas. It’s already happening. Chrysler announced Friday that it’s discontinuing auto leases because it’s not economically viable. Along with Ford and Chevy, the three major truck producers in the U.S. are hemorrhaging cash and fast. Ford announced Thursday that it lost over $8 million in the second quarter of 2008. The fact of the matter is that even if consumers wanted more cars and trucks that burn tons of gas it’s getting harder to get these vehicles.

It happened in Europe. Gas prices have been around the $4 mark and higher for quite a while. What did they do? Rode more trains, bikes, and Vespas. Gas is still high, but it’s not crippling them like Americans are allowing it to do. Maybe that’s a factor in why the Euro, pound and franc are all trouncing the U.S. dollar. Attitude.

Luxury sales, according to Saturday’s Wall Street Journal, are still holding their own in the U.S. despite a downward-leaning economy. Part of this is definitely due to the weak dollar. Europeans can get their money to go farther in the U.S., so high-ticket items are getting snatched up just fine by foreigners.

Maybe the fact that the Fed has tried to hold up companies like Bear Stearns, Fannie and Freddie have a lot to do with it all. It hasn’t let the economy naturally go through its cycle. Ben Bernacke has announced that the best course of action probably is to let these companies fail. And President Bush has echoed that notion. The investors will take the hit, yet, but it teaches them to more wisely allocate their money. It’s not a force or coercion. It’s a “nudge” in the right direction.

This all happened back in the 1970’s – stagnation as it was. The U.S. got out of that one just fine. Won the Cold War, business boomed in the 1980’s. The economy soared in the 1990’s. Now the U.S. is in the downward part of its economic cycle. It hasn’t even been down for a full quarter yet. This isn’t a “recession” yet, has Gramm has stated.

Gramm said a stupid thing. Not because what he said was stupid – it wasn’t, it was true. It was stupid because his pal, John McCain is trying to get elected president. Gramm is the symbol of McCain’s economic plan since McCain has plainly stated on many occasions that he’s not as educated on the economy as he should be.

We all need to take a chill pill and take this one up the back door for a piece. The U.S. economy goes down every once in a while. But it’s the fact that it goes up more often than down that makes it such a strong economy. Gramm is a smart man and should get a position of influence in the White House if McCain is elected in November. I only wish McCain had the gusto to stand up for a truth-speaker in the heat of the moment.

Clinton would be tougher opponent

2008-05-29T16:46:00.001-07:00

Hilary Clinton took your vote as the tougher of John McCain's possible opponents in the general election this fall but a two-to-one count. She was my vote as well.

McCain's camp has been gearing up for Barack Obama for a while now. Though Obama seems to have all the democratic chips in front of him, Clinton has not bowed out and will not do so, forcing the super delegates to pick the nominee. Clinton has pissed off quite a few super delegates in her many years in office. But I'd also venture to guess that Obama hasn't been around long enough to garner much loyalty.

An Obama nomination appears emminent, but never count a Clinton out. Her nomination would blindside McCain's campaign plan and leave his camp scrambling. Obama shows weaknesses that McCain's clan already has in the crosshairs.

Fenway Pahk trumps Yankees' crumbling yard

2008-05-29T16:44:00.000-07:00

BOSTON – My buddy Jon text-messaged me on Saturday, May 17: “Woohoo! Stars beat Detroit! Did you see that pass between the legs?” I had to fire one back to him from my grandstand seat: “I heard they won. I missed it. Nearly caught Papi’s 3-run shot over the Green Monster instead.”

The Dallas Stars had just beat the Red Wings 3-1 for the first time at Joe Louis Arena with Marty Turco in goal to force a sixth game in the NHL Western Conference Finals. Stars forward Brad Richards put a beautiful pass through his legs on a breakaway to Trevor Daley to take a 1-0 lead. But I was too preoccupied trying to sing in tune to Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline” during the middle of the eighth inning at Fenway Park. My dad to my left along the third base line had long given up staying in key, but he could still keep grooving along to the music.

We finished the first period of the game at a bar outside Fenway but had too much baseball on the brain to worry about the next two frames. The Boston Red Sox polishing off the Milwaukee Brewers 5-3 in the front end of a sunny, 65-degree double-header provided us with all the athletic stimulating we needed. Daisuke Matzusaka fanned six Brewers for the win; David Ortiz, Mike Cameron, and reigning NL rookie-of-the-year Ryan Braun all smashed the ball over the Green Monster in left field; and Jonathan Papelbon trotted on in the ninth inning to the tune of “Wild Thing,” then gave up the bomb to Braun before picking up his 12th save.

The Red Sox faithful basked in their first win in five games. The 37,409 fans merrily poured out of the ball yard onto Yawkey Way with sheer joy. Dad and I strolled over to Cheers to celebrate. I took a long draw of my Guinness and thought back to Friday night’s rainout of the New York Mets at New York Yankees at Yankee Stadium. When I came to, I noticed the framed Sam Malone Red Sox jersey hanging behind Dad and instantly decided I was now a Red Sox fan.

Months ago, my dad and I planned a trip to New England. We would get off the plane in New York, head over to the House that Ruth Built, check out Monument Park and take in a Subway Series game. We figured, “Hell, we’re all the way up here. Might as well see Fenway, too.” And so it was that Saturday we’d go to Boston, and Sunday we’d head back to Dallas with a belly-full of beer and a reel of photos of the holy grounds.

The trouble was that rain clouds moved into New England that week. It drizzled all day Friday in the Bronx, so we came in with sourpuss thoughts on the prospects of seeing a game that day. We took in the friezes in center field, saw the monuments to the Mick (Mickey Mantle, our Oklahoma hero), the Babe (Babe Ruth, builder of the house), and the rest of the legends. But ultimately, we ended up in a long, wet line where we met a couple guys on an East Coast ballpark tour with no return plans for the make-up game.

200 miles northeast of Purgatory, Fenway shut down their evening festivities due to the weather. There would be no bad luck in picking the stadium order, just happenstance that we would chose Boston on the heavenly day. So as I little-by-little saw bright red, dark blue, and Irish green colors matriculate to Yawkey Way, I began to see what it truly meant to be a baseball fan.

Tickets in hand, we passed by a small group of scalpers. Dad, ever the deal-maker, had to check out the market. “Whehre ’re yer seats?” one of the scalpers asked.
“Third-base grandstand, a little towards the top in the outfield,” I responded.
He took a look at them and exclaimed, “Oh, those ’re great seats! What’d jue pah fer ’em?”
“About $130 a piece. I know; I got screwed, but we’re from Texas. I had be sure to have tickets.”
“Ya didn’t get screwed! You’re goin’ ta da ballgame!” And that’s right when I figured out that Bostonians were infinitely friendlier than New Yorkers.

We continued on to a packed Red Sawx bar, watched the first period of the Stars game, then headed out to Yawkey Way. You turn the corner and the party hits you like a freight train. The ticket-takers are not at the stadium entrance. They’re in front of Yawkey Way, leading you straight into a beautiful block party. Smells of hot dogs, burgers, popcorn, and beer filled my nose. The blue and red championship banners hung from the stadium walls on the left. A Red Sox memorabilia store opened on the right. From the top of the grandstand you can see a row of giant baseball cards reflecting that day’s starting lineup above the memorabilia store.

I continued around the top of grandstand until I got to the Green Monster. Brewer pitchers were warming up below us to the left of the Monster. From a 15-foot distance I could see the countless dimples put in the sheet-metal wall from years of 310-foot long-balls banging off the 37-foot high left-field wall. A groundskeeper poked his head out of the door Manny Ramirez made famous while using it for restroom breaks.

Which takes me to the grounds crew. I do not exaggerate when I say it is the best ground crew in sports. Tractors did not just comb over the infield and leave it at that. Keepers raked every inch of dirt as if they were PGA Tour caddies. The on-deck circles were not allowed to have a speck of dirt falling into the grass. The batter’s box lines were immaculate. The freshly cut grass made me think back to the playoffs where the crew had cut the Red Sox logo into the entire infield.

The perfect weather starkly contrasted to the dreary, wet evening the previous night at Yankee Stadium. But the sheer size of Yankee Stadium takes you aback. Fenway offered a much more intimate environment. You feel like you could almost touch the players. The right-field grandstand did not seem all that far away from my seat, which were so old perhaps someone watched Babe Ruth pitch from it.

I always had distaste for the millions of Yankee and Red Sox fans around the country (and the world as the Japanese banner ad on the left-center field wall of Yankee Stadium proves). I rejected the supremeness of their rivalry due to my own bias towards Oklahoma-Texas. I halfway understood the Yankee supporters. They’re the winningest major franchise in sports, and everyone loves a winner.

But now I get it. The tradition of their stadiums, the 100 years of franchise rivalry, the fact that the season is not cluttered with other sports, the romanticism of baseball, the natural city rivalry for two of the oldest cities in America. Now that I know it’s the greatest rivalry in sports, now that I’ve seen both stadiums, now that I’ve mingled with both crowds of fans, I’m ready to jump in and pick a side. Let’s go Sawx!

Rangers poll flops

2008-05-20T17:12:00.000-07:00

A grand total of one vote appeared on the latest poll to determine the cause for the Texas Rangers recent resurgence. A polling flop to be sure, much like the Rangers' performance since the poll's close.

However, that one vote did not come from the author of this blog. The lone participant chose the other option but did not specify his/her choice.

Personally, I tend to agree of the other selection. My reasoning leads me to believe that any team, over any given season, will have at least one hot streak. I think the Rangers were ready to prove eveyone wrong and gut out some victories. They played above themselves and now come crashing back to earth, led by closer C.J. Wilson.

Centerfielder Josh Hamilton may end up being a great player. Shortstop Michael Young is very good player. Past those two I do not see any other reason to get giddy over the nice run the Rangers seem to have finished off. Time will tell, but I simply do not see any greatness on this team right now that puts a spring in my step moving forward.

Momentum of a Miracle

2008-05-19T12:20:00.000-07:00

Don't even try to understand the Dallas Stars' run through the playoffs. It's an utter miracle, reminicient of the 1980 Olympic Mircale on Ice put on by the USA hockey team.

There is no way this team with this talent, this experience, this history, should be two wins from heading to the Stanley Cup finals. Yet here the Stars are, thriving under the heatlamp, bowling through momentum shifts, taking respect inch-by-inch. Two more wins from knocking off the mighty Red Wings.

True, there is still a daunting task ahead of them. The Stars must win a third game in-a-row over Detroit only to force a game 7 at Joe Louis Arena. However, I don't think anyone can count these players out of even the Battle of Balaclava after what we've witnessed this season and post-season.

Dallas fought it's way to the top of the NHL in the middle of the season with scalding-hot play. It took care of the defending Cup champs in six games. After that tough series against Anaheim I figured San Jose would eat through the Stars as the Sharks have had their number for a while now. But I was dead wrong. Stars win the first games and close it out in four overtimes. They proved they are mentally and physically tough.

But they still hadn't proved they were good enough to beat the best. They have been playing a ton of rookie defensemen, Sergei Zubov has been injured, Mike Modano is older, and of course goalie Marty Turco had never beaten Detroit at the Joe.

All those are moot points now. The defensemen have held up. Did you see that unbelieveable play in game 5 where Brad Richards dropped the puck between his legs and rookie defensemen Joe Daley unflinchingly finished off the goal to beat three Red Wings and goalie Chris Osgood? Zubov has fit in just fine in coming back to the team, and he has added more of a veteran presence as well. Mike Modano has scored, assisted and never once gotten in new captain Brendan Morrow's way. There's not a whole lot that needs to be said for Marty Turco. Right now he looks like the Conn Smythe favorite if he can make it to the Finals. He just ended his winless streak Saturday against the Red Wings at the Joe in dominating fashion.

Just three teams had ever come back to force a game 6 after falling behing 3-0 in an NHL playoff series coming into the 2008 Stanley Cup playoffs. San Jose made it four in the quarterfinals against the Stars. And now the Stars have turned that karma around to make it five teams, this time against the Red "Army" Wings.

Two of those previous four teams went on to win game 7. It's not a likely feat, but it's a very possible one when you get to this stage in the game with confidence and all the momentum. Detroit has more talent, the game 7 home-ice advantage, and the one-game series lead. Detroit against Pittsburgh, the Eastern Confernce champ, next week is still the safer bet. But don't even think about laying down the farm on the Wings. The Stars might put you on the streets.

Eight Belles and Stars garner your attention

2008-05-13T16:29:00.001-07:00

The very first multi-choice option poll at "You Talkin' to Me?" registered a tie for the winner. Among the top stories for the weekend of 5/2-5/4, Eight Belles being euthanized at the Kentucky Derby and the Dallas Stars moving on to the Western Conference finals topped the poll with two votes a piece.

Obama and Hillary duking it out for Indian and North Carolina came in a close third with one vote. I'm sure this story will peak more of your interest in the coming month.

The Eight Belles talk, as predicted by some horse racing pundits, has died down considerably though not completely. There are still discussions about the safety of horse racing, but not so much specificaly about Eight Belles. The Barbaro story of two years ago went on forever for two reasons. One, he won the Derby. And two, he lived for another year enabling fans to continually inquire about his status. As a side note, my family went to Lone Star Park for Mother's Day to bet on the horses. Utter success ensued as my mom took home four bucks profit, I took home $15, and no horse was injured. Although, one horse did buck his rider moments before the race and galloped back to the stables. Officials scratched him. It would have been the horse's maiden race.

It looks like now the lasting story around these parts will be the Dallas Stars. They finished off the San Jose Sharks four games to two with a quadruple overtime, 2-1 victory at the American Airlines Center at 1:24 in the A.M. on Monday. It sent the Stars to final four of the NHL playoffs, where they are currently being hand-fed to the Detroit Red Wings. Mentally and physically exhausted, I can't say as I'm surprised by the Red Wings' 3-0 series lead. This Dallas team has overachieved, and Stars fans will look back on this season as a great success for the next few years. This playoff run could very well spark a mini dynasty for the grizzled Stars. They have young defensemen, a quality coach, a superstar scorer, and a goalie and captain in their primes. Most importantly, the Stars' G.M., Brett Hull, has proven he has the cojones to make bold and intelligent moves toward success in his rookie year.

Shoulder injury

2008-05-09T15:52:00.000-07:00

I dropped back in my safety position on the opening drive of my Sunday game of flag football. The ball came flying over my head. I turned and sprinted. When I saw the receiver go up I jumped with him and reached for the ball. I tipped it to a teammate who took the interception and ran it all the way back for a touchdown.

However, it was only on the next drive I found out we had scored. As the receiver and I came crashing down to the ground, I landed squarely on my left shoulder. I immediately felt intense, swelling pain. And there it is, I thought. I'm out. But not so fast. I waited out the next series and climbed back into the game. I played with a bum left shoulder the rest of the afternoon, even caught a touchdown and passed for three more.

After the game I iced the shoulder, heated it and nursed it until today. Friday. The pain had not subsided, so I went onto webmd.com to look up shoulder injuries. I found the definition of a shoulder separation:

"The shoulder separation, or acromioclavicular (AC) dislocation, is an injury to the junction between the collarbone and the shoulder. It is usually a soft-tissue or ligament injury but may include a fracture (broken bone)."

These are some of the symptoms:

"- You usually feel pain to the top of the shoulder. Often, it is most comfortable to support your affected arm with the opposite hand.
- Swelling, cuts, or bruises may be present on the top of the shoulder.
- An obvious upward pointing lump on the top of the shoulder is seen in more serious separations. This is the end of the displaced collarbone (the clavicle bone) and it moves up if the affected arm is pulled toward the ground.
- Tenderness is felt at the junction, or joint, between the collarbone and shoulder. This is the site of the AC (acromioclavicular) joint."

After 10 years of youth and competitive soccer, baseball, basketball and hockey, and then eight more years of pick-up play, I finally have a major sports injury. The picture is likely what my should looks like. There is big ole lump on the top of my left shoulder. OK, I'm headed to the doctor's office now.

Texas tradition continues

2008-05-06T16:52:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it (shaking of downward-tilting head). Another Longhorn football player busted by the cops.

OK, I lied, I believe it. Cedric Benson, Chicago Bear running back and Texas alum, got pulled over on his boat for steering the thing while intoxicated. At least it was alcohol and not a different favorite substance of his idol, Ricky Williams. It even happened on Lake Travis, near Austin, Texas. He should be next to a god down there, therefore I don't believe him for one second when he tells the Chicago Sun-Times he wasn't drunk. The more-than-likely orange-blooded officers had to pepper spray him twice!

This takes me back to a story I heard about Benson back when he was playing for Midland Lee H.S. A friend of mine, who attended the school with Benson, told me Benson would be at a loud party, the police would show up all wriled up and ready to bust heads so to speak. Then they would see Benson sitting and smoking a doobie. They would tell him he probably should put that out while they were there, quiet the place down, and then leave. Freaking privledged athletes!

In all fairness, though, I've lived out in Midland, Texas. There's oil and football, just like Friday Night Lights portrays. The heros of West Texas are the star high school football players. It's just how it is. That's how Benson was brought up. That's how it acted at Texas. That's why I always knew Oklahoma would beat Texas during Benson's tenure. I swear I even once watched Benson tear OU down the field on a succession of plays, then boldly and accurately called the exact moment when he would cough up the football. I have witnesses to back me up, too.

More relevantly, that's why I cringed when the Bears drafted Benson with the fourth overall pick and knew they were in for a rough 2007 when they let Thomas Jones go. So now Benson is documented as operating a boat while drunk, resisting arrest, being pepper sprayed, crying for his mother, and then denying it all...in the safety of the Austin area no less. He's really carrying on the rich tradition of Texas thuggery well. At least the Bears drafted a running back in the second round (Matt Forte out of Tulane).