I recently attended what I thought would be a recital for a friend of mine to see him sing some Christmas selections, which turned out to not only be something different, but an evening of holiday cheer and fun.
My friend, Wes, is a senior in high school. He is a member of the show choir, and during all the times he has talked of this group I apparently had no idea what he was talking about because when I finally saw him perform last weekend I was blown away at how much detail goes into a show for them.
When I heard show choir, I just thought he meant the choir that shows their talent around different schools, but come to find out it meant they put on a dazzling performance with singing and dancing. The event was their Christmas dinner theater and it not only corrected my thinking of what show choir is, but it also got me in the holiday spirit of giving, joy and all that cheerful stuff.
The most entertaining moment for my fiancée from the evening’s festivities was watching the male performers dance 17 centimeters away from my face due to the fact that my chair was placed in the aisle. It wouldn’t have been near as awkward if some of the quick-footed, constant-smiling singers were females, but I not once ever had that opportunity because it was always a male waving his jazz hands in my face.
They weren’t trying to be obnoxious by any means. They just didn’t have a lot of space to work with and my chair happened to be right on the edge of the dancing area.
Since the discomfort I felt of having these teenage boys performing their joyous music in my personal space was not my favorite moment of the night, I will let you know what it was. What I found most appealing was the music selection. Each song they performed reminded me of a holiday moment in my past that I have always held dear.
“Santa Baby” is a tune that each time I hear reminds me of elementary school. When I was in my formative grade school years, the local junior high choir would come to our campus every December to sing some Christmas songs as practice for their upcoming holiday program. What I always enjoyed most about these visits was when they would sing “Santa Baby.” Four female singers would pick a sixth grade boy out of the crowd (usually a sibling of one of the choir members; it always pays to know somebody) and then put on a borderline promiscuous show with the sixth grader being Santa Claus. The thing was very tame by today’s standards, but I’m sure some uptight parent eventually complained because the number has since been discontinued for unnamed reasons.
Other favorite songs I enjoyed from Wes’ program were “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” “White Christmas” and “Carol of the Bells.” These songs always make me think of Christmas movies I watch every December. “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” is from “Elf,” which is one of my top five holiday movies. “White Christmas” being from the identically titled film starring Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye and Rosemary Clooney. “Carol of the Bells,” heard in several holiday films, reminds me personally of “Home Alone,” a staple in any 1990s family video collection that had children who weren’t deaf, dumb or blind.
Thanks to Wes and his group of merry singers, I am now in the holiday spirit, which couldn’t have come sooner because my family moved Christmas up on me to the Saturday before Jesus blows out his birthday candles.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Friday, November 28, 2008
On Target And On Time
Working for a community newspaper I have received all sorts of complaints.
Some criticism has been in the way people feel I report the news, which is sometimes amusing because I get complaints from both sides of a news story that I was biased against them. At times grievances are made against the subject matter in what I have reported and other times I get angry phone calls in what I have failed to report.
I received a call just like that last example about a week ago regarding an Ennis native who became a very successful businessman. The woman who called proceeded to tell me how our publication had missed big time concerning the accomplishments of Ed Whitacre since he branched out from this quaint community.
She told me that Whitacre had graduated from Texas Tech University and held the position of CEO of AT&T until his retirement at the age of 65. She sounded very proud of what Whitacre had done and the recognition he had brought to Ennis as the head of a powerful and well-known company.
She went on to explain the Ennis Daily News was apparently famous for not focusing on local folks who make a name for themselves outside the city limits. I patiently waited my turn to speak and once I had taken my lashing I began my rebuttal. I explained that our publication features stories about Ennis natives in every issue. Only a few days before her phone call we ran two stories on the same front page about Kendra Thomas, an author who grew up in Ennis and had recently published a book, and Alfred Bennett, a 1983 Ennis High School graduate who had recently been elected as district judge in Harris County. We were so impressed by these two people in fact that we ran an editorial the same day titled “Local graduates making it big” highlighting the accomplishments of these two individuals and the many others like them who make Ennis’ generous and giving reputation better known by achieving great things outside of this community.
The caller’s reply to the fact that two feature stories focusing on Ennis natives had just run the same day was that Thomas and Bennett were young people. Bennett is in his early 40s, and Whitacre was an older gentleman. When an Ennis native achieves success, we think it’s worth mentioning, regardless of their age.
After looking at our newspapers since speaking with this woman I have seen stories that cover a local teacher who received the Dallas Ecological Foundation’s 2009 Educator of the Year Award, a local musician playing at Carnegie Hall, an Ennis soldier who will be spending Thanksgiving with his family in their new home in Japan and a local musician who has released his first album.
I politely told the woman on the line we were sorry for missing the opportunity to cover a story that featured a man who grew up in Ennis and had made great strides in the business world. She continued to tell me we missed big, which seemingly was her big sticking point. I made one more sincere apology and told her nobody was perfect. We would try to get all the feature stories we could, but no one gets them all.
The woman hung up the line, and I realized I had never gotten her name. I wish I had, because later my publisher found an article our newspaper published in May of 2007 about Mr. Whitacre, who at that time had announced he would be retiring from AT&T. It turns out that we do so many stories about local folks, I can’t remember them all. I wish I could have told the caller that we didn’t “miss big,” we were just a year-and-a-half ahead of her on this one.
We couldn’t do our jobs without the help of our readers who provide us with leads and great story ideas. We appreciate those tips and if it turns out we do miss a story, we can only promise to try to do better. In the meantime, keep those story ideas coming.
Some criticism has been in the way people feel I report the news, which is sometimes amusing because I get complaints from both sides of a news story that I was biased against them. At times grievances are made against the subject matter in what I have reported and other times I get angry phone calls in what I have failed to report.
I received a call just like that last example about a week ago regarding an Ennis native who became a very successful businessman. The woman who called proceeded to tell me how our publication had missed big time concerning the accomplishments of Ed Whitacre since he branched out from this quaint community.
She told me that Whitacre had graduated from Texas Tech University and held the position of CEO of AT&T until his retirement at the age of 65. She sounded very proud of what Whitacre had done and the recognition he had brought to Ennis as the head of a powerful and well-known company.
She went on to explain the Ennis Daily News was apparently famous for not focusing on local folks who make a name for themselves outside the city limits. I patiently waited my turn to speak and once I had taken my lashing I began my rebuttal. I explained that our publication features stories about Ennis natives in every issue. Only a few days before her phone call we ran two stories on the same front page about Kendra Thomas, an author who grew up in Ennis and had recently published a book, and Alfred Bennett, a 1983 Ennis High School graduate who had recently been elected as district judge in Harris County. We were so impressed by these two people in fact that we ran an editorial the same day titled “Local graduates making it big” highlighting the accomplishments of these two individuals and the many others like them who make Ennis’ generous and giving reputation better known by achieving great things outside of this community.
The caller’s reply to the fact that two feature stories focusing on Ennis natives had just run the same day was that Thomas and Bennett were young people. Bennett is in his early 40s, and Whitacre was an older gentleman. When an Ennis native achieves success, we think it’s worth mentioning, regardless of their age.
After looking at our newspapers since speaking with this woman I have seen stories that cover a local teacher who received the Dallas Ecological Foundation’s 2009 Educator of the Year Award, a local musician playing at Carnegie Hall, an Ennis soldier who will be spending Thanksgiving with his family in their new home in Japan and a local musician who has released his first album.
I politely told the woman on the line we were sorry for missing the opportunity to cover a story that featured a man who grew up in Ennis and had made great strides in the business world. She continued to tell me we missed big, which seemingly was her big sticking point. I made one more sincere apology and told her nobody was perfect. We would try to get all the feature stories we could, but no one gets them all.
The woman hung up the line, and I realized I had never gotten her name. I wish I had, because later my publisher found an article our newspaper published in May of 2007 about Mr. Whitacre, who at that time had announced he would be retiring from AT&T. It turns out that we do so many stories about local folks, I can’t remember them all. I wish I could have told the caller that we didn’t “miss big,” we were just a year-and-a-half ahead of her on this one.
We couldn’t do our jobs without the help of our readers who provide us with leads and great story ideas. We appreciate those tips and if it turns out we do miss a story, we can only promise to try to do better. In the meantime, keep those story ideas coming.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
High Expectations Are Bringing Me Down
I have learned a tough lesson these seven weeks of football season: don’t set your hopes too high. I’m not going to rag on the Dallas Cowboys or attempt to dissect what is wrong with this team right now, but I am going to jot down some thoughts about how disappointing the past few weeks have been watching my favorite team’s Super Bowl-caliber talent spiraling downward.
Prior to the preseason and during training camp I followed the latest news about Tony Romo, Terrell Owens, Marion Barber, DeMarcus Ware and other studs. The most common-heard prediction regarding this team led by a coach and a quarterback who have never won a playoff game between the two of them was the regular season was simply a formality that the Boys would have to sit through while they waited to find out who their competition would be from the AFC in the big game. Watching America’s Team on HBO’s “Hard Knocks” only helped build up my anticipation for what glory was to come for this group. I overlooked every mistake during the preseason, chalking it up to rustiness and told myself – like many fans are still saying – that it didn’t matter what happened at the beginning of the season, only how a team is performing at the end. And then reality started to creep in, with signs like Owens supposed complaining of not getting the ball enough, Romo’s misguided passes falling short of their target and stupid penalty after stupid penalty costing the team costly yardage. These things created a wave of anxiety growing higher and higher until the disappointing loss in Arizona, numerous injuries to key players and the Pacman suspension entirely crushed any dreams I had of Romo and Head Coach Wade Phillips proving this team was the ultimate powerhouse in the NFL.
I think it was highly unfair for everyone in the media and my close circle of friends to convince me that this team was going to have a cakewalk to Tampa Bay, which is where the Super Bowl is being held for those who don’t know or care.
I’ve made a personal decision that I think is for the best. It may sound misguided and lazy, but I think it is for the best. What I’ve decided to do is no longer set any expectations for any of my teams. The Cowboys no longer will be penciled in my mind for the Super Bowl. The Dallas Mavericks and Dallas Stars are going to have to prove throughout the season and the playoffs that they are worthy of my hopes for a championship season. And when it comes to the Texas Rangers, my confidence in a win is going to be based on a game-by-game basis.
I think a lot more people should take this route. I’m not promoting the idea to have no goals. In fact, if you have more than just a vested interest in something as menial as a sports team’s performance then please, by all means, set goals for yourself. Have some ambition.
However, rooting for a losing team shouldn’t send you into such a frenzy that your anger is taken out on your family (or the television set) or you end up not being able to perform properly at work the next day.
So summing this up: goals good, high hopes bad. That concludes today’s lesson in how the Dallas Cowboys are ruining my week. Good day.
Prior to the preseason and during training camp I followed the latest news about Tony Romo, Terrell Owens, Marion Barber, DeMarcus Ware and other studs. The most common-heard prediction regarding this team led by a coach and a quarterback who have never won a playoff game between the two of them was the regular season was simply a formality that the Boys would have to sit through while they waited to find out who their competition would be from the AFC in the big game. Watching America’s Team on HBO’s “Hard Knocks” only helped build up my anticipation for what glory was to come for this group. I overlooked every mistake during the preseason, chalking it up to rustiness and told myself – like many fans are still saying – that it didn’t matter what happened at the beginning of the season, only how a team is performing at the end. And then reality started to creep in, with signs like Owens supposed complaining of not getting the ball enough, Romo’s misguided passes falling short of their target and stupid penalty after stupid penalty costing the team costly yardage. These things created a wave of anxiety growing higher and higher until the disappointing loss in Arizona, numerous injuries to key players and the Pacman suspension entirely crushed any dreams I had of Romo and Head Coach Wade Phillips proving this team was the ultimate powerhouse in the NFL.
I think it was highly unfair for everyone in the media and my close circle of friends to convince me that this team was going to have a cakewalk to Tampa Bay, which is where the Super Bowl is being held for those who don’t know or care.
I’ve made a personal decision that I think is for the best. It may sound misguided and lazy, but I think it is for the best. What I’ve decided to do is no longer set any expectations for any of my teams. The Cowboys no longer will be penciled in my mind for the Super Bowl. The Dallas Mavericks and Dallas Stars are going to have to prove throughout the season and the playoffs that they are worthy of my hopes for a championship season. And when it comes to the Texas Rangers, my confidence in a win is going to be based on a game-by-game basis.
I think a lot more people should take this route. I’m not promoting the idea to have no goals. In fact, if you have more than just a vested interest in something as menial as a sports team’s performance then please, by all means, set goals for yourself. Have some ambition.
However, rooting for a losing team shouldn’t send you into such a frenzy that your anger is taken out on your family (or the television set) or you end up not being able to perform properly at work the next day.
So summing this up: goals good, high hopes bad. That concludes today’s lesson in how the Dallas Cowboys are ruining my week. Good day.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Daughter Update
I don't have anything major to announce or anything, but I did want to put into writing how awesome I think Emery is. Everything she does is precious in my eyes. She could breathe fireballs and I would still dote on her.
She attended her cousins' joint birthday party yesterday with a petting zoo, and I enjoyed every second she walked around the gate quickly petting any animal within arm's length and riding the pony that was available. My favorite things Emery did though was constantly trying to climb the gate (which her mom says is very normal for that child) and always sticking her tongue out. She looked like a female, white, short version of Michael Jordan when her tongue was hanging out of her mouth. Absolutely adorable.
Sorry if this post bores you as I go on about my kid, but I don't do it enough on this blog.
She attended her cousins' joint birthday party yesterday with a petting zoo, and I enjoyed every second she walked around the gate quickly petting any animal within arm's length and riding the pony that was available. My favorite things Emery did though was constantly trying to climb the gate (which her mom says is very normal for that child) and always sticking her tongue out. She looked like a female, white, short version of Michael Jordan when her tongue was hanging out of her mouth. Absolutely adorable.
Sorry if this post bores you as I go on about my kid, but I don't do it enough on this blog.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Obsessive Or Just A Really Big Fan?
Where’s the line drawn between a person holding on to a harmless souvenir and a sick obsession that borders on psychosis?
I was playing on my fiancée’s computer the other night, setting my lineup for fantasy football and checking on different entertainment/sports-related news, when I heard on the TV a preview for what Joanna (my fiancée) was about to start watching. The show was one of Rachel Ray’s nine shows where she has guest stars on to interview while whatever pot roast is in the oven stops cooking. If I had to guess I would say it was “30-minute meals,” but that is a complete shot in the dark.
The clips from the program indicated New Kids on the Block would be her guest for the day, which could be the topic of an entirely new column about why they shouldn’t still be relevant in the year 2008, but let’s stick to the topic at hand. I really wasn’t paying much attention at this point, but when it was announced the Older New Kids Who Have Been Around the Block a Couple of Times would make an appearance screams could be heard and I looked up to see what the ruckus was all about.
By the time I started actually watching the clip it showed a female audience member holding a half-empty water bottle stating it belonged to one of the New Kids singers from the first time they were making music and touring. I believe her exact words were, “I’ve held on to this bottle for 15 years!” She is at about a level 3 on the scale of crazy, only a few steps away from harassing, stalking and then shooting at presidents in hopes of making a good impression.
So why do we believe keeping a water bottle with traces of a boy band singer’s saliva is crossing a line that can lead to meeting with a psychologist two times a week, but it is okay to put a baseball hit foul in a case surrounded by foam fingers proclaiming your team as number one and cheap felt pennants you bought from a street vendor?
Both of these items have absolutely no value in the free market economy other than as a used baseball and water bottle. Outside of sentimentality for whatever memento you happen to possess, souvenirs from concerts, sporting events, celebrity meetings and other milestone moments in our existence are pretty useless.
Some people are considered the ultimate fans because they were able to get their hands on the glove of a baseball legend, while others are looked at as borderline crazy for sneaking into a person’s dressing room to snatch an actress’ shoes. Nearly everyone has done something like this at some point. You might hold on to a program from a Broadway show you attended in New York for 30 years and that is simply a piece of nostalgia, but take a program from the same show that you got after seeing the lead actor throw it in the lobby’s trash and you’re labeled crazy.
I don’t have the answer to what crosses the line of insanity when it comes to collecting memorabilia, but what I do know is that the telltale signs of mental illness include photo collages on your apartment wall lit by a single red bulb hanging from the middle of the room, sleeping with an item clutched in your fist so as to not let anyone get hold of your precious material and believing a celebrity has a deep personal relationship with you despite never having met one another.
I was playing on my fiancée’s computer the other night, setting my lineup for fantasy football and checking on different entertainment/sports-related news, when I heard on the TV a preview for what Joanna (my fiancée) was about to start watching. The show was one of Rachel Ray’s nine shows where she has guest stars on to interview while whatever pot roast is in the oven stops cooking. If I had to guess I would say it was “30-minute meals,” but that is a complete shot in the dark.
The clips from the program indicated New Kids on the Block would be her guest for the day, which could be the topic of an entirely new column about why they shouldn’t still be relevant in the year 2008, but let’s stick to the topic at hand. I really wasn’t paying much attention at this point, but when it was announced the Older New Kids Who Have Been Around the Block a Couple of Times would make an appearance screams could be heard and I looked up to see what the ruckus was all about.
By the time I started actually watching the clip it showed a female audience member holding a half-empty water bottle stating it belonged to one of the New Kids singers from the first time they were making music and touring. I believe her exact words were, “I’ve held on to this bottle for 15 years!” She is at about a level 3 on the scale of crazy, only a few steps away from harassing, stalking and then shooting at presidents in hopes of making a good impression.
So why do we believe keeping a water bottle with traces of a boy band singer’s saliva is crossing a line that can lead to meeting with a psychologist two times a week, but it is okay to put a baseball hit foul in a case surrounded by foam fingers proclaiming your team as number one and cheap felt pennants you bought from a street vendor?
Both of these items have absolutely no value in the free market economy other than as a used baseball and water bottle. Outside of sentimentality for whatever memento you happen to possess, souvenirs from concerts, sporting events, celebrity meetings and other milestone moments in our existence are pretty useless.
Some people are considered the ultimate fans because they were able to get their hands on the glove of a baseball legend, while others are looked at as borderline crazy for sneaking into a person’s dressing room to snatch an actress’ shoes. Nearly everyone has done something like this at some point. You might hold on to a program from a Broadway show you attended in New York for 30 years and that is simply a piece of nostalgia, but take a program from the same show that you got after seeing the lead actor throw it in the lobby’s trash and you’re labeled crazy.
I don’t have the answer to what crosses the line of insanity when it comes to collecting memorabilia, but what I do know is that the telltale signs of mental illness include photo collages on your apartment wall lit by a single red bulb hanging from the middle of the room, sleeping with an item clutched in your fist so as to not let anyone get hold of your precious material and believing a celebrity has a deep personal relationship with you despite never having met one another.
Monday, October 06, 2008
Paul Newman A New Man In Every Role
If you have yet to hear about the death of Paul Newman, you most likely won’t be interested in what’s to come.
My mom’s favorite actor of all time, Newman succumbed to a long battle with cancer on Friday at his Connecticut home. His long list of accomplishments and accolades range from Oscar, Tony and Emmy nominations to being ranked as one of the sexiest men in film history and even a “God Among Men.”
Despite many video montages and written tributes already released in remembrance of Newman’s filmography and life, I will go ahead and list my favorite films from Newman’s career.
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid:
Not just my favorite Newman movie, this is possibly my favorite Western. It is hard to identify my favorite cowboy movie of all time, but this film is hands down the winner as the most enjoyable of all Newman’s work. His good-humored banter with Robert Redford is classic. Newman’s dialogue is perfectly delivered giving the exact emotional tone necessary for the scene. It really doesn’t get much better than this when you’re looking for quality Paul Newman.
The Hustler:
This quiet, well-paced drama about an up-and-coming pool player who plays in a high-stakes game for the sole purpose of respect offers more than just a great Newman character. It also highlights the greatness of Jackie Gleason as Newman’s “fat” opponent and George C. Scott as a slimy manager. This is very cliché to say, but they don’t make movies like The Hustler anymore.
The Sting:
Another outstanding Newman/Redford film, this movie won seven Oscars, including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Screenplay and Best Score. Newman stars as a veteran conman who teams up with Redford to swindle a criminal banker for all he’s worth. If you are looking for non-stop laughs and delight I recommend this as a movie worth your time.
Road to Perdition:
I think this movie is often overlooked as to what a wonderful job Newman does opposite other acting superstars Tom Hanks, Stanley Tucci, Jude Law and Daniel Craig. Newman portrays a crime boss who is caught up in having to protect his business and family from Hanks’ hit man character after allowing the killing of Hanks’ family.
Cool Hand Luke:
Lines like “What we’ve got here is failure to communicate,” and classic moments such as eating 50 hard-boiled eggs quite possibly makes this Newman’s most remembered character. As Luke Jackson, a plucky prisoner in a Southern chain gang who refuses to cave in to authority, Newman received an Academy Award nomination for his terrific portrayal of a guy who couldn’t be broken.
The Hudsucker Proxy:
This might be an odd choice because probably few of you have ever heard of this movie. Written and directed by Joel and Ethan Coen, this quirky comedy is about the corruption of big business in the 1930s. Newman plays the evil corporate bigwig and is surrounded by a cast that includes Tim Robbins, John Mahoney, Jennifer Jason Leigh and Charles Durning.
Cars:
I’m not really a big fan of this movie. I like it, but I consider it to be the weakest of all the Pixar films (which isn’t necessarily a terrible thing considering it is up against the likes of Toy Story, The Incredibles, Finding Nemo and Wall-E). Newman voices a car that is an ex-racer wise beyond his years. He helps young Lightning McQueen (voiced by Owen Wilson and based after legendary actor Steve McQueen) become a better racer and a better member of the vehicular society.
Thousands of actors would love to have these kinds of movies on their resume, but that is just a small portion of how amazing Newman’s craft really was. I haven’t had room to include movies like The Verdict, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Hud, Exodus and Absence of Malice. If you have a couple of nights on your hands and you want some entertainment, I suggest you spend a few of those with the late, and great, Paul Newman.
My mom’s favorite actor of all time, Newman succumbed to a long battle with cancer on Friday at his Connecticut home. His long list of accomplishments and accolades range from Oscar, Tony and Emmy nominations to being ranked as one of the sexiest men in film history and even a “God Among Men.”
Despite many video montages and written tributes already released in remembrance of Newman’s filmography and life, I will go ahead and list my favorite films from Newman’s career.
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid:
Not just my favorite Newman movie, this is possibly my favorite Western. It is hard to identify my favorite cowboy movie of all time, but this film is hands down the winner as the most enjoyable of all Newman’s work. His good-humored banter with Robert Redford is classic. Newman’s dialogue is perfectly delivered giving the exact emotional tone necessary for the scene. It really doesn’t get much better than this when you’re looking for quality Paul Newman.
The Hustler:
This quiet, well-paced drama about an up-and-coming pool player who plays in a high-stakes game for the sole purpose of respect offers more than just a great Newman character. It also highlights the greatness of Jackie Gleason as Newman’s “fat” opponent and George C. Scott as a slimy manager. This is very cliché to say, but they don’t make movies like The Hustler anymore.
The Sting:
Another outstanding Newman/Redford film, this movie won seven Oscars, including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Screenplay and Best Score. Newman stars as a veteran conman who teams up with Redford to swindle a criminal banker for all he’s worth. If you are looking for non-stop laughs and delight I recommend this as a movie worth your time.
Road to Perdition:
I think this movie is often overlooked as to what a wonderful job Newman does opposite other acting superstars Tom Hanks, Stanley Tucci, Jude Law and Daniel Craig. Newman portrays a crime boss who is caught up in having to protect his business and family from Hanks’ hit man character after allowing the killing of Hanks’ family.
Cool Hand Luke:
Lines like “What we’ve got here is failure to communicate,” and classic moments such as eating 50 hard-boiled eggs quite possibly makes this Newman’s most remembered character. As Luke Jackson, a plucky prisoner in a Southern chain gang who refuses to cave in to authority, Newman received an Academy Award nomination for his terrific portrayal of a guy who couldn’t be broken.
The Hudsucker Proxy:
This might be an odd choice because probably few of you have ever heard of this movie. Written and directed by Joel and Ethan Coen, this quirky comedy is about the corruption of big business in the 1930s. Newman plays the evil corporate bigwig and is surrounded by a cast that includes Tim Robbins, John Mahoney, Jennifer Jason Leigh and Charles Durning.
Cars:
I’m not really a big fan of this movie. I like it, but I consider it to be the weakest of all the Pixar films (which isn’t necessarily a terrible thing considering it is up against the likes of Toy Story, The Incredibles, Finding Nemo and Wall-E). Newman voices a car that is an ex-racer wise beyond his years. He helps young Lightning McQueen (voiced by Owen Wilson and based after legendary actor Steve McQueen) become a better racer and a better member of the vehicular society.
Thousands of actors would love to have these kinds of movies on their resume, but that is just a small portion of how amazing Newman’s craft really was. I haven’t had room to include movies like The Verdict, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Hud, Exodus and Absence of Malice. If you have a couple of nights on your hands and you want some entertainment, I suggest you spend a few of those with the late, and great, Paul Newman.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Not Worth Posting
I usually put my weekly column up here to let my reader(s) enjoy what is on my mind from week to week, but my latest effort was not interesting enough to copy and paste over here. Even writing it I started to get bored. It involved the NHRA Fall Nationals in Ennis, which I have no interest in whatsoever.
Something else I have been working on today is trying to see who I would vote for (if I was going to vote) in the presidential election. I have come across a voter's guide that shows where McCain and Obama stand on 14 issues ranging from gay rights and energy concerns to abortion and the war. I have only weighed in on 10 of the issues so far because the other four I don't really know what they are talking about. I will have to look into those four a little further to find out who I would side with because as it stands right now I am stuck in the middle.
That's right. I apparently am not a Republican and I am not a Democrat. I agree with McCain on five issues and I agree with Obama on five issues (possibly four because I'm not entire sure we are on the same page with our reasons for not supporting expanded oil drilling; however, we do agree to not support it).
I still have to find out what the Federal Defense of Marriage Act is, what the state marriage amendments sayin California and Florida and where I stand on opposing judicial activism and protecting the lives of botched abortion children who survive. For the record, I am against abortions, so if you got rid of that problem then we wouldn't have to worry about babies who survive them.
I'm not a political person at all and so I am not a person to argue with regarding these issues. I don't know all the little nuances that go along with each issue, but I know I don't support gay rights, abortions or the war and I do think we should look into cloning and alternative energy sources. Draw the conclusions you will from that, but there you have it.
Something else I have been working on today is trying to see who I would vote for (if I was going to vote) in the presidential election. I have come across a voter's guide that shows where McCain and Obama stand on 14 issues ranging from gay rights and energy concerns to abortion and the war. I have only weighed in on 10 of the issues so far because the other four I don't really know what they are talking about. I will have to look into those four a little further to find out who I would side with because as it stands right now I am stuck in the middle.
That's right. I apparently am not a Republican and I am not a Democrat. I agree with McCain on five issues and I agree with Obama on five issues (possibly four because I'm not entire sure we are on the same page with our reasons for not supporting expanded oil drilling; however, we do agree to not support it).
I still have to find out what the Federal Defense of Marriage Act is, what the state marriage amendments sayin California and Florida and where I stand on opposing judicial activism and protecting the lives of botched abortion children who survive. For the record, I am against abortions, so if you got rid of that problem then we wouldn't have to worry about babies who survive them.
I'm not a political person at all and so I am not a person to argue with regarding these issues. I don't know all the little nuances that go along with each issue, but I know I don't support gay rights, abortions or the war and I do think we should look into cloning and alternative energy sources. Draw the conclusions you will from that, but there you have it.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Stereotypes Ruin A Child’s Innocence
When I was younger, so much younger than today (that’s to all the Beatles fans out there), I remember going to a drag racing event in Kennedale with a guy who was dating my mom at the time.
I don’t remember very much about the entire thing but two things I do recall, it was extremely loud and I enjoyed myself.
Fast-forward about 15 years when I covered the O’Reilly NHRA Fall Nationals event at Texas Motorplex two years ago for the paper and one thing certainly didn’t change: it was still a disturbingly loud night. You probably noticed by stating only one thing remained the same that means I most likely didn’t have a good time. It wasn’t that it wasn’t all a pleasant experience. My friend and roommate James and I had passes to wander the grounds and hang out in the press box. We were treated like royalty. We ate well. I spoke all night with a guy who besides working the NHRA beat also covered the Dallas Cowboys for the Morning News.
It was all a great time but something just didn’t feel right about the whole thing. I have determined that the reason I didn’t get a completely satisfying night out of the whole experience was because of my own perception of what I was supposed to think about drag racing and its fandom.
It’s no secret the stereotype of racing fans is made up of beer-drinking, chain-smoking rednecks. Obviously this isn’t accurate. When I’m sitting inside the press box watching thousands of people go crazy over flames shooting out of the lightning quick dragsters as they fly down the track it makes me wonder why I’m not enjoying things as much as when I was a kid.
I’ve decided the combination of stereotypes and my cynical attitude has marred what used to be a really fun time for me. As a child I didn’t know – or care – about the people around me at the drag races. I had no bias going into my Friday night at the track. It was all about watching fast cars and fighting through thunderous noise from the engines.
Yet, once I grew up and became surrounded by stereotypes, I couldn’t enjoy the same things. Instead, it takes a life-threatening crash to really get my attention and that’s something I’m not proud of.
I miss that innocence of childhood when I was free to make my own decision about whether I liked something or not. I liked playing kickball, wall ball, tetherball and four corners. If I played those games today I would feel as if I shouldn’t be participating in childish games.
The same goes with bowling. I love to bowl, but I am at an age that I have a hard time going to a new bowling alley with disco balls and neon lights for the teenagers. At the same time, I feel out of place at the old bowling alley that is a haven for smokers and middle-aged league bowlers. With these predispositions about the current state of bowling I feel either ashamed or scared to bowl nowadays.
Bowling as a kid was all about chunking a ball you could hardly hold down a wooden path with inflatable bumpers on each side to prevent you from getting an all-time low score of three. Now it is too frustrating to have to worry about who the bowlers are on your right and left to really enjoy the game.
This really is all just a rant about how I want to be a kid again and enjoy what life was all about at that age, which was made up of snacks, naps and fun.
I suppose letting go of stereotypes and embracing what you enjoy in spite of what others may think is what really makes you a grown-up.
I don’t remember very much about the entire thing but two things I do recall, it was extremely loud and I enjoyed myself.
Fast-forward about 15 years when I covered the O’Reilly NHRA Fall Nationals event at Texas Motorplex two years ago for the paper and one thing certainly didn’t change: it was still a disturbingly loud night. You probably noticed by stating only one thing remained the same that means I most likely didn’t have a good time. It wasn’t that it wasn’t all a pleasant experience. My friend and roommate James and I had passes to wander the grounds and hang out in the press box. We were treated like royalty. We ate well. I spoke all night with a guy who besides working the NHRA beat also covered the Dallas Cowboys for the Morning News.
It was all a great time but something just didn’t feel right about the whole thing. I have determined that the reason I didn’t get a completely satisfying night out of the whole experience was because of my own perception of what I was supposed to think about drag racing and its fandom.
It’s no secret the stereotype of racing fans is made up of beer-drinking, chain-smoking rednecks. Obviously this isn’t accurate. When I’m sitting inside the press box watching thousands of people go crazy over flames shooting out of the lightning quick dragsters as they fly down the track it makes me wonder why I’m not enjoying things as much as when I was a kid.
I’ve decided the combination of stereotypes and my cynical attitude has marred what used to be a really fun time for me. As a child I didn’t know – or care – about the people around me at the drag races. I had no bias going into my Friday night at the track. It was all about watching fast cars and fighting through thunderous noise from the engines.
Yet, once I grew up and became surrounded by stereotypes, I couldn’t enjoy the same things. Instead, it takes a life-threatening crash to really get my attention and that’s something I’m not proud of.
I miss that innocence of childhood when I was free to make my own decision about whether I liked something or not. I liked playing kickball, wall ball, tetherball and four corners. If I played those games today I would feel as if I shouldn’t be participating in childish games.
The same goes with bowling. I love to bowl, but I am at an age that I have a hard time going to a new bowling alley with disco balls and neon lights for the teenagers. At the same time, I feel out of place at the old bowling alley that is a haven for smokers and middle-aged league bowlers. With these predispositions about the current state of bowling I feel either ashamed or scared to bowl nowadays.
Bowling as a kid was all about chunking a ball you could hardly hold down a wooden path with inflatable bumpers on each side to prevent you from getting an all-time low score of three. Now it is too frustrating to have to worry about who the bowlers are on your right and left to really enjoy the game.
This really is all just a rant about how I want to be a kid again and enjoy what life was all about at that age, which was made up of snacks, naps and fun.
I suppose letting go of stereotypes and embracing what you enjoy in spite of what others may think is what really makes you a grown-up.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Does Spanking In School Work?
In recent weeks the Ennis Daily News – along with other media sources throughout the metroplex – reported on corporal punishment in Texas schools.
It was reported in the 2006-2007 school year 49,197 Texas public school students were spanked as a form of punishment. The Human Rights Watch and the American Civil Liberties Union claimed in the state of Texas, children between the ages of 3 and 19 are routinely punished for what they believe to be minor infractions and that in both Texas and the other 49 states, special education and black students are punished at unequal rates as compared with other students.
Growing up I don’t remember clearly what my school’s policy was on spankings. I do not ever recall having a friend telling me about the principal spanking him for misconduct. I do however remember the threat being there.
The first day of sixth grade I can still remember sitting in class with the teacher explaining what the wooden paddle – with colorful markings and holes cut in for maximum effect – sitting on the rail of the blackboard would be used for. I was a pretty well behaved child and therefore never gave her an excuse to use the paddle on me, but I also don’t ever think the paddle moved. It may have simply been a tool used to threaten us into submission. And to tell you the truth, it worked for me.
Whatever your feelings toward corporal punishment in public schools, the rules for when a spanking would be issued should be clear and consistent for all children. Yet, spankings don’t work for every person as a deterrent, especially for high school students. Corporal punishment might be an effective penalty for the average Joe male student, but what about for football players who put their bodies through the equivalent of 30 car crashes a day in practice? A few swats from the principal are most likely going to have the jocks laughing about the chastisement and how useless it is for their kind.
High school females also might not be the best candidates for spankings. This is not because she won’t feel the pain of a paddle smacking her on the behind, but instead because of the inappropriate shame the girl might feel from a male principal spanking her rear end.
I’m not one of those broadminded hippies who think children shouldn’t be punished for their bad behavior, but I am just not sure spankings are the best option for everyone. The football player might need to be suspended for a game (like that would really happen though). Detention is sometimes worse in a child’s mind than any other punishment because they are missing out on time they could be with friends or at work.
The punishment should fit the crime and the intensity of punishment shouldn’t be determined by a child’s skin color or his parent’s income level.
It’s not a perfect world and I don’t have an ideal answer to the problem, but whatever solution is in place for students’ misbehavior, it should show results that deterrence is working.
It was reported in the 2006-2007 school year 49,197 Texas public school students were spanked as a form of punishment. The Human Rights Watch and the American Civil Liberties Union claimed in the state of Texas, children between the ages of 3 and 19 are routinely punished for what they believe to be minor infractions and that in both Texas and the other 49 states, special education and black students are punished at unequal rates as compared with other students.
Growing up I don’t remember clearly what my school’s policy was on spankings. I do not ever recall having a friend telling me about the principal spanking him for misconduct. I do however remember the threat being there.
The first day of sixth grade I can still remember sitting in class with the teacher explaining what the wooden paddle – with colorful markings and holes cut in for maximum effect – sitting on the rail of the blackboard would be used for. I was a pretty well behaved child and therefore never gave her an excuse to use the paddle on me, but I also don’t ever think the paddle moved. It may have simply been a tool used to threaten us into submission. And to tell you the truth, it worked for me.
Whatever your feelings toward corporal punishment in public schools, the rules for when a spanking would be issued should be clear and consistent for all children. Yet, spankings don’t work for every person as a deterrent, especially for high school students. Corporal punishment might be an effective penalty for the average Joe male student, but what about for football players who put their bodies through the equivalent of 30 car crashes a day in practice? A few swats from the principal are most likely going to have the jocks laughing about the chastisement and how useless it is for their kind.
High school females also might not be the best candidates for spankings. This is not because she won’t feel the pain of a paddle smacking her on the behind, but instead because of the inappropriate shame the girl might feel from a male principal spanking her rear end.
I’m not one of those broadminded hippies who think children shouldn’t be punished for their bad behavior, but I am just not sure spankings are the best option for everyone. The football player might need to be suspended for a game (like that would really happen though). Detention is sometimes worse in a child’s mind than any other punishment because they are missing out on time they could be with friends or at work.
The punishment should fit the crime and the intensity of punishment shouldn’t be determined by a child’s skin color or his parent’s income level.
It’s not a perfect world and I don’t have an ideal answer to the problem, but whatever solution is in place for students’ misbehavior, it should show results that deterrence is working.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Olympics Full Of Memorable Moments
Which was the bigger story this Olympics, Michael Phelps winning eight gold medals, Usain Bolt breaking Michael Johnson’s “fastest man alive” record, the United States regaining its crown as the best basketball team in the world or the Chinese government supposedly forging records to allow underage girls to compete in gymnastics?
It is a tough choice. There were so many great moments from this year’s Olympic Games and I am glad I tuned in to check out so many wonderful achievements from the world’s top athletes.
It got me to thinking about some of the great moments from past Olympics that I have had the pleasure of viewing. Here are the highlights from my lifetime that I can remember experiencing with the rest of America.
As a boy I wasn’t that into sports of any kind, however, once professional athletes were allowed to compete at the Olympics and the 1992 Dream Team competed in Barcelona, I was interested. The Dream Team was made up of an illustrious collection of talent that included several men who have been labeled the greatest to play the game. This included Michael Jordan, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, David Robinson, Patrick Ewing, Scottie Pippen, Clyde Drexler, Karl Malone, John Stockton, Chris Mullin and Charles Barkley. The only non-professional athlete on the team was Christian Laettner of Duke University.
At the tender age of 12 I was enthralled by the all-star caliber this team had to offer. The dominance this team showed in Barcelona will never be forgotten and it is that spirit and supremacy this year’s Redeem Team was hoping to renew, which in my humble opinion it did.
My single favorite moment from any Olympic Games – even including the ones before I was born – is gymnast Kerri Strug winning the U.S. a gold medal in team competition. Strug was a member of the “Magnificent Seven” at the 1996 games in Atlanta.
You might have seen this epic moment highlighted in a commercial narrated by Morgan Freeman during this year’s competition.
Strug – being the last to vault for the United States – under-rotated the landing on her first attempt and injured her ankle. She needed a high score to cover for the Russian team’s floor exercise score, which was projected to be a good one. Strug’s first score of 9.162 points would have been good enough to secure the gold but the U.S. team couldn’t be sure of that and sent her out for another vault.
Strug had 30 seconds to limp back to the end of the runway for her second attempt. I still get chills thinking about that little girl (who was three years older than me at the time) flinging through the air with only one working ankle knowing the landing is going to be one of the most painful feelings she has ever endured. Having that expectation run through her mind as she spins and flips in the air is what makes her landing even more extraordinary.
Strug landed briefly on both feet, almost instantly raising her hurt foot from the mat. She raised her arms, saluted the judges, hopped around and raised her arms again. She had done what she need and scored a 9.712, ending all doubts about where we would finish in the medal standings.
The scandalous story of Nancy Kerrigan being clubbed in the knee prior to the 1994 U.S. National Championships in Detroit was all I remember from the Winter Olympics in Lillehammer. Viewers including my mother were completely engaged in the ice skating competition to see how the United States’ team would fare.
At 14 years of age I didn’t know who the women were and I hated watching ice skating, but I was captivated by the idea that a person would go so far as to attack a rival for a chance to participate in the Olympics. I truly didn’t comprehend how important it was to these athletes to have their shot at competing for their country.
The bombing at the Centennial Olympic Park that killed two and injured 111 others marred the Atlanta Games in 1996. I couldn’t believe a bombing had occurred on American soil because in my sheltered brain that sort of thing was only supposed to take place in war-torn areas like the Middle East and countries split into northern and southern lands such as Korea and Vietnam.
One of my last favorite moments is a little bittersweet because I think I came up with this idea before the Olympic Committee did. What I am talking about is the Olympic Flame Lighting during the opening ceremony for the 1992 Games in Barcelona. Paralympic archer Antonio Rebollo fired a burning arrow toward the cauldron sending the flames high into the air.
When I was about 7 years old I had the idea that it would be neat to send an arrow above the crowd into the cauldron. Of course in my version of events I was the archer and I spent many days in my backyard attempting to build a bow in order to begin practicing the amazing deed I would bestow upon the world later in life. Somebody must have been spying on me and took my idea for the 1992 Olympics.
It is a tough choice. There were so many great moments from this year’s Olympic Games and I am glad I tuned in to check out so many wonderful achievements from the world’s top athletes.
It got me to thinking about some of the great moments from past Olympics that I have had the pleasure of viewing. Here are the highlights from my lifetime that I can remember experiencing with the rest of America.
As a boy I wasn’t that into sports of any kind, however, once professional athletes were allowed to compete at the Olympics and the 1992 Dream Team competed in Barcelona, I was interested. The Dream Team was made up of an illustrious collection of talent that included several men who have been labeled the greatest to play the game. This included Michael Jordan, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, David Robinson, Patrick Ewing, Scottie Pippen, Clyde Drexler, Karl Malone, John Stockton, Chris Mullin and Charles Barkley. The only non-professional athlete on the team was Christian Laettner of Duke University.
At the tender age of 12 I was enthralled by the all-star caliber this team had to offer. The dominance this team showed in Barcelona will never be forgotten and it is that spirit and supremacy this year’s Redeem Team was hoping to renew, which in my humble opinion it did.
My single favorite moment from any Olympic Games – even including the ones before I was born – is gymnast Kerri Strug winning the U.S. a gold medal in team competition. Strug was a member of the “Magnificent Seven” at the 1996 games in Atlanta.
You might have seen this epic moment highlighted in a commercial narrated by Morgan Freeman during this year’s competition.
Strug – being the last to vault for the United States – under-rotated the landing on her first attempt and injured her ankle. She needed a high score to cover for the Russian team’s floor exercise score, which was projected to be a good one. Strug’s first score of 9.162 points would have been good enough to secure the gold but the U.S. team couldn’t be sure of that and sent her out for another vault.
Strug had 30 seconds to limp back to the end of the runway for her second attempt. I still get chills thinking about that little girl (who was three years older than me at the time) flinging through the air with only one working ankle knowing the landing is going to be one of the most painful feelings she has ever endured. Having that expectation run through her mind as she spins and flips in the air is what makes her landing even more extraordinary.
Strug landed briefly on both feet, almost instantly raising her hurt foot from the mat. She raised her arms, saluted the judges, hopped around and raised her arms again. She had done what she need and scored a 9.712, ending all doubts about where we would finish in the medal standings.
The scandalous story of Nancy Kerrigan being clubbed in the knee prior to the 1994 U.S. National Championships in Detroit was all I remember from the Winter Olympics in Lillehammer. Viewers including my mother were completely engaged in the ice skating competition to see how the United States’ team would fare.
At 14 years of age I didn’t know who the women were and I hated watching ice skating, but I was captivated by the idea that a person would go so far as to attack a rival for a chance to participate in the Olympics. I truly didn’t comprehend how important it was to these athletes to have their shot at competing for their country.
The bombing at the Centennial Olympic Park that killed two and injured 111 others marred the Atlanta Games in 1996. I couldn’t believe a bombing had occurred on American soil because in my sheltered brain that sort of thing was only supposed to take place in war-torn areas like the Middle East and countries split into northern and southern lands such as Korea and Vietnam.
One of my last favorite moments is a little bittersweet because I think I came up with this idea before the Olympic Committee did. What I am talking about is the Olympic Flame Lighting during the opening ceremony for the 1992 Games in Barcelona. Paralympic archer Antonio Rebollo fired a burning arrow toward the cauldron sending the flames high into the air.
When I was about 7 years old I had the idea that it would be neat to send an arrow above the crowd into the cauldron. Of course in my version of events I was the archer and I spent many days in my backyard attempting to build a bow in order to begin practicing the amazing deed I would bestow upon the world later in life. Somebody must have been spying on me and took my idea for the 1992 Olympics.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Stressful Days Can Pay Off Big
It was a hectic time last week between having a blowout on my recently repaired car, getting engaged to my longtime girlfriend, hosting my daughter’s first birthday party and spending a night out with my family for my birthday. Getting engaged and celebrating Emery’s birthday were the two most exciting moments from last week, but preparing for each had me wanting to rip my hair out at the root.
The engagement came two Thursday nights ago. The event included candles, flowers, me down on one knee holding the ring and a web of lies to assure my fiancée Joanna would be out of the apartment so I could set the mood. Joanna was supposed to be spending the evening with her mother, but on Wednesday she threw the first – and certainly not the last – kink in my plan by telling me she was not leaving her apartment on Thursday.
Adding to my stress of purchasing the votive candles and candleholders, flowers and a vase to keep them alive and finding a box to hold the ring (we are using my grandmother’s engagement ring and it didn’t come with a box) I now had to come up with a plan to get her out of the apartment for 15 minutes while I moved things around, lit candles and made sure she walked in on the biggest surprise of her life. I eventually decided on the old “my car broke down and can you come and get me” routine. It worked and her exit gave me the time I needed.
The other snag in the night was after I called her to tell her my car was okay and I would meet her at the apartment. She told me she was hungry and wanted to go get something to eat. Of course I said that was fine because if I didn’t she would become wise to my game. The reason I didn’t want her to go get food though was because then I would have no clue as to when she would be back at the apartment and I didn’t want to light the candles too early.
It all worked out though when she called back two minutes later and said the restaurant she tried calling didn’t answer. I told her to meet me at the apartment and we would go get food together. She complied, walked in on the romantic setting and told me she wouldn’t marry me, which was her way of paying me back for lying to her about the broken-down car. Of course she immediately retracted her answer and all was well in our newly engaged world.
The next day I left work early to go set up for Emery’s birthday party at my mom’s house. Working in 100-degree weather to set up tables, chairs, baby pools, water slides and other party assortments was enough to make me say I will never host another birthday party again. Little Emery was about to experience her first and last birthday party ever with her dad.
Lucky for her, however, once the festivities began and I saw how excited she was to play in the water, destroy the cake and take part in all the other celebratory activities, I had a change of heart and decided all the sweating and hard labor was worth it.
Between the stress of getting Joanna’s proposal just right and the hard work of making Emery’s first birthday a special day I wanted to give up on anything requiring more than five minutes of prep time, but the payoff for both occasions made all the mental and physical strain worth it.
The engagement came two Thursday nights ago. The event included candles, flowers, me down on one knee holding the ring and a web of lies to assure my fiancée Joanna would be out of the apartment so I could set the mood. Joanna was supposed to be spending the evening with her mother, but on Wednesday she threw the first – and certainly not the last – kink in my plan by telling me she was not leaving her apartment on Thursday.
Adding to my stress of purchasing the votive candles and candleholders, flowers and a vase to keep them alive and finding a box to hold the ring (we are using my grandmother’s engagement ring and it didn’t come with a box) I now had to come up with a plan to get her out of the apartment for 15 minutes while I moved things around, lit candles and made sure she walked in on the biggest surprise of her life. I eventually decided on the old “my car broke down and can you come and get me” routine. It worked and her exit gave me the time I needed.
The other snag in the night was after I called her to tell her my car was okay and I would meet her at the apartment. She told me she was hungry and wanted to go get something to eat. Of course I said that was fine because if I didn’t she would become wise to my game. The reason I didn’t want her to go get food though was because then I would have no clue as to when she would be back at the apartment and I didn’t want to light the candles too early.
It all worked out though when she called back two minutes later and said the restaurant she tried calling didn’t answer. I told her to meet me at the apartment and we would go get food together. She complied, walked in on the romantic setting and told me she wouldn’t marry me, which was her way of paying me back for lying to her about the broken-down car. Of course she immediately retracted her answer and all was well in our newly engaged world.
The next day I left work early to go set up for Emery’s birthday party at my mom’s house. Working in 100-degree weather to set up tables, chairs, baby pools, water slides and other party assortments was enough to make me say I will never host another birthday party again. Little Emery was about to experience her first and last birthday party ever with her dad.
Lucky for her, however, once the festivities began and I saw how excited she was to play in the water, destroy the cake and take part in all the other celebratory activities, I had a change of heart and decided all the sweating and hard labor was worth it.
Between the stress of getting Joanna’s proposal just right and the hard work of making Emery’s first birthday a special day I wanted to give up on anything requiring more than five minutes of prep time, but the payoff for both occasions made all the mental and physical strain worth it.
Monday, August 11, 2008
If You’re Not Careful, All You’ll Be Left With Are Fleeting Memories
As every day passes by I realize more and more how much of an old man I am. All I lack really is using terms like “whippersnapper” and eating dinner at 4:45 in the afternoon.
The reason I mention this is because of the advice I am about to bestow on all you readers. Most of you aren’t going to be blown away by this. In fact, everybody pretty much over the age of about 24 already knows this, but I’m going to throw it out there to remind us all of this fact. Here it is: “Embrace the now.”
You might comprehend this life lesson as “seize the day” or maybe you like the quote, “Live like there is no tomorrow.” Whatever your translation, enjoy the precious moments in your life right now because they will pass in the blink of an eye and all you will have left are fleeting memories and even those won’t last forever.
This topic is on my mind today because my daughter’s birthday is tomorrow. She turns a year old and I will spend most of Friday thinking about what has to be done to get the party ready, setting up the water slides, decorating the house and then fretting over what should come first, the cake or the presents. I’m leaning toward presents first so that she isn’t covered in icing when the clothes are pulled out of the boxes and bags. Because I will be distracted by the insignificant details of my child’s birthday parties I am most likely going to miss out on the entire purpose of the day, celebrating the birth of my beautiful baby girl.
A year has passed and it seems like it was only a few weeks ago when I got the phone call to get up to the hospital. So many things have happened since then, so many “first” milestones, and I didn’t fully appreciate each small moment for what it was worth.
I remember her first solid food being avocado (I know, I have a weird kid) but I don’t fully remember the instance when she ate it. With every new trick (the word her mother and I use to signify landmark moments of development such as waving, talking, laughing) Emery learned in the past year I should have been basking in the moment, taking in every thought, every sight, every smell even, to appreciate and remember the occasion.
Pictures and video recordings help to preserve our memories, but what a beating it is to carry around the camera everywhere you go to pick up each individual moment from a child’s life. And in all honesty, how many people make a point to go back and look at photo albums or tapes of graduation? It is great to have photo albums around when your kids ask about grandma or what their third birthday party was like and we always appreciate the person who took the time out to document these moments of a person’s life, but few want to be that person.
So I will say it again, cherish each precious moment you have. Not to sound like a downer, but it is only going to get worse. Being a kid was great because you had scheduled naps and when you were awake all you did was play. College is said to be the best time of our lives, and for me it wasn’t far from the truth. Getting married and starting a family is a tough thing to wrap your head around, but it is always such an exciting and new time. Grandchildren are a blessing that almost no human being can avoid spoiling.
These are all wonderful moments in a person’s life and if you don’t watch out it will pass you by in the blink of an eye, just like the last year of my daughter’s life has passed by me and I feel like I didn’t fully appreciate it.
The reason I mention this is because of the advice I am about to bestow on all you readers. Most of you aren’t going to be blown away by this. In fact, everybody pretty much over the age of about 24 already knows this, but I’m going to throw it out there to remind us all of this fact. Here it is: “Embrace the now.”
You might comprehend this life lesson as “seize the day” or maybe you like the quote, “Live like there is no tomorrow.” Whatever your translation, enjoy the precious moments in your life right now because they will pass in the blink of an eye and all you will have left are fleeting memories and even those won’t last forever.
This topic is on my mind today because my daughter’s birthday is tomorrow. She turns a year old and I will spend most of Friday thinking about what has to be done to get the party ready, setting up the water slides, decorating the house and then fretting over what should come first, the cake or the presents. I’m leaning toward presents first so that she isn’t covered in icing when the clothes are pulled out of the boxes and bags. Because I will be distracted by the insignificant details of my child’s birthday parties I am most likely going to miss out on the entire purpose of the day, celebrating the birth of my beautiful baby girl.
A year has passed and it seems like it was only a few weeks ago when I got the phone call to get up to the hospital. So many things have happened since then, so many “first” milestones, and I didn’t fully appreciate each small moment for what it was worth.
I remember her first solid food being avocado (I know, I have a weird kid) but I don’t fully remember the instance when she ate it. With every new trick (the word her mother and I use to signify landmark moments of development such as waving, talking, laughing) Emery learned in the past year I should have been basking in the moment, taking in every thought, every sight, every smell even, to appreciate and remember the occasion.
Pictures and video recordings help to preserve our memories, but what a beating it is to carry around the camera everywhere you go to pick up each individual moment from a child’s life. And in all honesty, how many people make a point to go back and look at photo albums or tapes of graduation? It is great to have photo albums around when your kids ask about grandma or what their third birthday party was like and we always appreciate the person who took the time out to document these moments of a person’s life, but few want to be that person.
So I will say it again, cherish each precious moment you have. Not to sound like a downer, but it is only going to get worse. Being a kid was great because you had scheduled naps and when you were awake all you did was play. College is said to be the best time of our lives, and for me it wasn’t far from the truth. Getting married and starting a family is a tough thing to wrap your head around, but it is always such an exciting and new time. Grandchildren are a blessing that almost no human being can avoid spoiling.
These are all wonderful moments in a person’s life and if you don’t watch out it will pass you by in the blink of an eye, just like the last year of my daughter’s life has passed by me and I feel like I didn’t fully appreciate it.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
What To Do With America’s Youth?
I don’t usually respond to letters to the editor sent to my newspaper, but since the following subject is directly linked to an article I wrote, I thought I would make an exception.
Going into this you should know that Yvette Clark, who was arrested July 20 for slapping a juvenile she apparently didn’t know, doesn’t refute the fact that she hit the 15-year-old boy.
It should also be noted the boy’s reaction is not known for sure. It has been rumored he was cussing at several people at the time, but that information hasn’t been confirmed and was not listed in the police report.
Yvette Clark’s response to the article “Fight over smoking lands woman in jail” was thus:
This is not about a woman assaulting a juvenile. After it was over, the grandmother said to me, “You need God.” She didn’t know who I was. And grief filled my heart as I thought to myself, “that was God.”
Cigarette smoke is killing you and rebellion is killing your grandson. And God is trying to save the both of you. What’s ahead for them?
This case is not about a woman assaulting a juvenile.
It’s about a mother disciplining a teenager before it’s too late. But now, in this day and age, any chastising is against the law. I thought to myself, “Why is he with his grandmother? Where are his parents? Whatever happened to old fashion whippings that taught our youth to respect their elders, parents, teachers, principals and officers of the law?”
This fight is about real love, the “this is going to hurt me more than it’ll hurt you” kind of love. Nobody recognizes real love because they haven’t seen it in such a long time.
God help us for what we’ve allowed our own children and teenagers (to do). God help this whole nation because now we allow same-sex marriage and lesbianism, removing prayer out of our school districts, and allowing children to divorce their parents. Yes, it pains me to see so much bad.
Signed
Yvette Clark
Have you found yourself a little taken aback, trying to decide at what point you stopped agreeing with her rationale? Or do you whole-heartedly agree with Clark?
Although I agree with her that some youth need disciplining, where we differ is when she took disciplinary action into her own hands. It was not her place to slap, spank, yell at or discipline another person’s child in any way.
That responsibility should be reserved for the parents or grandparents, even if they aren’t going to do anything about it. The lack of a disciplinarian in certain juveniles’ lives does not give just anyone the right to assume that authority.
Clark is very upfront with the fact that she is a minister and that she believes her response was God working through her to show that boy obedience and authority. But I am almost positive that is not the way to accomplish that goal.
We are not here to judge others or punish those we consider “wicked.” That is for God to sort out through His divine intervention, not for us to decide.
It pains me also to see a world that is driven by money, sex and lies. Yet, slapping a 15-year-old boy isn’t going to fix the world’s problems. It isn’t even going to make that child see things as you would like them to. We could argue all day long about the solution to the disobedience of youth, but having a stranger slap a kid most certainly isn’t the answer.
Clark truly thinks God was working through her that day to rectify the wrongs that were taking place at Jaycee Park. I hope someday God works through someone else to show Mrs. Clark that there is a better way to handle the problems in society and that we are all His children who should seek to follow the example He set while He was on this earth for 33 years.
Going into this you should know that Yvette Clark, who was arrested July 20 for slapping a juvenile she apparently didn’t know, doesn’t refute the fact that she hit the 15-year-old boy.
It should also be noted the boy’s reaction is not known for sure. It has been rumored he was cussing at several people at the time, but that information hasn’t been confirmed and was not listed in the police report.
Yvette Clark’s response to the article “Fight over smoking lands woman in jail” was thus:
This is not about a woman assaulting a juvenile. After it was over, the grandmother said to me, “You need God.” She didn’t know who I was. And grief filled my heart as I thought to myself, “that was God.”
Cigarette smoke is killing you and rebellion is killing your grandson. And God is trying to save the both of you. What’s ahead for them?
This case is not about a woman assaulting a juvenile.
It’s about a mother disciplining a teenager before it’s too late. But now, in this day and age, any chastising is against the law. I thought to myself, “Why is he with his grandmother? Where are his parents? Whatever happened to old fashion whippings that taught our youth to respect their elders, parents, teachers, principals and officers of the law?”
This fight is about real love, the “this is going to hurt me more than it’ll hurt you” kind of love. Nobody recognizes real love because they haven’t seen it in such a long time.
God help us for what we’ve allowed our own children and teenagers (to do). God help this whole nation because now we allow same-sex marriage and lesbianism, removing prayer out of our school districts, and allowing children to divorce their parents. Yes, it pains me to see so much bad.
Signed
Yvette Clark
Have you found yourself a little taken aback, trying to decide at what point you stopped agreeing with her rationale? Or do you whole-heartedly agree with Clark?
Although I agree with her that some youth need disciplining, where we differ is when she took disciplinary action into her own hands. It was not her place to slap, spank, yell at or discipline another person’s child in any way.
That responsibility should be reserved for the parents or grandparents, even if they aren’t going to do anything about it. The lack of a disciplinarian in certain juveniles’ lives does not give just anyone the right to assume that authority.
Clark is very upfront with the fact that she is a minister and that she believes her response was God working through her to show that boy obedience and authority. But I am almost positive that is not the way to accomplish that goal.
We are not here to judge others or punish those we consider “wicked.” That is for God to sort out through His divine intervention, not for us to decide.
It pains me also to see a world that is driven by money, sex and lies. Yet, slapping a 15-year-old boy isn’t going to fix the world’s problems. It isn’t even going to make that child see things as you would like them to. We could argue all day long about the solution to the disobedience of youth, but having a stranger slap a kid most certainly isn’t the answer.
Clark truly thinks God was working through her that day to rectify the wrongs that were taking place at Jaycee Park. I hope someday God works through someone else to show Mrs. Clark that there is a better way to handle the problems in society and that we are all His children who should seek to follow the example He set while He was on this earth for 33 years.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Under Pressure
Growing up in the 90s there was a clothing fad that ran for about a year or so that involved shirts with the statement “NO FEAR” on them. The shirt usually included a brief summary of some sort of athletic game that was down to the wire and the winning goal, shot or hit was resting on your shoulders. It would have been something like this: “Bottom of the Ninth, Full Count, Bases Loaded, down by 3…No Fear.” I found myself in one of these types of situations in a softball game a few weeks ago that wasn’t quite this tense, but the game certainly came down to my hitting ability. Time had expired – which means the game is over after the current inning in recreational softball – bases were loaded, two outs and we were down by one. I had to get a hit that scored at least one run to take it to extra innings, but a double would win us the game.
You might be thinking to yourself that isn’t that terrible of a spot to be in because as long as I just don’t hit an out then the hitter after me would have the pressure to get a hit and drive in the winning run. Well in theory that is true, except the hitter after me was my 57-year-old mother.
That’s right, this is a co-ed league. I was short a girl that night and the only person who would step up to the plate – literally – was my mom. She is Parent of the Year after that night, not because of what she produced on the field but because she helped out her son when he needed her most. The reason I say that the pressure was solely on me was because in my mom’s two previous at bats she hit the ball and fell down spinning – producing an easy out at first base – and went down swinging the second time. Nobody was expecting her to get the winning hit with so much on the line, so therefore I felt the pressure mounting as I walked up to the plate.
Every little boy dreams of being the guy the team lifts up on their shoulders at the end of the game because of some great play they made that won them the championship, whether that is hitting a much needed home run or diving to catch a ball that would have helped the other team win had it fallen to the ground. We want to make an impact that is celebrated and recognized by all. However, when growing up and having that dream as a child I never factored in the sweat and anxiety that goes along with being in that situation. It’s not necessarily about having the ability to get a hit when it matters, but being able to rise above the pressure to make it happen.
The great ones who go down as legends in sports history and perform their best when under pressure are people like Tiger Woods, Michael Jordan and numerous Olympic contestants throughout history. When I see archived footage of Jordan sinking a shot at the buzzer for the win I go crazy wishing I was just a fraction as skilled as he was in his prime, but I don’t consider that it wasn’t just his athletic ability that won him championships. It was his ability to focus when it mattered and become better when his team needed him most that made him one of the best. I don’t want to state whether or not I got the hit we needed to win the game because I don’t want this column to be about me, but rather about how our childhood dreams don’t factor in all of the problems that go along with the results we want. Oh I can’t help myself, I smashed a grounder between first and second that resulted in the double needed and we won the game. Go me!
You might be thinking to yourself that isn’t that terrible of a spot to be in because as long as I just don’t hit an out then the hitter after me would have the pressure to get a hit and drive in the winning run. Well in theory that is true, except the hitter after me was my 57-year-old mother.
That’s right, this is a co-ed league. I was short a girl that night and the only person who would step up to the plate – literally – was my mom. She is Parent of the Year after that night, not because of what she produced on the field but because she helped out her son when he needed her most. The reason I say that the pressure was solely on me was because in my mom’s two previous at bats she hit the ball and fell down spinning – producing an easy out at first base – and went down swinging the second time. Nobody was expecting her to get the winning hit with so much on the line, so therefore I felt the pressure mounting as I walked up to the plate.
Every little boy dreams of being the guy the team lifts up on their shoulders at the end of the game because of some great play they made that won them the championship, whether that is hitting a much needed home run or diving to catch a ball that would have helped the other team win had it fallen to the ground. We want to make an impact that is celebrated and recognized by all. However, when growing up and having that dream as a child I never factored in the sweat and anxiety that goes along with being in that situation. It’s not necessarily about having the ability to get a hit when it matters, but being able to rise above the pressure to make it happen.
The great ones who go down as legends in sports history and perform their best when under pressure are people like Tiger Woods, Michael Jordan and numerous Olympic contestants throughout history. When I see archived footage of Jordan sinking a shot at the buzzer for the win I go crazy wishing I was just a fraction as skilled as he was in his prime, but I don’t consider that it wasn’t just his athletic ability that won him championships. It was his ability to focus when it mattered and become better when his team needed him most that made him one of the best. I don’t want to state whether or not I got the hit we needed to win the game because I don’t want this column to be about me, but rather about how our childhood dreams don’t factor in all of the problems that go along with the results we want. Oh I can’t help myself, I smashed a grounder between first and second that resulted in the double needed and we won the game. Go me!
Monday, June 30, 2008
WALL•E Is Funny, Smart And Sincere
I saw WALL•E Friday night and loved it. It was an innocent enough story that kids will love the robot characters but it had so many more layers.
Besides the obvious "green" issue about saving our planet so we don't need a robot to clean up Earth there were some other adult themes that were dealt with. The writers issued a warning of Corporate America taking over the nation and our democracy becoming a business. Another warning the writers touched upon was how we are taking technology so far to make life easier that people will become lazy blobs.
WALL•E is my fourth favorite Pixar movie but I think it was the smartest movie they have made yet. I will be seeing it again in the theaters and hope it stands up just as well with a second viewing.
My new rankings of the Pixar movies are this:
1. The Incredibles
2. Toy Story
3. Finding Nemo
4. WALL•E
5. Ratatouille
6. Monsters, Inc.
7. A Bug's Life
8. Toy Story 2
9. Cars
Besides the obvious "green" issue about saving our planet so we don't need a robot to clean up Earth there were some other adult themes that were dealt with. The writers issued a warning of Corporate America taking over the nation and our democracy becoming a business. Another warning the writers touched upon was how we are taking technology so far to make life easier that people will become lazy blobs.
WALL•E is my fourth favorite Pixar movie but I think it was the smartest movie they have made yet. I will be seeing it again in the theaters and hope it stands up just as well with a second viewing.
My new rankings of the Pixar movies are this:
1. The Incredibles
2. Toy Story
3. Finding Nemo
4. WALL•E
5. Ratatouille
6. Monsters, Inc.
7. A Bug's Life
8. Toy Story 2
9. Cars
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Winehouse Is New Poster Child For Harm Drugs Can Do
Amy Winehouse is exactly what parents have been waiting for since Elvis Presley’s hips first gyrated on television screens in 1956.
Rock and roll music and musicians have always been at the forefront of arguments between rebellious youth and their uptight, out-of-touch parents.
Whether swinging provocatively to the beat, giving intoxicated or drug-laden performances or recording the “devil’s music” so that when played backwards it expresses Satanic messages, musicians have been under the parental microscope for generations.
Although the music industry has lost some mighty fine artists due to drug use and debauchery, it hasn’t produced many icons whose drug-crazed antics have been as prolonged as those of Amy Winehouse, the appropriately named British pop star now angling for an early grave at age 22.
But the possibility of dying hasn’t deterred her. To fast-living youth who hang on their musical idol’s every words –– and acts –– the prospect of death is also just part of the appeal of the “lifestyle.”
Of course, Winehouse isn’t the first horrifying example of drug use by musical heroes. We have had the members of the 27 Club, Brian Jones of The Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison of The Doors and Kurt Cobain of Nirvana.
But none of them lived on the edge long enough to cause such widespread negative reaction as Winehouse has inspired.
Strangely, the loss of a Presley, Hendrix or Joplin hasn’t been enough to steer all kids to the path of good. Instead it has taken Winehouse, sitting on top of the world only to come crashing down due to drugs, to make teens and parents alike sit up and take sober notice.
While Winehouse is no Presley, she was on her way to becoming a superstar. Her album Back to Black sold more than 1.5 million copies in the UK and more than 1.3 million in the U.S. The multi-platinum album spent 57 weeks in the top UK album chart.
Back to Black was the biggest-selling record in the UK for 2007, quite a feat considering it was released in October 2006.
Going into 2008 Winehouse was a rising star with loads of potential and an ever-widening fan base. She had suffered a hiccup or two along the way with show cancellations due to “exhaustion,” and paparazzi photographs of Winehouse and her husband in an alleged domestic disturbance. But it wasn’t until the past few months that she experienced –– and we have had to witness –– the brunt of what excessive drug use can do to a person, and to a singing career.
In and out of hospitals and rehab facilities, Winehouse has started a downward spiral of health and legal issues.
As recently as Sunday, it was reported Winehouse had been diagnosed with early stages of emphysema, resulting in her lungs operating at 70 percent capacity. She also reportedly has an irregular heartbeat. The singer’s father stated these problems were caused by chain cigarette smoking and crack cocaine usage.
It’s been rumored that if Winehouse keeps up her downward trek she may be forced to wear an oxygen mask to live. Although the singer is worth an alleged £10 million she is quickly fading away – literally and metaphorically. The constant controversy is not only firing up the usual conservative groups who would veto the woman’s music, but it’s causing some of her most loyal fans to disavow her.
As long as Amy Winehouse continues to destroy her life and career with drugs she will remain the poster child for a human train wreck across the globe.
Rock and roll music and musicians have always been at the forefront of arguments between rebellious youth and their uptight, out-of-touch parents.
Whether swinging provocatively to the beat, giving intoxicated or drug-laden performances or recording the “devil’s music” so that when played backwards it expresses Satanic messages, musicians have been under the parental microscope for generations.
Although the music industry has lost some mighty fine artists due to drug use and debauchery, it hasn’t produced many icons whose drug-crazed antics have been as prolonged as those of Amy Winehouse, the appropriately named British pop star now angling for an early grave at age 22.
But the possibility of dying hasn’t deterred her. To fast-living youth who hang on their musical idol’s every words –– and acts –– the prospect of death is also just part of the appeal of the “lifestyle.”
Of course, Winehouse isn’t the first horrifying example of drug use by musical heroes. We have had the members of the 27 Club, Brian Jones of The Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison of The Doors and Kurt Cobain of Nirvana.
But none of them lived on the edge long enough to cause such widespread negative reaction as Winehouse has inspired.
Strangely, the loss of a Presley, Hendrix or Joplin hasn’t been enough to steer all kids to the path of good. Instead it has taken Winehouse, sitting on top of the world only to come crashing down due to drugs, to make teens and parents alike sit up and take sober notice.
While Winehouse is no Presley, she was on her way to becoming a superstar. Her album Back to Black sold more than 1.5 million copies in the UK and more than 1.3 million in the U.S. The multi-platinum album spent 57 weeks in the top UK album chart.
Back to Black was the biggest-selling record in the UK for 2007, quite a feat considering it was released in October 2006.
Going into 2008 Winehouse was a rising star with loads of potential and an ever-widening fan base. She had suffered a hiccup or two along the way with show cancellations due to “exhaustion,” and paparazzi photographs of Winehouse and her husband in an alleged domestic disturbance. But it wasn’t until the past few months that she experienced –– and we have had to witness –– the brunt of what excessive drug use can do to a person, and to a singing career.
In and out of hospitals and rehab facilities, Winehouse has started a downward spiral of health and legal issues.
As recently as Sunday, it was reported Winehouse had been diagnosed with early stages of emphysema, resulting in her lungs operating at 70 percent capacity. She also reportedly has an irregular heartbeat. The singer’s father stated these problems were caused by chain cigarette smoking and crack cocaine usage.
It’s been rumored that if Winehouse keeps up her downward trek she may be forced to wear an oxygen mask to live. Although the singer is worth an alleged £10 million she is quickly fading away – literally and metaphorically. The constant controversy is not only firing up the usual conservative groups who would veto the woman’s music, but it’s causing some of her most loyal fans to disavow her.
As long as Amy Winehouse continues to destroy her life and career with drugs she will remain the poster child for a human train wreck across the globe.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Can I Just Say...
I am so excited about WALL-E coming to theaters on Friday. Like almost every self-respecting human being on the planet who has a heart, I adore everything Pixar releases. Since they captured our attention with Toy Story the animated features released under the Pixar name have continued to exceed the viewer's expectations.
I consider every movie they release a hit, but obviously I like some more than others. Here is my rankings for all the Pixar movies.
1. The Incredibles
2. Toy Story
3. Finding Nemo
4. Ratatouille
5. Monsters, Inc.
6. A Bug's Life
7. Toy Story 2
8. Cars
I will re-post this list later to add in WALL-E once I've seen it.
I consider every movie they release a hit, but obviously I like some more than others. Here is my rankings for all the Pixar movies.
1. The Incredibles
2. Toy Story
3. Finding Nemo
4. Ratatouille
5. Monsters, Inc.
6. A Bug's Life
7. Toy Story 2
8. Cars
I will re-post this list later to add in WALL-E once I've seen it.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
It is a geek’s world
Not too long ago according to the popular standards set by the media and our own ways of thinking, growing up there was almost nothing worse than being a geek.
You might have called this person something else, such as nerd, dweeb, creep, twerp, dope, jerk or, maybe, just a plain loser.
Today’s age is quite a different story though. In fact, one could say the geek will inherit the earth.
With comic book movies ruling the summer box office, television shows like Battlestar Galactica, Heroes, Lost and The Office being the new water cooler talk and businesses embracing the tech-savvy movement by creating departments, like the Geek Squad at Best Buy, dedicated to installing and repairing household computers and entertainment centers, to be a geek is divine.
Whereas 20 years ago the world of a nerd was idolized as getting revenge on the jocks that tormented them, such as Revenge of the Nerds, today’s films show nerds as not just getting the best of their popular counterparts by seeking revenge, but rather by besting them in competition, as seen in Napoleon Dynamite.
Napoleon and his socially challenged friends created a cult following throughout 2004 as Pedro was able to achieve greatness as he beat the popular cheerleader in the school’s student body presidential election. They achieved this not through some popular method of beating up the mean jock or humiliating the cheerleader, but rather with Napoleon executing a one-man dance that emphasized his geekiness.
It is no secret that characters from Marvel and DC comics’ vaults are raking in the money, These characters who are web-slinging across Manhattan and leading double lives at night as a caped crusader were once considered nerdy to be interested in. Comic books for children were okay, but if you didn’t grow up and let those graphic novels go you were the nerd of the group.
Production companies have latched onto the geek movement by casting sexy women and dreamy men in nerdy, space shows. Women like Tricia Helfer, Jeri Ryan, Ali Larter and Kristen Bell have been the topics of plenty of forums for the uber-geek, but those women have also brought in audiences who would not have normally been interested in the Star Trek world and other space/fantasy programs.
In May, David Tennant, the latest star of Doctor Who, was named sexiest man on television, according to dailyrecord.co.uk. David Boreanaz now plays a FBI agent, but throughout the late 90s and early 2000s he was a reformed vampire fighting evil on the Buffy spinoff Angel.
Another hunky star that convinces the ladies to tune into a geek’s show is Nathan Fillion, who starred as the captain on the short-lived space series Firefly. These guys make the language of geek sound sexy.
Another sign that geeks are taking over is that nerd paraphernalia is becoming sexy. One such item would be glasses on a woman. The Aphrodite of glasses-wearing celebrities would be Tina Fey, who has created a new category for wearing geek clothing that is called geek chic.
With the release of the iMac, the iPod and the iPhone, Apple has started a revolution to own the latest piece of technology that shows how geek-greedy we really are.
We live in a geek paradise now and it is so much nicer to be able to embrace your inner-dork than to keep running from its inescapable clutches.
You might have called this person something else, such as nerd, dweeb, creep, twerp, dope, jerk or, maybe, just a plain loser.
Today’s age is quite a different story though. In fact, one could say the geek will inherit the earth.
With comic book movies ruling the summer box office, television shows like Battlestar Galactica, Heroes, Lost and The Office being the new water cooler talk and businesses embracing the tech-savvy movement by creating departments, like the Geek Squad at Best Buy, dedicated to installing and repairing household computers and entertainment centers, to be a geek is divine.
Whereas 20 years ago the world of a nerd was idolized as getting revenge on the jocks that tormented them, such as Revenge of the Nerds, today’s films show nerds as not just getting the best of their popular counterparts by seeking revenge, but rather by besting them in competition, as seen in Napoleon Dynamite.
Napoleon and his socially challenged friends created a cult following throughout 2004 as Pedro was able to achieve greatness as he beat the popular cheerleader in the school’s student body presidential election. They achieved this not through some popular method of beating up the mean jock or humiliating the cheerleader, but rather with Napoleon executing a one-man dance that emphasized his geekiness.
It is no secret that characters from Marvel and DC comics’ vaults are raking in the money, These characters who are web-slinging across Manhattan and leading double lives at night as a caped crusader were once considered nerdy to be interested in. Comic books for children were okay, but if you didn’t grow up and let those graphic novels go you were the nerd of the group.
Production companies have latched onto the geek movement by casting sexy women and dreamy men in nerdy, space shows. Women like Tricia Helfer, Jeri Ryan, Ali Larter and Kristen Bell have been the topics of plenty of forums for the uber-geek, but those women have also brought in audiences who would not have normally been interested in the Star Trek world and other space/fantasy programs.
In May, David Tennant, the latest star of Doctor Who, was named sexiest man on television, according to dailyrecord.co.uk. David Boreanaz now plays a FBI agent, but throughout the late 90s and early 2000s he was a reformed vampire fighting evil on the Buffy spinoff Angel.
Another hunky star that convinces the ladies to tune into a geek’s show is Nathan Fillion, who starred as the captain on the short-lived space series Firefly. These guys make the language of geek sound sexy.
Another sign that geeks are taking over is that nerd paraphernalia is becoming sexy. One such item would be glasses on a woman. The Aphrodite of glasses-wearing celebrities would be Tina Fey, who has created a new category for wearing geek clothing that is called geek chic.
With the release of the iMac, the iPod and the iPhone, Apple has started a revolution to own the latest piece of technology that shows how geek-greedy we really are.
We live in a geek paradise now and it is so much nicer to be able to embrace your inner-dork than to keep running from its inescapable clutches.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Arlington Vehicle Accident Hits Close To Home (Part 3)
I’ve never done a three-part column before, but if this is your introduction regarding a truck driving through my cousin’s house I would suggest checking out the previous entries to catch up on the action.
After giving the rundown on what happened in part one and talking about how fast street talk can spread – inaccurately at that – in part two, today I will focus on a more private facet of this bizarre story, and that would be my spot on the nightly news attempting to give an account of the event.
While standing across the street from my cousin’s house helping with the kids and trying to keep things calm, I noticed a female reporter with a camera guy speaking with my cousin (Kristyn). The reporter didn’t get anything from Kristyn, partly due to the fact that she was still shaken up from the crash and partly that the responding officers telling her to not speak with the media because she could give some false information that would hinder their investigation.
Being in the business I am, I sympathized with the reporter and asked Kristyn if she cared if I spoke with the reporter as long as I didn’t give any information that we weren’t sure about, to which she gave her blessing. I promised to stick with only her tale of the events and stay away from speculating on what could be going on involving the police department’s case.
I spoke with the reporter and told her I would give her a sound bite from the family of the victim. Going into this I had one goal and one goal only: not to end up on YouTube with the heading of “You’ve got to see this idiot!!!”
Things didn’t start off well as the reporter asked if I wouldn’t mind pulling my shirt up to reveal the white undershirt I was wearing. All that ran through my mind was the YouTube title change to “You’ve got to see this redneck hick!!!”
The woman noticed my reluctance to undress for the camera (that’s how it starts for celebrities and then three years later there is a naughty tape available for $29.95 at some seedy website) but explained it was only a temporary costume change, as she needed a white balance for the camera.
I asked if we could do a run through of the interview before taping, but she assured me it would seem forced and unnatural if we didn’t go with the first take. I wasn’t happy about it but I agreed to no rehearsal.
Things went pretty smooth after that. She threw some questions at me about Kristyn and where she and the kids were in the house at the time of the accident. I felt somewhat natural with my answers, that is until she started asking questions I had promised not to answer.
The reporter asked about what we thought had taken place to lead up to a truck driving through my cousin’s living room. I should have just stuck with “I don’t know,” but instead I tried to get fancy and say things like we weren’t at liberty to guess what was happening outside of the home prior to the crash. On paper it sounds like an educated answer that gives her nothing, but that is because I’ve had 90 seconds to think it through and type it out. With a spotlight shining on my face and the knowledge that a large amount of the metroplex would be watching I stumbled on my wording and threw in a lot of “uh’s” and “well’s.” Not exactly my finest hour.
I never got to see myself on the news but I heard I did make it on one of the networks. I haven’t heard any rumors that I was terrible and made a complete fool of the family, so I guess I achieved my goal and got the information out to the masses without ending up on YouTube.
Mission accomplished!
After giving the rundown on what happened in part one and talking about how fast street talk can spread – inaccurately at that – in part two, today I will focus on a more private facet of this bizarre story, and that would be my spot on the nightly news attempting to give an account of the event.
While standing across the street from my cousin’s house helping with the kids and trying to keep things calm, I noticed a female reporter with a camera guy speaking with my cousin (Kristyn). The reporter didn’t get anything from Kristyn, partly due to the fact that she was still shaken up from the crash and partly that the responding officers telling her to not speak with the media because she could give some false information that would hinder their investigation.
Being in the business I am, I sympathized with the reporter and asked Kristyn if she cared if I spoke with the reporter as long as I didn’t give any information that we weren’t sure about, to which she gave her blessing. I promised to stick with only her tale of the events and stay away from speculating on what could be going on involving the police department’s case.
I spoke with the reporter and told her I would give her a sound bite from the family of the victim. Going into this I had one goal and one goal only: not to end up on YouTube with the heading of “You’ve got to see this idiot!!!”
Things didn’t start off well as the reporter asked if I wouldn’t mind pulling my shirt up to reveal the white undershirt I was wearing. All that ran through my mind was the YouTube title change to “You’ve got to see this redneck hick!!!”
The woman noticed my reluctance to undress for the camera (that’s how it starts for celebrities and then three years later there is a naughty tape available for $29.95 at some seedy website) but explained it was only a temporary costume change, as she needed a white balance for the camera.
I asked if we could do a run through of the interview before taping, but she assured me it would seem forced and unnatural if we didn’t go with the first take. I wasn’t happy about it but I agreed to no rehearsal.
Things went pretty smooth after that. She threw some questions at me about Kristyn and where she and the kids were in the house at the time of the accident. I felt somewhat natural with my answers, that is until she started asking questions I had promised not to answer.
The reporter asked about what we thought had taken place to lead up to a truck driving through my cousin’s living room. I should have just stuck with “I don’t know,” but instead I tried to get fancy and say things like we weren’t at liberty to guess what was happening outside of the home prior to the crash. On paper it sounds like an educated answer that gives her nothing, but that is because I’ve had 90 seconds to think it through and type it out. With a spotlight shining on my face and the knowledge that a large amount of the metroplex would be watching I stumbled on my wording and threw in a lot of “uh’s” and “well’s.” Not exactly my finest hour.
I never got to see myself on the news but I heard I did make it on one of the networks. I haven’t heard any rumors that I was terrible and made a complete fool of the family, so I guess I achieved my goal and got the information out to the masses without ending up on YouTube.
Mission accomplished!
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Arlington Vehicle Accident Hits Close To Home (Part 2)
Last week I described a shocking scene that took place on my cousin’s street after a truck drove into her living room and then attempted to drive off. Things ended with one man hospitalized and another in jail, and as I write this column the man is still in custody on charges of criminal mischief, deadly conduct and assault with bodily injury.
For part two of this story I think I’m going to talk about how quickly rumors are spread on the street after an event like this, which in turn will show how hard reporters and news anchors work to separate fact from exaggerated street talk.
When I arrived nearly every neighbor and many passersby were standing around asking one another what was going on.
We’ve all been a part of that group. Down the street we see fire engines and police cars and start trying to gather all the information we can from the most irrelevant people that know as little as we do. Whatever inconsequential piece of trivia we happen to get from one person is linked with another portion of the story – whether it’s true or not – we heard from some other random guy we’ve never met until that moment in time, until finally we have an incoherent story that makes about as much sense as an Ed Wood film. Somehow what really turns out to be a smoke scare from a grease fire morphs into a story involving a bomb placed in the home because the housewife is really a drug dealer who is giving the local Chinese mafia too much competition in this Dallas suburban neighborhood.
Okay, maybe that story was a little too half-baked to be spread around the neighborhood while smoke is barreling out of the house and firefighters are dousing the home with water, but you can certainly understand the sort of embellishment that I am talking about.
So you can see why it would be problematic for a reporter to speak with a witness about what they know, because honestly they probably know more fiction than they do fact.
Obviously the reporter is going to speak with the fire chief or police officer at the scene, but for some reason we think some commentary from an unknown face in the crowd regarding what they think is happening will confirm any lingering questions the television audience or readership might have.
With my cousin’s particular situation, what really was a fight over a girl inside a truck between the driver of the vehicle and a man hanging from the side of the truck was told among the neighbors as both men inside the vehicle fighting with the girl between them and one of the men fled the scene, jumped over some fences and police were still looking for him.
Clearly the truth didn’t turn into something involving turf wars between the Jets and the Sharks, but it was exaggerated somewhat by the ill informed spectators.
Because of where I work I like to make sure the public is aware of the truth and that is why I volunteered myself to speak with a news anchor on the scene. I will go into more detail about my experience in front of the camera for my three-second sound byte in next week’s column, but I can say I avoided spreading any false information by simply telling the reporter that our family wasn’t sure of what had happened prior to the truck being inside my cousin’s living room and I couldn’t give any possible details regarding that part of the incident.
Next time you are standing outside a house on fire or watching an arrest take place in front of some restaurant, you might want to wait until that night to watch the news or read your local newspaper and get the facts before calling the people in your five and blabbing some falsified story that turns out to be anything but true.
For part two of this story I think I’m going to talk about how quickly rumors are spread on the street after an event like this, which in turn will show how hard reporters and news anchors work to separate fact from exaggerated street talk.
When I arrived nearly every neighbor and many passersby were standing around asking one another what was going on.
We’ve all been a part of that group. Down the street we see fire engines and police cars and start trying to gather all the information we can from the most irrelevant people that know as little as we do. Whatever inconsequential piece of trivia we happen to get from one person is linked with another portion of the story – whether it’s true or not – we heard from some other random guy we’ve never met until that moment in time, until finally we have an incoherent story that makes about as much sense as an Ed Wood film. Somehow what really turns out to be a smoke scare from a grease fire morphs into a story involving a bomb placed in the home because the housewife is really a drug dealer who is giving the local Chinese mafia too much competition in this Dallas suburban neighborhood.
Okay, maybe that story was a little too half-baked to be spread around the neighborhood while smoke is barreling out of the house and firefighters are dousing the home with water, but you can certainly understand the sort of embellishment that I am talking about.
So you can see why it would be problematic for a reporter to speak with a witness about what they know, because honestly they probably know more fiction than they do fact.
Obviously the reporter is going to speak with the fire chief or police officer at the scene, but for some reason we think some commentary from an unknown face in the crowd regarding what they think is happening will confirm any lingering questions the television audience or readership might have.
With my cousin’s particular situation, what really was a fight over a girl inside a truck between the driver of the vehicle and a man hanging from the side of the truck was told among the neighbors as both men inside the vehicle fighting with the girl between them and one of the men fled the scene, jumped over some fences and police were still looking for him.
Clearly the truth didn’t turn into something involving turf wars between the Jets and the Sharks, but it was exaggerated somewhat by the ill informed spectators.
Because of where I work I like to make sure the public is aware of the truth and that is why I volunteered myself to speak with a news anchor on the scene. I will go into more detail about my experience in front of the camera for my three-second sound byte in next week’s column, but I can say I avoided spreading any false information by simply telling the reporter that our family wasn’t sure of what had happened prior to the truck being inside my cousin’s living room and I couldn’t give any possible details regarding that part of the incident.
Next time you are standing outside a house on fire or watching an arrest take place in front of some restaurant, you might want to wait until that night to watch the news or read your local newspaper and get the facts before calling the people in your five and blabbing some falsified story that turns out to be anything but true.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Arlington Vehicle Accident Hits Close To Home
Like many of my Thursday entries, this is my column from this week. I sometimes read through it and make some changes for the blog, but because it will be a multi-part installment I have left it alone.
Over the past three years I’ve let my readership know that some column topics must be hunted down during the week and aren’t submitted until just a few hours before the deadline, and then there are some topics that come crashing down on me … literally. This week’s is one of the latter.
You might have heard last week about trucks crashing into two separate Arlington homes. The incidents were unrelated, but it just so happened they took place seven miles apart in less than an hour’s time from one another. If you did hear about these two accidents you most likely remember the one involving an off-duty Duncanville police officer, but what I will be talking about today is the other house-pummeling incident. I choose the other one because it involved my cousin’s house.
I got a call a little after 7 p.m. Tuesday night after eating dinner out from my mom who told me to get over to my cousin Kristyn’s house due to an emergency. I figured the answer to what the emergency could be would be answered when I walked in the door. Either I would arrive with the entire family sitting in a circle in the living room with an open chair in between my mom and another family member ready to start some sort of intervention (not that I’m really sure of a social sickness I am currently suffering through) or I would see bloodshot eyes and puffy faces as somebody was going to drop the cancer bomb on us.
However, when I pulled onto Kristyn’s street a fire engine and dozens of neighbors watching some sort of congested scene down near Kristyn’s house blocked me. I got out of the car and started power walking toward the epicenter of the action.
I passed by a man in handcuffs laying on the trunk of a police car and about six or seven police officers trying to keep the peace. I’m not sure if the officers let me walk by without any sort of reason to be near the scene of whatever had happened or if I completely ignored their orders to stay where I was but I found Kristyn, her two children, my mom and my roommate standing across the street from Kristyn’s house that had a new addition to it.
What we have now learned is a truck was driven through the garage into the living room of her house due to two guys fighting over a woman, but I’ll get into that part of the story next week.
You see, I have several things to talk about that came out of this tragic event. I am not sure how many columns I can get out of this one accident, but I do know there will be multiple parts to it.
Sorry this doesn’t give you much to enjoy, but I needed to set the story up for at least two more columns that couldn’t be done quickly. See you next week.
Over the past three years I’ve let my readership know that some column topics must be hunted down during the week and aren’t submitted until just a few hours before the deadline, and then there are some topics that come crashing down on me … literally. This week’s is one of the latter.
You might have heard last week about trucks crashing into two separate Arlington homes. The incidents were unrelated, but it just so happened they took place seven miles apart in less than an hour’s time from one another. If you did hear about these two accidents you most likely remember the one involving an off-duty Duncanville police officer, but what I will be talking about today is the other house-pummeling incident. I choose the other one because it involved my cousin’s house.
I got a call a little after 7 p.m. Tuesday night after eating dinner out from my mom who told me to get over to my cousin Kristyn’s house due to an emergency. I figured the answer to what the emergency could be would be answered when I walked in the door. Either I would arrive with the entire family sitting in a circle in the living room with an open chair in between my mom and another family member ready to start some sort of intervention (not that I’m really sure of a social sickness I am currently suffering through) or I would see bloodshot eyes and puffy faces as somebody was going to drop the cancer bomb on us.
However, when I pulled onto Kristyn’s street a fire engine and dozens of neighbors watching some sort of congested scene down near Kristyn’s house blocked me. I got out of the car and started power walking toward the epicenter of the action.
I passed by a man in handcuffs laying on the trunk of a police car and about six or seven police officers trying to keep the peace. I’m not sure if the officers let me walk by without any sort of reason to be near the scene of whatever had happened or if I completely ignored their orders to stay where I was but I found Kristyn, her two children, my mom and my roommate standing across the street from Kristyn’s house that had a new addition to it.
What we have now learned is a truck was driven through the garage into the living room of her house due to two guys fighting over a woman, but I’ll get into that part of the story next week.
You see, I have several things to talk about that came out of this tragic event. I am not sure how many columns I can get out of this one accident, but I do know there will be multiple parts to it.
Sorry this doesn’t give you much to enjoy, but I needed to set the story up for at least two more columns that couldn’t be done quickly. See you next week.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
17 Things A Grown Man Shouldn't Have (According To Somebody Else)
Getting inspiration from all over helps with a weekly column, such as this week’s little gem.
I was yet again surfing around on the Internet and came across an article on MSN listing 17 things a man should have left behind in his adolescent days (it really was a list of 18 things, but my publisher or editor deleted the one about a penis). I thought the article was somewhat humorous considering I found myself checking off a few of these items still at 27 years old.
This list also comes on the heels of a small tremor on the home front with my girlfriend Joanna about hanging posters in our future home.
Here we go with the list.
1. A black eye. Unless the rim hits your face mid-dunk, your peepers should remain unblemished. You’re smart enough to talk your way out of any fight you're going to lose.
I have somehow avoided any fights since high school, which is a good thing considering my size and lack of muscular strength.
However, that doesn’t mean my mouth hasn’t tried its best to get me in a fight with some heavyweights who would have given me more than just a pair of black eyes.
2. A witty e-mail signature. Quotes and song lyrics should be heard during toasts and karaoke performances, respectively. Don’t let your electronic correspondence become the digital version of a motivational poster.
Not counting a forum among my friends that has since been taken down, I can safely say I have no signatures out there floating in the electronic world.
3. An empty refrigerator. Your larder should be amply stocked, your pantry provisioned. Always aim to be ready to create an on-the-fly, three-course dinner for her ... along with breakfast in bed.
Joanna is a terrific cook and outside of pizza rolls and Rice Krispy Treats, I couldn’t make out the difference between a skillet and a saucer pan. Therefore I feel it is okay that I fall into this category still.
4. PlayStation thumb. When they’re relaxing, grown men can behave like children. But if you devolve long enough to cause calluses or button-shaped bruises, you’re assuredly missing out on life.
Missing out on life I’m not, but spending a couple of hours listening to John Madden tell me how absurd my play calling is and having the cops chase me around Vice City as I carjack people and rob videogame businesses I do partake in. Don’t judge me.
5. A key chain with a bottle opener. This bauble is both a gauche reminder of your college days and proof that you don’t know how to apply leverage using available, impromptu bottle openers: a lighter, the back end of a fork.
I don’t drink so therefore I don’t need to worry about this one.
6. A lucky shirt. Every shirt is lucky when worn by a man who knows that the harder he works the luckier he’ll be.
Apparently MSN and I don’t see eye to eye about what a lucky shirt means to us. I guess they are talking about good fortune befalling a person when wearing a certain clothing article and I’m thinking of the shirt that I wore the first time … Oh, nevermind.
7. An unstamped passport.
My passport, which I lost at some point in the last three years, does have one stamp on it. So take that MSN.
8. Olympic dreams. Exceptions: curling and archery.
I can forget this category altogether. I don’t think sliding through a coat-hanger is ever going to be an Olympic sport.
9. Less than $20 in his wallet. Fiduciary nudity is negligence. A real man should always carry a business card and enough dough to pick up coffee, bagels, and the Sunday paper without whipping out the plastic.
Well aren’t we well off Mister MSN writer. Not every journalist can be so lucky.
10. Any beer that costs less than $20 a case. And no exception for the grand-slam 30-pack that crosses that price threshold.
Again, don’t drink.
11. The need to quote The Big Lebowski/Caddyshack/Super-bad. Reciting someone else's lines reminds people that you haven't the wit to write your own.
Whew! They didn’t include Swingers or The Office. Oh wait. Those were just examples. Ah man! Mark me down for another one then.
12. A futon. Sure, beds are for sleeping. But such a meager, slouchy spread has never, in the history of sex, inspired a woman to say, “Take me on your futon.”
I’m safe here, but I do sport my grandmother’s furniture so I guess I’m not doing too much better.
13. Code words for ugly women. Actually, code words for anything.
Don’t take that away from me MSN. Don’t you dare take that away from me.
14. A Nerf hoop in his living room. Keep the adolescent accoutrements where they belong: in the rec room or above the wastebasket in someone else’s office.
I don’t have one of these in the house, but I do own a foosball table that’s kept in the garage. Does that get me off the hook?
15. A secret handshake.
Not since college have I had one of these when I was kicked out of the Skull and Bones group for taking the title a little too seriously with the members I didn’t like.
16. Drinking glasses with logos. Especially those kitschy McDonald’s Hamburglar ones.
The absence of drinking thing applies here again, but I have never desired a drinking glass with the Hamburglar on it more than I have right now.
17. A recent story with the phrase “So I said to the cop…”
I’ve sat here for 10 minutes trying to think of something clever to say but I just don’t have it in me to mess with my beat at the police department. Sorry for the anti-climactic ending.
I was yet again surfing around on the Internet and came across an article on MSN listing 17 things a man should have left behind in his adolescent days (it really was a list of 18 things, but my publisher or editor deleted the one about a penis). I thought the article was somewhat humorous considering I found myself checking off a few of these items still at 27 years old.
This list also comes on the heels of a small tremor on the home front with my girlfriend Joanna about hanging posters in our future home.
Here we go with the list.
1. A black eye. Unless the rim hits your face mid-dunk, your peepers should remain unblemished. You’re smart enough to talk your way out of any fight you're going to lose.
I have somehow avoided any fights since high school, which is a good thing considering my size and lack of muscular strength.
However, that doesn’t mean my mouth hasn’t tried its best to get me in a fight with some heavyweights who would have given me more than just a pair of black eyes.
2. A witty e-mail signature. Quotes and song lyrics should be heard during toasts and karaoke performances, respectively. Don’t let your electronic correspondence become the digital version of a motivational poster.
Not counting a forum among my friends that has since been taken down, I can safely say I have no signatures out there floating in the electronic world.
3. An empty refrigerator. Your larder should be amply stocked, your pantry provisioned. Always aim to be ready to create an on-the-fly, three-course dinner for her ... along with breakfast in bed.
Joanna is a terrific cook and outside of pizza rolls and Rice Krispy Treats, I couldn’t make out the difference between a skillet and a saucer pan. Therefore I feel it is okay that I fall into this category still.
4. PlayStation thumb. When they’re relaxing, grown men can behave like children. But if you devolve long enough to cause calluses or button-shaped bruises, you’re assuredly missing out on life.
Missing out on life I’m not, but spending a couple of hours listening to John Madden tell me how absurd my play calling is and having the cops chase me around Vice City as I carjack people and rob videogame businesses I do partake in. Don’t judge me.
5. A key chain with a bottle opener. This bauble is both a gauche reminder of your college days and proof that you don’t know how to apply leverage using available, impromptu bottle openers: a lighter, the back end of a fork.
I don’t drink so therefore I don’t need to worry about this one.
6. A lucky shirt. Every shirt is lucky when worn by a man who knows that the harder he works the luckier he’ll be.
Apparently MSN and I don’t see eye to eye about what a lucky shirt means to us. I guess they are talking about good fortune befalling a person when wearing a certain clothing article and I’m thinking of the shirt that I wore the first time … Oh, nevermind.
7. An unstamped passport.
My passport, which I lost at some point in the last three years, does have one stamp on it. So take that MSN.
8. Olympic dreams. Exceptions: curling and archery.
I can forget this category altogether. I don’t think sliding through a coat-hanger is ever going to be an Olympic sport.
9. Less than $20 in his wallet. Fiduciary nudity is negligence. A real man should always carry a business card and enough dough to pick up coffee, bagels, and the Sunday paper without whipping out the plastic.
Well aren’t we well off Mister MSN writer. Not every journalist can be so lucky.
10. Any beer that costs less than $20 a case. And no exception for the grand-slam 30-pack that crosses that price threshold.
Again, don’t drink.
11. The need to quote The Big Lebowski/Caddyshack/Super-bad. Reciting someone else's lines reminds people that you haven't the wit to write your own.
Whew! They didn’t include Swingers or The Office. Oh wait. Those were just examples. Ah man! Mark me down for another one then.
12. A futon. Sure, beds are for sleeping. But such a meager, slouchy spread has never, in the history of sex, inspired a woman to say, “Take me on your futon.”
I’m safe here, but I do sport my grandmother’s furniture so I guess I’m not doing too much better.
13. Code words for ugly women. Actually, code words for anything.
Don’t take that away from me MSN. Don’t you dare take that away from me.
14. A Nerf hoop in his living room. Keep the adolescent accoutrements where they belong: in the rec room or above the wastebasket in someone else’s office.
I don’t have one of these in the house, but I do own a foosball table that’s kept in the garage. Does that get me off the hook?
15. A secret handshake.
Not since college have I had one of these when I was kicked out of the Skull and Bones group for taking the title a little too seriously with the members I didn’t like.
16. Drinking glasses with logos. Especially those kitschy McDonald’s Hamburglar ones.
The absence of drinking thing applies here again, but I have never desired a drinking glass with the Hamburglar on it more than I have right now.
17. A recent story with the phrase “So I said to the cop…”
I’ve sat here for 10 minutes trying to think of something clever to say but I just don’t have it in me to mess with my beat at the police department. Sorry for the anti-climactic ending.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Ennis Elections: Interesting And A Wee Bit Disappointing
I can’t imagine any person in town was able to avoid talking about the close races Ennis had over the weekend concerning the school district’s $48.985 million bond and the Ward 1 Commissioner’s seat, both decided by the slimmest of margins.
Being I work for the local newspaper it might be more common for our employees to discuss the goings on of the city, but I just refuse to believe these two elections were not the topic of water cooler conversation all across Ennis on Monday.
Plenty has been said regarding the 32-vote differential in the school bond election, including an excellent editorial in Monday’s edition – which for the record was not my work; I am not tooting my own horn. I’m sure the clouds of doubt are forming above the naysayers of the bond, questioning how accurate the vote count was in such a close race.
Those against the bond for whatever reason need to take from this year’s election that advertising and public support for your side is extremely important. The P.A.C. group in support of the bond were extremely active in getting the word out about why citizens should vote in favor of the bond, including signs abundantly placed in front yards and along rights-of-way, a bombardment of advertisements in local media outlets and letters to the editor written on a regular routine. The school district was also busy visiting local service clubs and city entities – like the Chamber of Commerce – to get the word out about the bond and recruit members to their following to get the number of votes required to approve the bond package.
It wasn’t until only a few days before the election that some publicity started picking up in an attempt to convince those tired of more bonds to pay for new buildings to be sure and stop by the polls and let their political voice be heard.
The group in favor of the bond’s passage was rewarded for spending the extra time and money necessary to get the bond approved. They will now reap the benefits of fewer children per classroom, better facilities and newer, updated technology at both new and old campuses.
In the other election between Byron Walker and James N. “Red” Sanders it wasn’t the outcome that was so shocking – although there was a big question mark over my head when asked who would win – but rather the amount of indifference that seemed to be going through the Ward 1 residents regarding who would be their voice at City Hall.
I made some phone calls following the election results being released and discovered there are 1,841 registered voters in Ward 1. This means 1,841 people cared enough about politics at one point in their lives to make their way to the Elections Office in Waxahachie and fill out the proper paperwork in order to do their democratic duty. So why did only 150 people actually cast their vote?
This accounts for merely 8.15 percent of the registered voters in that area of Ennis.
I’m not sure what to make of that statistic. Does it mean less than 10 percent of those willing to have a say about what goes on in Ward 1 cared enough to vote or is it more of a reflection on what they were voting on?
In a way this year’s elections were more interesting with less to choose from than last year’s City Marshal race when six candidates were campaigning for the top spot. Whatever your opinion regarding the outcomes of the city and school elections, it was most certainly a much-talked about and anticipated event.
Being I work for the local newspaper it might be more common for our employees to discuss the goings on of the city, but I just refuse to believe these two elections were not the topic of water cooler conversation all across Ennis on Monday.
Plenty has been said regarding the 32-vote differential in the school bond election, including an excellent editorial in Monday’s edition – which for the record was not my work; I am not tooting my own horn. I’m sure the clouds of doubt are forming above the naysayers of the bond, questioning how accurate the vote count was in such a close race.
Those against the bond for whatever reason need to take from this year’s election that advertising and public support for your side is extremely important. The P.A.C. group in support of the bond were extremely active in getting the word out about why citizens should vote in favor of the bond, including signs abundantly placed in front yards and along rights-of-way, a bombardment of advertisements in local media outlets and letters to the editor written on a regular routine. The school district was also busy visiting local service clubs and city entities – like the Chamber of Commerce – to get the word out about the bond and recruit members to their following to get the number of votes required to approve the bond package.
It wasn’t until only a few days before the election that some publicity started picking up in an attempt to convince those tired of more bonds to pay for new buildings to be sure and stop by the polls and let their political voice be heard.
The group in favor of the bond’s passage was rewarded for spending the extra time and money necessary to get the bond approved. They will now reap the benefits of fewer children per classroom, better facilities and newer, updated technology at both new and old campuses.
In the other election between Byron Walker and James N. “Red” Sanders it wasn’t the outcome that was so shocking – although there was a big question mark over my head when asked who would win – but rather the amount of indifference that seemed to be going through the Ward 1 residents regarding who would be their voice at City Hall.
I made some phone calls following the election results being released and discovered there are 1,841 registered voters in Ward 1. This means 1,841 people cared enough about politics at one point in their lives to make their way to the Elections Office in Waxahachie and fill out the proper paperwork in order to do their democratic duty. So why did only 150 people actually cast their vote?
This accounts for merely 8.15 percent of the registered voters in that area of Ennis.
I’m not sure what to make of that statistic. Does it mean less than 10 percent of those willing to have a say about what goes on in Ward 1 cared enough to vote or is it more of a reflection on what they were voting on?
In a way this year’s elections were more interesting with less to choose from than last year’s City Marshal race when six candidates were campaigning for the top spot. Whatever your opinion regarding the outcomes of the city and school elections, it was most certainly a much-talked about and anticipated event.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Restaurant’s Handling Of Situation Leaves Customers With A Bad Taste
A minor altercation that recently took place at a large chain restaurant in Mesquite has turned me off to the eatery, which is upsetting since I really liked one of their sandwiches.
A friend of mine who was visiting the restaurant after a day of shopping at a nearby mall left her credit card at the restaurant. We’ve all come close to doing it before. We start chatting with our friends after writing in the tip and signing the little piece of paper and the next thing you know you are 10 steps away from the table and you starting thinking, “Did I put the card back in my wallet?”
My friend was telling me the story while at work about having to completely rearrange her schedule and drive back up to the restaurant to pick up the lost card. I felt bad for her and decided to help out a little bit. I just so happened to be going to Dallas that night and I told my friend I would swing by the restaurant and pick up the card for her. She was thrilled and called the restaurant to verify an authorized person could retrieve the lost card, which a manager told her was okay as long as I showed some identification proving who I was. Everything was set.
I arrived at the location and after explaining who I was to the door-holding/name-calling 16-year-old girl at the front and what my business was she fetched a manager and I was informed of some distressing news.
Apparently the business’ policy is to only allow the cardholder permission to recover the lost item with corresponding identification. So therefore I was not able to retrieve the card and my friend was back in her original predicament.
I exchanged a few unpleasant words with the manager and exited the building knowing nothing would be done on their end to rectify the situation because the reality in today’s world is the customer is no longer right. To our face they may let us feel in control but when our backs are turned or once the waiter is behind closed doors revenge takes place and we do not want to know about it.
You may be thinking I don’t appreciate the company’s policy to verify the cardholder so that identity theft doesn’t take place. That is just not true. My problem wasn’t the policy, it was that the policy isn’t understood and acted upon by all employees.
If you are going to have a rule you want your company to follow, make sure all of your employees are aware of it and also make sure they follow it. Don’t let misinformation get out that your business will allow something when a different manager tells the consumer something completely different.
Although this time it only cost me some extra gas to drive 20 minutes out of my way for what ultimately turned out to be no good reason, in the future this same restaurant could hoodwink a customer into buying a high-priced gift card that isn’t accepted later on down the road.
So here is my advice as an eating-out aficionado to all of you self-employed business owners or anyone planning to open their own business, make sure all your employees know what to tell a shopper when asked a question. And if an employee tells us they don’t know, that is okay. We’d rather not have a clear answer than be given a false one.
A friend of mine who was visiting the restaurant after a day of shopping at a nearby mall left her credit card at the restaurant. We’ve all come close to doing it before. We start chatting with our friends after writing in the tip and signing the little piece of paper and the next thing you know you are 10 steps away from the table and you starting thinking, “Did I put the card back in my wallet?”
My friend was telling me the story while at work about having to completely rearrange her schedule and drive back up to the restaurant to pick up the lost card. I felt bad for her and decided to help out a little bit. I just so happened to be going to Dallas that night and I told my friend I would swing by the restaurant and pick up the card for her. She was thrilled and called the restaurant to verify an authorized person could retrieve the lost card, which a manager told her was okay as long as I showed some identification proving who I was. Everything was set.
I arrived at the location and after explaining who I was to the door-holding/name-calling 16-year-old girl at the front and what my business was she fetched a manager and I was informed of some distressing news.
Apparently the business’ policy is to only allow the cardholder permission to recover the lost item with corresponding identification. So therefore I was not able to retrieve the card and my friend was back in her original predicament.
I exchanged a few unpleasant words with the manager and exited the building knowing nothing would be done on their end to rectify the situation because the reality in today’s world is the customer is no longer right. To our face they may let us feel in control but when our backs are turned or once the waiter is behind closed doors revenge takes place and we do not want to know about it.
You may be thinking I don’t appreciate the company’s policy to verify the cardholder so that identity theft doesn’t take place. That is just not true. My problem wasn’t the policy, it was that the policy isn’t understood and acted upon by all employees.
If you are going to have a rule you want your company to follow, make sure all of your employees are aware of it and also make sure they follow it. Don’t let misinformation get out that your business will allow something when a different manager tells the consumer something completely different.
Although this time it only cost me some extra gas to drive 20 minutes out of my way for what ultimately turned out to be no good reason, in the future this same restaurant could hoodwink a customer into buying a high-priced gift card that isn’t accepted later on down the road.
So here is my advice as an eating-out aficionado to all of you self-employed business owners or anyone planning to open their own business, make sure all your employees know what to tell a shopper when asked a question. And if an employee tells us they don’t know, that is okay. We’d rather not have a clear answer than be given a false one.
Monday, May 05, 2008
Ready To Take My Order? Oh Really!?
I have started to notice a new trend in the fast food drive-thru line. I don’t know when it began, but it has made my grease-laden food ordering experience a little more difficult. What I’m talking about is the message that greets you as your vehicle comes to a stop next to the intercom and menu. It usually sounds something like, “Welcome! How can I help you?” or maybe like, “Howdy! Can I take your order?”
It’s not the greeting I have a problem with. The welcome really isn’t all that bad, except for certain food industry execs who think every person in Texas says “Howdy” to one anther. What bothers me is the fact that it is an electronic message greeting me, and now I’m not sure if the person on the other side of the electronic box is really ready to take my order.
I never worked the fast food drive-thru window and haven’t had to fight through the headset with a customer so I don’t know what it’s like on the other side, but as the customer I don’t want to do anything to make employees mad for fear they might alter my specially made burger with some homemade sauce. If I begin rattling off my order because Computerized Chatty Cathy just welcomed me to your establishment, asked how she could help me and the real order-taker isn’t ready yet, then I have to be reprimanded when he or she comes on the intercom and says, “One moment, SIR!” It’s not that I’m in a rush or want to make the order-taker’s life harder. It’s just that the greeting asked what I wanted, so I began giving my order.
When I first started noticing the computerized greeting in the drive-thru lane I thought it was just two people working the headset. No big deal. However, then I started noticing that the first person was saying the same thing every time. The words and delivery never changed. At this point I started wondering when it was appropriate to start giving my order. Again, we go back to what if the employee taking my order isn’t ready. I don’t want to rush them.
Here’s another question. Why is the computerized greeter always a woman? How come we never hear men’s voices greet us in the drive-thru? Is this a coincidence among all food establishments or did the Women’s Association of Electronic Greeters go on strike until a deal was made to monopolize the drive-thru lanes?
All this may seem trivial to you and your response to me might sound something like “Why don’t you just stop eating those fatty foods and try a more healthy diet?” Well, here’s my answer to you. When you have the figure of a 10-year-old girl and everything you eat has no effect on you in the short term, then you take advantage of it for as long as possible. As soon as my clogged arteries begin to give me a shortness of breath and pain in my left arm then I will stop pumping my body full of the seventh – and lesser known – food group: grease.
Besides, I get a very healthy and delicious meal each week at the Odd Fellow and Rebekah Retirement Center in Ennis when I attend Kiwanis Club. I know what you might think, “An old folks home? Yuk!” No way. It is delicious. Trust me.
It’s not the greeting I have a problem with. The welcome really isn’t all that bad, except for certain food industry execs who think every person in Texas says “Howdy” to one anther. What bothers me is the fact that it is an electronic message greeting me, and now I’m not sure if the person on the other side of the electronic box is really ready to take my order.
I never worked the fast food drive-thru window and haven’t had to fight through the headset with a customer so I don’t know what it’s like on the other side, but as the customer I don’t want to do anything to make employees mad for fear they might alter my specially made burger with some homemade sauce. If I begin rattling off my order because Computerized Chatty Cathy just welcomed me to your establishment, asked how she could help me and the real order-taker isn’t ready yet, then I have to be reprimanded when he or she comes on the intercom and says, “One moment, SIR!” It’s not that I’m in a rush or want to make the order-taker’s life harder. It’s just that the greeting asked what I wanted, so I began giving my order.
When I first started noticing the computerized greeting in the drive-thru lane I thought it was just two people working the headset. No big deal. However, then I started noticing that the first person was saying the same thing every time. The words and delivery never changed. At this point I started wondering when it was appropriate to start giving my order. Again, we go back to what if the employee taking my order isn’t ready. I don’t want to rush them.
Here’s another question. Why is the computerized greeter always a woman? How come we never hear men’s voices greet us in the drive-thru? Is this a coincidence among all food establishments or did the Women’s Association of Electronic Greeters go on strike until a deal was made to monopolize the drive-thru lanes?
All this may seem trivial to you and your response to me might sound something like “Why don’t you just stop eating those fatty foods and try a more healthy diet?” Well, here’s my answer to you. When you have the figure of a 10-year-old girl and everything you eat has no effect on you in the short term, then you take advantage of it for as long as possible. As soon as my clogged arteries begin to give me a shortness of breath and pain in my left arm then I will stop pumping my body full of the seventh – and lesser known – food group: grease.
Besides, I get a very healthy and delicious meal each week at the Odd Fellow and Rebekah Retirement Center in Ennis when I attend Kiwanis Club. I know what you might think, “An old folks home? Yuk!” No way. It is delicious. Trust me.
Friday, May 02, 2008
Kids and dogs: Same thing?
To those young couples or you ladies who want nothing more than to be parents but don’t yet have the children needed to test whether or not you would have the patience, time or proper nurturing characteristics required of such a person, I suggest getting a pet to use as a litmus test of your parenting skills.
I suppose any pet will do but to get a true assessment of yourself I recommend a dog as the animal of choice, and for a true test of your parenting abilities I think picking out a puppy would give some real results of how good a parent you could be.
Although I am already the parent of a beautiful baby girl I still consider how I handle certain situations involving Joanna's dog (named Mona) as a nice analysis of how I will react to my daughter’s potentially destructive ways as she grows up.
In recent months I have had to cope with the perils of dog ownership that resulted in some vehicle and home maintenance repairs.
The first incident took place during a fundraiser auction in Ennis. A friend’s sister was hospitalized and ended up dying that weekend and Joanna was at the hospital with our friend while I covered the event. Because we had left Mona alone all day I decided to bring her with me. That was a big mistake.
After being left in the car a little too long I came outside and from a distance saw in the moonlight Mona’s head peeping above the back seat and what looked to be hanging jungle vines dangling from the ceiling of my car.
As I walked closer, I could see what had happened. Despite having plenty of air with the windows cracked, Mona apparently thought she was trapped and tried to claw and chew her way out of the roof, resulting in the fabric of my ceiling, the headliner and my passenger-side visor being destroyed.
Now I’m not one of those people who think their vehicle is an extension of their anatomy, but my car has been very good to me for the past seven years and I felt like I had let her down as an owner.
Since catching Mona in the act of her disobedience I justifiably punished her and it was one of the longest and quietest drives home I have ever had. It took me several minutes just to even turn the radio on because I was too mad to want to hear music. I just festered and kept questioning Mona about why she would do such a thing to my car, hoping she would suddenly learn to communicate with me and explain her actions.
I spent the following week visiting salvage yards to get replacement items for the car before the ceiling’s fabric is replaced, but the second accident involved repairs that were needed on a much faster timetable.
Joanna came home on a Saturday night to find Mona with blood on her face. She searched the apartment to figure out the cause of Mona’s cut and found her bedroom window shattered. I was phoned and upon arriving we cleaned Mona up and checked to see whether she needed to make a visit to the veterinarian. It was decided she wasn’t in such bad shape that we couldn’t wait for my sister-in-law, who works for the SPCA, to look at her the next day. Following that, I inspected the damage and determined some sort of event on the outside caused this damage and Mona stuck her face against the broken glass.
For me, Sunday afternoon was spent purchasing glass and materials needed to repair the window while Joanna and my sister-in-law patched up Mona’s cuts and gave her some antibiotics.
As you can see this is not exactly how I had imagined spending my weekend but when you have a pet sometimes these sorts of things happen and you have to deal with the consequences. If you can’t imagine altering your schedule for your pet or having the patience required to get through the destructive times then it is completely unfathomable to think you are ready to raise a child. I’m not saying dogs and babies are the same thing, but the analogy in raising them is not that ridiculous.
I suppose any pet will do but to get a true assessment of yourself I recommend a dog as the animal of choice, and for a true test of your parenting abilities I think picking out a puppy would give some real results of how good a parent you could be.
Although I am already the parent of a beautiful baby girl I still consider how I handle certain situations involving Joanna's dog (named Mona) as a nice analysis of how I will react to my daughter’s potentially destructive ways as she grows up.
In recent months I have had to cope with the perils of dog ownership that resulted in some vehicle and home maintenance repairs.
The first incident took place during a fundraiser auction in Ennis. A friend’s sister was hospitalized and ended up dying that weekend and Joanna was at the hospital with our friend while I covered the event. Because we had left Mona alone all day I decided to bring her with me. That was a big mistake.
After being left in the car a little too long I came outside and from a distance saw in the moonlight Mona’s head peeping above the back seat and what looked to be hanging jungle vines dangling from the ceiling of my car.
As I walked closer, I could see what had happened. Despite having plenty of air with the windows cracked, Mona apparently thought she was trapped and tried to claw and chew her way out of the roof, resulting in the fabric of my ceiling, the headliner and my passenger-side visor being destroyed.
Now I’m not one of those people who think their vehicle is an extension of their anatomy, but my car has been very good to me for the past seven years and I felt like I had let her down as an owner.
Since catching Mona in the act of her disobedience I justifiably punished her and it was one of the longest and quietest drives home I have ever had. It took me several minutes just to even turn the radio on because I was too mad to want to hear music. I just festered and kept questioning Mona about why she would do such a thing to my car, hoping she would suddenly learn to communicate with me and explain her actions.
I spent the following week visiting salvage yards to get replacement items for the car before the ceiling’s fabric is replaced, but the second accident involved repairs that were needed on a much faster timetable.
Joanna came home on a Saturday night to find Mona with blood on her face. She searched the apartment to figure out the cause of Mona’s cut and found her bedroom window shattered. I was phoned and upon arriving we cleaned Mona up and checked to see whether she needed to make a visit to the veterinarian. It was decided she wasn’t in such bad shape that we couldn’t wait for my sister-in-law, who works for the SPCA, to look at her the next day. Following that, I inspected the damage and determined some sort of event on the outside caused this damage and Mona stuck her face against the broken glass.
For me, Sunday afternoon was spent purchasing glass and materials needed to repair the window while Joanna and my sister-in-law patched up Mona’s cuts and gave her some antibiotics.
As you can see this is not exactly how I had imagined spending my weekend but when you have a pet sometimes these sorts of things happen and you have to deal with the consequences. If you can’t imagine altering your schedule for your pet or having the patience required to get through the destructive times then it is completely unfathomable to think you are ready to raise a child. I’m not saying dogs and babies are the same thing, but the analogy in raising them is not that ridiculous.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
The Woes Of Working Out
As I type this, I am huffing and puffing after a heated battle on the tennis court with my brother, knowing tomorrow I will pay for it all with cramps in my legs, a shoulder that feels as if it is on fire every time I take a breath and a blister that wraps all the way around my thumb. As terrible as that sounds you might think I am wasting my time playing tennis if I feel so terrible the days following.
I am okay with these aches and pains because I know I earned them by being active and not sitting around the house being lazy on a beautiful evening like it was Tuesday.
In my opinion, working out, playing a little too hard with your friends or taking part in some sort of activity that gives you a sense of accomplishment is worth a bit of soreness in the end.
While not near as much fun, it is kind of like working in the yard or painting a room. They are dreaded chores that hardly anyone looks forward to, but those who do enjoy these tasks do so because they can look at their work in the end and realize what a good job they did, despite some throbbing in their back or pain in their knees.
Since I’m sure to be nursing some small tenderness throughout my body from my sporting fun I began to think about a few of the other pains I’ve recently acquired in my life that I didn’t receive through hard work or fun activities.
I am 27 years old and by no means do I think of myself as old. In fact, in today’s day and age a person can be in their golden years and still be as lively as – if not more than – teenagers who play video games all day and live through their computers.
Recently I have noticed my body telling me I did something to hurt it when I don’t recall any such injury. My ankle will feel as if I rolled it and I can hardly walk when all I did for the previous few hours was sit on my couch watching television or working at my desk. When I wake up in the morning, sleeping in the same positions I have slept all my life, my back and neck will crackle as I stretch and move, which is a fresh addition to my list of soreness.
I can never seem to remember doing anything to make my body resent me so much, but I guess I have to expect these sorts of occurrences as I age.
I figured to have at least until my mid-30s before I would have to worry about changing my diet due to high cholesterol or exercising more because of excess pounds gained – not that anybody would ever guess that could happen to my small frame.
Although these aren’t necessarily the problems I’m currently facing, I feel as if I can’t stop the inevitable from occurring, which is that someday I will be using a walker or eventually need one of those motorized chairs to get up and down staircases.
I guess playing tennis, Frisbee, golf or recreational softball is a step in the right direction to keeping my body in tip-top shape, but it would be nice to not have to deal with living in temporary pain now to know I won’t live in constant pain in the future.
I am okay with these aches and pains because I know I earned them by being active and not sitting around the house being lazy on a beautiful evening like it was Tuesday.
In my opinion, working out, playing a little too hard with your friends or taking part in some sort of activity that gives you a sense of accomplishment is worth a bit of soreness in the end.
While not near as much fun, it is kind of like working in the yard or painting a room. They are dreaded chores that hardly anyone looks forward to, but those who do enjoy these tasks do so because they can look at their work in the end and realize what a good job they did, despite some throbbing in their back or pain in their knees.
Since I’m sure to be nursing some small tenderness throughout my body from my sporting fun I began to think about a few of the other pains I’ve recently acquired in my life that I didn’t receive through hard work or fun activities.
I am 27 years old and by no means do I think of myself as old. In fact, in today’s day and age a person can be in their golden years and still be as lively as – if not more than – teenagers who play video games all day and live through their computers.
Recently I have noticed my body telling me I did something to hurt it when I don’t recall any such injury. My ankle will feel as if I rolled it and I can hardly walk when all I did for the previous few hours was sit on my couch watching television or working at my desk. When I wake up in the morning, sleeping in the same positions I have slept all my life, my back and neck will crackle as I stretch and move, which is a fresh addition to my list of soreness.
I can never seem to remember doing anything to make my body resent me so much, but I guess I have to expect these sorts of occurrences as I age.
I figured to have at least until my mid-30s before I would have to worry about changing my diet due to high cholesterol or exercising more because of excess pounds gained – not that anybody would ever guess that could happen to my small frame.
Although these aren’t necessarily the problems I’m currently facing, I feel as if I can’t stop the inevitable from occurring, which is that someday I will be using a walker or eventually need one of those motorized chairs to get up and down staircases.
I guess playing tennis, Frisbee, golf or recreational softball is a step in the right direction to keeping my body in tip-top shape, but it would be nice to not have to deal with living in temporary pain now to know I won’t live in constant pain in the future.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
What’s in a name?
While playing on the Internet this weekend I came across an article about where musicians got their stage names. I decided to share this with some of you because it is part trivia and part music history, so why not. I haven’t listed them all but I did put the well-known artists.
Bono
Born: Paul David Hewson
Supposedly named after a Dublin hearing-aid shop called Bono Vox – Latin for “good voice.” His U2 bandmate the Edge got his own nickname from either his sharp facial features or his fearlessness of heights, depending on which version you believe.
Snoop Dogg
Born: Cordozar Calvin Broadus Jr.
Dogg was nicknamed “Snoopy” by his mom for his love of the “Peanuts” comic strip. If the original Snoopy was, in fact, a little bit gangsta, “Doggystyle,” we presume, was not quite what Charles Schulz had in mind.
Marilyn Manson
Born: Brian Hugh Warner
Marilyn Manson combined Marilyn Monroe with Charles Manson, of course. His bandmate Twiggy Ramirez (Jeordie White) combined the names of the slender ‘60s fashion icon and the serial killer Richard Ramirez. Most of the various band members have taken similarly titillating monikers – Daisy Berkowitz, Madonna Wayne Gacy, Gidget Gein…
Tina Turner
Born: Annie Mae Bullock
Tina Turner got the last name, of course, by marrying her bandleader, Ike Turner. But he also changed the soul queen's given name as well, appropriately yet obliquely inspired by his fandom of comic-book wildwoman Sheena, Queen of the Jungle.
Billy Idol
Born: William Michael Albert Broad
A teacher once marked a report card for young Bill with the comment, “William is idle.” After his career went multi-platinum in the 1980s, this textbook bad boy fell off the map, going 12 album-less years before a 2005 comeback. Once again, Billy was, in fact, idle.
Elton John
Born: Reginald Kenneth Dwight
Sir Reg's early band was Bluesology, featuring saxophonist Elton Dean and frontman Long John Baldry. In 1972, he legally changed his name to Elton Hercules John, despite never having shared a band with any Hercules.
Macy Gray
Born: Natalie Renee McIntyre
There’s Macy Gray, and then there’s Macy Gray the neo-soul singer. The latter pinched her stage name wholesale from a man who lived in her Canton, Ohio, neighborhood. No word on whether Mr. Gray ever mistakenly received any of his namesake neighbor’s royalty checks in the mail.
Sting
Born: Gordon Matthew Thomas Sumner
Playing in a jazz band, the young Gordo once wore a black-and-yellow striped shirt that made him look like a bumblebee. “My children call me Sting, my mother calls me Sting,” he once joked, after being addressed by his given name. “Who is this Gordon character?”
Moby
Born: Richard Melville Hall
Childhood nickname bestowed by his parents; Richie’s great-great-grand-uncle was ‘Moby-Dick’ author Herman Melville. Sadly, this connection to the great whale tale had nothing to do with Moby’s brief stint in the band Flipper.
Iggy Pop
Born: James Newell Osterberg Jr.
His first high school band was called the Iguanas, earning Iggy Pop another colorful nickname – the Rock Iguana. Unhappily credited as Iggy Stooge on the Stooge’s first few records.
Dusty Springfield
Born: Mary Isobel Catherine Bernadette O’Brien
Let’s say you start a group with your brother called the Springfields, he adopts the moniker Tom Springfield – and you’re Mary Isobel Catherine Bernadette O'Brien. Suffice to say it didn't take a lot of arm-twisting for Dusty – a childhood nickname – to change her surname as well.
Bo Diddley
Born: Ellas Otha Bates
Bo Diddley might’ve swiped his lyrical stage name from a variety of sources. A diddley bow is a homemade, one-stringed instrument often used by sharecroppers. Maybe more to the point for this master of the good-natured put-down is the old-timey insult: “That ain’t bo diddley.”
Freddie Mercury
Born: Farrokh Bulsara
Born in Zanzibar to a Zoroastrian family of Indian descent, the man who would be Queen began calling himself Freddie while at boarding school near Bombay, where he started a band called the Hectics.
Johnny Rotten
Born: John Joseph Lydon
The head Sex Pistol is said to have earned his nickname through the dubious distinction of his prematurely decaying teeth. Rotten’s nickname for his pal John Simon Ritchie was dentally inspired, too – “Sid Vicious” was borrowed from a particularly nippy pet hamster.
Flea
Born: Michael Peter Balzary
Like Sting, another product of the Flying Pest school of rock nicknames. The Red Hot Chili Pepper’s stage name was bestowed for his high-strung nature by high school buddy Anthony Kiedis on a ski trip.
Elvis Costello
Born: Declan Patrick McManus
Originally performed as D.P. Costello, using his great-grandmother’s surname (not inspired by the American comedian Lou Costello). Costello later took his manager’s advice and adopted the first name Elvis. Further confusing the matter, he legally added Aloysius to his given name in the ‘80s.
Alice Cooper
Born: Vincent Furnier
Original band the Spiders switched their name to Alice Cooper, conjured, according to the record company, through a Ouija board encounter with a medieval witch of the same name. In 1974, Furnier legally adopted the name, keeping it for his solo career.
Meat Loaf
Born: Marvin Lee Aday
The “Bat Out of Hell” blockbuster’s first band was called Meat Loaf Soul; he debuted, oddly, with Motown, as half of a duet called Stoney and Meat Loaf. Recently changed his given first name, which no one knew anyway, to Michael.
Bono
Born: Paul David Hewson
Supposedly named after a Dublin hearing-aid shop called Bono Vox – Latin for “good voice.” His U2 bandmate the Edge got his own nickname from either his sharp facial features or his fearlessness of heights, depending on which version you believe.
Snoop Dogg
Born: Cordozar Calvin Broadus Jr.
Dogg was nicknamed “Snoopy” by his mom for his love of the “Peanuts” comic strip. If the original Snoopy was, in fact, a little bit gangsta, “Doggystyle,” we presume, was not quite what Charles Schulz had in mind.
Marilyn Manson
Born: Brian Hugh Warner
Marilyn Manson combined Marilyn Monroe with Charles Manson, of course. His bandmate Twiggy Ramirez (Jeordie White) combined the names of the slender ‘60s fashion icon and the serial killer Richard Ramirez. Most of the various band members have taken similarly titillating monikers – Daisy Berkowitz, Madonna Wayne Gacy, Gidget Gein…
Tina Turner
Born: Annie Mae Bullock
Tina Turner got the last name, of course, by marrying her bandleader, Ike Turner. But he also changed the soul queen's given name as well, appropriately yet obliquely inspired by his fandom of comic-book wildwoman Sheena, Queen of the Jungle.
Billy Idol
Born: William Michael Albert Broad
A teacher once marked a report card for young Bill with the comment, “William is idle.” After his career went multi-platinum in the 1980s, this textbook bad boy fell off the map, going 12 album-less years before a 2005 comeback. Once again, Billy was, in fact, idle.
Elton John
Born: Reginald Kenneth Dwight
Sir Reg's early band was Bluesology, featuring saxophonist Elton Dean and frontman Long John Baldry. In 1972, he legally changed his name to Elton Hercules John, despite never having shared a band with any Hercules.
Macy Gray
Born: Natalie Renee McIntyre
There’s Macy Gray, and then there’s Macy Gray the neo-soul singer. The latter pinched her stage name wholesale from a man who lived in her Canton, Ohio, neighborhood. No word on whether Mr. Gray ever mistakenly received any of his namesake neighbor’s royalty checks in the mail.
Sting
Born: Gordon Matthew Thomas Sumner
Playing in a jazz band, the young Gordo once wore a black-and-yellow striped shirt that made him look like a bumblebee. “My children call me Sting, my mother calls me Sting,” he once joked, after being addressed by his given name. “Who is this Gordon character?”
Moby
Born: Richard Melville Hall
Childhood nickname bestowed by his parents; Richie’s great-great-grand-uncle was ‘Moby-Dick’ author Herman Melville. Sadly, this connection to the great whale tale had nothing to do with Moby’s brief stint in the band Flipper.
Iggy Pop
Born: James Newell Osterberg Jr.
His first high school band was called the Iguanas, earning Iggy Pop another colorful nickname – the Rock Iguana. Unhappily credited as Iggy Stooge on the Stooge’s first few records.
Dusty Springfield
Born: Mary Isobel Catherine Bernadette O’Brien
Let’s say you start a group with your brother called the Springfields, he adopts the moniker Tom Springfield – and you’re Mary Isobel Catherine Bernadette O'Brien. Suffice to say it didn't take a lot of arm-twisting for Dusty – a childhood nickname – to change her surname as well.
Bo Diddley
Born: Ellas Otha Bates
Bo Diddley might’ve swiped his lyrical stage name from a variety of sources. A diddley bow is a homemade, one-stringed instrument often used by sharecroppers. Maybe more to the point for this master of the good-natured put-down is the old-timey insult: “That ain’t bo diddley.”
Freddie Mercury
Born: Farrokh Bulsara
Born in Zanzibar to a Zoroastrian family of Indian descent, the man who would be Queen began calling himself Freddie while at boarding school near Bombay, where he started a band called the Hectics.
Johnny Rotten
Born: John Joseph Lydon
The head Sex Pistol is said to have earned his nickname through the dubious distinction of his prematurely decaying teeth. Rotten’s nickname for his pal John Simon Ritchie was dentally inspired, too – “Sid Vicious” was borrowed from a particularly nippy pet hamster.
Flea
Born: Michael Peter Balzary
Like Sting, another product of the Flying Pest school of rock nicknames. The Red Hot Chili Pepper’s stage name was bestowed for his high-strung nature by high school buddy Anthony Kiedis on a ski trip.
Elvis Costello
Born: Declan Patrick McManus
Originally performed as D.P. Costello, using his great-grandmother’s surname (not inspired by the American comedian Lou Costello). Costello later took his manager’s advice and adopted the first name Elvis. Further confusing the matter, he legally added Aloysius to his given name in the ‘80s.
Alice Cooper
Born: Vincent Furnier
Original band the Spiders switched their name to Alice Cooper, conjured, according to the record company, through a Ouija board encounter with a medieval witch of the same name. In 1974, Furnier legally adopted the name, keeping it for his solo career.
Meat Loaf
Born: Marvin Lee Aday
The “Bat Out of Hell” blockbuster’s first band was called Meat Loaf Soul; he debuted, oddly, with Motown, as half of a duet called Stoney and Meat Loaf. Recently changed his given first name, which no one knew anyway, to Michael.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Not quite the most wonderful time of year – but it sure is close
When I first got into football two years ago – my gateway sport into all things sports related – I found at the end of the season as the Super Bowl approached my friends groaning about what a terrible life they would lead once football wasn’t there every week.
Following the first season I bought into this mentality that football reigned and everything else was filler until the preseason came around. My sports brain went into a comatose state until August when fantasy football talk started up again and the gridiron game was back in full swing. It’s funny how the people you call friends and rely on most for pertinent information regarding your personal life can be so horribly wrong.
There is so much to look forward to following the post-season of football, which I have fully taken advantage of this year.
The Super Bowl came and went on February 3 but that was not the end of sports as we know it for early 2008. By this time, basketball and hockey are in full swing with many fans starting to get an idea of what the playoffs will hold and a few teams wondering whether a post-season will present itself depending on how close the competition is in their conference – which has been compelling for the Western Conference.
March continues basketball and hockey action but sprinkles in college athletics as the NCAA Tournament – more appropriately known as March Madness – begins. Although it isn’t until the middle of the month when the tournament starts, there are plenty of conference tournaments deciding the fate of several teams on the cusp of receiving a ranking high enough to be selected. Even teams not making March Madness still find their way into the less popular event – the National Invitation Tournament.
The end of March and beginning of April is the time when sports fans are bombarded with action as March Madness is in full swing, professional basketball and hockey are still going strong and the baseball season starts up.
I’ve always found baseball to be a slow sport, especially when watching it on television, but I now appreciate it as a thinking game. The players in the infield and outfield and the runners on base are sort of pawns in a chess game between the pitcher and batter.
It is quite enthralling to see a runner in scoring position with two out and sweating it out as the pitcher has to either strike out the batter or force him to put the ball in play where a defenseman can get an easy out.
Another joy of April is that’s when the playoffs for basketball and hockey start. The Dallas Stars have shown they will be a force to be reckoned with and we can only hope the same for the Dallas Mavericks as they take us on a rollercoaster of emotions since losing the 2005-2006 NBA finals to Miami.
A sport some find boring but I recently learned to enjoy watching – or I should say re-learned to enjoy watching – is tennis. My friends and I took up the sport recently as a way to get some exercise and enjoy the night air at our local park. This isn’t my first foray into the world of tennis however. My mom used to watch tennis a lot when I was a kid and I remember having to suffer through the sport when all I really wanted was the television so I could watch a cartoon or play a video game.
With the Davis Cup being played out throughout the year, the quarterfinals were held this past weekend. The French Open is scheduled for May and June with Wimbledon following in June and July.
Golf fans can also get excited during the month of April because the Masters gets under way, giving everyone their first chance to see Tiger Woods attempt to dominate the field, which did not happen this year. As a true fan of many sports I spent much of my weekend wondering how Tiger was doing and who the leader was – due to being out of town camping I had no access to this information until Sunday. I spent the final day flipping between the Masters, the Texas Rangers and the Davis Cup Quarterfinals.
By the way, to the guy who says he is a golf fan but would rather go fishing or find something else to do if Tiger isn’t in the hunt on the final day of a tournament, that isn’t a real fan of the sport. That means you are a Tiger Woods fan, not a golf fan.
For those of you who complain about the absence of football this time of year, I say get over it and enjoy the surplus of sports that is offered. You are missing out on some seriously great action.
Following the first season I bought into this mentality that football reigned and everything else was filler until the preseason came around. My sports brain went into a comatose state until August when fantasy football talk started up again and the gridiron game was back in full swing. It’s funny how the people you call friends and rely on most for pertinent information regarding your personal life can be so horribly wrong.
There is so much to look forward to following the post-season of football, which I have fully taken advantage of this year.
The Super Bowl came and went on February 3 but that was not the end of sports as we know it for early 2008. By this time, basketball and hockey are in full swing with many fans starting to get an idea of what the playoffs will hold and a few teams wondering whether a post-season will present itself depending on how close the competition is in their conference – which has been compelling for the Western Conference.
March continues basketball and hockey action but sprinkles in college athletics as the NCAA Tournament – more appropriately known as March Madness – begins. Although it isn’t until the middle of the month when the tournament starts, there are plenty of conference tournaments deciding the fate of several teams on the cusp of receiving a ranking high enough to be selected. Even teams not making March Madness still find their way into the less popular event – the National Invitation Tournament.
The end of March and beginning of April is the time when sports fans are bombarded with action as March Madness is in full swing, professional basketball and hockey are still going strong and the baseball season starts up.
I’ve always found baseball to be a slow sport, especially when watching it on television, but I now appreciate it as a thinking game. The players in the infield and outfield and the runners on base are sort of pawns in a chess game between the pitcher and batter.
It is quite enthralling to see a runner in scoring position with two out and sweating it out as the pitcher has to either strike out the batter or force him to put the ball in play where a defenseman can get an easy out.
Another joy of April is that’s when the playoffs for basketball and hockey start. The Dallas Stars have shown they will be a force to be reckoned with and we can only hope the same for the Dallas Mavericks as they take us on a rollercoaster of emotions since losing the 2005-2006 NBA finals to Miami.
A sport some find boring but I recently learned to enjoy watching – or I should say re-learned to enjoy watching – is tennis. My friends and I took up the sport recently as a way to get some exercise and enjoy the night air at our local park. This isn’t my first foray into the world of tennis however. My mom used to watch tennis a lot when I was a kid and I remember having to suffer through the sport when all I really wanted was the television so I could watch a cartoon or play a video game.
With the Davis Cup being played out throughout the year, the quarterfinals were held this past weekend. The French Open is scheduled for May and June with Wimbledon following in June and July.
Golf fans can also get excited during the month of April because the Masters gets under way, giving everyone their first chance to see Tiger Woods attempt to dominate the field, which did not happen this year. As a true fan of many sports I spent much of my weekend wondering how Tiger was doing and who the leader was – due to being out of town camping I had no access to this information until Sunday. I spent the final day flipping between the Masters, the Texas Rangers and the Davis Cup Quarterfinals.
By the way, to the guy who says he is a golf fan but would rather go fishing or find something else to do if Tiger isn’t in the hunt on the final day of a tournament, that isn’t a real fan of the sport. That means you are a Tiger Woods fan, not a golf fan.
For those of you who complain about the absence of football this time of year, I say get over it and enjoy the surplus of sports that is offered. You are missing out on some seriously great action.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Keeping Watch On Stupid People
There is a movie out called “Idiocracy” with a premise that rivals a Beavis and Butthead episode, but it stars Luke Wilson so I suggest you take a peek at it sometime. The reason I bring the movie up is because the plot –– which involves two average humans being frozen for 500 years and waking up to find stupid people have overpopulated –– makes me think that, given enough time, we might turn out like this.
The idea is that the uneducated have nothing to divert their attention and end up breeding an exuberant amount of children. As intelligent folks on the planet focus on their careers instead of procreating, the result is their group diminishes to nothing.
I love to people watch. I consider it a sport. In college I would go to the clubs in town –– I use the term club loosely since I was living in Nacogdoches –– and enjoy the sights around me as guys attempted to find a mate to take home at the end of the night and the girls aggressively dodged most advances made toward them.
By the end of my five lovely collegiate years I had even turned into a professional “people watching” sportscaster, mocking the knuckleheads with my cousin with a play-by-play of the potential hook-ups throughout the night; the “riffing” conversations performed rivaled the best Mystery Science Theater 3000 episodes.
The time spent honing my skills as a “people watching” broadcaster has stayed with me over the years. I still pay attention to what is happening around me –– often ignoring the people I am with in the process –– in order to observe the morons who come in and out of my life.
Now I’ll bring these two differing topics together.
Just recently, while walking my dog, I noticed a young man drive into a gas station parking lot across the street, his vehicle’s windows rolled down.
It was hard to not be aware of this guy coming my way due to the fact that his music was at full blast and the bass meter was set at about a +11.
I heard him coming from seven blocks away.
I couldn’t tell you what song was playing but I assure you it wasn’t my cup of tea. It was loud, it had no melody and the lead singer screamed a lot.
Why is it that when the guys – and it mostly is guys – who do this choose heavy rock that makes nobody happy or hardcore rap that doesn’t censor the language?
Why do we never hear Bob Dylan or the Beatles blaring at deafening volumes?
I’m thinking about buying a Michael Bolton or Kenny G album for just these types of instances.
When some punk pulls up next to me at a stop light with loud music coming from his car I will pop in some “How am I Supposed to Live Without You.”
See what that does for the guy’s listening pleasure.
Moral: The next time you roll down your car window and think about blasting whatever song you’re into at that time, consider this: from the outside of your car it isn’t that cool. It’s kind of the same as peeling away in a parking lot or stop sign.
The idea is that the uneducated have nothing to divert their attention and end up breeding an exuberant amount of children. As intelligent folks on the planet focus on their careers instead of procreating, the result is their group diminishes to nothing.
I love to people watch. I consider it a sport. In college I would go to the clubs in town –– I use the term club loosely since I was living in Nacogdoches –– and enjoy the sights around me as guys attempted to find a mate to take home at the end of the night and the girls aggressively dodged most advances made toward them.
By the end of my five lovely collegiate years I had even turned into a professional “people watching” sportscaster, mocking the knuckleheads with my cousin with a play-by-play of the potential hook-ups throughout the night; the “riffing” conversations performed rivaled the best Mystery Science Theater 3000 episodes.
The time spent honing my skills as a “people watching” broadcaster has stayed with me over the years. I still pay attention to what is happening around me –– often ignoring the people I am with in the process –– in order to observe the morons who come in and out of my life.
Now I’ll bring these two differing topics together.
Just recently, while walking my dog, I noticed a young man drive into a gas station parking lot across the street, his vehicle’s windows rolled down.
It was hard to not be aware of this guy coming my way due to the fact that his music was at full blast and the bass meter was set at about a +11.
I heard him coming from seven blocks away.
I couldn’t tell you what song was playing but I assure you it wasn’t my cup of tea. It was loud, it had no melody and the lead singer screamed a lot.
Why is it that when the guys – and it mostly is guys – who do this choose heavy rock that makes nobody happy or hardcore rap that doesn’t censor the language?
Why do we never hear Bob Dylan or the Beatles blaring at deafening volumes?
I’m thinking about buying a Michael Bolton or Kenny G album for just these types of instances.
When some punk pulls up next to me at a stop light with loud music coming from his car I will pop in some “How am I Supposed to Live Without You.”
See what that does for the guy’s listening pleasure.
Moral: The next time you roll down your car window and think about blasting whatever song you’re into at that time, consider this: from the outside of your car it isn’t that cool. It’s kind of the same as peeling away in a parking lot or stop sign.
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