May you never get that call. - Me
********
This has nothing at all to do with that crisp September morning ten years ago.
September 10, 2011, a crisp September afternoon in AP,about 3pm. Just back from a brief family outing, and the boys have just left for a bike ride with a friend. A nap beckons.
The phone rings, and Bride answers. Son #1 is explaining to her that Son #2 has just been hit by a motorist, and that he is badly hurt. I am getting the gist of this, and as she hangs up, we're both racing for the door. Moments later, we arrive on the scene, and are advised by a friend in the fire department that he's conscious, and is heading to the hospital. Bride goes in the ambulance, Son #1 in the Jeep with me.
The stuff that goes through your head at times like these is staggering. The kid's been thrown 20-30 feet across the road by the impact, and as we go into the ER, he's already been admitted, and is being examined. The injuries are significant; a broken left ankle, left collarbone, right pelvis, and scrapes and cuts all over the place. He's made stable, and is lucid throughout. It is soon explained to us, however, that the extent of his trauma is such that he'll be moved from the local hospital to Albany Medical Center, whose facilities are much better suited to his type of injuries.
Long story short, we spend six days at Albany Med, followed by seven more at Sunnyview Rehab Center, before we get to bring him home September 23. He's in a wheelchair, owing to the hip-length cast on the left leg, and while he's thoroughly miserable about that, we are all by now aware he'll recovery fully over time. That we as a family have been extraordinarily lucky is manifest.
I thought I knew everything about this kid. I was wrong; I learned his strength of character, his toughness, and his sense of humor were far greater than I had thought. His first few days at Albany Med were very painful for him, and required some pretty heavy-duty medication. About day 4 there, the kid sharing the room with him had been operated on for something or another, and returns to the room just FLYING on pain meds. He's loud, and he's pretty silly. My kid simply looks at me, and whispers, "I'll have what he's having..."
The point of all of this? Damned if I know, but that I know I am so lucky, and so grateful to have him back. When I think of what could have been, I just shudder.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
POSTSCRIPT: November 4, 2011. The casts are off, the shoulder allows the use of crutches now, and Son #2 returns to school in three days. God has truly been good.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
On Change (again)
"Turn and face the strange changes..." - David Bowie
"Don't look back. Something might be gaining on you." - Satchel Paige
********
We have written in this space before of the anachronism that is your intrepid scribe's working life. Essentially, the twenty-eight years of that career have been spent with Mother Bell, in one of many incarnations: New York Telephone, NYNEX, Bell Atlantic, and Verizon.
Absent some last-minute intervention, that will come to an end some fifty hours from now. Due to the effects of a reduction in force (RIF), a determination has been made that my services will not be required as of the close of business on August 5, 2011.
Those are the facts, and as it has always been my goal in this space to support one man's opinion with reasoned argument, I want to try to reflect without bitterness, and, hopefully, with a bit of good humor.
Twenty-eight years is a long time to do anything, especially within one corporate culture. Like anyone, I have done some things well, some things less well, and some things I wish I hadn't done at all. Hindsight is at once a remarkably useful, and a remarkably dangerous tool at times like these.
I have very few regrets. I've had the opportunity to travel a bit, and to support a family and home that I love deeply, and that is directly due to the stability that my time with Ma Bell has afforded me. I have made many lasting friendships in my time here, and I truly cherish all of them.
It has also been a pleasure to witness firsthand and up-close the change wrought by the coming of the Information Age, for my money the single greatest technological leap in human history. Without the network advancements put forth by my industry, those changes simply would not be feasible, and it has been a privilege to take a very small part in that.
Like any corporate culture, that of Verizon has undergone great change over the past thirty years. Divestiture, merger and acquisition, and the inherent advancement of the industry made such change inevitable. It's very easy for an individual observer to take a position that such change is "good" or "bad"; the truth (to me, anyway) is that it's far more intellectually honest to assess the changes individually, and with the perspective of what was happening at the time, rather than in hindsight. I'm of the opinion that the general calculus of business as a whole has changed so radically in my time that to take any other point of view would be sheer folly. The notion of "lifetime employment", fairly commonplace within my own lifetime, simply does not exist any longer, and even the most casual of observers can see that.
"Don't look back. Something might be gaining on you." - Satchel Paige
********
We have written in this space before of the anachronism that is your intrepid scribe's working life. Essentially, the twenty-eight years of that career have been spent with Mother Bell, in one of many incarnations: New York Telephone, NYNEX, Bell Atlantic, and Verizon.
Absent some last-minute intervention, that will come to an end some fifty hours from now. Due to the effects of a reduction in force (RIF), a determination has been made that my services will not be required as of the close of business on August 5, 2011.
Those are the facts, and as it has always been my goal in this space to support one man's opinion with reasoned argument, I want to try to reflect without bitterness, and, hopefully, with a bit of good humor.
Twenty-eight years is a long time to do anything, especially within one corporate culture. Like anyone, I have done some things well, some things less well, and some things I wish I hadn't done at all. Hindsight is at once a remarkably useful, and a remarkably dangerous tool at times like these.
I have very few regrets. I've had the opportunity to travel a bit, and to support a family and home that I love deeply, and that is directly due to the stability that my time with Ma Bell has afforded me. I have made many lasting friendships in my time here, and I truly cherish all of them.
It has also been a pleasure to witness firsthand and up-close the change wrought by the coming of the Information Age, for my money the single greatest technological leap in human history. Without the network advancements put forth by my industry, those changes simply would not be feasible, and it has been a privilege to take a very small part in that.
Like any corporate culture, that of Verizon has undergone great change over the past thirty years. Divestiture, merger and acquisition, and the inherent advancement of the industry made such change inevitable. It's very easy for an individual observer to take a position that such change is "good" or "bad"; the truth (to me, anyway) is that it's far more intellectually honest to assess the changes individually, and with the perspective of what was happening at the time, rather than in hindsight. I'm of the opinion that the general calculus of business as a whole has changed so radically in my time that to take any other point of view would be sheer folly. The notion of "lifetime employment", fairly commonplace within my own lifetime, simply does not exist any longer, and even the most casual of observers can see that.
In sum, it would be easy for me to lob rhetorical hand grenades at Verizon for the inherent unfairness of my current situation. Uh-uh. Ain't happening. While I was surprised at the timing of this, I was by no means shocked by it; I've seen at least seven separate RIFs come down the pike in my fifteen years in management at Verizon, and while none of those affected me personally, I never failed to think to myself how short-sighted it always appeared at the time. The longer view here is one that I simply must adopt at this particular point. Fair or unfair is simply opinion, and not part of this particular equation.
There's a part of this that is undeniably scary; a fifty-one year-old guy hitting the job market in earnest for the first time in thirty years is admittedly a scary proposition. That said, and this may be deeply delusional on the part of your intrepid scribe, I'm oddly confident about this, and not a little excited as well. I had been stagnating a bit in my current position, and, if I'm going to be truly candid about this, that stagnation had to have become as apparent to others as it was to me. "Fair play", as Schlom used to say. In addition, there is, blessedly, no immediate urgency to find a new position; the offered severance package is attractive, and will do.
Instead, the fundamental question is "What's next?" I've been fortunate to have developed some experience that may be useful, and this world is filled with opportunities for those with the wit to find them. Further, I'm not even sure that I want telecom to be my main focus going forward; I've been indulging my more creative side of late, and that is starting to have some real appeal.
It's funny; this feels a little like dealing with a serious illness, in that there's shock, denial, etc. as part of the whole process. Perspective and reason become of paramount importance. We will progress, because the alternative is simply unaccceptable.
The point of all of this? Change happens. Deal with it. Move on. Trust in you, and in those who care for you. Satch was right.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
There's a part of this that is undeniably scary; a fifty-one year-old guy hitting the job market in earnest for the first time in thirty years is admittedly a scary proposition. That said, and this may be deeply delusional on the part of your intrepid scribe, I'm oddly confident about this, and not a little excited as well. I had been stagnating a bit in my current position, and, if I'm going to be truly candid about this, that stagnation had to have become as apparent to others as it was to me. "Fair play", as Schlom used to say. In addition, there is, blessedly, no immediate urgency to find a new position; the offered severance package is attractive, and will do.
Instead, the fundamental question is "What's next?" I've been fortunate to have developed some experience that may be useful, and this world is filled with opportunities for those with the wit to find them. Further, I'm not even sure that I want telecom to be my main focus going forward; I've been indulging my more creative side of late, and that is starting to have some real appeal.
It's funny; this feels a little like dealing with a serious illness, in that there's shock, denial, etc. as part of the whole process. Perspective and reason become of paramount importance. We will progress, because the alternative is simply unaccceptable.
The point of all of this? Change happens. Deal with it. Move on. Trust in you, and in those who care for you. Satch was right.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
On Progress (?)
Normally, your intrepid scribe attempts to take a lighter view of events, and I do try to see the humor in just about everything.
Not today.
If what I have read in numerous online news sites today is true, then I have just reached a whole new level of appalled.
To summarize it, 18 year-old Kymberly Wimberly (not making that up), of McGehee, Arkansas, filed a complaint in Federal court on July 21, 2011, alleging that her rights under the Fourteenth Amendment of the United States Constitution have been violated by the school district in McGehee.
Miss Wimberly, according to the complaint, compiled the highest GPA in her graduating class at McGehee Secondary School, posting a single "B" against straight "A"s over her four years there, all while loading up on every honors and advanced placement course she could find.
By any account I have been able to find over the past two hours, an exceedingly bright young lady. So, why the complaint?
Again, according to the court document, Miss Wimberly has been denied the sole valedictory status she worked so hard to achieve, and was, instead, named CO-valedictorian with another student, whose GPA was not as high of Miss Wimberly's.
Miss Wimberly is an African-American, and her co-valedictorian is white.
The complaint document, which is readily available online, alleges that the McGehee School District, after originally informing Miss Wimberly's mother (a school employee) that she had indeed won top honors, then proceeded to name the white student as co-valedictorian, to prevent "a big mess" in the town of roughly 4500.
Admittedly, I have only heard one side of this story so far, and the school district has as of yet not commented on the matter. Further, untrue allegations filed in court are not exactly unheard-of, and I readily accept that.
That said, if the allegations are indeed true, than your intrepid scribe is appalled beyond my ability to express it.
I have personally spent very little time in the deep South, and as a white Irish guy from upstate New York, I clearly have no means of understanding what it is to be Black in America.
I can only hope that this is all some kind of horrible screw-up.
Sadly, I'm not betting on that. If Miss Wimberly's allegations are indeed proven correct, I hope that bright young lady absolutely takes that school district to the cleaners.
This one, I'm gonna keep an eye on. More as I get it.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
Not today.
If what I have read in numerous online news sites today is true, then I have just reached a whole new level of appalled.
To summarize it, 18 year-old Kymberly Wimberly (not making that up), of McGehee, Arkansas, filed a complaint in Federal court on July 21, 2011, alleging that her rights under the Fourteenth Amendment of the United States Constitution have been violated by the school district in McGehee.
Miss Wimberly, according to the complaint, compiled the highest GPA in her graduating class at McGehee Secondary School, posting a single "B" against straight "A"s over her four years there, all while loading up on every honors and advanced placement course she could find.
By any account I have been able to find over the past two hours, an exceedingly bright young lady. So, why the complaint?
Again, according to the court document, Miss Wimberly has been denied the sole valedictory status she worked so hard to achieve, and was, instead, named CO-valedictorian with another student, whose GPA was not as high of Miss Wimberly's.
Miss Wimberly is an African-American, and her co-valedictorian is white.
The complaint document, which is readily available online, alleges that the McGehee School District, after originally informing Miss Wimberly's mother (a school employee) that she had indeed won top honors, then proceeded to name the white student as co-valedictorian, to prevent "a big mess" in the town of roughly 4500.
Admittedly, I have only heard one side of this story so far, and the school district has as of yet not commented on the matter. Further, untrue allegations filed in court are not exactly unheard-of, and I readily accept that.
That said, if the allegations are indeed true, than your intrepid scribe is appalled beyond my ability to express it.
I have personally spent very little time in the deep South, and as a white Irish guy from upstate New York, I clearly have no means of understanding what it is to be Black in America.
I can only hope that this is all some kind of horrible screw-up.
Sadly, I'm not betting on that. If Miss Wimberly's allegations are indeed proven correct, I hope that bright young lady absolutely takes that school district to the cleaners.
This one, I'm gonna keep an eye on. More as I get it.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
On The Big Man
"The change was made uptown, and the Big Man joined the band." - Springsteen
*********
OK, your intrepid scribe has a confession to make. I was not an early acolyte of The Boss. In my infinite wisdom and musical maturity, and to the extreme perplexion of my three younger brothers, I found his music limiting, terming it something like, "girls, cars, and the night."
I consider it a testament to my character that I have since softened my stance somewhat, to the point where I am now willing to admit that if this kid stays with it, he may have a future in the music business.
It took me a few years, but the simple beauty, depth, and breadth of the E Street catalogue is such that it cannot be denied. While Bruce's ability as musician and songwriter stand second to no one, I believe he is at his very best when he hits the stage with his E Street family.
That family took quite a hit this past weekend. The Big Man himself, 69-year-old Clarence Clemons, who with Max Weinberg has driven the E Street rhythm section for forty years, suffered a stroke at his Florida home. Early reports of his recovery seem promising, and your intrepid scribe just wanted to take a moment to add his prayers for a speedy return. The E Street band, and music in general, are so much the better for his powerful sax, his towering presence, and his kind demeanor.
God speed, Big Man.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
*********
OK, your intrepid scribe has a confession to make. I was not an early acolyte of The Boss. In my infinite wisdom and musical maturity, and to the extreme perplexion of my three younger brothers, I found his music limiting, terming it something like, "girls, cars, and the night."
I consider it a testament to my character that I have since softened my stance somewhat, to the point where I am now willing to admit that if this kid stays with it, he may have a future in the music business.
It took me a few years, but the simple beauty, depth, and breadth of the E Street catalogue is such that it cannot be denied. While Bruce's ability as musician and songwriter stand second to no one, I believe he is at his very best when he hits the stage with his E Street family.
That family took quite a hit this past weekend. The Big Man himself, 69-year-old Clarence Clemons, who with Max Weinberg has driven the E Street rhythm section for forty years, suffered a stroke at his Florida home. Early reports of his recovery seem promising, and your intrepid scribe just wanted to take a moment to add his prayers for a speedy return. The E Street band, and music in general, are so much the better for his powerful sax, his towering presence, and his kind demeanor.
God speed, Big Man.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
Thursday, June 2, 2011
On Fatherly Pride
I write often about Sons #1 & #2 in this space, and with good reason; I am inordinately proud of them. They are bright, well-spoken, and polite. They are 14 and 12 years old, respectively, and are therefore prone to the many hormonal, cultural, and technological influences common to the modern American teenaged male. They are experiencing new things every day, but it's the reintroduction and advancement of the familiar I want to talk about for a moment.
Enter baseball. (Cue groaning; your intrepid scribe is on this topic again?) We are well into our current odyssey of daily baseball, to the point where we're hitting a bit of a wall, right about the time we usually do each year.
This year seems a little different, and I'm not quite certain whether it's just my perception, but it seems to me my guys are growing fairly rapidly as ballplayers as well as young men. Two immediate cases in point come to mind, one for each of the boys:
1) Son #1's development as a team leader. On both his modified and house league teams, #1 has turned into a de facto leader, on and off the field. He is not the best player on either team, but is clearly one of the top two or three, and his willingness to assume a role of leadership is making a real difference. He's a personable kid, and gets along well with his teammates. He's not a "clique" kind of guy, and because of that, he's seen as accessible by everyone.
He's also finally growing confident in his ability on the field. His primary positions have evolved from behind the plate to the mound, and to third base. He's always had a strong throwing arm, and has utilized that skill to grow confident that when the heat is on, he can make the play. This confidence is also manifesting itself at the plate; he's hitting well over .450 on the year, and just last night, he threw a three-hitter, did not give up an earned run, and went 2-4, with 5 RBI.
Our school district, as a result of budget cuts, just eliminated freshman sports for the coming school year. #1 will be a freshman in September; his response when told of this? "Guess I'll just have to make the JV, then, Dad."
It was the fact that he said this without a trace of arrogance that blew me away. He was one of just three returning players on his current modified team, and his attitude throughout the tryout process for that team was one of desperate concern to just make the club. Once he did, his drive to make the club quickly morphed into a leadership role on it.
2) Son #2 is rapidly developing similar characteristics. He's the catcher on his Little League team, and his team is enjoying quite a bit of success this year. Again, he's not the most talented player on the team, but he's closing that gap with effort, a bit of leadership, and growing confidence in his own game. He did not possess #1's throwing ability, yet he threw out basestealers in his first four games this season, and word got around that running on him may not be such a good idea. As the catcher for this team, he runs the defense on a good ballclub, and that defense has made the difference in at least three of their wins so far this year.
He's also discovering a knack for getting on base, and for driving in runs at big moments. He's clearly playing his way into being an All-Star-caliber player, and I was not sure he'd get there as well as he has done.
There had been a considerable gap over the years between the two of them, and I think that gap has bugged #2 for some time. I think it caused him some frustration, and caused him to be unnecessarily hard on himself on occasion.
I also think that gap is closing, and rapidly.
What's the point of all of this? Fatherly pride can manifest itself in many, many ways. It also knows no bounds, if you do it right.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
Enter baseball. (Cue groaning; your intrepid scribe is on this topic again?) We are well into our current odyssey of daily baseball, to the point where we're hitting a bit of a wall, right about the time we usually do each year.
This year seems a little different, and I'm not quite certain whether it's just my perception, but it seems to me my guys are growing fairly rapidly as ballplayers as well as young men. Two immediate cases in point come to mind, one for each of the boys:
1) Son #1's development as a team leader. On both his modified and house league teams, #1 has turned into a de facto leader, on and off the field. He is not the best player on either team, but is clearly one of the top two or three, and his willingness to assume a role of leadership is making a real difference. He's a personable kid, and gets along well with his teammates. He's not a "clique" kind of guy, and because of that, he's seen as accessible by everyone.
He's also finally growing confident in his ability on the field. His primary positions have evolved from behind the plate to the mound, and to third base. He's always had a strong throwing arm, and has utilized that skill to grow confident that when the heat is on, he can make the play. This confidence is also manifesting itself at the plate; he's hitting well over .450 on the year, and just last night, he threw a three-hitter, did not give up an earned run, and went 2-4, with 5 RBI.
Our school district, as a result of budget cuts, just eliminated freshman sports for the coming school year. #1 will be a freshman in September; his response when told of this? "Guess I'll just have to make the JV, then, Dad."
It was the fact that he said this without a trace of arrogance that blew me away. He was one of just three returning players on his current modified team, and his attitude throughout the tryout process for that team was one of desperate concern to just make the club. Once he did, his drive to make the club quickly morphed into a leadership role on it.
2) Son #2 is rapidly developing similar characteristics. He's the catcher on his Little League team, and his team is enjoying quite a bit of success this year. Again, he's not the most talented player on the team, but he's closing that gap with effort, a bit of leadership, and growing confidence in his own game. He did not possess #1's throwing ability, yet he threw out basestealers in his first four games this season, and word got around that running on him may not be such a good idea. As the catcher for this team, he runs the defense on a good ballclub, and that defense has made the difference in at least three of their wins so far this year.
He's also discovering a knack for getting on base, and for driving in runs at big moments. He's clearly playing his way into being an All-Star-caliber player, and I was not sure he'd get there as well as he has done.
There had been a considerable gap over the years between the two of them, and I think that gap has bugged #2 for some time. I think it caused him some frustration, and caused him to be unnecessarily hard on himself on occasion.
I also think that gap is closing, and rapidly.
What's the point of all of this? Fatherly pride can manifest itself in many, many ways. It also knows no bounds, if you do it right.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
Thursday, May 5, 2011
On Quiet Professionalism
Osama bin Laden, 1957-2011
*******
First, your intrepid scribe notes the above without any regret whatsoever. If your planned effort results in the death of 3,000 innocents on a clear September morning, you deserve to be hunted and killed without hesitation or remorse.
If this sounds like hypocrisy from an avowed social liberal, I ask you to consider the following: Men, women, and children die every single day as a result of armed conflict around the globe. It is commonplace and accepted that combatants in the field are by definition in harm's way, and wars result in people being dead. Osama bin Laden was the declared and acknowledged leader, ideologue, and spokesman of al Qaeda. By his own urging, al Qaeda publicly declared war on the United States of America, and brought that war to these shores.
As has been said in this space before, if you make war on the United States, we will return the favor.
As a first-year Midshipman at RPI, many years ago, I had the opportunity to meet a Navy SEAL who came to address our NROTC unit. The gentleman was certainly engaging and friendly with us, but the overwhelming impression I got, and one echoed by a number of my classmates, was that this guy gave off the unmistakeable aura of someone not to be trifled with under ANY circumstances.
"Quiet professionalism" is a phrase often associated with the SEALs, and with Special Forces troops around the world. Excruciatingly well-trained, intelligent, and possessed of physical and psychological strength most of us cannot fathom, these individuals do the dirty work that must be done in the defense of our country. They don't talk about, except within their own. They seek neither riches nor glory, and the only accolade they receive is from within their own very closely-knit fraternity. They do a job that they know needs to be done, so that we can sleep at night.
We may not like it, or like to admit it, but we know it.
That this world is a dangerous place is a given. That SEALs make it just a little less dangerous for you and me is equally true.
Thanks, guys.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
*******
First, your intrepid scribe notes the above without any regret whatsoever. If your planned effort results in the death of 3,000 innocents on a clear September morning, you deserve to be hunted and killed without hesitation or remorse.
If this sounds like hypocrisy from an avowed social liberal, I ask you to consider the following: Men, women, and children die every single day as a result of armed conflict around the globe. It is commonplace and accepted that combatants in the field are by definition in harm's way, and wars result in people being dead. Osama bin Laden was the declared and acknowledged leader, ideologue, and spokesman of al Qaeda. By his own urging, al Qaeda publicly declared war on the United States of America, and brought that war to these shores.
As has been said in this space before, if you make war on the United States, we will return the favor.
As a first-year Midshipman at RPI, many years ago, I had the opportunity to meet a Navy SEAL who came to address our NROTC unit. The gentleman was certainly engaging and friendly with us, but the overwhelming impression I got, and one echoed by a number of my classmates, was that this guy gave off the unmistakeable aura of someone not to be trifled with under ANY circumstances.
"Quiet professionalism" is a phrase often associated with the SEALs, and with Special Forces troops around the world. Excruciatingly well-trained, intelligent, and possessed of physical and psychological strength most of us cannot fathom, these individuals do the dirty work that must be done in the defense of our country. They don't talk about, except within their own. They seek neither riches nor glory, and the only accolade they receive is from within their own very closely-knit fraternity. They do a job that they know needs to be done, so that we can sleep at night.
We may not like it, or like to admit it, but we know it.
That this world is a dangerous place is a given. That SEALs make it just a little less dangerous for you and me is equally true.
Thanks, guys.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
On Silliness
“We do not have time for this kind of silliness. We’ve got better stuff to do." - Barack Obama, 44th President of the United States, two hours ago.
"These are serious times, and we need serious people to address them." - Aaron Sorkin, via Andrew Shepard, The American President
*********
Well, thank Heaven that's out of the way.
It appears that the 44th President of the United States, Barack Hussein Obama II, was born August 4, 1961, on the island of Oahu, Hawaii, which I am fairly certain was at the time and remains one of the fifty United States.
Roughly two hours ago, the White House released official copies of President Obama's "long form" birth certificate, showing the above information. Copies of the document will be available in one gazillion news outlets before your intrepid scribe is done with this particular screed. There will be no link in this particular outlet.
That Donald Trump is taking credit for this extraordinary revelation is neither surprising, nor out of Mr. Trump's wheelhouse. Mr. Trump, who is not a declared candidate for anything as of this writing, was in his personal helicopter, and preparing to land in Portsmouth, NH, for a tour of the area, ostensibly to engender support for a 2012 run at the White House. Upon landing, Mr. Trump then engaged the press, and enlightened them as to just how proud of himself he was to have caused this revelation to occur. That he then quoted a non-existent CNN poll showing him "statistically tied" with President Obama in an hypothetical 2012 presidential race was just icing on the cake.
It took CNN roughly forty seconds to correct Mr. Trump, by my estimate; they ran a poll showing Mr. Trump and Mike Huckabee tied for an hypothetical Republican nomination. CNN then quoted three other polls showing Mr. Trump trailing President Obama by thirteen to eighteen percentage points.
Mr. Trump's ego is approximately the size of one of his casinos, or perhaps the Moon. I admittedly forget which it is.
That the President, whom I watched deliver an unscheduled address of great brevity on this topic this morning, managed not to laugh out loud whilst doing so is a testament to his character. That the press managed to recognize the linkage between this address and Mr. Sorkin's writing is encouraging, even if the reference was to The West Wing, and not The American President.
That I personally support President Obama should be no surprise to even the most casual reader of this space. That I am personally disgusted by the traction this issue has gotten in the name of partisan politics shouldn't suprise anyone, either.
Can we be done with this now? Please?
One last thing: Mr. President, if I forget to say so by August 4, please enjoy a very happy fiftieth birthday. I know I enjoyed mine.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
"These are serious times, and we need serious people to address them." - Aaron Sorkin, via Andrew Shepard, The American President
*********
Well, thank Heaven that's out of the way.
It appears that the 44th President of the United States, Barack Hussein Obama II, was born August 4, 1961, on the island of Oahu, Hawaii, which I am fairly certain was at the time and remains one of the fifty United States.
Roughly two hours ago, the White House released official copies of President Obama's "long form" birth certificate, showing the above information. Copies of the document will be available in one gazillion news outlets before your intrepid scribe is done with this particular screed. There will be no link in this particular outlet.
That Donald Trump is taking credit for this extraordinary revelation is neither surprising, nor out of Mr. Trump's wheelhouse. Mr. Trump, who is not a declared candidate for anything as of this writing, was in his personal helicopter, and preparing to land in Portsmouth, NH, for a tour of the area, ostensibly to engender support for a 2012 run at the White House. Upon landing, Mr. Trump then engaged the press, and enlightened them as to just how proud of himself he was to have caused this revelation to occur. That he then quoted a non-existent CNN poll showing him "statistically tied" with President Obama in an hypothetical 2012 presidential race was just icing on the cake.
It took CNN roughly forty seconds to correct Mr. Trump, by my estimate; they ran a poll showing Mr. Trump and Mike Huckabee tied for an hypothetical Republican nomination. CNN then quoted three other polls showing Mr. Trump trailing President Obama by thirteen to eighteen percentage points.
Mr. Trump's ego is approximately the size of one of his casinos, or perhaps the Moon. I admittedly forget which it is.
That the President, whom I watched deliver an unscheduled address of great brevity on this topic this morning, managed not to laugh out loud whilst doing so is a testament to his character. That the press managed to recognize the linkage between this address and Mr. Sorkin's writing is encouraging, even if the reference was to The West Wing, and not The American President.
That I personally support President Obama should be no surprise to even the most casual reader of this space. That I am personally disgusted by the traction this issue has gotten in the name of partisan politics shouldn't suprise anyone, either.
Can we be done with this now? Please?
One last thing: Mr. President, if I forget to say so by August 4, please enjoy a very happy fiftieth birthday. I know I enjoyed mine.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Thank God
It is now Opening Day.
First pitches will be thrown before this very brief post is completed. Thank God.
There are a million personal reasons for your intrepid scribe to be grateful for many, many things. This is one of them, and it couldn't come at a better time.
Play Ball!
***********
Of course, this evening's weather calls for 8-14 inches of snow. I am not making this up.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
First pitches will be thrown before this very brief post is completed. Thank God.
There are a million personal reasons for your intrepid scribe to be grateful for many, many things. This is one of them, and it couldn't come at a better time.
Play Ball!
***********
Of course, this evening's weather calls for 8-14 inches of snow. I am not making this up.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
On Jubilee
Just some random thoughts this time 'round...
*********
Once again, we find ourselves in the middle of Jubilee, that glorious week beginning with Bride's birthday, and ending with a dear friend's birthday one week later. This year, Jubilee covers a full calendar week as well, effectively stretching the revelry to nine days, beginning last Friday.
It's a full nine days.
Last Friday & Saturday, we had Son #2's performances of "Once Upon This Island, Jr.", this year's school play. Just a ball to watch, and the kids worked for months to put on a very successful & very enjoyable performance.
Sunday was Bride's birthday, and we had much gift-giving and merriment. Bride & I had the chance to get out for two or three hours of shopping & laughs, both of which were needed, and welcome. The weather was, for the most part, cooperative, at least while we were out.
Yesterday, of course, we had a snow day for everyone but your intrepid scribe. Why? Well, in 24 hours we go from melting snow via warm temps & rain, to dropping temperatures, to ice, to snowing sideways. Road conditions yesterday morning were patently treacherous, and once again, the folks who run the AP schools and HVCC made absolutely the right call.
Today, folks are back to school and work, and promises to be the most peaceful day of Jubilee. Today also marks the start of the Big East tournament. 'Nuff said.
Tomorrow, we have basketball practice, and Thursday we have both practice and a Twin Town board meeting.
Friday, we have a tournament hoop game for the boys.
Saturday, there's TWO tournament games, Bride getting her hair done, and tickets for "The Lion King" that night. Sunday is G's birthday.
Other than that, not much going on.
**********
We have entered the 21st Century. I am now the owner of a smartphone. The irony of a 51-year-old lifelong member of the telecom business waiting until now to do this is not lost on me.
I have written before about change, and I firmly believe it's inevitable. I primarily use a cell phone for making (shudder!) actual voice calls, and had been utilizing TracFone throwaways for years. I have been on a bit of a mission of late to reduce our burn rate when it comes to money, and started to do some research on cutting this particular expense. I was burning about $80 a month, and finally decided on a Straight Talk Nokia E71. $45 a month, no contract, unlimited everything. The phone is undeniably cool, very well-reviewed, and does everything I can ask for, and more.
Some day, I may even know how to use it. The boys are trying to help their dear, decrepit Old Man.
************
I am now officially concerned that we MAY not be able to start our baseball seasons on time. She-who-must-not-be-messed-with has not been cooperative so far, and March is historically tempestuous when it comes to weather in these parts anyway. We'll obviously do what needs to be done, but we really need to see some bare ground pretty soon. We shall see.
************
That'll have to do for now. Until next time,
Excelsior!
*********
Once again, we find ourselves in the middle of Jubilee, that glorious week beginning with Bride's birthday, and ending with a dear friend's birthday one week later. This year, Jubilee covers a full calendar week as well, effectively stretching the revelry to nine days, beginning last Friday.
It's a full nine days.
Last Friday & Saturday, we had Son #2's performances of "Once Upon This Island, Jr.", this year's school play. Just a ball to watch, and the kids worked for months to put on a very successful & very enjoyable performance.
Sunday was Bride's birthday, and we had much gift-giving and merriment. Bride & I had the chance to get out for two or three hours of shopping & laughs, both of which were needed, and welcome. The weather was, for the most part, cooperative, at least while we were out.
Yesterday, of course, we had a snow day for everyone but your intrepid scribe. Why? Well, in 24 hours we go from melting snow via warm temps & rain, to dropping temperatures, to ice, to snowing sideways. Road conditions yesterday morning were patently treacherous, and once again, the folks who run the AP schools and HVCC made absolutely the right call.
Today, folks are back to school and work, and promises to be the most peaceful day of Jubilee. Today also marks the start of the Big East tournament. 'Nuff said.
Tomorrow, we have basketball practice, and Thursday we have both practice and a Twin Town board meeting.
Friday, we have a tournament hoop game for the boys.
Saturday, there's TWO tournament games, Bride getting her hair done, and tickets for "The Lion King" that night. Sunday is G's birthday.
Other than that, not much going on.
**********
We have entered the 21st Century. I am now the owner of a smartphone. The irony of a 51-year-old lifelong member of the telecom business waiting until now to do this is not lost on me.
I have written before about change, and I firmly believe it's inevitable. I primarily use a cell phone for making (shudder!) actual voice calls, and had been utilizing TracFone throwaways for years. I have been on a bit of a mission of late to reduce our burn rate when it comes to money, and started to do some research on cutting this particular expense. I was burning about $80 a month, and finally decided on a Straight Talk Nokia E71. $45 a month, no contract, unlimited everything. The phone is undeniably cool, very well-reviewed, and does everything I can ask for, and more.
Some day, I may even know how to use it. The boys are trying to help their dear, decrepit Old Man.
************
I am now officially concerned that we MAY not be able to start our baseball seasons on time. She-who-must-not-be-messed-with has not been cooperative so far, and March is historically tempestuous when it comes to weather in these parts anyway. We'll obviously do what needs to be done, but we really need to see some bare ground pretty soon. We shall see.
************
That'll have to do for now. Until next time,
Excelsior!
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
On Proof that The Almighty has a sense of Humor
"Everyone talks about the weather. Nobody does a damned thing about it." - Unknown
***********
OK, this is my last rant about the weather.
The above sentence will likely be proven a lie, and, I suspect, in the very near future.
***********
Almost one year ago exactly in this space, I wrote somewhat smugly about our area repeatedly missing, narrowly, winter storms that hammered our neighbors to the south. Folks in the Mid-Atlantic just got pounded; here, 150 miles north of NYC, we had a lighter-than-normal winter (call it 40-45 inches or so).
Mother Nature must have had a free moment in Her schedule and had taken Notice, because this winter, She-who-must-not-be-messed-with has remembered us.
This is not a "Dewey defeats Truman" headline; I voluntarily live in the Northeast, and have my entire life. Snow between late November and late March is to be expected, and four to five feet of it are a common-enough total for a winter here to not pass much notice.
Sixty-plus inches, however, in thirty days, is a real pain in the ass. I just watched the Weather Channel's Jim Cantore, who's pretty knowledgeable, call this the worst winter he remembers in tweny-five years.
This, from a guy who makes his living staring down hurricanes.
Meteorologists in our area, for the first time in my memory, are routinely calling for 100% chances of snow. No hedging of bets whatsoever. Why bother?
It's not that we get snow, and that I can't stand it. We do, and I can.
It's not that I want to live somewhere warm. I would not trade this area for anything, even with the winters.
It's the relentlessness of it this year. If I count right, we've had seven major storms since Christmas, and our area has gotten drilled by six of them. The one we missed? Only got about four inches.
It's also not a tale of woe. We have family in Buffalo and New Hampshire for whom this is pretty routine. I love them dearly, but that's their problem, and I want to whine about mine.
All right. I'm done.
*************
True story. This morning, 8:30 or so. Back in AP after having successfully gotten the boys to school, and Bride to work. It's snowing sideways, and I'm in our local market picking up a few things. I run into a good friend who also has kids in our schools. We chat, 5-10 minutes, than go finish our purchases. I find myself behind him in the checkout line when his cell phone goes off at roughly 9:10 AM, to alert him that the children we have just deposited at school, and who started their school day seventy minutes earlier, will be released at 11:00.
I could not fault the decision for a single moment. In addition, there is not a single chance in hell of school tomorrow; Thursday may also be in question. It's a little before three in the afternoon as I write this, and the eight inches we got this morning were little more than a warmup for the main event expected for this evening. We have a brief breather; our plow guy's been through, and I expect to see him again, and again.
Our school district plans for five snow days each year, a total sufficient 99% of the time. We used that up in January.
We have another eighteen inches-plus expected, starting tonight. (Update 2/2 10:15am: We only got about ten. Meh.)
True story #2: A good friend, who lives just south of the Canadian border, suggests we move North to avoid the snow, as they've gotten a pittance, in comparison. Yep, that Global Warming stuff is just some cockamamie Left-wing creation.
The point of all of this? Mother Nature is not to be trifled with. Stay warm; after all, it's only February first.
Excelsior!
***********
OK, this is my last rant about the weather.
The above sentence will likely be proven a lie, and, I suspect, in the very near future.
***********
Almost one year ago exactly in this space, I wrote somewhat smugly about our area repeatedly missing, narrowly, winter storms that hammered our neighbors to the south. Folks in the Mid-Atlantic just got pounded; here, 150 miles north of NYC, we had a lighter-than-normal winter (call it 40-45 inches or so).
Mother Nature must have had a free moment in Her schedule and had taken Notice, because this winter, She-who-must-not-be-messed-with has remembered us.
This is not a "Dewey defeats Truman" headline; I voluntarily live in the Northeast, and have my entire life. Snow between late November and late March is to be expected, and four to five feet of it are a common-enough total for a winter here to not pass much notice.
Sixty-plus inches, however, in thirty days, is a real pain in the ass. I just watched the Weather Channel's Jim Cantore, who's pretty knowledgeable, call this the worst winter he remembers in tweny-five years.
This, from a guy who makes his living staring down hurricanes.
Meteorologists in our area, for the first time in my memory, are routinely calling for 100% chances of snow. No hedging of bets whatsoever. Why bother?
It's not that we get snow, and that I can't stand it. We do, and I can.
It's not that I want to live somewhere warm. I would not trade this area for anything, even with the winters.
It's the relentlessness of it this year. If I count right, we've had seven major storms since Christmas, and our area has gotten drilled by six of them. The one we missed? Only got about four inches.
It's also not a tale of woe. We have family in Buffalo and New Hampshire for whom this is pretty routine. I love them dearly, but that's their problem, and I want to whine about mine.
All right. I'm done.
*************
True story. This morning, 8:30 or so. Back in AP after having successfully gotten the boys to school, and Bride to work. It's snowing sideways, and I'm in our local market picking up a few things. I run into a good friend who also has kids in our schools. We chat, 5-10 minutes, than go finish our purchases. I find myself behind him in the checkout line when his cell phone goes off at roughly 9:10 AM, to alert him that the children we have just deposited at school, and who started their school day seventy minutes earlier, will be released at 11:00.
I could not fault the decision for a single moment. In addition, there is not a single chance in hell of school tomorrow; Thursday may also be in question. It's a little before three in the afternoon as I write this, and the eight inches we got this morning were little more than a warmup for the main event expected for this evening. We have a brief breather; our plow guy's been through, and I expect to see him again, and again.
Our school district plans for five snow days each year, a total sufficient 99% of the time. We used that up in January.
We have another eighteen inches-plus expected, starting tonight. (Update 2/2 10:15am: We only got about ten. Meh.)
True story #2: A good friend, who lives just south of the Canadian border, suggests we move North to avoid the snow, as they've gotten a pittance, in comparison. Yep, that Global Warming stuff is just some cockamamie Left-wing creation.
The point of all of this? Mother Nature is not to be trifled with. Stay warm; after all, it's only February first.
Excelsior!
Saturday, January 22, 2011
On Miscellany
Just some random thoughts this time 'round...
*******
1) I have written frequently in the past about living in Averill Park, NY. We really love it here. We have friends, community, and natural beauty that combine to provide a quality of life we all find very appealing.
We also currently have entirely too Goddamned much snow.
As I write this, I'm looking out a window at nearly four feet of it in the yard, all of it just since Christmas. Unlike last year, where we largely "just missed" the repeated whackings the folks in the Mid-Atlantic & New England got, this year we're at Ground Zero. Just this past week, Sons # 1&2 were treated to three, count 'em, three snow days, in a week where they already had a holiday for Dr. King's birthday. One actual school day in the last nine.
Of late, I find myself frequently glued to The Weather Channel in one or another of its forms, and two hours ago was advised that four or five days from now, "a significant portion of the Northeast" could be picking up another 12-20 inches. I am completely resigned to the notion that they are specifically referring to my address.
I wouldn't trade this area for anything; no one has forced us to stay here, and we're dug in. Enough, however, is enough.
2) That said, we're only three weeks from pitchers and catchers. Hope springs eternal.
3) Going back to the S-word for a moment, I would be remiss if I didn't say a word of thanks to the folks who plow the roads in these parts. There may be nine-foot piles of snow in places, but damned if there aren't roads cleared from edge to edge. We live in a pretty hilly area, with more than a few considerable grades. These folks have done a hell of a job, under some pretty trying conditions. Thank you all.
4) The recent tragedy in Arizona has really made me think about guns rather a lot lately. If I understand the circumstances correctly, Jared Loughner quite legally purchased a Glock, along with a thirty-three shot extended clip, and then proceeded to create the madness and bloodshed there.
Full disclosure dept.: I am not a gun-owner, and have fired one under supervised conditions maybe three times in my life. That said, I have no problem whatsoever with responsible gun ownership and use at all. I have often said that if my sons wanted to learn to hunt, or otherwise handle firearms, I would immediately point them to one of a couple of close friends for proper advice and instruction. These two guys in particular are sportsmen, and lock up their gear in a manner that makes Fort Knox look like a piggy bank.
Guns aren't my thing, but that in and of itself does not make them bad. We live in a day and age where violence is a problem, and there are legal and quite justifiable reasons and processes for having a firearm for personal protection.
Nor am I anti-sportsman in any way. While hunting is also not my thing, I enjoy a nice venison as much as the next guy, and have enjoyed many a night in the outdoors. I can readily understand that people enjoy hunting, and I hope they do so for as long as they are able.
What I don't get is the notion that individuals need military-quality hardware, simply because the Second Amendment grants us the right to bear arms. Could someone please explain to me the justification for my being able to purchase assault weapons, extended clips, specialized ammunition, and the like? Is there any purpose for these items, outside of target practice, other than to kill someone? Is not even that target practice itself designed to ready one to kill?
When the Second Amendment was written some 220 years ago, state-of-the-art firearms were muskets, absolutely essential to the feeding of one's family, and to participation in a citizen militia needed to defend our new nation. I do not personally believe the Framers could possibly have envisioned the advances in firearms in the period since, and times do change.
Does the military have need for stuff like this? Absolutely. People sent in harm's way in defense of this country should be armed to the teeth, and I will gratefully pass the ammo. Bringing overwhelming firepower on target is the central tenet of the American military, as it should be. Make war on this country, and we have proven time and again that we'll return the favor.
I just don't think it belongs on Main St.
5) Did I mention three weeks until pitchers & catchers?
Until next time,
Excelsior!
*******
1) I have written frequently in the past about living in Averill Park, NY. We really love it here. We have friends, community, and natural beauty that combine to provide a quality of life we all find very appealing.
We also currently have entirely too Goddamned much snow.
As I write this, I'm looking out a window at nearly four feet of it in the yard, all of it just since Christmas. Unlike last year, where we largely "just missed" the repeated whackings the folks in the Mid-Atlantic & New England got, this year we're at Ground Zero. Just this past week, Sons # 1&2 were treated to three, count 'em, three snow days, in a week where they already had a holiday for Dr. King's birthday. One actual school day in the last nine.
Of late, I find myself frequently glued to The Weather Channel in one or another of its forms, and two hours ago was advised that four or five days from now, "a significant portion of the Northeast" could be picking up another 12-20 inches. I am completely resigned to the notion that they are specifically referring to my address.
I wouldn't trade this area for anything; no one has forced us to stay here, and we're dug in. Enough, however, is enough.
2) That said, we're only three weeks from pitchers and catchers. Hope springs eternal.
3) Going back to the S-word for a moment, I would be remiss if I didn't say a word of thanks to the folks who plow the roads in these parts. There may be nine-foot piles of snow in places, but damned if there aren't roads cleared from edge to edge. We live in a pretty hilly area, with more than a few considerable grades. These folks have done a hell of a job, under some pretty trying conditions. Thank you all.
4) The recent tragedy in Arizona has really made me think about guns rather a lot lately. If I understand the circumstances correctly, Jared Loughner quite legally purchased a Glock, along with a thirty-three shot extended clip, and then proceeded to create the madness and bloodshed there.
Full disclosure dept.: I am not a gun-owner, and have fired one under supervised conditions maybe three times in my life. That said, I have no problem whatsoever with responsible gun ownership and use at all. I have often said that if my sons wanted to learn to hunt, or otherwise handle firearms, I would immediately point them to one of a couple of close friends for proper advice and instruction. These two guys in particular are sportsmen, and lock up their gear in a manner that makes Fort Knox look like a piggy bank.
Guns aren't my thing, but that in and of itself does not make them bad. We live in a day and age where violence is a problem, and there are legal and quite justifiable reasons and processes for having a firearm for personal protection.
Nor am I anti-sportsman in any way. While hunting is also not my thing, I enjoy a nice venison as much as the next guy, and have enjoyed many a night in the outdoors. I can readily understand that people enjoy hunting, and I hope they do so for as long as they are able.
What I don't get is the notion that individuals need military-quality hardware, simply because the Second Amendment grants us the right to bear arms. Could someone please explain to me the justification for my being able to purchase assault weapons, extended clips, specialized ammunition, and the like? Is there any purpose for these items, outside of target practice, other than to kill someone? Is not even that target practice itself designed to ready one to kill?
When the Second Amendment was written some 220 years ago, state-of-the-art firearms were muskets, absolutely essential to the feeding of one's family, and to participation in a citizen militia needed to defend our new nation. I do not personally believe the Framers could possibly have envisioned the advances in firearms in the period since, and times do change.
Does the military have need for stuff like this? Absolutely. People sent in harm's way in defense of this country should be armed to the teeth, and I will gratefully pass the ammo. Bringing overwhelming firepower on target is the central tenet of the American military, as it should be. Make war on this country, and we have proven time and again that we'll return the favor.
I just don't think it belongs on Main St.
5) Did I mention three weeks until pitchers & catchers?
Until next time,
Excelsior!
Saturday, January 1, 2011
On Truly Awful Television
"The medium IS the message." - Marshall McLuhan
*****
Been awhile, so first off, a very happy holiday season to you and yours.
What follows are some random musings about that most ubiquitous of influences in our lives, television.
Television, for sixty years or so now, has been the mass media platform we turn to for news, entertainment, sport, and so on, and while content delivered by the Internet is certainly making inroads on the more traditional methods of broadcast and cable/satellite, it says here those methods ain't going away any time soon. Besides, that's a technology discussion, and I want to talk a moment about content, not delivery.
The Tube has presented some content over my lifetime that has changed us all; JFK, the moon landings, the election of a black man to the White House. It has given us drama that illuminates and entertains, from "You Are There" to "Upstairs, Downstairs" to "M*A*S*H", to "The West Wing". It educates, it enlightens, and we as a people are enraptured before its glow. We have SD, HD, 3D, and who-knows-what-else, and we are digging it. Whether that's healthy is a discussion for another time.
I want to rant about pure, unadulterated dreck. I draw a distinction between television designed to titillate ("Baywatch", etc), and that which is just awful; the former may be truly bad, but there's an honesty in its approach that I must respect. No; today, gentle reader, we're going after true cheese.
Bad TV's been around since Day 1. Those of us of a certain age can recall Japanese horror movies so bad they induced fits of laughter. Soap operas, at least for me, have always done the same; a buddy of mine surreptitiously messing with the remote control in a breakroom of thirty women watching "General Hospital" is to this day one of my fondest memories.
The "made for TV movie" has long been a sub-genre singularly fitting to today's rant. Whether a tale of a man/woman/child who leads multiple lives/has multiple families and/or is a serial killer/polygamist/vistor to or from another planet, the made for TV movie has presented us with some of the truly low moments in television history.
Enter the SYFY channel. In a moment of true enlightenment, the folks at SYFY came to the realization that enough of us harbor a secret love for awful television that there's a market for it, and they have filled that gap with a vengeance. Unlike the major networks, who tend to couch their crap in marketing campaigns of sweeping grandiosity (can anyone over 50 forget NBC's "Manimal"?), these folks are straight up about it. This is promoted as cheese, without any pretense. Gotta love the forthrightness.
Son #2, at age 12, is a bright child, recognizes this pap for what it is, and thinks it absolutely hilarious. He insisted, a few weeks ago, that we as a family simply must view a SYFY offering of "Triassic Attack", exclaiming, "Guys, it's gonna be just terrible!". The excitement on the boy's face was too much to resist, and so we gather at the appointed hour.
Without ruining the exquisitely-executed denouement of the alleged plot for you, let me just say that the title says it all. Modern-day bad guys out West try to take over Native American lands for some nefarious purpose or another, a modern shaman invokes "Spirit" to help, and fossilized dinosaurs thus run amok, causing consternation for all. The best part? Said dinos are still in their bony state, leading one to wonder how one of their Ptero-types actually flies. Aerodynamics and all, you see. At any rate, there he is, flapping his bones across the western skies, menacing all in his path, thanks to some of the most low-rent special effects seen in some time. Two hours of my life that I'll never get back, but a family memory for a lifetime.
Let us now turn to the infomercial, if only for a moment. The infomercial has a distinguished history, starting in the late '70s, perfected by one Ron Popeil, and has directly led to things like the Home Shopping Network. Whether you want to lose weight, drive a golf ball out of sight, or renew your hairline, there's an infomercial out there for you. About 12 hours ago as I write this, Bride and I are enjoying the bottle of champagne we opened for the New Year, and surfing the tube, when we come across the tale of "Leandro, the Brazilian Butt-Master".
Two things, immediately:
1) I am not making this up.
2) This is not some soft-porn offering.
No, dear friends, this is a thirty-minute informercial extolling the revolutionary regimen that Leandro is bringing you to make your derriere more attractive. There were "booty-blasting" exercises, a diet regimen, personal instruction via the Web, and various devices offered, all aimed at one's gluteus maximus. How Leandro has found himself uniquely suited for such a Sisyphean task escaped me at that hour, but there were supermodels proclaiming his virtue and genius, so it must be true. That Bride & I were weeping with laughter goes without saying, and I was renamed "Leandro" for the balance of the evening.
The point of all of this? Whether it's "so bad that it's" funny, or it's meant to be, it's still damned funny.
On this New Year's Day, I wish you all a very happy and prosperous 2011.
Excelsior!
******
This is in memory of my dear friend Tom Devane, who we lost two years ago today, and who truly loved bad television.
*****
Been awhile, so first off, a very happy holiday season to you and yours.
What follows are some random musings about that most ubiquitous of influences in our lives, television.
Television, for sixty years or so now, has been the mass media platform we turn to for news, entertainment, sport, and so on, and while content delivered by the Internet is certainly making inroads on the more traditional methods of broadcast and cable/satellite, it says here those methods ain't going away any time soon. Besides, that's a technology discussion, and I want to talk a moment about content, not delivery.
The Tube has presented some content over my lifetime that has changed us all; JFK, the moon landings, the election of a black man to the White House. It has given us drama that illuminates and entertains, from "You Are There" to "Upstairs, Downstairs" to "M*A*S*H", to "The West Wing". It educates, it enlightens, and we as a people are enraptured before its glow. We have SD, HD, 3D, and who-knows-what-else, and we are digging it. Whether that's healthy is a discussion for another time.
I want to rant about pure, unadulterated dreck. I draw a distinction between television designed to titillate ("Baywatch", etc), and that which is just awful; the former may be truly bad, but there's an honesty in its approach that I must respect. No; today, gentle reader, we're going after true cheese.
Bad TV's been around since Day 1. Those of us of a certain age can recall Japanese horror movies so bad they induced fits of laughter. Soap operas, at least for me, have always done the same; a buddy of mine surreptitiously messing with the remote control in a breakroom of thirty women watching "General Hospital" is to this day one of my fondest memories.
The "made for TV movie" has long been a sub-genre singularly fitting to today's rant. Whether a tale of a man/woman/child who leads multiple lives/has multiple families and/or is a serial killer/polygamist/vistor to or from another planet, the made for TV movie has presented us with some of the truly low moments in television history.
Enter the SYFY channel. In a moment of true enlightenment, the folks at SYFY came to the realization that enough of us harbor a secret love for awful television that there's a market for it, and they have filled that gap with a vengeance. Unlike the major networks, who tend to couch their crap in marketing campaigns of sweeping grandiosity (can anyone over 50 forget NBC's "Manimal"?), these folks are straight up about it. This is promoted as cheese, without any pretense. Gotta love the forthrightness.
Son #2, at age 12, is a bright child, recognizes this pap for what it is, and thinks it absolutely hilarious. He insisted, a few weeks ago, that we as a family simply must view a SYFY offering of "Triassic Attack", exclaiming, "Guys, it's gonna be just terrible!". The excitement on the boy's face was too much to resist, and so we gather at the appointed hour.
Without ruining the exquisitely-executed denouement of the alleged plot for you, let me just say that the title says it all. Modern-day bad guys out West try to take over Native American lands for some nefarious purpose or another, a modern shaman invokes "Spirit" to help, and fossilized dinosaurs thus run amok, causing consternation for all. The best part? Said dinos are still in their bony state, leading one to wonder how one of their Ptero-types actually flies. Aerodynamics and all, you see. At any rate, there he is, flapping his bones across the western skies, menacing all in his path, thanks to some of the most low-rent special effects seen in some time. Two hours of my life that I'll never get back, but a family memory for a lifetime.
Let us now turn to the infomercial, if only for a moment. The infomercial has a distinguished history, starting in the late '70s, perfected by one Ron Popeil, and has directly led to things like the Home Shopping Network. Whether you want to lose weight, drive a golf ball out of sight, or renew your hairline, there's an infomercial out there for you. About 12 hours ago as I write this, Bride and I are enjoying the bottle of champagne we opened for the New Year, and surfing the tube, when we come across the tale of "Leandro, the Brazilian Butt-Master".
Two things, immediately:
1) I am not making this up.
2) This is not some soft-porn offering.
No, dear friends, this is a thirty-minute informercial extolling the revolutionary regimen that Leandro is bringing you to make your derriere more attractive. There were "booty-blasting" exercises, a diet regimen, personal instruction via the Web, and various devices offered, all aimed at one's gluteus maximus. How Leandro has found himself uniquely suited for such a Sisyphean task escaped me at that hour, but there were supermodels proclaiming his virtue and genius, so it must be true. That Bride & I were weeping with laughter goes without saying, and I was renamed "Leandro" for the balance of the evening.
The point of all of this? Whether it's "so bad that it's" funny, or it's meant to be, it's still damned funny.
On this New Year's Day, I wish you all a very happy and prosperous 2011.
Excelsior!
******
This is in memory of my dear friend Tom Devane, who we lost two years ago today, and who truly loved bad television.
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