Thoughts of a Common Man

A two-blog day as I am leaving early in the a.m. and just have one more thing to say... I hesitate to get into it, but I'm frustrated. Obama can't get anything done because no one is playing nice and because Bush left him in such a mess. That's his story and he's sticking to it. Bush left him in a mess because Clinton left him in a mess. Clinton left Jr. in a mess because George's daddy was a mess. You see where I'm going with this? I have it figured out. It was all George's fault! And I'm not talking Dubya or Herbert Walker (whatever the hell that's all about) I'm talking Washington. Yep, follow the train of blame...it all goes back to the guy before you, evidently. So, why do I need to get to the bottom of this? Well, I saw Obama playing pass the blame game and then I did something that I want to poke my eyes out for doing...I read the account of Cheney's new book. I definitely don't want to get into ...

The Entertainment Sports Cliff Network. What's happening in a world where playing with a ball will make you a king. 1). Cliff Fazzolari is resting comfortably after five days of golf in 6 days. Despite his frail condition there's an outside chance he will be ready for the weekend when the folks from Baltimore make their weekly trip to Buffalo. This time the Baltimorons will get a drubbing. 2). The 27-time World Champion Yankees soundly whipped the Boston Suck Sox last night despite the fact that the Yankees had been forced by MLB to play their 5th game in 3 days while the Suck Sox had 2 days off to get ready. Watching the game, however, was painful as the Suck Sox pitchers take a full 40 seconds to throw each pitch. MLB is looking into it. 3). Javaris Crittenton is finally under arrest after shooting a mother of four last week - allegedly - the former NBA player can't understand why they are charging him. He didn't mean to shoot her. He was aiming for the gu...

There are quite a few miles between Albany and New York City. In fact, the land there is majestic and the people who live in the small towns are of hearty stock. Hardworking people who enjoy a much simpler life. I wander into those parts for work every now and again and I thrill the locals by asking them what the hell they do for fun or why they would live so far off the beaten trail. They love me in those parts as much as people love me in the rest of the world. The creek really rose in some of those places. It's real strange too because Irene for those of us here in Buffalo was something to watch and follow without fully understanding. It didn't so much as drizzle here so it's hard to feel the devastation and pain. Last night I was flipping around and I caught a news report on the devastation in a small New York town. A big woman was sorting through what was left of her house, which as far as I could tell was like the house made of sticks that went down duri...

It seems that if the storm doesn't come through then there isn't a lot of reason to wonder how you withstood the forces that you can't control. Unfortunately, the storms keep coming, so we are constantly in motion to figure out just where we stand. I woke up thinking about the chaos all around. The casino fire in Mexico. The Libya shit storm, for lack of a better word, the fact that Hurricane Irene hammered the east coast. I imagine that there are a lot of people who are spending the day wondering how bad it all was for them as they attempt to move forward through the rubble and debris. We had Mom over for pasta yesterday afternoon. You talk about weathering the storm. She is by far and away the toughest person I've ever met. I just know all the shit that's gone down over the last few years has ripped her apart. She can get tears in her eyes whenever there's a simple old story, that's supposed to make her laugh, but she pushes right through...

There are storms in your eyes. Can't help but think of Neil Young whenever I hear about a hurricane. Many observations as beautiful Buffalo sits here pretty with 78 degrees and clear skies. All those snow jokes don't seem quite so funny now, do they? But I have a lot of sympathy. Water where it's not wanted just plain sucks. I've thrown many a fit when our basement has flooded and its so dirty, so aggravating, and so much work to get rid of the smell. What I don't have sympathy for are the idiots who stand out in it. How can you be so senseless? The news is reporting the death of a man who was out riding the waves. That's a shocker. That's an idiot. Death doesn't allow for mistakes. He won't be at work on Monday telling his friends how cool it was to ride the wave. Invigorating, huh? There's no more invigorating left. And the stupid weather dudes. One guy we were watching was reporting to us about the end of a pier being ...

Now that's a good week. 90 holes of golf. Actually, it felt a lot like how I want my retirement years to go, but what are the chances that I'll be in better health by then? Let's recap. I played 18 holes on Monday with a buddy...quick round. Lunch, home in time to spend the rest of the day with Kathy and the boys and make dinner. Tuesday...a carbon copy of Monday. Hit the ball better. Watched a movie. Bed early. Wednesday...wrote a little...home until late in the afternoon...another 18 holes...hit the ball downright well. Dinner and a movie with the kids. Watched baseball with Sam. Thursday...Matt to college. Lots of thinking about the past. Another nice night with the family. Didn't hit a golf ball and felt like I was a bit stiff. I'd be okay. Friday...a seven hour round of golf with 20 great friends in an annual event. By hole 15 I felt like swinging a club again would cause me to fall to the ground in a heap of pain. A lot of laughs though and I ca...

The entire moving in extravaganza can sort of be summed up like this: Matt didn't want any one's help anymore and he used cockiness to portray that he was completely on his own now...short of the thousands of dollars he needs...and Kathy walked on eggshells holding off on blubbering in front of him, dropping to her knees and begging him to suddenly need his diaper changed again. Me? A lot of envy to be honest. His room is about ten steps from the rec hall. I remember the endless games of hoops. There was always someone willing to play. 18-year-old me would be on the floor for hours...sweating out the beer. It didn't matter to me that three trips up and down the hardwood now would render me useless or that my hip started bugging me when we made the ten steps from his room to the rec center. In my mind, I was 18 again. And a whole slew of freshman girls walked by. Matt closely followed their approach and their stroll by. He didn't say anything. He didn...

It all started on Christmas when my brother-in-law informed my kids that they were living in a stone age because our television was old. Up until that point it seemed that we had just bought the set. Turns out it's at least eight years old. I don't pay attention to such details. I can see the 27-time World Series Champion Yankees on it...what else do I need? And I think of that all the time. Bono of U2 singing in it's a Beautiful Day , what you don't have you don't need it now, don't need it now, don't need it now. I don't need a new television. But then I went to a buddy's house and the Yankees were on. I could see the stones in the dirt. "That's a helluva' picture," I said. And the kids started to chime in. Jake likes to compare his childhood to being raised in a concentration camp. Funny kid. 4 more years until we are packing him off, I believe. And if it's up to me, we'll have the same television. S...

I didn't feel the earthquake. As far as I know it could all be a rumor that started on Facebook somewhere. But I have no reason to doubt it. The universe struggles sometimes to get into a perfect position. What is interesting about it is that every time the earth shifts a bit someone is out there telling me to prepare for the end of time. The day of reckoning is nearly upon us. They've been saying that since before Christ appeared once. Are we ready people? The earth is shifting around here as well. Tomorrow is the day when we load up the truck and shift Matt off to his first year of college. My beautiful wife feels as if the ground she is standing upon has shifted so much that she may eventually lose her balance. I went off to college. I know that he is not about to enter a world of angst and pain. He's on his way to a ton of fun days. Yet I am also mindful, despite the jubilation, that he is being afforded an opportunity. (Oh wifey, this is the part whe...

Whew! I don't know about you but I just can't get enough about the Kardashian wedding. What was she wearing? Did it cover her entire fat ass? Did he whisper 'I love you?' Who in the hell are these people? Anyway, got back from a relaxing round of golf yesterday. Didn't care about the score. Didn't care about who won or lost. Just hit the ball, chased it and hit it again. Played okay as well. Golfed with just one other guy so we had a lot of time to chat about life. The Kardashian wedding didn't come up. Then I returned home just in time for a bag of ice and Gunsmoke. Perfect. The particular episode that I was watching was about Marshall Dillon being chased through the woods by a family of lunatics who spoke about the family code, the man code, respect, and doing things the right way, man on man. Gunsmoke faded to Bonanza (the lawman got 'em all in Gunsmoke and taught them a little more about the code). On Bonanza Little Joe and ...

Yesterday I wanted to golf, but it rained hard. So, instead, I hung around the house, lecturing myself that there didn't have to be a list of things to do, and that I could relax. I checked into Camp Clifford. Let me tell you, there isn't a lot going on at the camp. Kathy worked, mind you, so one of the camp leaders was gone. I got out of bed before six, which is a violation of camp rules, but I allowed the other campers to wake up naturally. (That wasn't easy for me to do, by the way). Sam made an appearance around ten. I had already been to church and grocery shopping. The sauce was on and I'd had breakfast and read the entire paper. "What're you going to do today?" I asked Sam. "Little of this, little of that," he said. (The camp motto). "You guys need to go to church," I said. "What if they aren't up," Sam asked. "It's mass at noon, they'll be up," I said. "Trust me....

Wow, I had a few weird dreams last night. You know how it is as you wake, images flash through your mind, one after another, not one of them seems to be connected. I always try and make some sense of it in the context of what I did the night before. I spent time at the wedding yesterday, seeing old friends that I used to party with. The shoe was literally on the other foot as we were the parents in the room filled with young people. "You want to get a coffee?" my buddy Al asked after dinner. I thought he was making fun of the fact that I had sipped water through the meal, but when I turned the corner he was sipping from a coffee cup. In my dream everyone I'd ever known was gathered in a rest room. High school friends were at the urinal. An old woman who I'd rented a house to was sitting on the crapper. She shouted out my name as I entered. I gave her a most uncomfortable wave. She asked me to sign a copy of a blog that I'd written years ago. I signe...

...IS A LONG-ASS TIME. My best buddy's kid is getting married today. AJ is a mere 24 years old and by all accounts, it's a match-made in heaven and he will have 50 years of togetherness at least. As stated here before, I always think of the Bruce song, Walk Like a Man , whenever I consider marriage: Will they ever look so happy again, the handsome groom and his bride as they step into that long black limousine for their mystery ride? Well tonight I'll step away from you and alone at the altar I'll stand; As I watch my bride coming down the aisle, I'll pray for the strength to walk like a man. "Did you tell him how long forever is?" I asked my buddy yesterday. We both laughed. We've both been married forever, or so it seems. Jeff has been married a lot longer than me. "He doesn't appear to be nervous," Jeff said. "But yeah, we had a little talk." Now I've known the kid since he busted into the world in ...

There really should be a new rule about taking a vacation. They should give you the day off on get-away day because you really don't feel like doing too much because the anticipation is too much to take. They should also give you the day off on the first day back so that you don't suffer from the return-to-work hangover. And who the hell is 'they'? You see, my problem is that I've really had to force myself to take time off. Over the last 20 years I've sort of got to the end of the year and was surprised by the fact that I'd forgotten to take my vacation. So, this year, I set a week off in the distance and told myself that no matter what, I was going to take it. That's next week. And all of this week I've been feeling guilty. Remember my blog from a couple of days ago about the couple on welfare and disability? Don't they feel guilty? I'm supposed to get 3 weeks off, I think. I feel like I'm stealing if I take one. ...

I've been growing increasingly sick of the saying, "At the end of the day." Yesterday on the Howard Stern show one of his guests said it about ten times. I switched to ESPN and the guy they were interviewing said it a half dozen times. It's not yet anywho-ha, but it's getting there. Speaking of my beautiful wife I can tell that she is a bit out of sorts lately and its all because the first bird is getting ready to fly the coop. Matt is not really flying the coop, but he is going to be heading off to college next week, and I know my wife well enough to know that she is out of her head with worry and concern. At the end of the day there isn't a lot we can do now. Together we have raised a smart, slightly common sense-challenged young man who has no idea what the hell is waiting for him out there. But he thinks he does, and that has to count for something. I remember the day I left for college. I was a mess, actually. I was going to miss my friends...

The other night I caught an episode of JJ (Judge Judy). (We simply refer to her as JJ around here.) I hadn't been catching JJ much because a lot of time is spent watching the 27-time World Champion, First-Place New York Yankees...but anyway... JJ had a couple of able-bodied people in front of her who were arguing about money in front of their 15-year old son. It wasn't a ton of money, mind you, because they were both on disability and welfare. The woman made $4,000 taxable dollars and the man hadn't paid taxes since 2008 when he made a total of 8 grand. "What's wrong with you?" JJ asked. "My back," the guy said. "My back hurts every day," JJ said. "I'm not disabled." Cut to Warren Buffett saying that the ultra-rich should be taxed at a higher rate. He's right. Yet the problem-solution lies right there in cleaning up those two items. Greed and laziness. Then there are the poor slobs in the middle. Th...

There was a profoundly poignant moment during the softball game when my entire life flashed before my eyes. A can or corn was hit into short center field. My cousin Tony was playing deep in center and since I was at 2nd and the shortstop was way in the hole, I knew it was my ball, or it was a hit. "Go, go, go," I told my legs. Two seconds later: "Go, go, go," I told my legs. It wasn't that far away. In the recent past I might have caught it. 10 years ago, I most likely would have grabbed it. 20 years ago, I would have been there waiting for it to come down. On Sunday I didn't get within ten yards of it. My cousin actually ended up closer to making the catch than I did. Last night I asked Sam to grab me a bottle of water. "I ran for every game," he said. "I ran for you, Uncle Jim, Uncle John, Mr. Renaldo, Uncle Chuck, Mr. Popple...how come I'm getting you a water?" "Because you have ten year old legs...

About 25 years ago, in the book Eye in the Sky, the protagonist of the story is greeted by the antagonist who has hassled him all year long. The antagonist says: "So many bad things have happened to you. I am sorry for what I did. But tell me, where is God in all this." The protagonist says: "He's right there. In your eyes, as you apologize to me." I wrote that over 25 years ago. For the 2nd straight weekend I had an almost religious experience. You see, I was standing outside in the rain as it tumbled down...hard and cold, with thunder, lightning and the guy on the radio telling us to get indoors. I looked to the sky and in an accusatory tone asked God why He couldn't let the sun shine. In an instant, an understanding came over me. They're still going to come. And they showed up. Every wonderful person pulled into the lot. Those who helped stage it. Corinne, Chuck, Jan, Pops, Jeff Renaldo, Shannon, Michelle, Terrie, Kim, Carrie,...

The 27-time World Champion Yankees have a pitcher on their starting staff named Bartolo Colon. He looks a lot like the new hot pepper champion, Jeff Popple. Yes, yes, Pops won. His steak filled pepper was just too much for the competition this year, and let me tell you, the competition was awesome. I ate 10 peppers. 2 off of my career high. I could have eaten 20! They were that good. About ten minutes or five peppers into the deal I knew my goose was cooked. My recipe was too pedestrian even though I spent about 60 bucks on cheese. But this story is about Pops. A great chef and an even better guy. He won and he deserved to win. There's just one minor problem: He isn't going to shut up about it for 365 days. A man of Polish-heritage took home the ribbon. That isn't entirely true, mind you, he studied under the greatest chef in the world: an Italian-German-American.

I am definitely in the spot where waiting for Santa to slide down the chimney is becoming almost ridiculous. You remember those nights when you were a kid, right, when the idea of what was going to happen was too overwhelming to allow you to get a decent night of rest? I still sort of feel that way on Christmas morning, but only because I know how much fun my kids are going to have. Right now, I'm just a little boy, waiting for something great to happen. The hot pepper contest is later this afternoon. The funny thing about the first time we did this was that I wanted no part of making peppers. Jeff made mine. He dropped everything off at the house. I stuffed them and brought them and everyone marveled at how good they were. He never spilled the beans. The above photo shows John and I close as we only assisted Pops in getting the peppers ready for the softball tourney. We cored over 400 peppers (thank you Larry Bowman) and as we went about the task the jokes wer...

I've always loved the sound of a train in the distance. This morning the long whistle, and the sound of the chugging train stirred me awake. It seems that no matter where I've lived in my life I've always been close enough to hear the train chugging down the tracks. It brings to mind the days of the Old West when they cheered the sound of the arriving train as the supplies had arrived. They are carrying the same sort of things today but we don't wait at the station, jubilant because we can now eat. Trains kind of lost that significance. I think of the religious overtones. This train carries saints and sinners. This train carries losers and winners. This train carries whores and gamblers. This train. All aboard. Whether we like it or not, that train is going to eventually pick us up. People get ready there's a train a-coming. You don't need a ticket. You just get on board. I hoped it wasn't that train I heard this morning. As the whis...

Every other day or so I get a note from a reader of Oh Brother! The Life and Times of Jeff Fazzolari . Some days I get three or four notes. I certainly answer and treasure every single one. The book was never intended to gain praise from people that I've never had the pleasure to meet. It certainly wasn't written with a National Book Award in mind, but what the hell? The more people who know about Jeff's life, the better, right? I wrote it for my family only, but I should have considered that Jeff's life was way more powerful than that! Here are three notes that I received today. People who I've never met. People who reached out to me after reading along. If I never write another sentence... Hi Cliff-- I just wanted to drop you a note to say I just read your book. A wonderful tribute to your brother Jeff. Being from a large family myself I understand the love and bonds between siblings. Our parent’s greatest gift to us has been each other for sure....

Some day I might figure something out. Probably not today. Definitely not yesterday. Doubtful for tomorrow. But I still try. A stray thought about death crossed my mind again yesterday. Sam and Jake were in the backyard kicking the ball around with Rocco. They were arguing about whether it was a goal or not. I proclaimed it to be in and they all reacted. Two with cheers and one with a call that I was cheating. I was. And there was that moment when the dread of what happened hit me. I hate it. Hate it. Hate it. And I thought of the fact that death doesn't ever really take a break. It's like having leaky walls in your basement. If you don't go down there much, you don't think about it. But when it crosses your mind... ...it bugs the shit out of you. And there isn't a lot to be done. What are you going to do? Rip the foundation down and start over? Overpay someone to come in and do god knows what to repair what the hell is wrong. Will it...

It is so heartwarming to see my kids hanging around with Jeff's kids. It makes me want to cry when I see my brothers and sisters look at their nieces and nephews with love written all over their faces. My brother-in-law Chuck and my son Sam are great friends. My sisters and Jake tell jokes back and forth. Corinne and Sam behave as true siblings. Carrie Lynn and Andrea and Nicole are thick as thieves. We all crumble when John, Farrah and the Rock are in town and making us laugh. Yet my favorite part of all of it is seeing how my boys react whenever they are around any of their cousins. James and Jake, Matt and Rocco, Nicole and Sam, Tony and everybody, Paige and Andrea, Farrah and James. They all have unique relationships that reminds me so much of the friendships that I had with all of my cousins and my aunts and my uncles. The Italian side of the family always seemed to be closer, but I see it with my nieces and nephews on my beautiful wife's side too. N...

There is no doubt that Melky is cool with the morning schedule. We discuss it each morning and she probably could recite it back to me at this point. "Are you hungry?" I ask. She doesn't answer. "Do you have to go poopies?" Again, nothing. Yet by the time I'm ready to roll, she is too. She heads for the door knowing that her job is to eat, pee, and poop. During that time I drink a cup of coffee and eat a bowl of cereal. I actually believed that Melky's schedule was cramped during the busy part of her day, but this morning as I poured my coffee I happened to glance out the window. As you can see, Melky was comfortable in a lawn chair where she could stare at the door. Knowing her, she was also weeping. Moments later the day really took an exciting turn. I led her to the car and we went around the corner to get the papers. Bad news. No squirrels, birds, rabbits, dogs or deer were out. The sky was threatening rain. I explained that...

I spent the late afternoon mowing the lawn and there was a ghost of a moon riding high in the sky above the house. I was spending a bit of time looking up because I certainly had a weird experience today. You see today was the anniversary of Dad's death. I loaded the kids in the car with my mind on trying to share something with them about my Dad so I played King of the Road for them. In their rap-driven-beat the ho-shoot the glock-type of experience with music, they thought it was interesting but nothing more. Fine. I put the i-pod on shuffle and off we went. Mellencamp's Man on the Moon came on. I found it interesting only because the main character is mad at the moon and one lyric says "He's 37 years old with six children." That always amused me. I would have been mad at the moon as well in that predicament. But then Sinatra made an appearance. I Get a Kick Out of You . A cute coincidence. American Land by Springsteen followed...Jeff's favorite song...and ...

Any man can be a father. It takes someone special to be a dad. Today marks the one-year passage in time since my Dad was here. It feels wrong saying that its anniversary, doesn't it? Anniversaries are days to be celebrated. Then again, I suppose that today is a celebration of sorts. We will attend a mass in his honor, perhaps eat breakfast, and the pasta today will have 'Fuzzy' written all over it, but there's not a lot of celebrating. We never could match his sauce. I had dinner yesterday with Uncle Jim. I can sympathize because I know what it's like to miss a brother too. We took to telling stories. Funny stories. Glorifying stories. Stories that make your heart hurt. But the thing that got me about yesterday was that I was working on reports listening to my i-pod when Sinatra's Under My Skin played. I gave a nod to the photo of Dad beside my desk and continued to work. Visions of him singing were dancing in my head. I went straight to the I-tunes store and do...

So, my cousin pays off her bets...with a wonderful assist from her Mom...the pasta was served. The grilled chicken was served. The veggies were served. The salads were served. The brownies were served. The cheesecake was served. The ice cream cake was served. And like any good bet, I worked up a hell of a sweat eating a lot of one thing and a little of everything else. So many of you who read Oh Brother! know that I paid a lot of money in dinners over the years. I grew so tired of being the stooge, but with Jeff watching from above, I carried on a little of the tradition today. My cousin Kristin was happy to pay off her Sabres bet from last year...and don't you know it, we already re-upped for next year. I'd gladly go with the same menu, so keep that in mind...looooooooossssssseeeeeeerrrrrrrr! Now it may seem a bit harsh to call someone a loser after you've eaten their food for a good couple of hours, but that's how these bets go. Me and the loser. And Uncle Jim. Someho...

I was playing soccer when the Yankees and the Red Sux battled for first place in the epic playoff game at Fenway Park during the 1978 season when the Yankees had been 14 games out of first in mid-July. I was in the 9th grade and I had settled in with my radio and an ear bud. My coach was also a lifelong Yankee fan and he ordered me into the game because he wanted my radio. I was running (if you can call that running) down the field when the coach, with the game going on all around me, yelled: "Hey Fuzzy, Bucky Dent just hit a three-run homer." I remember it as if it were yesterday. I also remember that my Dad had called in sick to work - something he might have done twice in his life - to be home in time to see that game. He was home watching it with John, Jim and Jeff. Carrie and Corinne were also keeping an eye on it, as was Mom. Last night the Yanks and Red Sux came into the game tied for 1st in the East. I had thought about it a few times during the day, but it wasn't...

This was during morning drive time in Syracuse. I was still drinking my coffee, talking on the phone, reading my texts and trying to get a quick glance at the box score for the first place, 27-time World Champion Yankees when this idiot cut across me on his bike while giving me a point to the right as if I weren't about to blast him off his 10-speed. At least he was wearing a helmet. I blame Lance Armstrong. I do. He supposedly made it cool to ride your bike all over town as if you weren't seven years old. I also blame George W. Why not? But save on gas, save on gas, save on gas...made idiots like this ride their bike all over my highway. I also blame Richard Simmonds. (Or however he spells his name). Exercise. Get skinny. Ride your bike. It's good to get the heart racing. Blah, freaking blah. Tell me, Richard, how am I supposed to balance my sausage and egg mcmuffin, my coffee cup, and the newspaper while these idiots are cutting in and out of traffic? I can ride a bike. I...

Far be it of me to defend A-Rod. Despite the fact that he is on the 27-time World Champion Yankees, I feel he is a bit of a Lance Douche Armstrong, or Tiger Cheetah Woods. When confronted with a moral dilemna...like the other two mentioned above, he takes the low road. But baseball is now investigating him for playing poker, and they are talking about a suspension. I hope they suspend him for the next 19 games because he won't be back for 20. He's out with a knee injury. I've played poker. Have you played poker? Maybe not $500 bucks a hand, but it's the same game, right? I was once playing poker with a group of my very closest friends. One of my buddies, who shall remain nameless (John Cataldo) decided to play a game that was jacks or better to open. I kept getting a pair of tens. In my under the weather state, I grew annoyed with the game. John grew annoyed with me. Soon enough about five of us were rolling around the floor in an epic match that we still talk about to ...

Strange...feeling lazy today...actually went back and looked at the first blog I wrote for this site. So much has happened since then...way too much. It was fun to read that first blog again. Here it is... I imagine that this blog will just be an exercise in writing, but I have always toyed with the idea of what is important in life and I have written extensively about trying to find my place. I have been fairly successful in getting my books published and out there, but there is so much more to do, and so little time... I am looking at this blog as an opportunity to share some of my thoughts. I'm a typical American male with three kids, a great wife, a mortgage and a couple of dogs - just to keep my balance. I was thinking of a story to encapsulate such a life and I drift in time back to my 40th birthday. I was a little anxious about turning 40, and approached my birthday not really wanting to share much. I just kept saying, it's just another day. On that day, I returned home ...

The 1st Annual Thunder Road Softball Tourney for Jeff Fazzolari is set for August 14 at New Oregon Field at 11 a.m. If you are interested in playing come a little early so we can sort out the teams. Cool, right? Well, to get you in the spirit of things here is the dialogue of a text exchange that I had with Johnny, who is thrilled with the idea and will be there cheering loud: Johnny: What's up? Me: Nothing, buddy, what're you doing? Johnny: Just wondering...who is running for you on Aegest 14? Me: You! Johnny: Who's running for Uncle Dude? Can I run for both of you? Me: Definitely. Johnny: I can't wait! Me: It's gonna' be a lot of fun. Johnny: I hope you hit it far so I can run all the way home. Me: Maybe Uncle Dude can do that! I'm old! Johnny: You're bald too. I saw your book interview on YouTube. Me: But I'm good-looking right? All Fuzzy's are good-looking. Johnny: Most of 'em! This tourney was dreamed up by a good friend of Jeff's. W...

One of the other benefits of attending a golf outing dinner at a bar on the beach (yes, we have beaches here in Buffalo) is that you get to spend a little time people watching. There was a guy working as a bouncer at the club who stood about 5'5" tall and weighed about 280 pounds. There wasn't a lot of fat on the guy. He was one of the Sopranos-looking dudes with no neck to speak of. His right bicep also was home to a tattoo that was bigger than my head. When he passed me by I nodded a hello and he sort of growled. I got a good look at the tattoo that said something about love and fear. I had the fear part down. Yet looking at his tattoo got me thinking, so I started to glance around at the people dressed for the sun. Almost every single person has a tattoo. Men, women, even young girls. They all have some sort of marking. It got me thinking about a cute, young girl I'd seen at the Wilson Farms convenience store. She had tattoos all over her face, down her arm and on h...

Played in a golf outing with 3 other guys. Two of us were drinking and two of us weren't. I was in the non-drinking cart. We called ourselves the Mormons. The other two guys were reaching into the cooler every ten minutes for another cold beer. Now far be it of me to talk down on anyone that has a few cold ones while chasing a little ball around a huge pasture. I've done it so many times that I've lost count. But I'm getting older and being ready, willing and able to put in long work hours is now the responsible thing to do. So, my non-drinking partner and I watched it all slide downhill. To be fair, it was a gradual decline. I started the day as the 4th best golfer. I ended the day as the 2nd best golfer on our team. "How the hell did that happen?" One of the Coors Light fans shouted after he rapped a ball three feet to the right off the cart where his partner was tipping back a cold one. Three feet! We all laughed. Soon enough those types of shots started co...