Thoughts of a Common Man

Time Imagine there is a bank that credits your account each morning with $86,400. It carries over no balance from day to day. Every evening the bank deletes whatever part of the balance you failed to use during the day. What would you do? Draw out every cent, of course! Each of us has such a bank. Its name is TIME. Every morning, it credits you with 86,400 seconds. Every night it writes off, as lost, whatever of this you have failed to invest to good purpose. It carries over no balance. It allows no overdraft. Each day it opens a new account for you. Each night it burns the remains of the day. If you fail to use the day's deposits, the loss is yours. There is no going back. There is no drawing against the "tomorrow." You must live in the present on today's deposits. Invest it so as to get from it the utmost in health, happiness, and success! The clock is running. Make the most of today. To realize the value of ONE YEAR, ask a student who failed a grade. To realize the

The star wide receiver for the Buffalo Bills, Stevie Johnson, is a Thoughts of a Common Man idiot. Last year he dropped a pass and blamed God. He became a big star for writing something on his chest and showing the world after catching a touchdown pass. Everyone thought it was funny. So yesterday, he caught a pass and pretended he was shooting himself in the leg to make fun of another player. Then he played a crashed Jet and received a penalty that cost his team 7 points. All in good fun, right? It's the basic problem in the world right now, if you ask me. Everyone wants to be a star. Everyone is disrespectful to the next guy. No one is accountable to anyone else. When all else fails, blame God. Now I know it's just a football game and he isn't a Rhodes Scholar, but it aggravates me because my boys thought it was so cool. "He made fun of the guy who shot himself!" It's a vicious circle. The guy who shot himself took a gun into a nightclub because he wanted str

The Buffalo News ran an article about a woman who gambled away the money raised for her sons fight against cancer. It's a really tragic story as they held a benefit, she took control of the cash, and then she played cards at casinos all across the area. Evidently she isn't a very good card player. The outrage is predictable. Letters to the editors explain that she should be put to death. Her son instantly forgave her. I must be getting old because I didn't really buy her story about being scared and lonely and that others in her position just might do the same thing. She should have stopped it somewhere along the way. Loneliness isn't a valid excuse. Her son was on the verge of death. He needed the money. It was money donated by hardworking people. Leave your ATM card at home if you can't stop yourself from withdrawing the money your kid needs to fight the disease that might kill him. Of course, that's the lazy way of attacking the subject. Of course she was wro

So we all gathered last night at my brother John's. The kids were running around, all of them...Jeff's kids were also there and Rocco, John and Farrah were leading the charge. We had pizza, chicken and a great batch of chili that Dana prepared the hell out of. Springsteen's Working on a Dream was on low in the background, and the wounded adults were smiling, tossing a few insults out, and having a couple of beers. I was drinking tea. My leg was great all day but stiffening up as the night moved on. The music was just loud enough for me to hear a few lines. There's a pillar in the temple where I carved your name. Johnny looks so much like Jeff when he was young. Rocco is so big and strong. Farrah is just beautiful. All random thoughts running through my head. But here the nights are long and the days are lonely. I think of you and I'm working on a dream. Working on a dream. We also celebrated Mom's birthday some more. I had asked my son Jake to write something in

A whole bunch of random thoughts, I suppose. It's been another traumatic week. I don't know what to think, so this is an exercise of what pops into my head. 1). 69% of people can find something dirty in every sentence. 2). Newt Gingrich is a tad crazy. 3). Football is a group of lousy teams and Green Bay. Which means, of course, that one of those lousy teams will win the Super Bowl. 4). I can't think of a single thing I want for Christmas. I've given up on world peace. 5). The weather in Buffalo has been tremendous. Isn't it a shame that I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop? 6). My family is so punch drunk from horrific news that when the phone rings we all cringe. 7). I've done the hokey-pokey a thousand times at weddings and I still don't know what it's all about. 8). I wish John Lennon was still making music. 9). Bruce has a new tour coming. I can't wait for the new music and the excellent writing. He puts a stamp on what I'm thinking at

Today is my mother's birthday. I've had enough of the rest of the bullshit holidays that are set on the yearly calender. She deserves a national day of honor. If you are a follower of this blog and you have read the words of loss and despair over the last few years, you have to wonder, in awe, about the strength of a woman who has been smack dab in the middle of the heartbreak. I know I do. Mom has endured. She has not missed a single gathering. She has had her moments of sadness to be sure, but she hasn't dropped it any of our feet. No matter why we get together, she's right there in the center of it all, telling a joke, offering an opinion, cooking something that no one else will even bother to try cooking because she just blows everyone away. Her eyes fill with tears at the mere mention of some of those we've lost, but she fights them back. She's the strongest person I've ever had the pleasure to meet. And I tell anyone that will listen. I have never had

As has become a habit over the last three weeks, I flipped the television on before getting up the nerve to put my feet on the floor. "Happy Black Friday!!!!" the announcer screamed. My head almost hit the ceiling. He was actually screaming. What an idiot. When did it become a holiday? The announcer was absolutely giddy about the prospect of saving money through his exhaustive system of getting to the right store at precisely the right moment. They showed people camped out. They showed footage of long lines and they interviewed a couple of the "shoppers". Everyone was so freaking excited. I tried to figure out if there was anything I would lie in a parking lot to get. Springsteen tickets in New Jersey? Nope, not even those. I'd wait it out and then just call a scalper. Then they showed the doors open at one of the Target stores. Men, women and children were busting through with their arms raised in a victory salute. Are you freaking kidding me? When the empire

All of the small words are the ones that mean the most. Yes, Please, God, Love, Thank You. I don't know why the words 'Thank You' sometimes get caught in our throats. They are two very easy words to say, but that's the way it is sometimes. Have you ever received a compliment from someone and instead of simply saying thank you have offered up some other words, like, 'I told you' or 'Yeah, thank me! You can thank me!' I personally use that one all the time when my beautiful wife says thank you. Which is once in a blue moon. But we should feel thankful every day. There are a lot of people who help us make our loves go. Thanks be to God. Thanks to your Mom and Dad. Thank you to your siblings, your spouse, your children, and your dogs. Truth be told we can spend our entire day thanking others if we were so inclined. There's a lot of garbage going on in America. A ton of unrest. The lower class sucks, the upper class blows, those of us caught toiling in th

Very difficult words to say aloud. There is certainly another huge void. I’m not sure that this is breaking news, but there are some members of the Fuzzy family that have some of the following qualities: Obnoxious, Loud, Wild, Quick-tempered, emotional, boisterous, impatient, emotional and a tad confrontational. But loving…always very loving. I was speaking to one such member a long time ago when at the age of 12 I helped my Dad make the sauce. I was chopping up onions and garlic when I said to him: “You know, Uncle Jim is a really good guy.” Dad agreed, of course, he thought the world of his little brother. And through the years I thought a lot about that moment. How had my uncle, in the middle of the Fuzzy storm, figured it all out? There are so many distractions along the way. There are way too many temptations in life that can throw you off your game. Uncle Jim was always able to stay the course. How’d he do it? First off, he had a great love of family. He loved his wife, Aunt She

The only possible news that could have lifted my spirits yesterday was that Springsteen was coming out with a new album and touring the country in the near future. So he announced on his website that it was exactly what was happening. It's just music. He's just our family's favorite artist. He did what he could. So, this morning, I put on the E Street station and headed out on a long trip, thinking of my uncle and writing his eulogy. I don't want to write it. I never wanted to write it. I will though because I can't help my aunt around the house in the near future as my other brothers or even my wife can. So, I'll do what I can. And as I drove I thought of my brother John and the fact that today is his birthday. A wake is a crummy place to spend your birthday. I hoped Bruce could help a little. At noon they started the concert for the day. They play an entire concert from start to finish. I needed a full show. As they were announcing the venue and the date I was

So, feeling, once again like I have my shit together, but having a lot of trouble picking it up. Let me tell you about the weekend. Saturday morning I woke to a swollen left ankle. Big deal, cry me a river, right? Well, I had a choice of which leg to put on the floor. The swollen, very painful ankle, or the still real stiff, swollen, surgically repaired (twice) knee. I laid in bed from 3:30 to 7 a.m. Thinking... Of Jeff Of Dad Of Aunt Carolyn Of Uncle Jim WTF? WTF? WTF? WTF? WTF? WTF? WTF? WTF? WTF? WTF? WTF? WTF? WTF? WTF? I didn't say it was profound thinking. My problem being that I needed that time to lie there and consider everything. Besides, if I'd gotten up, I would have had to let the dogs out, feed them, and give them a ride in the car. I took a pain pill. It would work for the ankle and the knee. It wouldn't work for the WTF? portion of the program. By 7:00 I got out of bed. I put on a pair of pajamas and headed to the door with the dogs. I stayed in the backyard

When I lost my brother my Dad and my Uncle Jim made sure that they stepped in to make up for some of the loss by calling me and telling me they were thinking about me. When Dad passed, Uncle Jim, his own heart broken worked even harder to touch base. We talked Yankees, food, the Ria sisters (Gonna and Dia), and how much we missed our brothers. Uncle Jim got pretty sick, really fast. We lost him this morning. He will most likely get to heaven before the pasta is served. If life is fair, there will be pork chops in the sauce today. My Uncle loved pork chops. I'm talking, he dreamed of them sometimes. He'd call me late in the afternoon and ask me what I was having for dinner. We shared dinner quite a few times...not enough though. He loved his family even more. Uncle Jim would call me the day before my birthday. Every year. He said he wanted to be the first one to wish me a great day. Then he would call me the next day and ask me if he'd been first. He was so dedicated to his

hey say that all you really need is your health. I'm not sure who "they" is, but I can tell you for sure that you really miss your good health when it's gone. And I'm just talking about a bum wheel. There are so many other things in the grab bag that can really strip you of the vibrant health of your youth, and it occurs to me, we are all going to get something. Somewhere along the way, our nice little life is going to be threatened by a disease or a diagnosis that makes us scramble to google for a clue on what went wrong with our given vessel. Yesterday there was a boy and his sister on the news. The sister started her fundraising campaign to help her little bro raise money to battle what was ailing him. They interviewed her first and then they cut to her suffering sibling. His face was pale, he was rail thin, and his speech was stilted. His sister, on the other hand, was positively glowing with excellent health. It just didn't look fair. It's all a crap

All right. We are occupying the land, right? Are there things we can put on the agenda for discussion? 1). No more ATM bank fees. We can all get behind this, right? Have you ever been at a casino, for instance, and been hit with the question of whether or not you'd pay the fee to get your money? Sure you have. Have you ever considered not hitting yes? Get rid of the fees, please. 2). No more lawyer ads. Ever. The appearance of the lawyer acting compassionate makes my skin crawl. A soft song plays over the narrative...as if the lawyer loves you. "Have you been hurt in a car? Do you know what to do? You've heard it said a million times." Yeah, we have. You're the one who keeps saying it! Shut-up! Shut-up! Shut-up! 3). No more political ads, either way, talking about how the other guy is all for his own party and will not cooperate with the other party and that when you are elected it will be a fantasy-land of cooperation. You all hate the other party, and we all hat

Everything I Know About Making the Right Decisions A successful life hinges on making a higher percentage of wise choices versus stupid mistakes. It is easy to make a mistake. A lapse in judgment is possible in every waking moment. We make mistakes because of inner conflict, because of resentment, out of feelings of guilt and frustration. Sometimes they are mistakes that do not allow us room to recover. The greatest mistake that we can make is to let an error in judgment strip us of faith in ourselves. There is a right and a wrong way to live life. I believe that living right is based on a number of true scientific principles. If you break the laws of science your life may go terribly wrong. Common sense, hopefully, will tell you that making honest, unselfish and right decisions will allow you to lead a more peaceful life. Unfortunately we can’t see very far down the road. In a lot of instances this shortsightedness costs us in the end. Realizing this should provide enough instruction

Mellencamp wrote a song back in the 80's called Love & Happiness . The lyrics of the song pop into my head every now and again because things haven't seemed to change all that much. I think the song sort of hit me back then because I was just figuring some things out. It's a downer, but as I considered the Penn State deal, it kept finding its way to the front of my mind. JM doesn't offer a lot of answers. Because there aren't any. Love & Happiness by John Mellencamp Well they're dropping their bombs in the southern hemisphere And people are dying who live right here And they're fighting wars in the name of peace And they're killing each other in the middle east Well love & happiness have forgotten our names there ain't no value left in love and happiness. They raised the price of oil and they censure our mouths if you're a young couple today forget buying a house we wage our wars in the neighborhoods we kill the old to feed the young

So getting back to work at my long-time job is on the immediate horizon. I am ready...easy goes it, but on the way back. And in the meantime, the world is calling for me to take a new job: As Regis' replacement on Regis and Kelly. Call it Clifford and Kelly. I suppose I'd have to do it, but there are some problems: 1). I'd have to give up a lot of time with my beautiful wife and spend those moments with Kelly Ripa. We all know that there's no contest there. Ripa is all right. She ain't no Kathy Fazzolari. 2). I'd have to learn how not to swear. It's live television and television show hosts aren't allowed to say the first word that pops into their minds. Unfortunately for me, every sentence seems to start with 'What the F&^%?' 3). I'd have to fawn over alleged superstars. This may be a major problem as I really don't kiss ass very well. "So, you've kicked your spousal abuse problem by going through anger management?" May

Man I've logged some television hours this past week. In a glimpse into the future, I've tried hard to stay grounded. Like an elderly man, I've put down a few things on a daily schedule and those things have really grated on me during the course of the day, until I get them done. So, what kind of television has been on? True crime dramas. Not certain what station it is - 104 on our cable box - but it replays the 48 hours and dateline deals. Lots of husband killing wives and vice-versa. They do them in mystery form. The I Almost Got Away with it ones are good too, but too many shows like that over and over makes it difficult. The brain goes to mush. So then there are the Westerns. Bonanza, Gunsmoke, Rawhide. We've been over this...good morals...good stories...simpler times, but the guns and horses and all that, sooner or later, the brain goes to mush. So switch to the comedies. Seen them all over time. Big Bang, Two & a Half Men, Friends. The simple plots, the quick

In the family dynamic that has developed here in our home Sam has become the 'Carrie' of the unit. He's the guy everyone calls for when we need something done. "Sam, get me a water." "Sam, let the dogs out!" "Sam, where's the remote?" And it works nicely because like Carrie, Sam is always ready, willing and able to help. He's actually what makes the machine go around here. So, to thank him, when a pair of hockey tickets became available, I grabbed them for Sam, and my niece. They headed to the game on Friday night. A grand gesture and a big payback, but one aspect of my plan was not well-thought out: I was going to be without Sam for the evening. The leg sucks. At least this time I know that it isn't anything I can change. Having had it done six months ago I have a bit of insight. It's going to feel like a bowling ball is in there. Standing on it, or climbing a ladder for that matter, is not highly recommended. So I won't be

...over Happy Valley. One of the interesting aspects of life is the picking up of the pieces after tragedy strikes. It isn't easy to do. When multiple people are involved in a tragedy it is imperative that they step through the healing process at roughly the same pace, or resentment and anger is displaced and the tragedy spirals. Stepping together is difficult. Nearly impossible. Parents who suffer a tragedy don't make it through, usually. The sun will rise over Happy Valley no matter how unhappy everyone is. The most difficult aspect of a tragedy is to internalize it and try and make sense. It is so difficult for a rational mind to understand the workings of an irrational person. What may be even more disconcerting is attempting to make sense of God's plan when the answers are not available. At all. No matter how we want them to be. There are people who are drawn to serial killers. For every ten people who are disgusted by the evil that lurks around 3 out of 4 corners ther

I never imagined that I'd get to 1,500 posts on this blog, but like everything else, I worked it into my schedule and then sort of obsessed about doing it, not really caring about how it was received, but trying to enjoy the process. Sometimes it's a bit of a drag as I wonder what the hell to say. Sometimes I wonder why I say what I said, and sometimes I just hope it's funny. I don't purposely set out to piss off any particular party of people. But it doesn't bother me if I do. Sometimes I take to the keyboard to convey sincere love, pain and hope. Sometimes, I'm really, really pissed off. It's disconcerting to me that it is my starting point for the 1,500th post. I am nauseated by the Penn State situation. Not the crimes so much....mental illness will always be around...horrible, but basically unsolvable. Especially when it is allowed to fester. And make no mistake, it was allowed to go on. People knew. The man was reprimanded. He was still allowed to roam

When I saw the R.I.P. next to Joe Frazier's photo one thing came to mind quickly: "He was something." Frazier, of course, fought Ali back in the days when boxing was a major sport. Ali was a master and Frazier was more than a worthy adversary, he was sort of nuts. He'd just march forward with his head down taking hit after hit after hit and offering his own punishing shots. "Down Goes Frazier!!" I can still hear Howard Cosell screaming it as me, John and Dad watched the Thrilla in Manilla fight in 1975. We all wanted Frazier to get up. He always seemed to get up. After that fight Ali said he thought he might die in the ring. About 20 years ago I was out of town for work. I was in Scranton, Pa. for a job and I pulled up to a little rinky-dink hotel that had a great steak house attached. There was a huge stretch limo in front of the steak house, but I didn't pay it much mind. It was only a one-room restaurant however so everyone that showed up that night g

We have a horribly mentally-affected dog. By all accounts, Paris is a wonderful canine, but if she were Mike Vick's dog...well, let's just say she'd have been disposed of by now. The word for it is skittish. Paris runs from company. And I'm not talking about being a little shy. When my brother Jim was by, she was so afraid that we had to literally go outside and get her with a collar...two days later. When I returned from the hospital I was on crutches. Paris' new phobia is crutches. They are near my bed now and she won't come up the stairs because they're in my room. Right now, in the middle of the afternoon, with Bonanza on, a minor miracle has occurred. Paris is in the middle of my bed, just mere feet from the hated crutches. And given the fact that I have a lot of time to think, there's a life lesson in there because you see, Paris really loves me. Her love has conquered her fears. We have a strange dynamic around our house when it comes to the dogs

I'm disgusted again. I thought Joe Paterno was a cool guy. He talked a great game. It was more than football. It was about educating young men. He always seemed to say the right thing. As the new disgusting story of the day goes one of Joe's assistant coaches saw one of Joe's former coaches anally raping a ten-year-old boy in the shower. This allegedly happened in 2002. Over the weekend Joe released a statement that way back then he did what he was supposed to do by calling it in. He is shocked and saddened. Okay, Joe...that's fine. Keep your job, your millions and your legacy. No biggie. Seriously? I am actually sick to my stomach thinking about this one. Why in the world, when you took that phone call didn't you hold an immediate press conference, call 911 and bitch slap the guy until he owned up to his sick mind? I'll tell you why...because you only gave a crap for your legacy and all that you built over your big, impressive career and that maybe it would cos

TBS played How the Grinch Stole Christmas on November 5th. This morning I saw dancing Hersheys kisses in their Christmas outfits and a commercial about Santa with back pain. My beautiful wife is already in her fog of gathering gifts for a few boys who have whatever the heck they need anyway. "What do you want for Christmas?" is a question she doesn't even bother to ask me anymore. Especially at the beginning of November! What the hell happened here? Christmas is nearly 50 days away. Didn't we used to wait until Thanksgiving passed before all of this started? Now, I'm not against Christmas...and I like presents too, but the 27-time Yankees didn't win the world series this year so there won't be a new plaque on my wall on the 26th. Sox without a hole for the big toe may be the big present for me this year. The theme behind the Grinch movie is about the real meaning of Christmas. Dr. Seuss would probably be a little agitated with the fact that the commerciali

Perhaps the worst and best of being laid up is that you have a lot of time to think. Unfortunately, sometimes the thinking comes in the middle of the night whenever everyone else is asleep, and there's no one to bounce things off of. The conversations with Melky are a little one-sided and she hardly reacts unless I mention a squirrel somewhere in the message. I'm reading a memoir of a girl who, during her formative years, slept with a lot of men as she searched for validation and love. A fairly common theme, I'm told, although those girls saw me as a good friend as I grew. Yet the striking thing about it is the lengths that we all seem to go to in order to sabatoge our own efforts. We can do everything right for all the hours out of the week and then screw up the effort with a bad word, an hour of weakness, or a three-hour window where we forget to do the things we are supposed to do. I'm not sure what to make out of all of it except to understand that as humans we are

How could you not like Andy Rooney? His eyebrows were a little scary, but he always seemed to tell the truth about everyday living. The fact that he retired just a month ago, at the age of 92, and died almost immediately was kind of comforting because he wanted to work right up to the end. And what I liked the most about it is that he said, a lot of times, that a writer's job is to tell the truth, and that was what he did, no matter who liked it or how popular he was or wasn't. He wasn't swayed by working for 60 Minutes or the big shots. He called his own shots. And he was moral and a voice of reason in a lot of ways. Being laid up again, I'm watching a lot of old Westerns. I don't know why I need to go there when I have nothing else to do, but it seems that the messages are so much simpler. There's a good guy, a bad guy and a moral choice. The good guys usually win, but not without having paid a price. To get what they wanted they have to give up something else

I don't remember them shaving my leg for the last knee surgery. I imagine that it must have been done, but it wasn't done before they knocked me out. This time, a very pleasant man came at me with the razor. "How did you hurt your leg?" he asked. "It's a long story," I said. "Originally, it may have been from playing my kid in hoops, but I beat him." Lou took his razor out. He talked about the NBA. We were both a little uncomfortable. I'd never had a man shave my leg, or a woman either for that matter, and Lou probably did it before, but he wasn't thrilled I'm sure. What to talk about in such a moment of intimacy? Lou stuck to basketball until I told him I really didn't give a flying crap about the lockout and then we went to hockey and football. Lou hates hockey. He moved the razor deftly and told me how bad hair is for infection during an operation. There were others in and out. I tried my best to be cheerful, remembered to sa

So, let's analyze. Why do I like Judge Judy? I have heard that it is a fixed sort of show, where they allow people to stand there and settle their dispute, and in the end, the show picks up the tab. That's fine. It's not the Kardashians. She isn't fooling me. Why I like it though is because I am amazed at the people who are happy to get on television even though what they are doing is actually downright despicable, if not just plain stupid. The Wednesday night episode had two cases. In the first, a pretty girl locked her boyfriend out because he showed up 7 hours late for a date. He kicked in her door and she took him to court for the cost of the door. As a guy, how do you agree to go on television to talk about such a moment? How many doors have you kicked in during your life? Judge Judy stopped the case, telling them that she was tired of their stupidity. Perfect answer. The 2nd case was about a woman who was suing for money because she needed plastic surgery. Judge J

The address to this website is Fazzolari23.blogspot.com. That isn't a mistake. Whenever I program something into the microwave it has a 23 in it. Need to heat something up? 1 minute and 23 seconds will do it. It's the first number I pick on the quick-pick for the lottery. I don't use it for passwords though because that would be too obvious. Because, you see, my favorite baseball player of all-time wore #23. Donnie Baseball. And I shared the love of that number with my brother Jeff. We fought over the number on our softball team. We played Captain Says Shoot for it. Guess who won. We used it as our calling card. So, why am I bringing it up now? Well, I have been glancing at the clock lately and the number always seems to be 23. I woke in the morning, pulled the clock to me: 5:23. Driving along, I look up wondering how much time I have to make it to an appointment: 10:23. It's driving me crazy! It's happened ten times in the last two days. I set my GPS for a destinat

So, they are checking the knee again. Perfect timing because it really is getting to me. Golf is shut down and the knee has been troublesome from the time they did it the first time. Of course, they fixed the old problem last time...mobility is actually way better, but the pins and needles and the swelling. So, borrowing from Rocky Balboa...do it! Cut me! There are a couple of things I plan on doing differently this time. First off, I won't climb a ladder 12 hours after the surgery, under any circumstances. Secondly, I will do the rehab to the letter of the law. I plan on going to the YMCA and riding the bike, and sitting in the hot tub. I may be dumb, but I can't possibly make the same mistakes twice in a row, can I? Melky is ready for the downtime too. We are going to watch Bonanza and Gunsmoke . The laundry will be done tonight and the house is clean so there may not be a need for me to move around a lot until Monday. But...and I caution you...get ready for the whining. Do

Remember when they used to say: "It's 11 o'clock, do you know where your children are?" My Dad used to say, "Yeah all the bastards are right here." Anyway...who could have called the Kim and what's-his-pus divorce? This just proves to me that anyone who watches one of those reality shows should be lined up and shot. They are all fake, people. It's like pro wrestling. Also, I may be in the minority, but I wouldn't know a Kardashian if they hit me with their big asses. Don't remember ever seeing one. Hear they have nice butts though. I'm an ass man. I walk down the street and people yell: "You're an ass, man." (Thanks Rodney). I see that Cain went to the Dubya school of politics - did you hear him speak? New rule: If you can't complete a sentence an eigth-grader can complete, you can't run for president. And Rick Perry? He's downright dim-witted. Not that I'm against all the Republican candidates, but is this w

So, I went to church in North Collins on Saturday. Unfortunately, mass was in honor of Dad and Aunt Carolyn. It's awesome that the mass is said in their honor, but....ahh, you know. Anyway, it was the first mass where they introduced the changes that the Catholic church is making. The Roman Catholic church has been hammered at all angles by accusations of molestation of little boys and the biggest changes they make, after all this time, is to change a few words in the prayers so that now those of us who went to chuch all of our lives shout out the wrong answers. I tapped my brother-in-law on the shoulder as the changes were being announced. "Is Jesus still the guy we're talking about here?" "Yep," Chucky answered. "Cool." The first prayer where the changes were evident contained the word consubstantial. Quick, use consubstantial in a sentence. What the hell does it mean? "That's not even a word," I mumbled. "I smell a blog coming