Thoughts of a Common Man

So being the nice guy that he is Bruce postponed the concert from Tuesday night to Wednesday night so that his fans didn't drive in poor conditions to get to the show. So we get to spend Halloween night with the E Street Band. I'm hoping that he breaks out A Night with the Jersey Devil although I know that the show will most likely have Sandy somewhere on the bill. One other thing I know for sure: It's gonna' be great. Concert #32 - in Rochester! Tonight! Damn I'm gonna' be tired tomorrow.

There was an earthquake in Canada over the weekend. There was an earthquake in Southern California just a few hours later. Hurricane Sandy was threatening us all and when it hit... ...there was just a feeling of helplessness. And it brings to mind the delicate balance and the thought that life is so fragile. On Sunday morning I went to church alone. I have taken to going there by myself over the past few months because that hour is a solitary event. I don't sing much. I sort of cringe when it's time to shake hands because I hate touching strangers. The priest spoke of blindness as the gospel was about a blind man screaming to Jesus for relief from his life. I considered the blindness that affects us all from time-to-time. We are blind in our dealings with others when we lose patience with those that we love. Our eyes grow blind and our blood runs cold when we get over-tired or over-exerted, or over-sensitive. And the blindness leaves us groping for answers.

Some crazy weather coming, huh? I was reading an article about the two or three storms that are coming together and will supposedly meet sometime soon in a location near you. You have two types of people in this situation. There are the ones who pack up their gear and head for the hills and those who stand up to the television camera, claim that it's all creation of the media, and explain how tough they are. Then when their homes are rolling down the street they wonder why no one gave them fair warning. We really don't have a lot of those types of storms here in Buffalo, New York - the weather capital of the world . We get a little snow on the roofs of our cars, battle some of the black ice, and it doesn't change what we do, really. If the blizzard is completely out of control we might sit it out for a few hours, but mostly, we're okay. Not a lot blows off our houses, our roofs don't usually cave in, and we laugh at the snow, actually. I know a lot o

Last week I read a blurb on Twitter about a high school teacher who was in a bit of trouble for putting his hands on a kid. The story didn't go much into detail...it was just an AP post and you can't cover much in 140 characters, but it got me thinking. In second grade the crazy nun hit me with a paddle every day. It didn't seem to do much good as I couldn't keep my big mouth shut so one day she made me pull my pants down and I was so horrified that the red head I liked was going to see my underwear that I cried. 40 some years later I can still picture that in my head. I moved on to the 3rd grade where the style of beating was different. I didn't have a nun in charge that year and I thought that might help, but the slaps to the face were rough as well. I was talking to a buddy one day when his eyes grew wide as he looked over my right shoulder. I turned just in time to catch her ring under my left eye. I was bleeding like Rocky during his fight with Mr. T.

Just thinking about Chevy Chase jumping in the pool to take a swim with Christie Brinkley while his family slept at that motel. It was 79 degrees here in Buffalo this week and they are talking about snow in the early part of the week. Wouldn't it be fun if we could all get sick again? A lot of hate being spewed around the social media sites. Between the election, the discussion of Douche Armstrong, and the usual religious fights it makes you wonder where it's all headed. Everyone has a say. Everyone has a side. We are alienating one another with our misspelled rhetoric. It teaches me a lot of things. Like no one was paying attention when the English teachers all across this great land told people about: They're - There - and Their. Or Your and You're. The other day I was on Twitter when Curt Schilling the former fake blood guy with the Boston Suck Sox posted a comment that used the word: Intellectualize. Except he spelled it wrong. He posted this:

A lot of people who are reading Oh Brother! The Life & Times of Jeff Fazzolari believe in their hearts that Bruce needs to see the book. Which would be nice, of course, but I have done little to get it to him. Anyone that wants to try is welcome to it. Well today I received a signed photo from Miami Steve Van Zandt, or Little Steven, or Silvio from the Sopranos. Steven, of course, is another hero to me. It seems that when the band was in Hamilton a man who used to work as a publicist for U2 and Bruce was allowed backstage for a chat. The publicist told Steven of Jeff and the book, and Steven grabbed the cover off one of his old CD's and ripped the page off. "What's the dude's name?" he asked. The publicist told him 'Cliff' So Steven signed. 'Little Steven was here.' Isn't that pretty cool? I was handed the autograph by a co-worker who also read the book and gets tears in his eyes whenever he talks about it. "

The other night I was trolling through Facebook to see how the back and forth was going in regard to the election. You see, I have learned not to say much about one candidate or the other. It's just too toxic out there. Yet I did happen about a site that was addressing gay rights, abortion, freedom of religion and the right to carry that semi-automatic weapon that might be needed should the British come calling again. Homosexuality is wrong and should be punished by hanging in the public square, one man wrote. The same man then went on to say: Abortion is the murdering of a human life, and murder is wrong in all circumstances. I really wanted to post: Uh, dumb-dumb...see your note above. I didn't. Yet there are some real lunatic ravings and rantings going on. We need to carry guns to defend ourselves...period . I've been up and down all sides of that issue. I can see it from a lot of different angles. I agree with the right, for sure. I'm confus

A Good E-Mail This should probably be taped to your bathroom mirror where one could read it every day.. You may not realize it, but it's 100% true. 1. There are at least two people in this world that you would die for. 2. At least 15 people in this world love you in some way. 3. The only reason anyone would ever hate you is because they want to be just like you. 4. A smile from you can bring happiness to anyone, even if they don't like you. 5. Every night, SOMEONE thinks about you before they go to sleep. 6. You mean the world to someone. 7. You are special and unique. 8. Someone that you don't even know exists loves you. 9. When you make the biggest mistake ever, something good comes from it. 10. When you think the world has turned its back on you take another look. 11. Always remember the compliments you received.. Forget about the rude remarks. Good friends are like stars......... You don't always see them, But you know t

Back some 15 years ago I started working with a company out of Syracuse. It's a close-knit group and soon enough, I became friends with many of the guys in the organization. I was really honored about seven or eight years in when I was invited to the annual two-day golf event. I was even able to get one of the Apes invited along, and it's just a great time. The Raulli-Militi Open is the place to be in mid to late September. I didn't make it this past year. Neither did the true leader - Joe Militi. You see, Joe played every year despite the fact that he was in his early 80's. He hit the ball pretty well too, and he always brought the Italian meats and cheeses and peppers for the before round sandwiches. Joe had a special greeting for me. "Don't start with your f*&%ng shit," he'd say. I'm going to miss hearing that. Joe passed away this past weekend. "You're a real beaut, aren't you?" he'd ask me. And b

Sam loves the Outback steakhouse. It has a little to do with the grilled shrimp on the barbie, a little to do with the ribs, a lot to do with the time, with his Aunt Corinne's urging, that he ate a loaf of bread so that his Uncle Chuck didn't get a piece. It has a lot to do with Uncle Chuck and Aunt Corinne. So, we headed there for my birthday dinner on Saturday. Of course, in this struggling economy it is impossible to get a seat in any restaurant at 5:00 on a Saturday so we were handed a buzzer and told it would take a half an hour. We headed down the block...both kids without jackets in 50 degree weather (because they're morons) (the other dork is at college) and we hit the local department store. I hate shopping like that. Just roaming aisles, looking for crap that I don't really need. Any who ha... I checked the underwear rack. Who doesn't need underwear from time to time? This is what I saw looking back at me: I was looking for a shot that mos

Man, he makes it real hard to like him, doesn't he? You can put a self-centered moron in pinstripes but you can't make him classy. I sort of don't know what to make of A-Rod on a day-to-day basis. He was an unbelievable baseball talent who became the poster boy for all that was wrong with sports by making a half-a-billion dollars and admitting to using steroids. (See editor's notes 1 and 2). 1).A lot of that money was forked over by the Texas Rangers but lets blame the Yankees because it's a better story. 2).A ton of guys were using steroids, but let's make it an A-Rod story. And he choked a lot in the playoffs before hitting a few home runs in the 2009 World Series when the 27-Time World Champion Greatest Franchise in the History of Sports Yankees thumped the pitiful Phillies. It seemed as if the monkey was off his back. Even with the steroids. Even with all that money. Even chewing his gum like a cow after striking out in a big spot. It all se

Well, I heard from my brother Jeff for my birthday this week. The Southern California Book Festival Awards were announced on October 18 and Oh Brother! The Life and Times of Jeff Fazzolari won a place in the biography section. I laughed when I received the email because the last award it won was the New York Book Festival award that was presented on June 22...Jeff's birthday. And it's all so random! I believe that the book is up for awards in two more shows including the Southwest Book Festival and the London Book Festival . Can it win across the pond? Well so far it is four for four in festivals. And the awards really don't mean a lot to me as an author. Yes, I am honored. It speaks to a lot of people doing their jobs very well, including Sterlinghouse Publisher for sure, but I'm well past the 'look at me' stage of life. I'm more into the 'look at him' stage. Yet a wise man (Bruce, of course)once told me that you need to cele

So with the baseball season all but in the books lets reflect back, huh? Here are the reasons why 1977 was better than 2012: 1). In 1977 the Yankees played the Royals for the right to go to the World Series. The Yankees had the best record in the East and the Royals had the best record in the West. Simple. 2). No team that won the best record had to play five days straight games including playing two different teams on two different nights. 3). You couldn't possibly ever go to the World Series if you won less than 90 games. 4). Reggie was still playing. 5). We hadn't heard word one about steroids. 6). The World Series was all decided by the middle of October. There wasn't a Mr. November. Reggie hit three in game 6 on October 18 to end the season. 7). It cost about ten bucks to go to the game. 8). We didn't need replay because the umpires were competent. 9). The Yankees won the World Series. 10). Thurman Munson was still alive. 11). So was Bobby

Forty-freaking-eight-years old. Some days I feel as if I'm 72. Yet the birthday is a weird thing, isn't it? Whenever you hear the date you sort of think: "Hey, that's my day! The world should stop for a moment and recognize it as such." Yet when I really think about it, I can't recall the exact circumstances of too many of my birthday celebrations. I remember turning ten years old and only because I was playing Little Loop football at the time and I absolutely hated it and on that particular day we had an away game. Sitting on a bus and then sitting on a bench all for the sheer thrill of eating three orange slices at halftime wasn't my idea of fun. Then I recall my 18th birthday because that was when I could legally drink. My buddy, Jeff Renaldo, and the crew at Speedy's led by Eddie got me absolutely hammered on shots of tequila. My college buddies also got me pretty good that year as well. My head still hurts. At 30 they threw a s

My day was actually fairly routine, for the most part, until I stepped from my car on Delaware Avenue and made a turn on the sidewalk only to be nearly run down by some Lance Douche Armstrong jackass peddling his bike as if he were in the Tour. "Sorry, Dude," he yelled. My heart was pumping loud. I thought of a Bruce line: The things that'll knock you down you won't even see coming. They'll send you crawling like a baby back home. So I made my way away from that moron and headed to the doctor's office to see if I could set the date on getting the tear in my hip fixed. As I waited there an elderly woman was headed out of one of the examining rooms. Her daughter, I assume, was behind her and she made steady progress with her walker, taking a good few minutes to navigate the short hallway. When the lady got to where I was seated she smiled. "Ain't life a peach," she said. She took another couple steps and swiftly cut wind just mere ste

You see the ump looking right at the tag? Two feet. He called the Tigers' player safe. And it's all right, I suppose. Yankees can't buy a hit anyway and the Captain went down, but what frosts my ass is something that aggravates me every day. Do your job. If your job is to make ice cream cones at the local diner try and make the best one possible every time. If you are dumping garbage and a little stray garbage gets loose, bend over and pick it up. If you are solely responsible for making an out-safe call at a base in an area where you can see it clearly: Call if right for God's sake! And yeah, I invest a lot of time in the Yankees and what-the-frig-ever. Yet you see it on a day-by-day basis in real life. I remember interviewing a guy about giving him a job one time. You know what his first question was? "How much vacation time do I get?" "You can have all the days off," I answered. And all right, we all make mistakes, right

Who doesn't love grocery shopping? Load the cart, load the car, unload the car and put everything away. What can be more fun than that? I know that it's a battle around here, especially considering that they closed up the little neighborhood store. Now we have to go to the big stores and it turns into a real event. Here are my favorite shoppers: 1). Just Looking. I swear to God I stood for three minutes beside a woman who was looking through the glass at the gallon of milk as if it were about to do a trick. I, of course, needed to grab a gallon. "I never know which one to get," she said. "That particular brand comes from a cow," I said as I walked away. She went back to looking. 2). Am I Blocking the Aisle? I actually hate these bastards. They get their cart and park it on one side and then they stand directly across from it and study the aisle in front of them. Then my favorite part: they act all indignant when you attempt to pass. &

For the first time in my adult life I blew off the presidential and vice-presidential debates. I didn't want to hear word one. Both guys will help the middle and the poor and fight against disease and make sure there are no terrorists. Each will eliminate the national debt in one months time. Whatever you want, that's what they'll say. And they will also say, "By the way, the other guy sucks ass and may or may not be a criminal, a Muslim or just a fat rich cat who doesn't care." I'm glad I missed 'em. In fact, if you told me I could be granted one wish: The Yankees could win it all or I could have the guy I want for president. I know what I would choose. The election means that little to me. And it really shouldn't should it? I should feel the anger and the angst. I should chase away the Doom and Gloom with Hope and Faith. (By the way the new Stones song is called Doom and Gloom - thanks for reminding me Corinne - it's be

Everyone has a reason for feeling as if they need to start again. I'm feeling a bit reborn this morning. The sickness is mostly gone. A deep breath will make me cough, but feeling as if a couple of days more of rest will have me jumping out of bed on Monday. Yet the rest doesn't come easily in the autumn and that's because the greatest game in the world is having their playoffs. I am a tremendous fan of the game. I was shamed by the steroids. I am embarrassed by the salaries, but man, they got that game right. The anticipation. The pace. The long season that runs like a soap opera script. Day after day. Play until the final out. No kneel downs. No shooting free throws. No neutral zone trap and icing the puck. No head stuck under the replay curtain. "Are you watching this?" my buddy sent me at 12:18 a.m. on Saturday night as the Cards came back from 6 runs down to beat the Nats. I wasn't watching. I was sleeping. I'm glad he sent the message tho

Is it possible to feel bad for a man who makes $30 million a year? Okay, I must admit: I am not the world's biggest fan of Alex Rodriguez. I think he's a fine ballplayer, but I find him a little lacking in the sincerity department. He strikes me as a guy pretending to be someone you'd like when you sort of really know that you really don't like him. I know people who hate the sight of him. In other words....he's the opposite of Derek Jeter. And therein lies the problem for A-Rod. He can never live up to the guy who plays ten feet to his left. Jeter has 5 rings. A-Rod has 1. Jeter is the captain. A-Rod wants to be the captain. Jeter plays hurt. A-Rod just can't do it. I always think of the play against the Red Sux when Jeter raced by A-Rod and dove face-first in the stands while A-Rod stood there with his hands on his head and a "Oh no expression" on his face. On Wednesday night A-Rod was scheduled to bat second in the 9th inning of a ga

Of course, it won't last. You see, being sick last week (and I'm not out of the woods yet) really helped out. By the way, the 'out of the woods' line is really weird, isn't it? You hear it all the time when someone is sick. The doctor might say it. The concerned family might say it. As if there are woods out there somewhere. Weird. It's like Bills fans crowing about how no one circles the wagons like the Buffalo Bills. They've been circling them for 15 freaking years now. Anywho-ha. I lost weight. Violently ill isn't really the way to peel off the pounds, is it? "What happened to you?" the receptionist at the hip doctor asked me. I'd received an injection in my hip just seven days before. "I got sick." "Wow, you're doing good," she said. And I suppose that I am. I won't be able to avoid hip surgery. I still can't take a deep breath without going into a coughing jag. "I hope

What is going on with the baseball playoffs? So far I'm watching them without the usual anxiety, rage, aggravation and miserable angst creeping in. The Yanks lost on Monday night. They lost to the Orioles. If I'd have even thought that was a possibility in April you'd have checked me for signs of glue-sniffing. I actually thought they'd lose 110 games. I asked an O's fan, before the season started to name five pitchers on the roster. He couldn't. Yet here we are. And the very reason why they are there may be the reason why I don't have hate in my heart. You see, I went to about 50 games in Baltimore one year. Cal Ripken won the MVP on the last place team. He deserved it. He was fun to watch. I also took a lot of trips to their ballpark at Camden Yards. It's a great park. My wonderful cousins live in Baltimore. So does my sister. A number of college buddies are there. Don't get me wrong. I don't want Baltimore to win because I

Ever? I'm beginning to doubt it. Do you remember when the kids were young and screaming and running and not listening and threatening to make you want to dig your own eyes out with a ballpoint pen? I do. Friends who'd had their kids earlier in life would mention this: It doesn't get any easier. Then they'd laugh and laugh and laugh. I currently have one buddy who enjoyed his 'free' life for a lot longer than the rest of us. This poor guy is now my age with three of four young-ins running around and his younger wife may or may not be pregnant again. She's been pregnant so many times in a row that it's hard to keep track. "What's up?" My buddy asked as I picked up his call. There was an ear-piercing scream over the line followed by a shriek and then his booming: "LEAVE YOUR SISTER ALONE!!" I roared. He didn't. "It ain't %#&*ng funny," he said. "All day long. It's non-stop. He

The kids love to refer to me as the Mule. In light of the week just passed....it seemed like a year: This parable is told of a farmer who owned an old mule. The mule fell into the farmer’s well. The farmer heard the mule praying or whatever mules do when they fall into wells. After carefully assessing the situation, the farmer sympathized with the mule, but decided that neither the mule nor the well was worth the trouble of saving. Instead, he called his neighbors together, told them what had happened, and enlisted them to help haul dirt to bury the old mule in the well and put him out of his misery. Initially the old mule was hysterical! But as the farmer and his neighbors continued shoveling and the dirt hit his back, a thought struck him. It suddenly dawned on him that every time a shovel load of dirt landed on his back, HE WOULD SHAKE IT OFF AND STEP UP! This he did, blow after blow. “Shake it off and step up…shake it off and step up…shake it off and step up!” He

I'm not sure when it started. Perhaps it was a touching story between mother and son as Mom tried to comfort me from overcoming an illness, but I've always believed that there are a crew of little men, on the inside, taking care of repairs. When I was young they were most likely very caring and hardworking. As I grew to adulthood, however, they have become a little less patient. You see, the problem started in college when I used to talk to them about putting out the various brush fires going on after a rough night of drinking. "Send water down!" one of the foremen, Bada, used to yell. His partner Bing would help him distribute the pails of water. I spoke a lot with these little men on rehydration day. As I've said, through the years the relationship has deteriorated. Bada and Bing are both weary and the little men that work for them don't move quite as quickly these days. Early adulthood wore them out. "Oh Shit! It's pasta! Get the whee

So, the deal with God has been called off as there was just a 24-hour window and I did not improve enough in that time frame to warrant keeping my big mouth shut. So! The umps blew another call in Atlanta invoking the infield fly rule on a deep ball to left. As the fans were littering the field with their drink containers I thought of a faraway country where they storm the field after a soccer match (storming anything over soccer is scary in itself) but I did call the umps post-game response: "I'm right. You're wrong. Tough shit." That was pretty much it. People have been yelling 'Kill the Ump' since 1890. Let's hope they don't do it. Did you hear about the boy at the University of Tennessee who supposedly went to the hospital as the victim of drinking a beer through his ass? Not kidding. It's all the rage, apparently. The alcohol is absorbed quickly and just a few ounces can render you shit-faced. I used to like drinking. I use

Dear God, I will stop making fun of people if you'll let me feel better. I won't call Lance Armstrong a douchebag. I won't mention that Arnold did the predator. I will never again call the Red Sox the Suck Sox. All I'm looking for is the chance to lift my head without it aching. No more heavy sweating waking up in a pool of Italian juices. I will be fair to the O's and the Phillies and I will refer to the fine people of Baltimore as something other than Baltimorons. I won't call that QB from Pittsburgh Rapistpervert. I'll forgive Michael Vick and Cheetah Woods. (Okay, Tiger Woods...I didn't mean to call him Cheetah). No more white women Michael Jackson jokes. God, Please. Let me feel better. I stop shorting of promising to be nice to W. and Palin. But even You can understand that, right? Signed, Fabulous Fazzolari

Sometimes I lie when I write a blog. I don't do that to offend anyone, but it makes for a better story. This conversation wasn't a lie. Happened on Sunday night just before bed. My beautiful wife: Sam is still sick. I'm gonna' have to take him to the doctor tomorrow. Me: Isn't it weird that I NEVER get sick? I don't think I've had even a cold for 5 years. My beautiful wife: Maybe you shouldn't say anything. Me: You can't hold down the Fabulous Fazzolari. My beautiful wife: Get the hell away from me. I did. I headed off to bed with visions of a 28th World Series Championship running through my head. I woke at regular time and headed out, hitting the road by 6:30. What the hell? I went to a few meetings. I was dizzy. My chest hurt. My head was pounding. What can this be? I battled through. Kathy had the day off. I headed straight home. I went right to bed. My beautiful wife: Are you sick? Me: Of course not. I actually go

I lived in West Haven, Connecticut for a year. It's a funny story, actually. My Dad was running a job out there. A big job with a lot of responsibility. I had just finished college and was a real rising star in the offices of the construction trailer. I was one of the first guys in the industry who could turn on a computer and it really helped those in charge to document the progress of the jobs. Dad got me a job. We worked together for two weeks. Then he broke the news to me. "I got a better offer back in Buffalo," he said. Two weeks later he was gone. I stayed on in Connecticut. "If you wanted me out of the house you could've just told me," I said at the time. "You'll be all right," he said. And I was. I really enjoyed my time on the job there. I sort of enjoyed the Connecticut area. I'd drive down to Danbury or New York City or New Fairfield. I was young and dumb. I went everywhere, drank a lot, and laughed a lot. I thoug

Arnold Schwarzenegger is on a tour to re-do his image. Let me catch you up. Arnold was a weight-lifter. He made videos of his lifting exploits. In those videos he spoke of getting high, doing steroids, and doing all sorts of things to women that left anyone watching feel a little sickened. Then he became a movie star. High action stuff. He had about three lines of dialogue in every movie. He made a ton of money. We all sort of fell for him, right? "It's not a tumor!" Somehow he became engaged in politics, and there were people out there saying: "I wish Arnold could be president." Of course, he wasn't born here, and we don't allow non-citizens to sit in the big chair, despite those people out there who claim that it has happened. So he ran for the governor of California. Sounds about right. I hear conflicting stories about how effective he actually was out there. I listened to him speak on Howard every now and again, but considered him

There's a twitter photo out there of a skinny black kid looking perplexed at the photographer with a 'You've got to be kidding me' countenance. The caption under the photo says: "You have five gallons of clean water that constantly refills and you shit in it?" The photo sort of stopped me in my tracks as did the shot above. We are here, talking about trading in our I-Phones for the update, and there are people there, wondering if they will live through the day. And I don't mean to bring you down or to turn it into an infomercial that ends with you becoming a sponsor for a kid who can eat three meals a day for less money than what you can find in the cushions of your couch, but we do a real disservice if we forget. And this isn't just in India, people. We have plenty of people who are starving right here. And it sort of makes me angry and sad when the blanket statements are hung out there to gain momentum. Do you think, do you honestly thin