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Showing posts from January, 2013

One Dad

A few of my good friends lost their Dads recently. My heart aches for them because I know what is going to happen now. They are going to be driving somewhere in their car and a song is going to come on the radio and they're gonna' think: 'I gotta' call Dad.' Or a political leader will stand up and say something stupid and the first impulse for Chuck and George and Chris will be to grab the phone and dial the number. It's going to happen. And I know that there will be moments when something that their Dads said will ring around in their minds as they deal with someone who doesn't deserve every ounce of their kindness. And they will laugh. The real sad part of it, for me, is that I knew Chuck's and Chris' and George's Dads a little bit. Not enough, of course, but enough to know that they were hardworking, honest, good men who lived full and happy lives and did it the right way, of course, with a love of family, the country and a few l

Good Day for a Rant

You know who I'm sick of? 1). Justin Bieber. First off, every time I get one of his songs on SongPop I miss it because of one very fundamental reason: I think it's a woman singing. Secondly, in the last few weeks I've heard about a photo of him smoking pot. I read an article about a camera guy getting run down and killed while trying to get his picture, I saw a photo of his ass crack on Twitter. (Believe me, I wasn't looking for it), and then I find out that he's down in the dumps because he got dumped by his hot girlfriend. Please go away. You know who else I'm sick of? 2). The two freaking Harbaughs I don't care. Football is a couple of brain injuries away from going to flag football and I've already had enough of the jokes about the Har-Bowl and how sad one of them will be to see the other one lose. I just want to win a square or two and see a little of the actual game without having to look up Ray Lewis' nose as he weeps because h

BINGO!!!!

I woke up on Sunday morning knowing the date...January 27th...a shitty day. One of those days that we, as a family dread, as it was the day when Jeff was stricken. I headed off to do some of the chores that are critical to a family...grocery shopping, mainly. I tried to ignore the date on top of the paper, on my phone, and on the Yankee calendar that hangs in my office. Then I saw Sam running around and he mentioned it. And I grunted a bit. Then he asked about my Mom. "What's she doing today?" I didn't know yet. A little while later I went to Facebook. Sam had written this: ‎4 years ago today was a horrible day for everyone. The funniest man on the planet was hurt. And that just shows that you should spend every single waking moment with your family because you never know when it will be the last. Our family isn't even close to being the same after that. So even if your mad at someone you should just forgot about it because your family. Every family pa

What the Hell Happened?

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That photo was taken in the 4th grade. I swear to God my mother laughed all the way from the optical joint back to the car knowing that she'd just sentenced me to a tortured life of ridicule. How I hated those glasses. Corinne and John called me Clark Kent. That, of course, is the shot from my high school yearbook senior year. I weighed 135 pounds. I had so much hair that it was just plain unmanageable. Chicks didn't dig me despite the fact that I was handsome. Am I right ladies? And I have just one question. What in the hell happened? Hair...gone. 135 pounds? I'll never see it again, and if I start to go in that direction, please shoot me at 150 because it'll be a bad illness. That's erosion, pure and simple. And you know what the worst part of it is? I still feel bad about the Clark Kent and four-eyes comments. It's passed so quickly. I oughta' be a real sight in 30 more.

Being Brave

I heard a Bruce song the other day - go figure - that took me back to another place and time, and while it's strange, the lyrics popped into my head from this song - None But the Brave while I was considering another song - Beat It , by Michael Jackson. It's funny how the mind works. It tricks us, from time to time. Let me set the scene. I returned to the Buffalo area on my very first break from college. I'd only been away for a month, but it seemed like forever as I had been anxiously awaiting visiting an old high school girl. I stepped into the bar, and unbelievably headed to the dance floor with her. She seemed as if she really missed me too, but the first chords of the biggest hit of the year - Beat It - blasted through the speakers and that girl looked right past me, her eyes searching the place. For someone else. Right then. Right there, I knew that my high school crush was over. As Michael Jackson played she searched for someone else. Now, of course

Anyone You Want to Be

I was listening to the Jay Thomas Show on Friday morning and of course they were in on the Manti Te'o story, making fun of how goofy the kid sounded as he got fooled by his 'girlfriend' who may have actually been a man. I love Jay, believing that our senses of humor are similar but he seemed as confused as I felt. How can someone be tricked so badly? The one nagging question for me being that if you truly love someone and there's trouble in their lives don't you try and help them? Whatever...the story is a dead-issue to me. The kid is a dopey bastard. He should be just fine making a king's ransom chasing someone carrying A BALL. What got me about it is the way that social media plays such a role these days. I like to consider myself a Facebook Artist. If I could, I'd add it to my resume. There are a few things I look for: 1). FEEDING THE MACHINE I love finding someone who is amped up on a issue. The issue isn't important. What's essent

The Fazzolari Ball

I saw a shot of Obama and Michelle at the big gala and it got me thinking: First off, doesn't anyone temper the president's remarks? If so, someone should have mentioned to him that saying that he "liked the first lady's bangs," could have been construed to have a different meaning in the mind of a warped blog-writer. Secondly, can you imagine the festivities if I were ever sworn in at anything? The president looked gracious. He was dressed to the nines. Nary a mustard stain. He extended his hand to his wife and she demurely reached out to grab his. Elegantly they danced with all the moves deftly performed. Cut to Cliff and Kathy at their ball. And here's the first lady in her brown sweat pants from Target. She's wearing a matching brown top with a hood that is attached but rarely used. The president is wearing a Yankee t-shirt with the name Ruth on the back and the number three below. The president, of course is a fan of the 27-Time, World C

Uh, OK, Buffalo isn't Cold

So, there comes a moment when while traveling around this great nation that you'll have to answer the question about where you've settled down to live your life. "Where are you from?" "Buffalo," I'll say. There are usually two responses to that. "What the hell happened to your football team?" Or "Seriously? Don't you freeze there? Why do you live there?" Since I don't truly have an answer to the first response I did my best to go on the defensive about the weather this past weekend. "We haven't gotten much snow over the last three winters," I said. The guy from the Oakland-San Francisco area just laughed. Out loud. Real loud. "Seriously," I said. "And besides, what're you laughing at? I lived in the San Francisco area for awhile, you don't have a lot to brag about when it comes to weather. It's 40 degrees there in the summer." "We don't get 150 in

A Great Night

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The New England Book Festival was really cool. That was what I remember thinking as I sat on a panel with 4 other authors and we spoke to an audience about our writing journey. I felt relaxed and comfortable, and I can remember thinking that I was getting my message out. The message about my family. The message about the Women & Children's Hospital of Buffalo . The message of Anthony Stinson and Olivia Stockmeyer. But the night was about meeting the other authors who received awards. I had dinner with John Brubaker a New England based author, speaker and coach. A great guy -for a Steelers fan in New England -(He also likes the Yankees). John is a family man, a lover of spring rolls and a well-thought out, marketing genius (compared to me, for sure). I had an after the ceremony drink with three authors. Jeanne Selander Miller, a woman who's book ' A Breath Away ' also won in the non-fiction category, which is tough because she suffered loss. A beautiful wom

Miserable Lying Bastards

I really wish I could just lie to people's faces. It must make life easier in some respects, but truth be told , I'm not a great liar. Perhaps it was the nuns who beat the honesty crap into me, but I just marvel at a guy like Lance Armstrong. I remember marveling at Bill Clinton too when he was being deposed all those years ago. What happens with a lie? Do you really start to believe it? Lance said that he didn't think he was cheating. That's a lie, isn't it? You know what's funny, but my wife had the line of the weekend this weekend, and she wasn't even in Boston. She had hooked up my travel arrangements and when I called home to check in after the author panel she had one question: "How's your room?" "Small," I answered, "And the bed might be too small for the after-the-ceremony-threesome." "I would imagine," she answered. "With the two 250-pound women you'll be with." Caught me

Empty Spaces

Dedicated to David Miller and my buddy Chris and his family. Keep the faith. There has never been a person who's walked this planet who's come away unscathed. Standing next to the person in the checkout line at the grocery store and just listening will allow you the opportunity to hear some of the pain that living brings. A co-worker spoke to me yesterday about a friend who held a golf memorial for his son - an 18-year-old who died when falling down the stairs at school. An unspeakable accident that left holes all over the county. Try reading the paper every day. Scan the obits and see the ages of the people listed therein. For every person listed there were hundreds of people who's life was affected. In some cases, thousands who feel the void. Everyone I've ever met is walking around with some sort of void in their heart. The heartbreak of life is all around. Until the great ball stops spinning, pain will be on the menu. And what to do with those voids? How

Off to Boston!

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Gotta' take the show on the road once in awhile. The afternoon is a round table discussion and book exhibition. The evening is the Awards Show. Bringing a few friends along for the ride. They travel with me everywhere I go. Of course Bruce is coming too, on the I-pod. Wish us all luck. The rest of you are also along for the ride. From North Collins to Boston. It's gonna' be a helluva' speech.

Meet My Girlfriend

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I thought I was confused yesterday. This story about the Notre Dame football star Manti Te'o is certainly bizarre. I don't watch a lot of college football but I did catch an ESPN tear-seeking piece about how Te'o was having a great year because he was playing in honor of his grandmother in September and the tragic loss of his girlfriend in November. Te'o said that her last words to him: "I love you." I remember thinking: What a great guy. He's about family, dedication and love. Uh, maybe not. Turns out, or so it seems, he didn't actually have a girlfriend. The girl who tragically succumbed to leukemia it seems never really existed. Te'o is of course backtracking saying that he was part of an elaborate hoax. Please, please, please tell me how he's gonna' try and spin that. His father never met his girlfriend. His friends never met his girlfriend. Turns out he didn't either. Te'o is saying that he only met

So Confused

2013 isn't off to much of a start. The nation is in for a real battle on guns. The Fiscal Cliff has given way to the debt ceiling. I've been to a wake. I have another great friend who is sick. Feel better, Hawk, please!! Then I found out Lance Armstrong was cheating. Can we get a restart on it, please? One day it's 65 degrees, the next day it's 32. The Bills didn't make the playoffs!! I still have no idea who will hit homers from the outfield corner positions for the 27-Time-World-Champion New York Yankees. Hell, the Yankees are talking about being fiscally responsible! And now, to make matters worse, freaking hockey season is starting and I'm gonna' have to hear about the Sabres winning the cup right up until the day they are eliminated. And Lance Armstrong cheated!!! What's next? O.J. is guilty?? Jodie Foster is gay??? Tim Tebow gets cut from his team???? They say that the longer you live the more clearer the picture b

Shut Up!!!!!!

So my boy Douche Armstrong is back on the news telling all of us that he REALLY DID CHEAT. Seriously? Are you also gonna' tell us that your bike had handlebars and wheels? We know! Some of us always knew!! What we also know is that you did a lot of it to make yourself rich and famous. I can imagine the softball questions tossed out by Oprah as she holds your hand and cries with you. I'm just not buying it. "The French hate me!" "I will sue you!" "The allegations are false!" "People are jealous!" I wonder if Douche remembers cashing the checks when he 'won.' I wonder if he remembers making the commercial for Nike when he denied all wrong-doing. Yet I speak to people who still find his cartoon character as inspirational! Seriously, there are people who still defend him despite all the evidence to the contrary. I just don't get that. Ah well. Perhaps he did do some good along the way. Maybe w

House of Miracles Chronicled

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House of Miracles is being honored at the New England Book Festival on 01/19/13. This is the story that the Buffalo News ran to highlight the book when it was published. Thank you to Jill Kelly, Trina, Nick & Anthony Stinson, Kim, Kevin & Olivia Stockmeyer and all the others who made the book possible. ‘House of Miracles’ chronicled By Louise Continelli NEWS STAFF REPORTER Updated: 04/23/07 6:55 Sharon Cantillon/Buffalo News Author Cliff Fazzolari and Jill Kelly visit Aaron Parrette, 5, and his mother, Tabitha Cusack, during Aaron’s stay in Women and Children’s Hospital. Fazzolari’s “ House of Miracles ” is a collection of accounts about the hospital. Jill Kelly admits that a hospital “is more than likely the last place you want to go.” “We dread going there because we are fearful,” said Kelly, wife of former Buffalo Bills quarterback Jim Kelly. That is, unless “you have been faced with an issue requiring specialized care,” she added. “When faced with the greate

The Wind Beneath My Wings

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I'm writing this entry on Sunday morning as my buddy Gag races through the streets in the Goofy Marathon Challenge to raise money for M.D. Talk about a real inspiration. And I'm doing my part, getting text messages that update me on Gag's progress as he runs, and hurts, and as sweat races down his back and into his eyes and as he thinks about getting a drink and the cramping in his old legs. "When you're at your worst," I told him. "Think of me as I lie down for nap." I got an 'LOL' back. Yet what is inspiring about it is that my legs hurt just thinking about running such a distance. "You're the wind beneath my wings," I said. "I run for the people who can't," Gag answered. And that answer made me reach hard for a breath. Life certainly is about being there for other people. Gag has a stake in the claim as his brilliant son, Michael, is one of the people who can't race beside his Dad, but do

What's A Life Worth?

The line stretched out the door and snaked down the sidewalk. Person after person standing in the cold January air to pay their respects to a woman who's physical life came to an abrupt halt. The town felt comfortable to me as I shook hands with people who I hadn't seen in quite some time. The faces looked worn, there was a considerable limp to the gathering as our eyes darted down and away, scared to say how lousy we felt for a strong family who's members we'd known since we were children. I thought about the fact that there is a great debate going on in our nation as people speak of their rights to have and hold their guns. That's an argument for someone else, I'm done with it, but what captures me now is the thought of death, and how every single digit in the accounting of who died from what comes with a story. "The stats are wrong," someone texted me. "There aren't 30,000 deaths from gun violence. There are 'only' 17,000.&quo

Don't Shake My Hand!!!!

I've rounded a corner when it comes to being afraid of germs. I'm not sure what has me cringing the most when someone extends a hand to me. The flu is rampant and everyone it seems is being knocked down for the count, but more importantly, one of the things that scares me about shaking someone's hand is what I heard a comedian say on Howard one day: "Everytime a hand is extended in my direction I think, 'That hand has recently wiped an ass.'" And it's freaking me out. I enter a business meeting and the first thing that people do is stick out their hand. "I'm not interested in touching you," I have become fond of saying. For one reason or another I am pretty good at delivering a line and when I say that people usually laugh. At other times I'll do the much less intrusive fist bump, but even then I spend the rest of the meeting thinking: "Don't go to your mouth with your hand...get the sanitizer...get the sani

Silver Palomino

It's been a few days of reflection. I thought of this song written by Springsteen for a neighbor of his after the death of a young mother. I think a lot about the line... and mother your hand slipped from my hair ...and the loss...the great loss...Bruce sings it with regret...deep regret. The silver palomino is a symbol of the lost Mom and the boys who see the horse in their dreams when they sleep at night and in the waking hours when they want to recall their Mom. They come to think of the silver palomino of the Mom coming back to check on them. A beautiful thought. It's just been that sort of week. Silver Palomino - Springsteen (A mother dies leaving her young son to come to terms with the loss. In remembrance of Fiona Chappel, for her sons Tyler and Oliver.) I was barely 13 years old She came out of the Guadalupe's on a night so cold Her coat was frosted diamonds in the sallow moon's glow My silver palomino Sixteen hands from her withers to the ground

It's a Miracle

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A beautiful young woman lost her life this week. The details of the accident aren't real important, but the pain left behind certainly is. Once more my hometown was rocked by tragedy. There was a lot of head-shaking going on and my heart was certainly heavy as I thought of the family...the loving family...and all of my friends who were hurting. On Wednesday morning, thinking about life and love and death and pain I headed to a convenience store in the Syracuse area. Just another little store that had coffee and the USA Today. I must admit I was looking for more, but you can't buy such things over a counter. I was opening up those little creamers and dumping them into the 16 ounce coffee cup when an old man entered and stood in front of the cash register. He was real old. About 90 , I thought. He wasn't talking to me when he said it, but I took his words as mine anyway. "Everyone is looking for a miracle," he told the girl behind the counter. "I

Am I Wrong?????

The Ray Lewis Show on Sunday really got to me. Especially after a couple of things happened. First my son posted a shot of Lewis celebrating a tackle and poor Sam wrote: The Greatest Defender Ever . The second thing that happened was that I read an article about the murders back more than ten years ago and how Lewis covered up a lot what happened that night. There had also been testimony by the limo driver that Lewis was directly involved in the fatal encounter. (Check out the Orlando Sentinel for the article. It's heartbreaking). The limo driver recanted at the trial. Lewis went free. No one was ever charged. We know all that. Yet what got me about it was the grandmother of one of the victims who spoke about how sickened she was by the Lewis dance and the glory he gets every year as the face of football. The longer the game went on, the more aggravated I became. Finally I told Sam to take down the picture of him glorifying Lewis. "He's a great foot

Stay Away!

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Will people really flock to the arena to watch hockey in a couple of weeks? How can you? For the last three months I've been reading angry post after angry text after angry tweet about how greedy the players are and how greedy the owners are and how the fans are being screwed. Show them then. Now I'm not naive enough to think you won't be back soon enough raising your foam finger and shouting out your love, but how about one game? One game. Just vow not to go to the first game back. This is not the first for a pro sports league. The NHL has had a bunch of these situations. This will be the second short season in recent memory and they skipped one all together. The NFL has had unrest. The NBA shortened last season. MLB skipped a freaking World Series or the Yanks might have 28 right now. Just skip one game. That's all I'm asking. Don't turn on your television. Don't go down to the arena. Don't even pray to Pegula that night. S

I-Tunes Strikes Again

A long time ago, in another man's body, at a college about an hour and a half from here I had to make a video where I lip-synched a song. I could have chosen any song, but there was one that just tore me apart. After a little back and forth I used my Christmas gift to buy the album on I-Tunes and I played the song for my boy. The Final Cut by Pink Floyd. "Why the heck would you listen to that?" Sam wondered. "The guy wants to kill himself." The Final Cut Through the fish-eyed lens of tear-stained eyes I can barely define the shape of this moment in time And far from flying high in the clear blue skies I'm spiraling down to the hole in the ground where I hide. If you negotiate the minefield in the drive And beat the dog and cheat the cold electronic eyes And if you make it past the shotguns in the hall Dial the combination, open the priesthole And if I'm in, I'll tell you. There's a kid who had a big hallucination Making lo

Kim & Kanye

I suppose that I'm feeding into it by talking about these two, but when I heard that Kim Kardashian stands to make $416 million off her pregnancy I felt inclined to step in. First off, fresh off seeing Kanye West's pitiful performance in between The Who and Billy Joel I must confess that I think Kim is the talented one in the mix. Secondly, she is talent-less. How in the hell will that child generate $416 million on behalf of his slow-witted parents? I have three hoodlums here and as of yet there hasn't been a single penny raised by any of them. They are more into the taking it away element of the money game. I don't know, I suppose that I've laid eyes on Kim once or twice, but I'm not sure I could pick her out of a lineup. Something about a big ass is all the I can really recall. Yet I'm sure that there will be a reality show, the sale of the first photos, the divying up of the umbilical cord, Kanye's hit song, "I lub the Lil' B

Flowing Like a River

Where does the time go? It seems like it was about two weeks ago when my buddy Jeff asked me if I could babysit his son Jason so that he could go out for an evening with his beautiful wife Kathy. I can remember how scared I was to watch an infant and I also remember wondering if they were crazy for allowing me to do so. All ended well as Jason fell asleep on my chest as we watched a college football game. Fast-forward to now. If Jason fell asleep on my chest he'd crush me and it certainly wouldn't look right. Jeff and his beautiful wife did a wonderful job of raising three great kids and their middle son - a true wise-ass who owes me $50 in Yankee bets - is about a month away from making Jeff and Kathy a grandma and a grandpa. (Well, his wife is). That's just crazy to me! Then to top it off, their beautiful daughter Hannah - my God-Daughter - is now on my Twitter Feed and a Friend on Facebook and she's in college and she's funny and beautiful! And I

Vital Stats: Two Dead

I knew that this day would come and yet it is as nauseating as I imagined it to be. Ray Lewis is a sure-fire, First-Ballot, Hall of Famer, the guy on ESPN gushed. He was responsible for 50 turnovers and no one ever hit harder. He was also at least partially responsible for two dead people. In fact, he was convicted in the deaths and paid money to both victims families, but in the biggest joke of all-time, he was charged only with a misdemeanor. And then it was hardly ever mentioned again. Did you know they never found the white suit that Lewis was wearing that night? I wanted to scream that at the guy who was gushing: Ray Lewis is a superb football player, a great Christian and a supreme human being. I'm not kidding one of the ass-kissers was actually saying that! A supreme human being?????? What is wrong with us? Why was that man the face of football? Why didn't they ever mention the victims again? We all know Nicole Brown Simpson and Ronald Gold

Gag Provides A Blog

HOW FIGHTS START! One year, I decided to buy my mother-in-law a cemetery plot as a Christmas gift... The next year, I didn't buy her a gift. When she asked me why, I replied, "Well, you still haven't used the gift I bought you last year!" And that's how the fight started..... ________________________________ My wife and I were watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire while we were in bed. I turned to her and said, 'Do you want to have Sex?' 'No,' she answered. I then said, 'Is that your final answer?' She didn't even look at me this time, simply saying, 'Yes..' So I said, "Then I'd like to phone a friend." And that's when the fight started... ________________________________ My wife and I were sitting at a table at her high school reunion, and she kept staring at a drunken man swigging his drink as he sat alone at a nearby table. I asked her, "Do you know him?" &q

Cleaning Up Our Messes

Who was shocked by the fiscal CLIFF agreement? Who even knows what it IS other than we are only going to get screwed by taxes instead of being ROYALLY screwed? We worked to clean up the mess around the house that the holidays brings. All of the packages and wrappings and the STUPID tree are gone. We can get back to putting everything into its proper place. MOST of what I received in the way OF gifts was something to read or clothes without mustard stains. The kids are spending their days looking at a screen of some sorts but I began taunting them about their return to school a couple of days ago. Yet THE thing about it is that the changing of the calendar always makes me feel as if what is in the past is gone and that there is still TIME to do things the right way. BUT I suppose that it won't take long to get into the same old bad habits, and before long YOU are looking to get on to the next year. STILL I don't know many of the answers. There will be mor

Fight the Good Fight

Heard this song by Triumph yesterday. The words seem fitting for the start of a new year. A great song too. The days grow shorter and the nights are getting long Feels like we're running out of time Every day it seems much harder tellin' right from wrong You got to read between the lines Don't get discouraged, don't be afraid, we can Make it through another day Make it worth the price we pay The Good Book says it's better to give than to receive I do my best to do my part Nothin' in my pockets I got nothin' up my sleeve I keep my magic in my heart Keep up your spirit, keep up your faith, baby I am counting on you You know what you've got to do Fight the good fight every moment Every minute every day Fight the good fight every moment It's your only way All your life you've been waiting for your chance Where you'll fit into the plan But you're the master of your own destiny So give and take the best that you can