Saturday, October 31, 2015


Sam loves to be around the house.

Through his first 15 and a half years he has always made the decision to stick around Camp Clifford.

He doesn't sleep at his friend's houses...he invites them here instead of going there.

He explained that he's happy with his bed, his dogs, the food and drink we have at his fingertips, his television, and his role in the family.

Which is good because he's the heartbeat of the house.

He's also the kid who runs around getting shit for us.


"Can you grab me a blanket?"

"Can you get me a water?"

"The dogs have to go out."

"Check the mail."


So what's the problem, you ask?

Sam is on a trip to visit his cousins.

My beautiful sister was his traveling companion and I could almost hear the laughter of those two together.

(They really make each other laugh).

But Sam is certainly missed around here.

There were a lot of groans as my beautiful wife, my other sons and I had to get up off our asses during the evening hours to get our own drinks and blankets...and don't even bring up the subject of the dogs.

"Where's Sam?" I asked Paris a few times.

Poor Pair-Pair went to his room...

...just plain confused that the kid who never leaves the house was not in the house.

Maybe I can train the dog to open the 'fridge or let the other dog out.

But Sam was looking forward to spending time with his Aunts and his cousins.

His sense of family is tremendous and the one thing that brings me more satisfaction than anything else in this life is to hear all three boys playing together and laughing and even fighting a little bit.

I know, from years of experience, that nothing feels better than blood on blood.


We'll muddle through.


I'm out of water.


Friday, October 30, 2015

Little Jobs-D.B. of the Week - Sammy Watkins

A wise man once told me that he doesn't 'give two shits' what an athlete thinks.

Probably a good way to go, but in the middle of a week of forced relaxation (I caught Quincy twice)...

...I grew aggravated by the above statement posted to Twitter by Buffalo Bills wide receiver Sammy Watkins.

And perhaps it shouldn't aggravate me.

I shouldn't 'give two shits'.

But it really aggravated me and it wasn't that he has trouble mastering the English language as written word (that is a pet peeve).

It wasn't that he emotionally responded to idiots who were baiting him.

It wasn't that he's thin-skinned and can't handle his spot as a member of the public.

It was because he took a broad swipe at people that he evidently feels are beneath him because they toil every day at 'Y'All Little Jobs.'

For that Sammy Watkins is the D.B. of the Week

I get it.

He was at Disney on the Bills week off. He was with his daughter. He posted a nice photo and all hell broke loose.

Frustrated Bills fans

...who are tired of losing; who know that the Bills gave up two first-round picks for Sammy; who know that Sammy is well-compensated but has been hurt a lot; who are still stinging from Sammy speaking out two weeks ago about not getting his 'touches'; who are sick of Sammy because he has come across as a diva...

Decided to bait the wide receiver.

He took the bait.

In a fit of anger he started typing away.

All the frustration came out.

But he made a tragic mistake.

He minimized the lives of the people who pay the bills so that he can live a life of leisure for catching a ball.

Are 'Y'All Little Jobs' the jobs of...

Nurses? Police officers? Doctors? Firemen? Safety guys? Maids? Janitors? Mechanics? Correctional Officers?

Or is he just minimizing the guy who goes to work and toils...

...the Ditch Digger? the Drywall Guy? the Man on the Production Line? The Garbage Man?

Are those 'Y'All Little Jobs'?

Is catching pigskin more important than those jobs?

I guess, in Sammy's mind he's better than each and every single one of us.


He's a young man.

He's still fairly limited in the knowledge of how the world works.

He has no idea that he's not at the center of everything.

But his Big Job comes with the responsibility of not being a D.B.

Evidently he's poor at his Big Job.

Sammy is frustrated that he can't do his job because of injury.

Well, those of us in 'Y'All Little Jobs' don't have the luxury of sitting down.

We may be injured.

We still have to get up and go.

We suffer and toil.

And wait for the people with the Big Jobs to entertain us...take our minds off our Little Existences.

Some people pay Big Money to watch the Big Job People play a freaking game!

And in a fit of rage, like a petulant two-year-old, you answer back a small majority of idiotic people by annihilating everyone out there?

That is D.B. of the Week material.

And God help you if the Big Job of catching a ball doesn't work out...

...and Sammy needs to join the peasants who are living Little Lives.

What an idiotic thing to say.

The Sammy jersey is no longer allowed at Camp Clifford.

Two out of three of the boys agree that it was a dopey thing to say.

My beautiful wife who happens to have a Little Job working with sick people...

...doesn't even want to hear his name anymore.

Sammy needs to grow up.

His mommy should take away his phone.

Thursday, October 29, 2015

Jeter, Jeter, Jeter!

Word came down on Wednesday that Derek Jeter is finally biting the bullet and marrying his longtime girlfriend, Hannah Davis.

First off, Hannah ain't no Kathy Fazzolari.

So Jeets might be making a mistake there because word around my house is that had Jeter ever met my wife (or my mother for that matter) he'd have been part of the family.

But have you noticed that men always say biting the bullet.

You know why?

Because there's a chance that it can explode and maim or kill the poor man who is in the process of entering holy matrimony.

I suppose it works both ways, but whenever there is a story that starts with:

"You know who's getting married?"

My mind automatically goes to:

"That poor clueless bastard."

And I usually say just that and get a weird look from my beautiful wife.

Yet marriage is a weird deal when you think about it from the point-of-view of a man who has been in it for a long period of time.

We were discussing it just the other day and I mentioned to said beautiful wife that the wedding vows should be a little more clear so that all involved knew the real score.

Something like this:

"Cliff, do you take Kathy to be your lawfully wedded wife through cooking and laundry?

Do you enjoy looking in drawers that are stuffed with shit for a band-aid?

What do you feel about dish-panned hands?

Did you know that through the years all the things you currently love will be stripped from by one...without you even knowing they're being taken away?

Do you enjoy the feeling of being broke?

Do you like having just enough of the cash you earned to not get picked up for loitering?

How do you feel about kids taking the meager remaining dollars off of your tired carcass?"

The priest can then pose the question:

"You up for it?"

Of course, Jeter is going in with a bit more cash stowed away for a rainy day but it's all relative. There's a certain power there when it comes to women and their domination over men. (You figure it out).

Yet, they can probably get someone to help with the daily chores.

I'm thinking it's time.

Hannah may not be on par with my beautiful wife...

...but he can muddle through I'm sure.

Because even knowing all of it... Springsteen said:

Two hearts are better than one.

Bite the bullet.

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

Taking A Break

It's all my fault.

I have a job where it is tough to just shut it down because my clients are always working and there are a number of people involved so it's tough to take a day off while informing everyone not to call.

So...for six years (taking a few days off for surgery recoveries)...I just figured it was better off if I just got up and went to work.

I needed to eventually take a break.

My legs were crying out and mentally...I was beat.

It took my boss to say:

"That's it! You aren't working next week!"


I know.

But to tell the God's honest truth...I don't know how to shut things down.

My mind works like this:

"What do I have to do today?"

When I get through the list I think:

"What else can I get done?"

My boys and my beautiful wife have long since learned to just let things slide because I'll eventually do it.

"You write books for fun," Sam is fond of saying. "We figure that you'll eventually get to emptying the laundry baskets."


I had to convince myself of the following things:

"Just sit here."

"Don't worry about making a list."

"It doesn't have to get done."

To make the transition to lazy town. I afforded myself a couple of tasks each day.

I also caught up on Family Guy and Homeland.

I cooked each meal as I wanted to cook them.


Cooking relaxes me. Writing relaxes me.

I would do both things...but not be insane about them.

I would quit when I started to feel that drive kick in.

And it's only mid-week as this blog hits the Internet.

I'm still honestly worried that I'll do something stupid like start to care too much about something and set off on working on something too hard.

I even put a message on my phone telling people that I might not call them right back!

And I know it's weird.

And I wonder if mental help is needed.

I envy people who can just set things aside for awhile and have fun.

"Work is fun to you," my doctor explained to me as I limped into his office one day. "That's okay too. But once in awhile, cut yourself a break. The world will keep spinning if you're sitting on the couch watching Quincy."

He knows me pretty well.


Quincy it is this week.

Glad it's only on for an hour a day.

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Get A Life

The Buffalo Bills played the Jacksonville Jags in a game on Sunday in London.

The Bills lost and a lot of the blame for their poor play went to their backup quarterback E.J. Manuel.

A lot of the blame probably should have went to him.

He didn't play great.

Yet the above photo shows some of the things that were presented directly to E.J. Manuel's social media account.

I'm hoping the guy didn't see those posts, but he probably did.

By all accounts, Manuel appears to be a decent enough fellow. He was drafted in the first round and was anointed the new savior for a franchise that has had problems putting a win streak together.

He didn't set the world on fire as a starter.

Then his backup job was saved although there were others who assumed that he would be cut and out of work.

He made the team and had to start again because of injury.

And he did stink it up in the 2nd quarter.

Perhaps he deserved to be booed.

I even posted a photo of him as Stevie Wonder.


But to write a death threat?

But what those words say as presented there...

...has nothing to do with E.J. Manuel.

Those bitter, nasty, vulgar words speak to what there is out in the world now.

Cowardly, idiotic people hiding behind their keyboards, torturing a man for sport.

I felt for E.J. after the game.

And not because he stunk the place out...

...just because he was attacked.

That's awful stuff.

I don't know how someone could write something like that and hit the send button and then sit back and think:

"I told him! I'm a super fan!!

Every week two teams play.

Every week one of those two teams loses.

Guys play great.

Guys play poorly.

It's a freaking game!

Writing something like that?


Just vile.

Good luck, E.J.

Maybe you gotta' get away from some of your super fans.

Monday, October 26, 2015

I Broke Down

Back years ago around 1998 I made a deal with my kids.

Matt, being the oldest of the dopes...and the only one actually coherent at that time - (Sam wasn't even here!) got to decide on 4 teams to choose to win a championship.

If any of those teams won one...they would get a pool.

Matt chose:

1). The Buffalo Sabres

2). The Buffalo Bills

3). The Charlotte Hornets

4). The Oakland A's

I tried to explain to him that the idea behind it was to actually get a pool and that he should probably choose the Yankees...but he had his mind made up.

The Sabres almost actually got there immediately, but lost in the finals.

The Bills...well...sorry to kick a franchise when it's down...haven't been in a playoff game since '99.

The Hornets aren't even there anymore...that choice has turned into the New Orleans Pelicans (Matt is a strange bird).

And the Oakland A's finished dead last and look down for a while. They did make me nervous a couple of times, but despite having a movie made about how great they were in losing to the Yankees...

Had Matt chosen the Yankees on that day in '98...they would have had 4 pools.


End result:

Nothing wet to soak your body in!

Until yesterday.

I relaxed the rule.

A hot tub became available and I was asked by my nephew, James, if we wanted it.

"If you bring it to me and set it up," I said.


(My nephew forgot more about building things and fixing things than I ever knew).

A couple of hours later...

...the water was getting warm.

At the precise time when the tub was being set up, the Bills were falling behind the Jags 27-3.

The boys were livid.

I felt badly for them.

"Well, you got a hot tub," I mentioned.

"Shut-up!" they said in unison.

I can't wait to soak my tired legs!

But I'm thinking there will always be a kid in the tub!

Sunday, October 25, 2015

Playing Dress Up

So, it's Halloween week.

I was never actually big on the traditions.

I actually always felt weird dressing up and we all know enough to turn down any costume party invitations.

I can only actually remember four times when I dressed up:

As Howard Stern

As a Beautiful Woman

As a Hard-ass gangster type (Kathy went as a hooker).

And of course, As an beautiful tribal woman with a caveman husband (my brother, Jeff).

But I always felt silly as an adult, dressing up.

As a 51-year-old man...

...there's no way!

And it appears to me that the young girls of today dress up as scantily as they can...(that's what I notice on the Google machine) - which is a little weird.

Than there are the crazy costumes.

Caitlyn Jenner is the big costume this year.

Cecil the Lion is another.

And it occurs to me that people who go to a party dressed like that must surely get groans of discomfort...

...but I couldn't pull it off.

We don't get a lot of visitors to our door...courtesy of Melky...and I hate everything there's that.

But playing dress up seems to be the weirdest part.

Unless you're one of those people who visit haunted houses.

We went once.

A fake ghost jumped out at Matt, who was about 4 years old at the time, and he pooped his pants and cried for an hour.

We had to leave.

I hear the haunted house admittance can be up to $50 a head.

Fifty bucks to walk through a haunted house?

You'd have to put me in the hospital with fright for that much cash.

But...who am I to crap on other people's fun?

Dress up!

Have a good time!!

And if you're going as Caitlyn, Pops...remember to put on a little perfume.

Saturday, October 24, 2015

I Got a Big Tusk

I listen to the Opie & Jim Norton show most every day.

Jim Norton is a very funny comic who makes me laugh at least three times a day.

He has an alter-ego named Chip Chiperson and Chip does all sorts of goofy things that usually bring the laughs.

I want to kill both Norton and Chip this week.

You see, Fleetwood Mac has a great old song called has a big band in it...and haunting lyrics.

I love the song.

So does Chip, evidently.

Except Chip ruined the song for me and has now replaced it all inside my head because he started chanting:

"I got a big tusk, just like an elephant."

"I got a big tusk, just like an elephant."

"I got a big tusk, just like an elephant."

"I got a big tusk, just like an elephant."

"I got a big tusk, just like an elephant."

And you know what I spent Thursday and Friday listening to the voice in my head say?


"I got a big tusk, just like an elephant."

"I got a big tusk, just like an elephant."

"I got a big tusk, just like an elephant."

"I got a big tusk, just like an elephant."

"I got a big tusk, just like an elephant."

Now imagine my despair when I actually said it out loud to a guy on a job site.


We were just having coffee and it popped into my head...

...and I said it.

"I got a big tusk, just like an elephant."

"What the f&*k did you just say?" he asked.

I tried to explain the situation but I was laughing.

"Listen to this idiot!" He told a co-worker.

The guy came by to see why I was laughing.

"Tell him," the first guy said.

"I got a big tusk, just like an elephant."

"What the f&*K?" The second guy asked.

I was laughing too hard to finish the conversation.

I just walked away and got back into my car.

I wasn't ten seconds clear of the job when the voice began again.

"I got a big tusk, just like an elephant."

"I got a big tusk, just like an elephant."

"I got a big tusk, just like an elephant."

"I got a big tusk, just like an elephant."

"I got a big tusk, just like an elephant."

I hate you Norton or Chip or whoever the hell.

Friday, October 23, 2015

Montanta, McCartney, Meetings and the Mets

McCartney played Buffalo last night and I didn't get there.

The tickets were sold out quickly on a day when I was out of town...the damn scalpers are ridiculous at grabbing all the seats...and I never really had a good lead at a ticket that wasn't going to cost a fortune.

I would've loved to see the show.

Waiting on the reviews.

Sir Paul is amazing.

Received an offer to speak to a construction company in Montana.

I've never been there.

And a funny thing happened about a year ago...I was asked to speak at a conference in Vegas and I kinda' crushed the speech with a whole bunch of jokes and a R-rated explanation of how crazy construction guys can be.

And I've received a lot of offers to speak to specific groups.


Should I go?

I hear it's nice...and the speech will be fun.

So, the Mets made it to the World Series.

Their young pitching came of age at just the right time and they made some nice deals to pull it off.

The problem is that Yankees fans don't typically like the Mets...

...the whole fight for New York thing, but that doesn't bother me as much as the two or three idiots who are now reminding me...

...27 times a day that the Mets are in the series and the Yankees are home.

Let's go Royals!

Beat the Jays and then Meet the Mets...

...and beat the Mets.

Kept one eye on the Benghazi Meetings (they're actually called Hearings but I went for all 'M's' with this blog.

But isn't this a huge cost to place blame on one particular person?

I don't quite know the story so perhaps I should refrain from commenting, but it seems to me that all these meetings (hearings) add up to a single thing:

A waste of time and money.

I'm not big on meetings in my own life.

I hate them, actually, but hearings, meetings, studies...

...seem to be counter-productive.

Someone let me know what comes of it, huh?

My interests lie elsewhere.

You can't put the toothpaste back in the why rehash it all?


What did we learn today?

Not Much.

Thursday, October 22, 2015

D.B. of the Week: Oscar Pistorius


The D.B. of the Week, based simply on the fact that he was released from jail already, just a single year into the sentence for shooting his beautiful girlfriend to death while she cowered in a bathroom, and he pretended that he was scared because he heard intruders... Oscar Pistorius.

We remember Oscar.


He got one year for ending her life!

One year!

The South African parole board released him because of over-crowding in their prisons.

You can't keep a murderer for more than a year???

What the hell kind of crime is going on there?

But, of course, his sentence isn't quite over:

Oscar now gets house arrest for four more years and can not be released from that until October of 2019.

The poor guy has to live in his uncle's mansion and suffer through the time he has left.

Talk about cruel and unusual punishment!


...from February 2013 when he fired shots into her until she died...

...until October of 2019...

Oscar will have been punished by:

Two dumb trials.

A year behind bars.

And 4 years in a country club.

For murder!

And you just know that it's going to happen, don't you?

Someone is going to be an even bigger D.B. than Oscar the D.B.

Someone is going to interview him about all of this...

...maybe from his uncle's mansion...

And Oscar is going to cry...

...and lie...

...and he will somehow be accepted back into the lives of some of his fans who liked him because he ran without feet.

He's still responsible for her death!

And one final question:

House arrest, right?

Is that an ankle bracelet?

Doesn't it just slide right off?

I can't stand this story.

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

It's Not My Fault!

As we raised our kids we often had to referee battles.

"It was his fault."

"He did it!"

"I didn't do anything!!"

I was reminded of that a bit as I listened to The Donald and Jeb fight about who was and who wasn't responsible for keeping us safe back in 2001.

It's a senseless argument, but one that I've often found mystifying.

The Donald has a point.

The tragedy did occur while George W. was the president... matter how much his side would like that to be directed elsewhere.

So, it rings a little hollow when you try and run on your brother's record of 'keeping us safe.'

"Other than what happened, Mrs. Lincoln, how'd you like the movie?"

But then The Donald messes up his perfectly good point by saying that he would've stopped the events of 9/11.

"I'm tough on immigrants. They wouldn't have been here," was essentially what he said.

First off, where is he 'tough on immigrants'?

When they're weeding his garden?

Or strictly in his speeches?

Secondly, the attacks happened just months into W's presidency.

Surely that wasn't enough time for Trump to get the Mexicans to pay for a wall.

And Mexico, obviously had nothing to do with it.

Ahh, it's just so confusing.

But the thing about it is that while listening to both sides argue and make their statements I wanted to scream out:

"Both of you get in your rooms now!"

"And don't come out until you're ready to stop being stupid!"

"You morons!"

Buckle up!

We only have another year of this garbage to go!

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Birthday Fall Out

Doesn't that look fairly natural.

Not sure that my position of outfielder is all that accurate though because I was a little challenged by judging the depth of the routine fly ball.

Plus I could never really get to the spot.

And I liked to drop it.

But I certainly could be a member of the 27-Time World Champion Greatest Franchise in the History of Organized American Sports.

And that photo came from Dan O'Neill - a renaissance man.

But the old celebration went okay...the Bills put a little bit of a damper on things because it made my kids sad.

(I tried to tell them).

But we had pasta - I went with ravioli - Kathy said I could make anything I wanted because it was my birthday.

And then we settled in for gifts and cake.

No gifts.

Evidently the family purchased the gift...

...and then lost it.

"Buy what you need," was what I heard.

But the cake!

That beautiful creation almost never came to be.

I was picking up the groceries, on my birthday morning, when I received a text from my beautiful wife.

"Get cake mix and frosting."

I wrote back:

"Awww, you remembered!"

And then she set off to baking!

Have I expressed that my wife is multi-talented?

Isn't that a beautiful cake?

They sang to me...a deep, heart-felt rendition of the birthday song, and then this:

"You don't have a candle."

I pretended to blow one out anyway!

What a beautiful day!!

I have to tell you...

...I've never quite felt so loved.

(In all was a good day...I spent time with the family and my dogs...and it only took me about twenty minutes to clean up the kitchen when the celebration was over).

Thank you all!!!

Monday, October 19, 2015

Social Media

Isn't it wonderful?

Where else can you go to hear from someone you knew in the 2nd grade, or fight with a complete and total stranger?

I thought about it a lot yesterday because I answered a whole bunch of 'Happy Birthday' messages.

There were a few very interesting new photos of me...I'll be using the one of me as a Yankee in a Tops baseball card...great shot.
(Thanks, Dan).

But the well wishes also made me smile all day long.

You see, being a tad O.C.D. I can't possibly just wait until all the messages arrive and then send out a blanket 'Thank-you'.

I have to respond immediately to each one.

Which makes for a busy day.

But that is certainly the gift that social media brings.

There are old friends -from grammar school-from high school-from college, and now onto work who I'd never actually hear from unless we were simply trading messages on Twitter or Facebook.

And it's not like you know everyone like you did back in the day...

...but at least you know that they're still out there and they're still kinda' in your life.

I'm wondering how much more it will advance too.

Sharing our thoughts...on a pretty consistent basis...has already changed relationships in the real world.

Think about it:

I sent a message a few weeks ago that said:

"Was just in a coffee shop and there was a guy sitting there, drinking his coffee, without a phone or a computer. I think he's a psychopath."

Stop by a waiting room now.

Heads one looking at anyone else.

People just playing games on their little tablets.

Do an experiment:

Say 'Hi' to someone who is engrossed in their game or on their feed.

They may just have a heart attack right in front of you.

Now, I'm no better than anyone else.

I read a lot of stuff on my phone.

I've read at least 20 books on that small screen.

But is it ruining us?

Do we not see the people around us anymore?

We are all so busy staying in touch...

...that we're actually losing touch.

It was great to get all the messages yesterday...

...I thanked God that I have such a great family and so many friends through my days.

But there also came a moment when I set the phone down for a few minutes so I didn't miss any of the real people who were walking by.

Sunday, October 18, 2015

Happy Birthday, Cliffy!

Was just hanging around on Friday night when I saw a Twitter note about the anniversary of The River CD release from Springsteen.

They're finally putting out the box set.

Of course, the greatest news was that there were going to be some outtakes from the session - songs that didn't make the cut.

Bruce songs that I'd never heard before!

Then I got a text.

"Did you get the song they released today?"

I went straight to iTunes and 30 seconds later I had the song:

Meet Me In the City.

A half an hour after that and I had the lyrics memorized after listening to it about a dozen times.

Do I have to say it?

It's a great song!

I smiled when I heard the Clarence solo in the middle of the song.

(RIP Big Man).

Then I thought about the fact that it was presented to me just a couple of days before my 51st birthday.

"Fifty-one? Really?" My boss, who is a good friend, said. "You look great for 70!"

And I must admit to feeling a lot run down lately.

But I'm alive and I'm feeling all right.

No Yankees home runs on my birthday this year, but what the people busting on me don't understand is that I have a great memory...

...and a room full of Yankees plaques.

So, Happy Birthday, Cliffy.

The pasta will be good today.

Because you'll make the sauce.

Thanks for the song, Bruce.

Thanks for the love, family and friends.

I'm a lucky man.

Saturday, October 17, 2015

Lamar Odom

Not quite sure that I want the news story to say:

"Cliff was found unresponsive in a Las Vegas brothel."

I said, I'm not quite sure.

But make no mistake, it's a sad story.

Odom was a professional basketball player...a pretty good player, I'm told- by my kids - who watch a lot of the N.B.A.

Odom found huge fame by hanging out and eventually marrying and then leaving one of those freaking Kardashian girls. He was subjected to a life of aggravation as he was invited into their reality world.

Like all the other men that run into one of those girls, he was chewed up and sorta' spit out.

(Or so it seems).

Well, Odom drifted out of the spotlight, I guess.

Except when the reports of his drug use were highlighted on the news.

Until Wednesday.

When he was found unresponsive in a Las Vegas brothel.

The reports are that drugs are the culprit and it sure sounds that way. Cocaine and performing enhancing drugs that are part of visiting a brothel.

Bad news all the way around.

Odom couldn't fit in the Mercy Flight.

His heart is quitting.

His kidneys are shutting down.

And all the celebrities are coming out of the woodwork to talk about how much they love Odom.

"Where were they when he was strung out on drugs?" My son asked me.


They love him now.

I feel for the guy.

Think about it in the context of his life.

He was a superstar in high school and college. He made millions. He became a television star.

And then he fell.

Flat on his face.

Sad story.

Friday, October 16, 2015

I Hate It

I'm sorry.

I was really aggravated with Jose Bautista when he stared down the pitcher and then flipped his bat in the direction of the Rangers dugout.

It was exciting...I'm sure...for Blue Jays fans.

(By the is by far and away the best game ever invented. Seriously...the edge of your seat excitement with every single pitch was unreal and has been in each and every playoff game).

But this topic gets me hot.

Imagine, if you will, kids all over the country now flipping their bat and staring at the pitchers.

It's against everything that I know about sportsmanship...


I don't mind the players who celebrate with their the dugout.

I don't mind the players who shake hands or high-five their teammates when something good happens.

I don't mind the gathering at home plate when a walk-off hit occurs.

I don't even mind the Gatorade baths or the shaving cream in the face during the interview.

Celebrating is just fine...

...showing up the other team... the middle of the game...

...and daring the other team to react to your grandstanding...

...just isn't.

And I took a lot of heat for protesting Bautista's aggravating bat flip.

I had a 20-something kid call me a tired, old man.

I heard from others about how baseball needs to be more exciting to the causal fan.


...I am a tired old man.

Also, I watch about 120 baseball games a year.

They are all exciting to me.

I don't need to see bat flips or dancing.

I think that showing up your opponent speaks to how people live their lives.

I tell you what I am really, really waiting for...

...Bautista in Texas in April or May.

I want him to get one in the back...between the numbers.


I know.

I just think he earned it.

A lot of real, not casual baseball fans think so too.

Thursday, October 15, 2015

D.B. of the Week - Ben Carson

Sorry I gotta' do it.

First Ben explained that he would've rushed the gunman in Oregon.


We all like to think that we'd be a hero, but think what the families of the people who died think of a comment like that.

People died!

You make their memory a little less by saying they weren't brave enough in a situation where a madman wearing a vest and armed to the teeth shoots them to death?

That was bad enough to earn Carson the old D.B. of the Week honors...

...but then I heard something about what he said about those buried when a volcano erupted.

He would've outran the lava instead of being buried.

Did he really actually say that?

Did he think that people, in that situation, just stood there and allowed themselves to be buried?

Now I don't know if any of this is true.

I read the quotes.

I didn't actually see the words come out of Carson's mouth.

In this day and age there are sometimes words put into the mouths of the men and women who are running for president.

But the above two items seemed as if they were actually said by Carson!

It begs a couple of questions:

1). Seriously?

Is Carson trying to say weird things to take some of the bloom off of Trump's flower?

Have we reached the stage where we decide to vote for the candidate who says the dumbest thing?


2). Is Carson a super hero?

Not only would he grab the gun and beat the gunman over the head with it, but he would also outrun the lava before it buried him.

I don't want to seem like I'm being over-critical of any one candidate because, truth be told, I'm begging to find a candidate who is a little bit exciting.

But these D.B. of the Week Awards hand themselves out.

Congrats, Ben.

Outrun that lava!

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

Glory Days

My boys are playing a lot of basketball these days.

All three of them are on rec-league teams and before the game we have animated discussions about how they're going to do.

(My boys do not lack self-confidence).

And after the game I hear all about the plays that were made and weren't made.

It's a funny thing about getting old.

I used to love to play pickup basketball. We played on Sunday mornings and at least one evening during the week. I played from the time I was 18 until I had to give it up when I tore my first tendon - about 32. I miss not being able to play that game.

I recall specific games and plays and shots that didn't fall.

In fact, just the other day I was rehashing a moment of near-glory.

My buddy Chris was the captain of Canisius College. He, along with a couple of other close friends were really, really good basketball players.

I was on the team because I was a fun guy to drink with after the game. Plus I did not lack for self-confidence. Even though everyone on the team was a Division 1 type athlete, if you heard it from me, I was by far and away the most talented member.


I hardly ever played.

I would stand on the side and watch.

Guys would come from other colleges and I'd watch exceptional talent run and jump and dunk.

My only chance to ever get in a game was if someone fouled out, someone's jock broke, or the fight cost us two or three players.

Thankfully, that almost never happened.

But it did one day!

We were playing for a league championship. We were down by three when one of our players fouled out. We called timeout and the captain of the team looked at me.

"I guess you're in."

(How's that for a vote of confidence?)

There was less than 10 seconds to play. We needed a three.

I ran onto the court and went to a spot. The former Canisius point guard was flying up the court and he zoomed a 'no-look' pass to me in the far corner.

Here's the kicker:

When he saw who he had hit with the pass he yelled:

"Oh shit!"

But I put it up.

It was a perfect shot and time stood still as it arced its way to the goal.

But it hit the back rim.

Our center grabbed and stuffed the rebound while slapping the side of his own leg to draw the attention and whistle from the ref.

He then calmly hit the free throw and then scored 10 points in overtime to get us the win.

Here's the best part.

As we were walking off the court he put an arm around my shoulder.

"I was praying that shot didn't go in," he said. "Because you would've chirped about it for the next 30 years."

(That doesn't sound like me, does it).

"We're gonna' win," Jake said on Saturday night as he headed off to the game.

Hours later he was back:

"We got killed," he said. "But I drilled a three from the corner with a hand in my face. It was a great shot!"

That's my boy.

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Back to the Polls!

We have to continue to recap the political race, right?

After all, the presidential election in this country is something of a horse race...

...people vote for a candidate based on a meme that may or may not even be true.

Those things are all over the place.

Hell, I didn't even know what a meme was until about a week ago...

...but they rule the day now.

A meme is a social media picture that shows a photo of someone:

Obama with his eyes closed, for instance.

Then underneath there are words that hammer him:

Obama made a statement about Ferguson, but he was sleeping when it came to the white guy who got shot. How come he doesn't go to a white guy's funeral?

Then there are 1.3K likes and 785 comments.

Someone out there may choose to either vote or not vote in a particular manner based on a fake meme that someone developed in their basement without checking even a single fact.

It's weird.

But let's check in on the leaders who are positioning to be the next president:

1). Donald - He's been relatively quiet lately, right? Some are saying that he's slipping a little in the polls because people might be figuring out that he can't last. Still the front-runner for GOP. Until his next racist, sexist, hate-filled speech.

2). Ben Carson - Some weird stuff coming out of his mouth lately. He'd charge a gunman? To save his girlfriend maybe? We've all had the tough guy, 'I saved the day' daydream, but he's kinda' bashing the shooting victims when he tells them what they should've done when the gunman shot them. The more he talks, the stranger it gets.

3). Hillary - Benghazi, e-mails, Lewinsky, witch-like, woman...not sure if she will pick up steam somehow...not a whole lot of momentum.

4). Jeb - We were safe if you don't count 9/11. The funniest thing about the whole campaign so far is Donald saying 'He's low-energy.' That's a tough thing to disprove.

5). Huckabee - God told him he's gonna' be president. That right there should disqualify him. Why does God only talk to nut-bags?

6). Bernie is a socialist. Rotten bastard wants everyone to eat. He can't possibly be a real candidate, right?


There you have it.

The early returns.

Aren't you excited?

I wish I knew how to design a meme.

It's time to liven this race up a little with some actual facts.

Monday, October 12, 2015

No More Bye-Byes

The pizza place down the road was celebrating their anniversary so they hung up one of those big red plastic things that sort of flaps around in the breeze.

The pizza place is on the direct route where I take the dogs for their ride each day.

Melky didn't care for the red guy.

The weeping pit bull as we call her, cowered in the seat next to me.

The next day...

...she wouldn't get in the car.

No big deal, right?

It makes my life easier not to have to take her bye-byes, but I do have another dog and Paris is of the opinion that the after dinner rides should continue.

But Melky won't go.

It's weird.

Especially weird for an OCD guy who is used to routines.

I've had conversations with Melky to try and get her back in the fold.

"The red guy is gone," I say.

The mere mention of the red guy brings discomfort.

Yet, on a much larger scale, it's interesting to me that the dog has irrational fears based on something that brings mental anguish.

Was she attacked by a big, red, plastic guy in an earlier life?

Does she feel that the big, red, plastic guy will somehow come to life and chase us down the road?

I don't know.

I just find it really interesting.

But worst of all...

...a dog who lived to go bye-byes...

...goes bye-byes no more.

I know!

It's illogical!!

But it makes me a little sad!!!

Sunday, October 11, 2015

MLB Playoffs

Yeah...the Yankees are gone, but man...the baseball playoffs are awesome.

On Friday the games were on from noon until one in the morning.

"More baseball?" My beautiful wife asked as Sam flipped it to the Cards-Cubs game.

"All day!" He said.

We watched Prince Fielder bat. We all cheered hard against the Blue Jays in an epic 14-inning game, and during one of the breaks there was a commercial asking what the greatest baseball memory of your life is.

Sam turned to me:

"What is it?"

Four memories immediately came to mind:

4). Chris Chambliss hit a home run in the 9th inning to propel the Yankees to a win over the Royals. My Dad watched that game with me. We were the only two who stuck with it to the end and when the ball cleared the wall Dad said:

"How about a celebration sandwich?"

Dad made the best sandwiches.

3). I was on a soccer field when the Yankees played the Red Sux in the one-game playoff in '78. I hated soccer. I wanted to skip the game, but my parents were insistent on making me finish what I started so I took a transistor radio with me and was listening to the playoff game as my stupid soccer game went on. Yet, my coach was also a huge Yankees fan and he pulled a fast one:

He put me in the game!

And stole my radio!!

I was running by the bench when he yelled out:

"Bucky Dent just hit a 3-run homer."

I ran off the field with the ball still in play.

We high-fived.

2). Jake was in the hospital. We had no idea what they were going to do about the tumor. The Yankees were down two games to zip to the Oakland A's and while holding a thin 1-0 lead there was a base hit to the corner. The throw was way off line as the A's player raced to the plate...and suddenly...there was the middle of the field...flipping it to home plate to nab the runner.

I got goosebumps watching it.

I remember Kathy calling me from the hospital room...I remember being fearful when I heard her voice. She said:

"Jake is sleeping comfortably. I just called to see if you saw Jeter make that play."

And the number one memory?

1). It was my 13th birthday. Reggie was a superstar. He homered once. He homered twice. He homered three times. I was absolutely convinced that he did it for me. I still associate Reggie with my birthday.

That was a nice gift.

I think that the playoffs can be really great this year...

...but a lot of you are too consumed with how many flags the refs can throw in a game of concussion-bound, criminals.

That's too bad!

Saturday, October 10, 2015

We Need More Cliffords

We were watching the baseball game and I made a comment about the name 'Addison', saying that it was a rather unique first name.

Sam was able to think of another 'Addison' and I said that it wasn't real popular...

...then I said:

"The name 'Clifford' isn't popular either."

"There are three of 'em left in the country," my beautiful, wise-ass wife said. "Ain't no one naming their kids 'Clifford' anymore."

I suppose not.

Yet the conversation didn't quite end because we have Google and Google has an answer for everything.

Evidently how many Cliffords there are in the world was interesting to my wife.

"It was a popular name in the 1880's," she said. "But look where it is now."

She showed the screen to Sam.

"Three left," he said.

Yet I wonder.

How many Cliffords are out there?

I know it's more than three!

Kathy then looked up everyone's name and told us what the name meant.

Sam's had something to do with the spirit of God.

Jake's was about something spiritual as well.

Matt's was heaven brought to earth.

"What does Clifford mean?" I asked, genuinely interested.

"A slope or a hill," she said.


I live with a bunch of freaking comedians.

But it got me thinking about names and I consulted the genius of comedy.

I pulled up the video of George Carlin talking about how goofy boys names were getting.

Todd and Kyle and Taylor and Tucker.

George had miserable words for all of those names and explained that someday Tyler would be in a schoolyard getting the shit kicked out of him by Tony or Vinny.


At least Carlin didn't make fun of Clifford.

Friday, October 9, 2015

I KNOW!!!!!

I had to actually silence my phone on Tuesday night.

I started to get the texts in about the 6th inning.

"What's wrong with YOUR Yankees?????"

"$220 million payroll and they're getting beat!"

"Do you think C.C. has a television on in rehab?"

I answered a few of the good-natured jabs with things like...


"The 27-Time World Champion Greatest Franchise in the History of Organized American Sports."

I even threw in a:

"Are they on tonight? I'm so bored with the 7 titles I've watched them win...I sometimes just forget that they're in the playoffs."

But I wanted to get some sleep.

After the final out I shut my phone off.

And when I turned it on again in the morning those taunts were waiting for me.

I opened my eyes and the thought that their season was over hit me.

There was no pain involved.

They had a nice year.

But then the texting started:

"How pissed are you?"

"They suck!"

"You suck as bad as them."

"Good thing Steinbrenner isn't alive."

Then the phone rang.

"The Spankees lost."

"I KNOW!!!!"

I screamed at the poor bastard who had chanced a call.


I've been rooting for sports teams since about 1968.

I've followed all the major sports and I have, at one time or another, rooted for the following teams:

The Buffalo Bills, The Buffalo Braves, The Buffalo Sabres, The Los Angeles Lakers (when Wilt was there), The Atlanta Braves (when Henry Aaron was there), and the New York Yankees.

I now only openly root for one of those teams.

You know how many titles I've seen?


1 by the Lakers in 1973 when they won 33 straight.


7 by the Yankees - 1977, 1978, 1996, 1998, 1999, 2000 and 2009.

The rest of you dopey bastards that are calling me have fewer titles than that.

Unless you're Yankees fans.

Then we are virtually tied.

So shut up!

Thursday, October 8, 2015

D.B. of the Week: eBible Fellowship Lunatics

Well, we're still here.

The world didn't end in a fiery ball.

And for that the eBible Fellowship out of Sharon Hill, Pennsylvania has been awarded the prestigious D.B. of the Week Award.

Work has been rough.

The Yankees were eliminated.

Winter is coming.

The Bills still look like the Bills... so...

...I wasn't all that disappointed when I got the news, but no worries, anyways.

We live to see another day!

But when is enough just about a freaking 'nuff with these religious fights, proclamations and righteous stands?

When are people gonna' figure out that these lunatic preachers are pedaling fear with the end of times crap?

Perhaps one day one of them will be right, but who's going to be around to congratulate the Jimmy the Greek of the religious ranks?

If we all go at once, besides, the line to go either up or down is going to be ridiculous.

I suppose I should pack a bag to go either way...

...but why these people win the D.B. of the week award is because there are actually people who believe this crap. I know that in the coming days we are going to hear about people who sold all their worldly goods and ran up their credit card bills.

They can feel good knowing that I think they're D.B.'s as well.

When the world finally does end...

...none of us will be here to listen to the 'I told you so's.'

End of the world???

Bunch of dopey bastards.

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

Let It Be

Ran into a guy on a job yesterday and immediately began asking him questions. He looked familiar and I thought I knew what he'd been up to recently, but he surprised me.

"Haven't been working for two years," he said.

I must have looked confused.

"This is my first day back in the real world. My son died of cancer and the week after the funeral I rented a boat in Florida and just drove around for awhile. I fished. I boated. I considered things."


I was going to start asking questions, but instead just offered my condolences.

"You figure anything out?" I asked.

"Not a f*cking thing," he answered.

We talked about cancer and how it ravages a 20-year old body.

We talked about death and grief and trying to rise above things.

"I don't believe in God anymore," he said.

I found that a little curious but perhaps that was all that he had figured out as he boated around.

I decided to tell him the story about Paul McCartney who wrote the song "Let It Be," after his mother had passed away.

The vivid dream that McCartney had and the fact that his mother's ghost had told him to just Let It Be.

"Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom," he mouthed, remembering the verse.

"That's the one," I said.

"Damn, I just got chills," he said. "Two years riding around and all the people who comforted me. I love that. I won't ever forget it."

We talked a little while longer, hitting on the Bills, the implosion at Gates Hospital, the Yankees and even 9/11.

All just words...

...a few minutes passed.

When he told me about his son's short life as we got ready to part, he took off his work glove and extended his hand to me.

"Let it Be," he said. "Gonna' try and do that a little."

I wish it was a help to him, but it probably isn't.

At the end of the day, it probably won't get him through it for very long...

...but maybe...

...just for a little while.

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Win One for C.C.

The 27-Time World Champion Greatest Franchise in the History of Organized American Sports - The Yankees play a single-elimination game this evening for a chance to play the Royals.

Make no mistake about it...

...I want them to win.

But in some respects it has been an unusual season. I didn't expect them to even qualify for the playoffs. I believed they were transitioning from veterans to young guys and that usually doesn't go all that well.

But they are, after all, The 27-Time World Champion Greatest Franchise in the History of Organized American Sports!

My excitement for the game has been tempered by a couple of things:

1). Joe Girardi, who is a decent manager from April to the end of August is an absolute nightmare in September when the rosters expand. Clueless Joe as a lot of his haters call him seems to want to play all the rookies at his disposal and he constantly talks about giving 29-year-old professional athletes a 'rest day'.

Drives me nuts!

I haven't rested since the mid-80's!!

2). On Monday afternoon the news broke that C.C. Sabathia, a guy who is always willing to take the ball, even when he's hurt or on short rest, or just getting hammered...

...broke down and told the world that he needed help to get on top of his problem with alcohol.

Immediately, social media erupted.

"Drunken pig!"

"He couldn't wait until next week?"

My heart went out to the big guy.

Now...make no mistake...I am unforgiving of a lot of sins committed by professional athletes.

If C.C. had got blasted and smashed his car into a Chinese Restaurant I would've ripped him a new one...

...but stepping forward and taking responsibility and trying to sort out his life...

...leaves me extremely sympathetic to him.

Yeah, he let the team down.

I'm sure he has let his family down as well.

That's more important.

He is just a young man.

Rich beyond our comprehension.

Famous as all get-out.

But that doesn't solve the problem.

I quit drinking about 5 years ago.

I didn't do it because I couldn't handle it, but I did so after scratching my neck one day and watching my young son mimic my movement.

"He's watching me," I thought.

And there had been profound sadness in my life.

Boozing it up wasn't making it better.

It was making it worse.

So I just stopped.

Now, that certainly isn't the same thing. C.C. doesn't feel he can stop without professional help.

That happens to a lot of good people.

The drink you drown your trouble in is the trouble you're in now.

Let's go, Yankees!

Win one for the big guy.

Monday, October 5, 2015

You Don't Know How to Argue

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't."

My college roommate and I used to do a little skit based on the 'You don't know how to argue' premise.

Girls didn't hang around with us much when we did it, but Rosie and I laughed a lot while doing it.

The problem is that most people don't know how to argue...and unfortunately that's all people do on social media.

Debating is something that I love to do...we do a lot of it around my house...

But there are some people who flat-out don't get the concept of debating properly.

The argument this week is the same old argument concerning guns.

Here's a bad argument:

Person 1 - "The shooter was a responsible gun owner right up until the moment when he shot ten people. What do we do about that fact?"

Here's the answer:

Person 2 - "People die in car accidents should we take away cars?"

Do you see the problem?

Person 1 asked a direct question.

Person 2 not only didn't answer it...he turned the question on its ear by bringing up something that had nothing to do with the question.

If either Rosie or I were involved we'd tell him:

"You don't know how to argue."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't."

Then there are the people who never should be allowed into a debate because writing a complete sentence is a ridiculous concept to them as they use abbreviations and text words that make the point incomprehensible.

Person 1 - "The Bills can't win the Super Bowl with an inexperienced QB.

Person 2 - "I C what U Say, but 2 many people are 2 dum 2 know what I C and U don't."

Uh, what?

That goes on all day on social media.

Then there are my least favorite of the debaters.

(My Dad used to say "You're a master debater.").

(I'd laugh every time).


Least favorite:

Person 1 - "The budget problems can be solved with a fiscal understanding of the way taxpayers spend their money." (Or some other sort of wasteful drivel).

Person 2 - "That's why your(sic) a libtard, Obummer lover, because your (sic) too dum (sic) to know when your (sic) being dum (sic)."

Where are you, Rosie?

Let's show these people how to argue!

Sunday, October 4, 2015

Crumbling Down

That was the button that the Mayor of Buffalo pressed to reduce Gates Hospital to a cloud of dust and rubble.

I was just a few feet away from Mayor Brown when he hit the button as someone yelled "Fire in the Hole!"

And as I swung my phone around to take the slo-mo video of the blast the first bangs echoed out in the early morning sky.

I nearly jumped out of my skin.

Those early blasts were followed by much louder, mind-numbing blasts, and in mere seconds, the concrete and steel began to break a house of paper...

...the walls came crumbling down.

The shiver that shook my body was undeniable.

It was an out and out attack on my senses that while anticipated (I'd been at an implosion before) was shocking.

The crowd gasped and then a cheer went up.

A spontaneous, wonderful cheer that gave way to amazed chatter.

I had two thoughts:



"Everything eventually breaks down."

Those two thoughts erupted in my head and allowed another shiver to race down my back.

Then I was high-fiving guys who'd been on the job since February.

I had yelled at a couple of them...I had laughed with all of them.

They worked hard.

I worked hard.

And the guy who set the explosives had been precise.


I watched the dust settle and the Buffalo sky played a trick on me...the building where Dad had undergone surgery to remove a kidney...the building where I had worked as a laborer while going through school...

...was just gone.

The walls had come crumbling down.

It was a building that stood for years and would have stood for decades more.

But it had outlived its usefulness and new buildings will take its place.

"Everything eventually breaks down."

And I thought of the lives, the jobs, the relationships, the buildings and the homes...

...that eventually break apart.

Nothing lasts forever.

But one thing that will stay with me...

...until the day I leave this Earth...

...was the men who'd worked on the project...

...riding up on golf carts...

...just before the mayor hit the button...

...everyone was smiling.

Hard-working, every after day guys...busting their asses in the name of getting the job done.


Saturday, October 3, 2015

Should Be A Blast

Getting ready for the blast.

Gates Hospital will be reduced to rubble this morning and the thing about it is that months of work has gone into something that will be over in just a matter of seconds.

I had a chance to talk to the supervisor of the crew that was setting the explosives and the one question that I thought to ask him was:

"Is it fun?"

The man explained that he enjoyed the challenge of making sure that the explosives are properly set so that the building comes down in a safe manner.

He then started to explain the process to me and I nodded a lot.

He was, after all, talking to a man who has to get help to put those cardboard mailer boxes ready.

But I was interested enough to listen to how the explosives are installed around the columns.

Of course, as the safety guy for the project I had my own concerns, but I didn't ask the explosives guy too many questions.

I was real confident that he knew what he was doing.

"How many buildings have you brought down?" I asked.

"About 500, I guess," he said.

Then he paused for a moment.

"And yeah."

"It's still fun."

Should be a blast.

Friday, October 2, 2015

No Emotion

Another school shooting.

A number of casualties.

An afternoon of horrified accounts by people who were unlucky enough to be there, but lucky enough to survive.

And the same old tired responses.

Shocked and Horrified.

Thoughts and Prayers.

Gun-free zones.

Mental Health.

We Need More Guns.

And then the even more tired arguments:


2nd Amendment.



Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah fucking blah.

When CNN flashed the report of the shooting as news to me.

I just glanced.

Then went about my day.

No emotion.

No shock.

I didn't even think to pray.

Just too busy to think about it. Didn't have a thought that might matter anyway. Didn't want to know the shooter's name. Didn't care about why they think he did it.

Doesn't matter.

But I can't NOT feel.

I'm part of the community of people who are horrified by a shooting such as yesterday's shooting.

It's as horrendous as the last one...and the one before that...and the one before that...and...

...the next one.

And then I did pray...

...for acceptance...

...on the part of those who lost loved ones yesterday morning.

For no reason.

Other than that we (the collective we...on all sides of this damn issue)...

...can't just seem to show enough true emotion to just make it stop.

Make it stop.

Thursday, October 1, 2015

D.B. of the Week - Alexandra Tomlinson

By most accounts the visit recently concluded by Pope Francis was an extremely warm and sensitive...and positive experience for all.

Most accounts.

There were some people who were dismayed by the fact that Pope Francis talked about global warming. One of the presidential candidates stated that the Pope isn't a scientist...

...even though he was actually a chemistry major.

Still others didn't care for the fact that the Pope just kept talking about those pesky poor people who seem to be too lazy (sarcasm) to become CEO of their own company.

But one person took the criticism to a whole new level:

Alexandra Tomlinson, a top model for Trump Model Management, criticized the Pope...

...and took D.B. of the Week honors for her horribly dim-witted take on the visit and the man.

"As I see the egregiously positive reaction to Pope Francis by the citizens of this country and this world, I'm left dumbfounded. He is completely transparent. How is he pulling the wool over so many soul's eyes? And I use the word soul on purpose. For I believe more and more that this man is the False Prophet. Pope Francis worships a different God, the antithesis of Christ."

Tomlinson claims to have seen the Pope flash a hand gesture that linked him to sects of satanists.


Where to begin?

I guess I was really, really, really, really, really fooled because to me, Pope Francis appears to be:







Kinda' Bright.

Things that I certainly can not attribute to the soul that resides in the body of the top model, Tomlinson.

The Facebook post where Tomlinson went on her tear was deleted quickly...and there wasn't a whole lot there to back her brilliant summation of Pope Francis...

...but it was up there long enough to garner her D.B. of the Week honors.

It's simply wild, isn't it?

Everyone has a place to say exactly what they want.

Thank God others have a spot to call them on it.

Dopey, dopey, dopey.


I was ordering lunch on the road and one of the choices was a meatball sub. I wanted to eat something a little healthier than that, but I as...