Thoughts of a Common Man

There’s a huge debate going around social media about which side would win in a fight: 100 men or 1 gorilla. 🦍  Like much of what goes on in social circles this is a completely senseless debate, and one that is easily answered. Now the rules are simple. It’s a hand-to-hand fight. Neither the men nor the  🦍 are allowed to bring a weapon. Are you ready for the answer? The 🦍! It wouldn’t be much of a fight either because out of the 100 men the first ten or so to make contact would be obliterated, and I’m thinking at least 50 or 60 of the other men, seeing the instant carnage, would beat feet for the nearest exit. Of the other 30 or 40 people still dumb enough to stick around, another 10-15 would take another run at the 🦍 and they too would be pulverized… …allowing the remaining tough guys to also flee the scene. There are no other answers here. To beat the 🦍 the 100 men would have to fight him in absolute unity.  Won’t happen. As soon as the 🦍 rips the head off the fir...

Warren Zevon will finally find a place at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. His music is good, but he also appeared on Letterman after getting his cancer diagnosis and he reminded everyone to appreciate life, and to enjoy every sandwich. I heard about Zevon making it into the hall just before I headed into a wake for another safety guy who’d I’d known for 25+ years. That’s the lousy thing about living a while - you say goodbye to people. The service was wonderful as ‘Amazing Grace’, ‘Ave Maria’ and ‘How Great Thou Art’ were sung to perfection. My friend was a safety guy who liked to golf, had pasta every Sunday (he made the sauce), had the same birthday as me, and - get this - had a son he named ‘Salvatore’ who they call ‘Sam.’ Yeah. It was the closest I’ll ever be to hearing people talk about me at my own funeral! The thing that got to me were the photos. Decades passed in mere minutes, as we all saw him from the cradle to the grave. The photos flew on by… …and so did the days of his ...

Finally got 18 holes of golf in on Sunday morning. It was a little chilly at the start, but the ball was coming off the club well enough and I felt good and loose. I landed on the green with my tee shot on 14 - a green I never hit - and I promptly 3-putted. That was about the end of the good feeling as my back was suddenly barking a little. I kind of expected that as I wasn’t in mid-season form. Then I made a huge error in judgement… …I looked at the lawn. Ollie Stadium is a little rough! I went straight to the garage and spent the next 45 minutes push-mowing the lawn. Easy enough! But here’s the thing. My back immediately reminded me that I can get away with doing one thing, but two might be a bit much. I struggled the rest of the evening, and went from ice to heat, dreading the fact that everything would certainly tighten up overnight and ladder-climbing was going to suck on Monday. It did. “You’re older now,” Kathy mentioned. “Older people only play 9 holes.” I didn’t even respond t...

I was in line at a grocery store, waiting for customer service. The man in front of me was filthy. His clothes were dirty, his baseball cap was torn and covered in sweat. In his hand was a $30 scratch-off lottery ticket. “That a good one?” I asked. “$500,” he said. “God knows I need it.” He was mumbling a little and looking down at his feet. “I’m not a bum,” he said. “I just look like one. I’m a union plumber.” “That’s hard work,” I said. He kept talking. “I don’t drive anymore,” he said. “And have you ever been without the company of a good woman?” I was caught off-guard by every word. “Nah, I don’t mean to bug you,” he said. “Just making conversation. I spend a lot of time talking to the wall.” “No bother,” I said. “And to answer your question, I’ve been married for a long time.” “Me too,” he said, “but not anymore.” We were still three people away from the front of the line so I figured I was going to hear the whole story. “I bought a fancy car,” he said. “Worked hard all my life, a...

Pope Francis was a man of humility and compassion, and true to his life, he had a rather subdued send-off. Of course, it was an event attended by world leaders who all dressed in black (except for one idiot) as the invite asked. The one idiot also broke protocol as he wanted to sit in the first row, where he promptly fell asleep. That’s about right. I am wondering what the rest of the world thinks as they watch all this. The tariff ‘plan’ is a mess, as the impact is beginning to be felt. Ship yards in California are seeing business evaporate. A recession feels inevitable, and car commercials on television are all talking about ‘pre-tariff’ prices to entice buyers. Business leaders are talking lay-offs, and recent college graduates are awaiting the garnishment of their wages as student loan shark interest rates are enforced. The pentagon is in shambles and the leader is putting his war plans on social media and sharing them with his friends and family. In the middle of it all there was ...

I checked in with my favorite legal immigrant on the job. He’s a supervisor in a house-framing crew. He speaks at least two languages and my favorite part of seeing him is that he’s always smiling. I’ve known him for at least ten years so it would seem that his status is solid enough. Yet. Earlier this week one of the work trucks was stopped as the guys, at a 7/11 on break, were met by ICE. There were 8 guys in the vehicle. Only 5 made it back to the job site. “I don’t know what happened there,” my friend said. “We all have the same status. We should be all good.” “Where are the three guys?” I asked. “No clue. We haven’t heard anything yet.” We just stood there looking at one another. He mentioned the names of his co-workers who were hauled off - I knew 2 of the 3 guys. “They probably won’t be back,” he said. “They aren’t entitled to a hearing, I guess.” I sighed. “This ain’t America,” I said. “I don’t know what to think,” he answered. “I mean my papers are good, but does that matter?”...

I had one goal for the 9 holes of golf that we set for after work this afternoon. “Enjoy every second of it.” I felt loose and rested, which is no small feat for the end of the work day at the end of the week. The ball came off the club well enough. I am a pretty consistent player and while my driver wasn’t in mid-season form, I truly only hit two bad shots all day. I kept score for the first two holes and then stopped writing it down. I can recall every shot anyway so I may add it up as I drift off to sleep tonight, but the best part of the day was simply the sun on my face… …and sweating! We were paired with two young kids who hit it far, but didn’t put a ball in the fairway all day. They enjoyed the banter, and the free balls I found for them. I loaded the clubs in the car. “See you Sunday,” were the beat three words I’ve heard all month. We have another tee time. And I’m sitting, watching television, my back feels a little fatigue. There’s absolutely zero stress right now. Thank Go...

All indications are that it will be in the 70’s tomorrow with no rain. I’ve been wearing the same damn hoodie since September. I may not need it tomorrow. The grass is growing. The cat went outside today and didn’t bitch about coming in, and about halfway through today I got an email: “Harvest Hill is open.” I smiled. My favorite golf course is now open. “We need to get out of here,” Kathy said. “Not now!” I said. “Now we have the best weather in the country between now and September.” Western New York has great summers. Of course, the 70’s aren’t here to stay quite yet. “A perfect day tomorrow, and then it cools off again,” the tall, goofy looking weatherman said. “I hate that guy,” I mentioned. And it promises to be bright! I hate the grey most of all. So, here we go! Enjoy the sunshine. Hello sunshine.  Won’t you stay?

I never thought I’d see such nonsense. I made the mistake of reading a rage rant of stupidity that is a written record of the thoughts of the idiot that sits in the presidential chair. He was pontificating on his favorite subject… …hate. He was also aiming at his favorite targets… …non-whites. His post appears to be the now-favored policy, and I’ll save you time and a numbing headache by breaking down the new policy that is now taking place of the constitution, I guess. Here’s the breakdown: When we deport people we are going to do it without hearings because we don’t have time to grant hearings to these filthy people. So, in short, ICE can grab someone off the street who looks like a criminal and deport them somewhere… …Guantanamo Bay… …an El Salvador prison… …wherever…. …and there won’t be a hearing. Doesn’t matter if you’re an American-born citizen, or you followed the legal route to get here… …if you look wrong to the administration you will be sent away… …never to return. Listen. ...

The day after meeting J.D. Vance, the Pope passed away. Poor guy probably wished that he went the day BEFORE he met that dude. The Pope and the Cardinals and the Bishops always seemed a little much to me. I grew up as an altar boy and spent a lot of my childhood days in church. It still never felt right to me that everyone was dressed in costumes. We had a lot of time with nuns, and of course, they all wore head coverings. We always wondered what their hair looked like. I’m not sure I ever saw one of the nuns without the head covering.  But the Bishop dropping by was a really BIG deal, and he wore an even more elaborate outfit than the priest. Of course, the Pope is at the very top of the ladder and he even has a Pope mobile, and the big hat. Pope Francis seemed like a sensible man. He spent some of his energy on making the church more inclusive, and for that he took some heat. He refused to condemn gays, and offered them an opportunity to be a part of the church. In this day and a...

Was a good day. The sun was shining, Ollie was busy all day, and 2 out of 3 of the boys came by and I made the dinner they wanted… …steak and lobster cakes. We all sat around watching the Yankees game, and I thought about the days around my childhood home. The Yankees were always on, and everyone had an eye or two on the game. There’s nothing like baseball for the Dad-sons tradition. From Mantle and DiMaggio during Grandpas time to Mantle and Whitey during Dad’s days to Reggie and Thurman and Jeter and Mariano to now Judge and company. The boys were howling when Judge hit a ball about a mile - that was called foul. While I was throwing the ball for Ollie in the sunshine I considered all the Easter week days that I spent in a church. And I miss going to church religiously… …I don’t hold myself to it because I lost my connection to what was happening in the Catholic Church. And I so miss the friendly aspect of it all. Church was a true community where we’d see our friends and family and ...

Way back in the 80’s, my legendary college roommate, Fluffy, would, whilst drinking beer, yell out: “Humpty Dumpty was pushed!” We would laugh every time he said it, and a couple of weeks ago, I sent him that text and he replied: “I was decades ahead of the conspiracy theory curve.” Then he added: “He WAS pushed! I saw it on the Google thingy.” Always good for a laugh, but I considered it… …if we lived in Humpty Dumpty’s world I’m sure that there would be a movement afoot to clear his name and to find the real killers. It’s amazing to me what people will believe these days. “The tariffs are making us trillions!” Oh yeah?? Did you get a check? “People believe what they want to believe when it makes no sense at all,” is a tremendous John Mellencamp lyric. It’s also sadly true. Humpty didn’t fall. And you know what? I’m starting to believe it.

Was a last minute thing that was set up out of frustration about not being able to get out to play golf. You see, we had a tee time scheduled for Saturday, but God scheduled guaranteed rain all over the county so… …we pushed off our first round of the year another week. Then I had an idea that was set up by not wanting to work anymore this week. We agreed to meet at the course this afternoon in an effort to squeeze in 9 holes. We jumped on the back 9 after playing three short practice holes and off we went. We all hit the ball really well, but while we were on the green putting out, a thunder and lightning show and the weather report ended our little fantasy. We barely made it back to the clubhouse before the sky opened up. “It wasn’t supposed to rain, was it?” I asked. “Don’t know if it was supposed to,” Pops said, “But it is.” I almost chipped it in with Chippy. Made the short putt. A par. Only hole of the Western New York season. Maybe I should quit now. I can tell everyone that I p...

We have gotten into the habit of watching ‘Family Feud’ around dinner time. This evening we were watching a family of idiots, and I was actively rooting against them. They won. Kind of aggravated me, and then I thought about heading over to Grandma and Grandpa’s for lunch. We got in the habit of heading over a little early so we could watch Grandpa catch the showcase showdown on ‘The Price is Right.’ Grandpa never wanted the contestant to win. Ever. The one phrase I recalled him yelling at the television was: “Good for you, you dumb son-of-a-bitch!” But I had bad news because the family I was rooting against won the $20 grand even though they were complete morons. “That’s upsetting,” I said, as they jumped around the stage. “I’m not sure it matters much,” Kathy said. “They’re going to be back tomorrow,” I said. “Oh yeah.” Dumb son-of-a-bitches.

This is a common sight on a lot of streets here in the wealthiest nation in the world. A woman, probably around 50 years old, maybe a little older, camped by a guide rail under a street light. A sign made of cardboard that simply says: “Anything helps!” I handed her a couple of dollars, partly because it was windy and cold, but mostly because I felt miserable for her. My window was down, and the guy in the car beside me yelled: “She’s robbing you! Look at her boots. They’re brand new.” I laughed. I also looked at her boots, and was happy to see that they were sturdy and clean. Yet, this woman was not scamming people. It’s hard to see all that she had gathered there in her spot, but she didn’t have a collection of fine art there. Everything she owned was probably right there with her. And I don’t know how people aren’t saddened by such a sight. “We gotta’ get rid of the homeless,” some politicians rant. “We don’t want to see them on our streets.” Why? Embarrassed that policies and sheer...

I really don’t know why, but I go through this weird sleep cycle that occurs every six to eight weeks. For five or six days, I can’t sleep through the night. And, of course, people have mentioned sleep apnea to me because I snore a bit, but I just can’t see myself wearing a mask and ever being able to fall asleep. I’ve never owned a watch. Can’t wear a necklace or a ring… …I’m going to put a scuba mask on and drift off to sleep? What’s weird about it is that I don’t have much trouble going to sleep. I read to calm things down, and often fall asleep holding the book in place. During my bad stretch, I wake up just a couple of hours later… …and I do that two more times. Needless to say, I kind of sleepwalk a little through the week when it’s happening. Yet, I often can recall my dreams a little better. It’s weird but I often dream about high school days and in those dreams, my buddies and the girls we dated are right there… …in their 17-year old frames. Other dreams I enjoy are when a fam...

Do you recognize the man’s name? Abrego Garcia is in El Salvador. He was sent there ‘by accident’ although he had legal immigration status here in America. A court has ordered that he be returned, but in an amazing turn, the court is being ignored. This is a troubling, game-changing decision as it puts us into a constitutional crisis. I’m sure everyone who reads this blog knows where I stand on the current stench emanating from the White House, but this should be a non-partisan issue. We have a constitution in place. Our founding fathers were brilliant in their establishment of checks and balances that included 3 branches and the press that was the voice of the people to keep us from ever having a king. That’s not only being threatened… …it’s being destroyed. Congress is supposed to hold the purse strings. The judicial branch is the ultimate authority when it comes to checks and balances. We essentially have a king now directing universities regarding their curriculum. Legal citizens b...

According to available stats - these two elite athletes - CJ Stroud and Dear Leader Shitler are both 6’3” tall and 224 pounds. It’s like looking at twins, right? And I know it doesn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things, but it’s absolutely ridiculous. If he’s 224 pounds than I weigh 165. And it’s not that he’s fat. Who cares? It’s the freaking senseless lies. Will his cult pass along his vital stats? There’s so much to be concerned about. We are now on the 5th or 6th variation of tariffs. The week ahead promises more absolute stupidity as they all try to maximize their stock portfolio with inside information provided only to the oligarchs. 224 pounds. He only put one foot on the scale. Or as Rodney said: “I got on the scale and a card popped out saying, ‘One at a time, please’”. CJ Stroud needs to drop a few, I guess.

Golf on a course around here is going to take a while. I’ll be looking at “Golden Girls” and throwing the ball for Ollie in the morning. Both of us covered in mud. Which has lead to making dinners, and trying different sauces each week has been fun, but we are a little short on people to eat my creations. Sam popped over for dinner on Friday night because he was sick of eating Ramen. I gave him a jug of Hawaiian Punch to take with him and he reacted like I’d given him what he wanted for Christmas. “How much you think that costs?” I asked him. “Oh, it’s a huge jug. At least $20, I’d say.” “It’s $2.89 and they sell it at Save-A-Lot.” “I’m not going in the store!” He said. “That’s stupid.” And that is kind of the way it is with kids his age. They order food and groceries to be delivered to their door. I have never once ordered food to be delivered to me! If I were here completely alone I’d make something out of whatever is in the pantry. (There’s always a sauce in there if you think about...

As we dream about golfing here in Western New York, the Masters golfers played the first two rounds. Nick Dunlap carded a 90 on day one. 18 over par. He was 11 shots behind the 2nd worst player on Thursday, and had a couple of triple bogeys. Poor guy had to be horrified on the national stage, but as we all know - it happens. First off, Augusta would absolutely destroy any of us weekend warriors. I once asked a buddy of mine who usually shoots in the 70’s and has played a few of the pro courses.  I think he shot about a 90 at the pro courses. “What would I hit there?” “At least 125,” he said, and he was probably being generous. Putting on a pro course would probably cost me a few putters. And the fairways are tight and the rough is impossible. Finally, I can’t imagine trying to hit a tee shot with people lined up and watching me. So, there’s that, but it’s all relative. Golf is an impossibly difficult game, and I’ve been playing it for 45 years. It is also the only thing I can do fo...

I worked with a guy about 30 years ago. He wanted me to keep detailed notes on the daily happenings at the plant we were building. I was the guy for the job - I write everything down. Regardless, my boss wanted me to describe the weather in a couple of days. I used to write ‘Hot & Dusty’ for the beautiful summer days. Today I would’ve written: “Blah & Dreary.” Was 28 degrees when I got into the car. Then it started raining. Saw some snowflakes. All grey. Couple that with a Yankees day off and the news of the day. The stock market was down again, and so is my mood. I just spent the day thinking that it’s all over but the crying. When the constitution and the law no longer matter, we aren’t a Democracy anymore. The sun will eventually show up. We will see hot and dusty days again… …but I’m not exactly sure if we will get beyond the blah and dreary.

What an absolute clown show. Let’s try and figure this out, shall we? We were told that tariffs were necessary because the country is going bankrupt and we need billions upon billions flowing in to save us. We also needed to bring manufacturing back so we could make our own products. Which was epically stupid at face value because other countries don’t pay the tariffs and because we can’t even find people to pick vegetables! We were to believe that people would line up to pay minimum wage jobs to make I-phones. So, an economy that was the envy of the world was destroyed because we needed medicine to fix our very sick country. Anywhoha… The markets crashed. Global pain was felt. And the plan was gospel for all of three days. The Art of the Steal is all in the details. The cabinet that’s filled with billionaires sold their stocks before the big drop. Now they’re buying again after the tariffs we so desperately needed to save our country were abandoned. Guess we no longer need medicine. I...

I’ve mentioned, many times, that Mom is responsible for putting books in my hand as a youngster. We spent years trading books and gift cards on our birthdays. Reading is a true love of my life, and as an off-shoot, so is writing. One of the authors that we had in common is John Sandford who wrote excellent characters in his ‘Prey’ series of books. We started reading those books in the late 80’s and recently, I made my way through at least a dozen of those stories. Which is significant because back during Covid I took a run at writing a ‘Sandford-type’ story. I simply called it, “The Crime”. Wrote it and put it away in the vault. After reading a few ‘old’ Sandford ‘Prey’ books I visited my computer and brought up “The Crime.” I read it as a reader and not a writer, and man, I was waiting on the edge of my seat for the plot twists to unravel. The old: “I have to put this out,” vibe has grown stronger over the last few weeks and I put the ball in motion. I believe that John Sandford would...

Received a text from a friend and former coworker. He broke the news about the death of our former boss. “Good,” I responded, “Adios!” And then I thought about it. Kind of a nasty way to respond to such news, but the guy was a crazed, mean person when he controlled the lives of those who worked for his company. I walked out one day after he called his secretary a “fat, stupid bitch.” He did this in front of about 12 employees. I got up and walked out and he screamed at me, wondering where I was going. “I’m not listening to that,” I said. I was just 27 years old, and it was a REAL job. I went home. Two hours later, he called me and asked if I’d come in and talk to him. He started the meeting telling me about all the pressure he was under. “You can’t talk to people like that.” He cried, and apologized to everyone and the poor secretary. The frustrating thing about him is that he was absolutely brilliant, but he was terribly emotionally unstable. I left his company a few days after the bu...

The absolute dread that I’ve been feeling since late January was lifted like a veil as I scrolled through the peaceful protests from one coast to another. There were huge crowds gathered in Washington D.C., Boston, Atlanta, Salt Lake City, Pittsburgh and here in Buffalo. I saw a ‘Hands Off’ protest in freaking Alabama! Yet, the sad part of it all is that the national media mentioned all the protests as if it were just a passing phase. As a kid I had a lot of respect for journalists… …guys who stood up and broke stories in the face of evil. The journalists covering the shit show have often sat on stories that could’ve made a difference in order to save the big news for their books. Listen, the media took a beating, and it’s no wonder that they’re back on their heels a bit. Straight from the dictator playbook, vilifying the media is a huge detail and man, that was done in spades. At every rally there was a moment when a hand was waved calling all of the reporters gathered ‘liars’. I ofte...

This is the worst sort of weather following a long, miserable winter. Rain and storms and dark skies. Mud everywhere. And I’ve had some long weeks, made longer by the news of the day. I also pay a lot of money for cigarettes and I’ve never smoked one! I pick up a carton for my Mom and my wife and my father-in-law. Mom and my father-in-law are both in their 80’s so mentioning that smoking is bad for them is usually met with a laugh. “Didn’t cut my life short,” my father in law mentioned. “Doctor mentioned quitting to me and I told him that I won.” Probably right. Anyway…the weeks seem long and the weekends are made for resting, I suppose. We made our visits, I made our dinner, and we watched some tube. Sam has moved into his apartment, but I spent Saturday morning getting him some groceries. “I brought him some yesterday,” Kathy mentioned. Golf courses remain closed.  I missed a chance to play on a simulator but I have to deliver the cigarettes, right? And as we scrolled through a f...

Made my early morning visit to the Buffalo Bills Stadium Project and immediately remembered that there was going to be a party for the setting of the last piece of steel. The topping out party. There were about a dozen police cars set out front, and barriers were set up. The final beam was in the parking lot, and there were a bunch of workers stepping up to sign it. I didn’t bother, mostly because it called to mind a few topping out parties that I’ve gone to, where I deserved to sign it. I’m not at the Stadium every day - there should be room on the beam for guys who are there every damn day. And the politicians and Bills brass and Erie County reps should also step aside for the workers, who are dirty, sore, tired and just plain beat up. It fascinates me to watch people all dressed up for the show looking down their noses at the men and women who get dirty every day, and piss in rancid boxes and eat off trucks. The brass referring to the workers as hardhats. I did my walk and worked my...

Bruce announced that he’s releasing 7 albums from work that he had in the vault over 25 years. Seven new Bruce records! More than 70 songs that I’ve never heard and while there are a couple of his songs that I skip (I always apologize to him when I do so) the chances are good that I’m going to love the music. Should be excited. The Yankees are hitting a lot of homers. It’s the first week of the season. I absolutely love baseball and reading box scores and following all the teams. Should be in my glory. Work is fine. The family is good. Golf is around the corner (I freaking hope) And yet… …I get home each day after not following anything in the news and I try to catch up on what happened in the country… …and I feel a knot in my stomach. We are headed towards a recession for no damn good reason. No matter what one might say, the economy was in very good shape back in November. The new administration took an absolute blow torch to it. I speak to business owners. “I’m not sure how much bui...

The turd that is making economic policy bankrupted a casino.  In fact, he went bankrupt 6 times. We all knew that. He was elected anyway. Stock market is in the tank. Tariffs across the board will raise prices on all imported goods - 10 to 50%! People have their retirements tied to their 401k and those are being destroyed. One of the GOP pinheads said that old people who are worried about their retirement are just going to have to ‘suck it up.’ Why???? What is the payoff at the end? We all get to suffer for the good of the country because this economic genius - WHO BANKRUPTED A FREAKING CASINO- has an idea? Do you trust the man who has lied more than any other politician ever??? I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him and I’m not getting close enough to pick him up. I can’t believe that his suckups are having much success with their constituents. I’m genuinely concerned, of course… …worried about social security and the 401k. Frightened for business owners who won’t be able to ...

There are a lot of things to trip over on a construction site like cords, hoses, rebar. Every safety guy I know has hit the deck at one time or another. I was side-by-side with an OSHA compliance officer when he rounded a corner and stepped into freshly poured concrete. He tried to retreat, and tripped, and ended up on his back in the concrete. I snapped a photo. “Dude,” he said. “If you share that photo anywhere I’m going to hunt down all your clients.” I’ve never shared the photo, but every once in a while I’ll send it to him and laugh. It was a good dozen years since I took a flop. My streak is over. The site was muddy. I walked with two other guys that I was meeting for the first time. We checked out the framers and turned to face the site guys. I assessed the mud in front of me as we headed in the direction of the concrete pour. “Looks solid,” the guy behind me said, and I took a step into what felt like a bowl of soup. I knew my boot was sucked down into the mud, and there truly ...