Thoughts of a Common Man

Land of Hopes and Dreams

2012-01-27T01:08:00.000-08:00

Three years ago today...sucked.

How do you live broken-hearted?

Listen to Bruce. Live the prayer.

This is the Land of Hopes and Dreams

I'll think of it a lot today.

Thanks for writing it Bruce.

Land of Hopes and Dreams

Grab your ticket and your suitcase
Thunder's rolling down the tracks
You don't know where you're goin'
But you know you won't be back
Darlin' if you're weary
Lay your head upon my chest
We'll take what we can carry
And we'll leave the rest

Big Wheels rolling through fields
Where sunlight streams
Meet me in a land of hope and dreams

I will provide for you
And I'll stand by your side
You'll need a good companion for
This part of the ride
Leave behind your sorrows
Let this day be the last
Tomorrow there'll be sunshine
And all this darkness past

Big wheels roll through fields
Where sunlight streams
Meet me in a land of hope and dreams

This train
Carries saints and sinners
This train
Carries losers and winners
This train
Carries whores and gamblers
This train
Carries lost souls
This train
Dreams will not be thwarted
This train
Faith will be rewarded
This train
Hear the steel wheels singin'
This train
Bells of freedom ringin'
This train
Carries broken-hearted
This train
Thieves and sweet souls departed
This train
Carries fools and kings
This train
All aboard

This Train
Dreams will not be thwarted
This Train
Faith will be rewarded
This Train
Hear the steel wheels singin'
This Train
Bells of freedom ringin'

The Fix Is In

2012-01-26T01:21:00.000-08:00

Back about 25 years ago I worked for a company that was based out of Brooklyn. Some of the guys on the crew were Jersey Shore-like Italian guys with the gold chains and the bada-bing, bada-boom lingo.

Everyone's named ended in a vowel.

During that summer I went to a 4th of July party sponsored by John Gotti. I may have wrote about it before.

I was scared out of my mind at that party.

There was a guy in the crew who handled all of our bets on the football games. The Bills were on the verge of being good and I remembered betting ten bucks or so, in a friendly bet with him.

"Da' Bills ain't beating da' Bengals," he said. "It's set: Bengals versus 49ers in the bowl. 49ers will win but not cover."

"Whatever," I said.

And we bet.

The Bills lost. The 49ers won the Super Bowl two weeks later. They scored on their last drive to pull it out.

They didn't cover the spread.

I remember asking bada-bing how he could be so sure.

"Lots of money is bet on football," he said. "You think it ain't orchestrated?"

I think of that a lot. I remember my Dad saying that a guy he knew had some inside knowledge. I wonder about a billion dollars hanging out there. My uncles all believe it's fixed.

Ever see how many games are decided by a half-point?

Ever wonder about how the lines are set?

Ever see a week when all the underdogs win?

Ever see a penalty flag get tossed for holding after a play results in a touchdown?

It's an uncomfortable subject.

I just know that a lot of people put a lot of money on the Giants to win when they started the season 6 and 6. Vegas was giving tremendous odds.

If the Giants win Vegas is going to pay out a lot of money.

Take the Pats and the over.

Just saying.

Humiliated

2012-01-25T02:34:00.000-08:00

That poor kicker with the Ravens. He missed a chip shot field goal that would have tied the game. No matter who you were rooting for, you have to feel for the guy.

I guess it goes with the territory, right? You're paid to make 'em and when you miss 'em, people are going to hate you.

About 12 years ago the Bills ate up a hundred million in tax money to re-do the stadium. I was there mostly every day for the construction. As the project came to a close the Bills let the workers line up and try to kick a 35-yard field goal.

There were 50 of us.

We all tried.

My attempt was only 23 yards short. 47 other guys missed too. Check the math: Two guys made it.

I'd be 34 and a half yards short if I tried to kick it now.

Yet the thing about it was that it was certainly embarrassing to miss that kick in front of 49 other guys. They were hooting and hollering as I approached the ball, and laughing and teasing as my kick harmlessly landed on the 20 yard line.

It was about then I decided that perhaps I judged athletes too harshly.

But it's natural. The guy should have made the kick. He flat-out choked. I'm thinking he hasn't got out of bed yet.

But we've all failed. Most of us fail a lot of times every day. We got to get back on our own personal fields and take another kick at it as quickly as we can.

Now, I hesitate to bring this up, but in September 2010 I picked the Green Bay Packers to win it all.

They did.

In September 2011 I picked the New England Patriots.

Two in a row?

If so, I will study and prepare my next year's pick for you.

Send me ten bucks and I'll give you the name of the winning team in the game to be played in February 2013.

God, sometimes I'm insufferable, huh?

How Do You Want To Be Remembered?

2012-01-24T01:51:00.000-08:00

The passing of Joe Paterno was sad to me on a couple of different levels.

First, I felt for his family and fans.

Secondly, I felt bad for him.

I did.

But man, it really galled me to see people glossing over the fact that he didn't do more when he knew about the Sandusky deal.

I don't believe he deserves a statue. I don't believe people should be adorning his statue with gifts.

Make no mistake:

He knew.

And not only did he know about the abuse the first time, but the second and third time too.

And he should have done more.

And knowing he didn't, probably helped to kill him.

And I do feel bad for that.

But worse than all that, I feel bad for the people who are defending him. He doesn't deserve you standing up for him. He knew what he was risking.

What he risked, and lost, was his perfect reputation.

That was his decision, not mine.

Does that make him a horrible man?

Probably not. He will be judged.

I heard today that there are groups planning to protest him at his own funeral.

That makes me sick.

All of it does.

Taking Stock

2012-01-23T01:55:00.000-08:00

So some 20-odd days into 2012.

I'm beat to shit.

Work has been a real bear. One thing after another. People have their agendas and evidently a lot of them involved me. The thing about it is that it may not be different than the work load in the past, but this getting old shit is for the birds.

I often think of my Dad telling me about how enthusiastic he was for every day to start. He put it in only the way that he could.

"I want to be about 90 years old and up on charges for attempted rape," he told me.

He might have done it too if some of that enthusiasm hadn't been stripped.

And for the most part, it's a shot out of the cannon type of experience for me as well. I look forward to working hard. Yet there are a few things I know for sure about 2012.

1). I don't want anything to do with the presidential election. I don't want to know who you're voting for or why. I don't want to know who you think screwed it all up. Let's just agree that it's a mess, it's unlikely to change, and go from there.

2). The Bruce album release and the Yanks start is going to get me going early in the year. No doubt about it. I really don't get sick of liking the exact same things. In fact, I thrive on it. Same hotel, same restaurant every time I travel. Same, same, same. I know the Yanks and Bruce will both be good. Why deviate?

3). The kids are getting bigger and hairier now and they will continue to grow at a maniacal pace. I'm going to sit back right easy and laugh as they make their mistakes as they grow. I do want them to reach adulthood without having me to blame for anything. That's the ultimate goal, right. I don't want them sitting on a couch some day saying, 'My Dad really screwed me up."

The fact that my time is limited before they make moves on their own is a little disconcerting, but I can rest easy knowing that kids don't really get going until they are in their 30's anymore. So they'll be around for awhile.

4). The one goal that I had for 2012 is the same as in recent years- eat right, get healthy...mostly for golf.

Not sure how that one is going. When I travel I eat for shit. The first 20 days are any indication and I may have to trade in golf for sumo.

It gets so much more difficult to drop weight, to get motivated, to eat right. There's a certain #@ck it aspect to it, isn't there?

So that's where we are twenty some days in...plenty of time to re-adjust.

1957 Versus 2010

2012-01-22T01:05:00.000-08:00

HIGH SCHOOL - 1957 vs. 2010

Scenario 1:

Jack goes quail hunting before school and then pulls into the school parking lot with his shotgun in his truck's gun rack.

1957 - Vice Principal comes over, looks at Jack's shotgun, goes to his car and gets his shotgun to show Jack.

2010 - School goes into lock down, FBI called, Jack hauled off to jail and never sees his truck or gun again. Counselors called in for traumatized students and teachers.

Scenario 2:

Johnny and Mark get into a fist fight after school.

1957 - Crowd gathers. Mark wins. Johnny and Mark shake hands and end up buddies.

2010 - Police called and SWAT team arrives - they arrest both Johnny and Mark. They are both charged with assault and both expelled even though Johnny started it.

Scenario 3:

Anthony will not be still in class, he disrupts other students.

1957- Anthony sent to the Principal's office and given a good paddling by the Principal. He then returns to class, sits still and does not disrupt class again.

2010 - Anthony is given huge doses of Ritalin. He becomes a zombie. He is then tested for ADD. The family gets extra money (SSI) from the government because Anthony has a disability.

Scenario 4:

Billy breaks a window in his neighbor's car and his Dad gives him a whipping with his belt.

1957 - Billy is more careful next time, grows up normal, goes to college and becomes a successful businessman.

2010 - Billy's dad is arrested for child abuse, Billy is removed to foster care and joins a gang. The state psychologist is told by Billy's sister that she remembers being abused herself and their dad goes to prison. Billy's mom has an affair with the psychologist.

Scenario 5:

Mark gets a headache and takes some aspirin to school.

1957 - Mark shares his aspirin with the Principal out on the smoking dock.

2010 - The police are called and Mark is expelled from school for drug violations. His car is then searched for drugs and weapons.

Scenario 6:

Pedro fails high school English.

1957 - Pedro goes to summer school, passes English and goes to college.

2010 - Pedro's cause is taken up by state. Newspaper articles appear nationally explaining that teaching English as a requirement for graduation is racist. ACLU files class action lawsuit against the state school system and Pedro's English teacher. English is then banned from core curriculum. Pedro is given his diploma anyway but ends up mowing lawns for a living because he cannot speak English.

Scenario 7:

Johnny takes apart leftover firecrackers from the Fourth of July, puts them in a model airplane paint bottle and blows up a red ant bed.

1957 - Ants die.

2010 - ATF, Homeland Security and the FBI are all called. Johnny is charged with domestic terrorism. The FBI investigates his parents - and all siblings are removed from their home and all computers are confiscated. Johnny's dad is placed on a terror watch list and is never allowed to fly again.

Scenario 8:

Johnny falls while running during recess and scrapes his knee. He is found crying by his teacher, Mary. Mary hugs him to comfort him.

1957 - In a short time, Johnny feels better and goes on playing.

2010 - Mary is accused of being a sexual predator and loses her job. She faces 3 years in State Prison. Johnny undergoes 5 years of therapy.

We Take Care of Our Own

2012-01-21T01:00:00.000-08:00

The amazing thing about Springsteen's writing is that he has kept his characters consistent from year to year and album to album and that's not easy to do considering the changes in his own life. Yet when I read the words to the new song I am struck by the same thoughts as I was when I first heard him as a teenager. At that point he was facing an internal struggle to fit in as a social outcast and a struggling musician. To see the same sort of angst in his heart as a billionaire rock star means a lot to me. He never abandoned the cause. The guy driving the car at the end of Thunder Road is still on the road looking to find his way. And Americans everywhere can appreciate the work-in-progress feel to all of the characters.

A struggle to be spiritual, productive and alive.

Words by Bruce Springsteen. Columbia Records.

We Take Care of Our Own

I’ve been knocking on the door that holds the throne.
I’ve been looking for the map that leads me home.
I’ve been stumbling on good hearts turned to stone.
The road of good intentions has gone dry as a bone.

We take ...care of our own…
We take care of our own.
Wherever this flag’s flown.
We take care of our own.

From Chicago to New Orleans
From the muscle to the bone.
From the shotgun shack to the Superdome.
There ain’t no help
The calvary’s stayed home
There ain’t no one hearing the bugle blown.

We take care of our own…
We take care of our own.
Wherever this flag’s flown.
We take care of our own.

Where are the eyes, the eyes with the will to see?
Where are the hearts that run over with mercy?
Where’s the love that has not forsaken me?
Where’s the work that will set my hands, my soul free?
Where’s the spirit that will reign, rain over me
Where’s the promise from sea to shining sea…
Where’s the promise from sea to shining sea…

Wherever this flag is flown.
Wherever this flag is flown.
Wherever this flag is flown.

We take care of our own.

Wherever this flag is flown.

We take care of our own.

Bruuuuuucccceeeee! And the Yanks Add to the Staff

2012-01-20T00:22:00.000-08:00

So things seem to be shaking on E Street as I am getting word on the new Springsteen CD. They are talking full E Street Band but also a mix of some of the Seeger Sessions musicians to take Clarence's place.

(God Bless the Big Man).

They are also talking an angry, spiritual, political album that sounds different from anything else in the last ten or so years.

How can you not be fired up?

One thing I can tell you for sure: the writing will be brilliant.

And speaking of brilliant, did you happen to catch the Yankees moves over the weekend?

A couple of starting pitchers were brought in to bolster the staff.

Life is looking up here in Cliffy land.

And man, it is good to see some news as we slide into the end of January and the darkest couple of months of the year. I've always hated February and over the last few years March has been the suckiest freaking month that was ever put on the calendar, but then we have April!

The Yankees will open the season that concludes with championship #28.

Bruce will be in Buffalo and I most likely will see him in a couple of other cities too.

A new CD.

Somebody to pitch behind CC.

Pasta on Sunday.

The Bills draft is just around the corner...that's always good for a belly laugh.

Things are on the upswing, my friends.

Every Man for Himself

2012-01-19T01:26:00.000-08:00

So the captain of the Costa Concordia seems to really be gunning for douche of the world, huh?

First he takes the ship with 4,200 people on it nice and close to the shore so he can wave to his friends and family and then when it hits a rock and tips the frig over, he announces that the crew should be saved first and that when it all comes to pass it's every man for himself.

What the hell?

Now I'm not exactly Mel Gibson (another douche) in Braveheart but I think I'd have a little compassion for the women and children on the ship, and hell, if I felt like I were responsible for everyone making a mad scramble, I might just stick around to see how it all turns out.

This guy is going to be a bigger villain than Madoff (Huge douche) before it's all over, and deservedly so, right?

Speaking of villains I see that Orenthal (dumb douche)had his house foreclosed this week. It is still so hard to imagine the path of that dumb bastards life. To be cheered by millions, adored by at least that many, and now sitting in a tiny little cell, deservedly so, right, but what can possibly go through his mind on an hour-to-hour basis?

Wouldn't you like to watch a reality show of OJ moving around his little cell?

Would you buy his foreclosed house?

It's funny, but his name still comes up here in conversation in Buffalo. It's usually something like:

"Man he was a great football player, THOUGH."

As if the though sort of explains away his two little murders.

I often think of his suicide note and how he spelled 'female' as...'femail' ....guess that USC edumacation wasn't worth much.

So, now that Tebow didn't pull off a miracle and he isn't topping the sports shows, I can honestly say that I'm glad he's someone people are looking up to.

I just didn't want to see him being set up for a huge fall.

And nobody will ever fall faster from grace than Orenthal.

Every man for himself, indeed.

He really was a great player, THOUGH.

Everybody Knows Your Name

2012-01-18T01:38:00.000-08:00

Isn't that the best?

I may have gasped when I saw the above shot in Boston. How could you not if you're around my age?

Cheers was more than a great show, it was what we all talked about.

So, I was pretty excited to be there, and the owners of the place have done a nice job of re-creating the bar scene. In fact, the bar itself really seems to be the one they used on the show.

There are nameplates in front of each seat to let you know who sat where as if you really couldn't find Norm and Cliffy's spots.

I sat in Clavin's chair, of course, and ordered the Clavin sandwich. It was grilled cheese with roasted peppers and olives.

Not bad at all.

And there was a sandwich for each member of the cast, and a gift shop, and just a lot of really cool things to look at.

I thought of the nights when my brothers and I would watch the show and drink beer depending upon which name was called. We also might have played the same game in college.

They don't do shows like that anymore, you know? Now we get to watch talent shows and reality garbage.

Our waitress told us the story of the bar and why it came to be. We had entered the place around 11:30 and sort of had our run of the joint, but by the time we were leaving, it was packed.

I imagine it is wall-to-wall with people who visit.

Can't get enough of Clifford Clavin, right?

Temple Run is Runing My Life!

2012-01-17T01:29:00.000-08:00

And it's not just Temple Run, which is a game on the I-phone. It is also video slots (not playing with real money) and the new golf game that I purchased for 5 bucks just last week.

Temple Run is a game where you dart around with something that looks like birds chasing you. There are pinpoint turns and you pick up coins and you add crap on and you jump and slide and die.

If you die once, your game is over. That happens every couple of minutes, and it is so damn addiciting as you try to get your score higher and higher and higher.

"There's a kid in my class who has 4 million," Sam told me.

I was at 40,000 when that news was broken to me.

Then Sam got up over 500,000. Then Matt got to 2 million. Jake is well over the 500,000 mark.

I currently sit at 287,000.

Since we discovered the game I played it ten times more than any one of my kids. OCD will do that to you. I play it as we watch television. It's quite a sight.

We all have phones in our hands. Sam is playing golf. Kathy is spinning the video slots, and I'm sliding into trees, rivers and whatever hell else they put in my way.

I simply suck. And it hurts me deep down.

"You're just pathetic," Jake mentioned as I slid into a ring of fire.

"But I can send you to bed," I answered.

"And I won't go," he countered.

I've lost all control, and they laugh at me on a nightly basis.

Who else has played this son-of-a-bitch-in-game?

Real Strange

2012-01-16T03:34:00.001-08:00

Life is sometimes really strange. Yesterday afternoon I returned from my trip to Boston and as I entered the house the dogs jumped for my attention. Kathy, Jake and Sam were on the couch watching the football game and eating an ice cream. They all said hi, but they didn't jump up and clap, which was great.

Because, you see, I had just been through a real weird experience.

I headed to Boston to accept an award for a book I never imagined writing. I wanted to introduce the people to Jeff though so I was on a mission. I just never truly grasped all of it.

It was a big award, I'm told. 5% of books entered received recognition....so there were a lot of books in the competition. The event was held in the Parker House where a lot of history was made. JFK proposed at one table, Longfellow and Thoreau sat over there. Everything was elegant and they were passing around shit I'd never eat, but shoveled in anyway whenever one of the snooty waiters passed.

All good, so far, nothing on my shirt...which Kathy picked...which didn't show any nipples.

Yet I had a cold...and I hadn't warmed up much. I stayed in Boston with Lyndsy and Dave, two great people who had the Western New York roots. We lounged all day after seeing some sites and I enjoyed their company so much because we were just regular folk.

The guy who sat across from me was in a tux. He wrote poems. He was a big-time professor at a big-time college. He told me that he'd waited all his life to be recognized in such a manner. That was when the woman who organized the festival came by. She hugged me and said

"Welcome back! You're our first two-time winner!"

I had won in 2008 for Nobody's Home.

The guy in the tux almost choked on the Vietnamese spring roll.

Anyway, I sort of hung out. I stopped every single waiter with a tray and tried their food. The steak rolls were the best.

"Are you nervous about your speech?" the guy's wife asked me.

"Uh, nope."

And when I went up there I heard voices in my head. Voices of Jim, Jeff, John, Carrie, Corinne, and Mom.

Make it funny.

Walk tall or don't walk at all.

Clean yourself.

And then Dad...

Do more than what they expect.

And it was perfect too because the guy before me droned on without any regard for timing or laughter.

I thanked them for the award and then I said simply:

I lost my brother to a tragedy and it broke the hearts of a lot of people. Let me introduce him to you.

And I went off. I felt lousy (from a cold) but I was right on time. When I told them about Jeff saying "I can see your nipples, dude," the roar was unreal.

All those well-dressed people were getting it straight from the heart.

And I went on and on...the canned goods. The ahahahahahaha. The spirit of the man I loved so much, alive and vibrating the walls with laughter.

And then I was done.

And I looked up, and it hit me. The people were standing up in the back and clapping and smiling and I was walking back to my seat, fighting the tears.

Back home, 10 hours later...

"I took the hamburger out for dinner," my wife said as I tossed my bag on the counter.

"Perfect," I said.

Weekend in New England

2012-01-15T11:15:00.000-08:00

So much to say about the weekend and I will try tomorrow. Just know that it was a smashing success as I paid homage at Fenway, sat in Clavin's chair at the Cheers bar, and introduced a whole bunch of award-winning authors to an award-deserving life.

Beantown Bound!

2012-01-14T01:22:00.000-08:00

So, Jeff and me are heading for the land of steroid cheats and breaking curses because they were steroid cheats and did I mention that they cheated when they won the World Series, and it doesn't count, and that I'm going to piss all over Yawkey Way?

Actually, I am glad to go to the town, and I'm only half-kidding when I say that stuff above.

They won the series in '04 and '07 Unfair and not-square, but who am I to judge.

No, I am going to Boston for an honor that means the world to me and should mean the world to you as readers of Oh Brother!

You see, the book would have never been written without each person reading this. I wrote it because of an overwhelming love I felt in my heart...and will always feel...and a lot of that was because of family, friends, and readers who wanted that message that Jeff so eloquently lived.

So, I will wear nice clothes, and I might not tinkle at Fenway.

This trip is about honor, after all.

(But you never know).

I'm dreaming about an isolated, quiet street and no street lamps at the front entrance of the park.

(It could happen).

Stop the Hype! Please!

2012-01-13T01:16:00.000-08:00

So, Tim Tebow said, “Thank you Lord,” when the winning TD was scored, and before “Tebowing” on his knee to show the millions watching, including the Lord, that a Steeler victory just wasn’t in God’s plan. Doesn’t a deity, somewhere above, like the Steelers and Pittsburgh fans?

Still, dropping on one’s knee with head bowed is more refined than the jigs and jives that so many football players do after scoring a touchdown. Would theologians argue that playoff games like this are a welcome distraction for the Lord, who must be terribly disillusioned with so much suffering around the world?

Should not the odds-making gurus be seeking the advice of those with supernatural contacts, like TV evangelists, before informing the betting public how to risk its money?

And I realize now, sadly, why the teams I played with as a youth seldom won a championship. The guys on the others teams just outprayed us, and the Lord reacted accordingly

That's one such article I read today.

I agree.

I wake up to ESPN telling me about the Power of Tebow. I see his photo on the cover of every single newspaper that I pick up.

How many times have you seen him crouched in prayer? They are going to add Tebowing to the dictionary as dropping to one's knee in exaltation.

Enough! Stop! He is not "Baby Jesus" as I heard him referred to the other day!

And it's making me really not like what seems to be a honest, God-fearing guy. He might be a good role model. It sure as hell beats the guys who murder dogs, put their things in the hands of cocktail waitresses and beat the shit out of their wives.

I am not denying that, but I can't take anymore!

First off, he's by all accounts a below average player. He might be on the perfect team for him right now, but they aren't even a great team in the scheme of things. He will most likely be out of the playoffs on Monday, whipped by a true superstar quarterback.

If he's not, and they happen to win, on a miracle finish, please remember a few things.

1). God doesn't care! God is not helping the ball elude defenders hands so that his new prophet can be seen kneeling in supplication before the game against the Ravens the following week.

2). The Patriots loss wouldn't be a sign that God defeated Satan. As far as I know, there are also Christians on New England. We aren't quite sure of that because they don't make a grand show of it.

Do I have advice for Tebow?

Yeah, leave it in the locker room. Pray all you like, just don't tell me about it. I don't need to know that you said a Hail Mary as the defensive end was bearing down on you. I don't need you to bring a sick kid that you visited to the podium with you.

A few years ago a plane crashed here in Buffalo. The police received a check. I know one of the officers. It was sent from Derek Jeter, who put it in the mail after reading the story in his paper. He requested that it be spent without fanfare. He didn't want it in the media.

And I know, he's a Yankee and I'm a Yankee fan and I find that gracious, but it's not just Jeter. A lot of these guys give to charity nice and quietly.

We know you're a good guy, Tebow. We know what you believe and that you haven't even had sex yet, for God's sake. We watch you pray. We know your stand on abortion and Thank God for that religious commercial you bought and starred in last year. We realize that you have a message, but for God's sake, we're trying too, and you're being built up to be more than a man, and that just can't end well.

Look at what happened to Jesus.

They crucified him.

They got sick of the hype.

I wish Tebow all the luck in the world. But please don't try and tell me he's good either. I've seen enough pro football to know that he really isn't. Guys throw for 300 yards every week.

He did it once.

I'm not rooting against him.

Honestly, I'm not. I pray too.

But please, for the love of God...

...make it stop!

He's a 24-year old man who makes his living with a ball.

That's it, that's all.

Self-Explanatory

2012-01-12T01:13:00.000-08:00

I Need A Mantra

2012-01-11T01:01:00.000-08:00

I was watching a show last night and a star actress being interviewed said that her mantra is 'Live life to the fullest.'

And it occurred to me that I don't have a mantra!

What should it be? What should it be?

"I try and make it home for Judge Judy?"

"I try to see how much rigatoni I can eat at one sitting?"

"I try to aggravate at least twenty people a day."

Gotta' admit it, I like all of them, but still not sure what my mantra will be.

Of course having a mantra and announcing it is an awful pompous thing to do, isn't it?

I wanted to yell at that actress that her thought was neither interesting nor original. She wants to live each day to the fullest!

Moron.

But I will come up with a mantra before the day is over. I'm thinking of getting that done and then getting a walking cane, a top hat, and a tattoo of John 3:16.

Whatever I need to do to announce that I'm a douche.

How about?

"I don't count my chickens before they're hatched."

"Life is like a box of chocolates."

"I'm going to live like there's no tomorrow."

"Every rose has a thorn."

I suppose that you have to say something when someone is interviewing you, but does anyone really have a mantra?

I do.

I'm going with the Judge Judy one.

"I try and make it home for Judge Judy."

They Are Becoming Men

2012-01-10T01:57:00.000-08:00

I attended Jake's basketball game on Saturday morning. On the way to the game he mentioned that he was about to dominate the action and that my head would most likely be spinning with how great he has become.

I simply wanted to get through the game without getting pissed off at any over-bearing parents, or grandparents, for that matter.

Jake took the court early in the game. My first reaction was how big and hairy he looked to me. When you see your kid from the moment he takes his first breath and every day thereafter, sometimes the mere size of them can throw you off.

A minute in, he was in on a steal. That was one thing I did very little of as a player: defense.

Then he did something even more disconcerting.

He passed the ball to a teammate who streaked to the hoop and scored. Jake glanced my way.

In my eyes, he was dominating.

A few minutes later he got his first shot. It was a mid-range bank shot that rolled out. I had offered 5 bucks a point.

Another rebound, another assist, another missed long range bomb. His team was well ahead. The crowd was behaving. There was one mother who hooted and hollered on every single play, and yelled out for her son to dominate, but she wasn't offensive so I could basically ignore her.

Jake inbounded the ball on a set play for an easy layup for one of his buddies. They slapped hands on their way back to defense where they trapped the point guard and got another turnover.

What the hell is up with the defense and passing? When did that become a part of the game?

Finally, Jake scored from just inside the foul line. A nice, little jumper that tickled the twine.

"That's it Jake!" I yelled out.

The woman with the big mouth gave me a sideways glance. Her kid was on the same team. "Good shot, Jacob!" she yelled too.

A dominating performance. My head was spinning with how great he is.

It seemed like ten minutes ago when I heard the doctor say, "Meet your son."

I thought of that all the way out to the car as Jake replayed his dominance for me.

Pretty cool.

Even if I still can't grasp the concept of a pass.

I Don't CARE!!!!!

2012-01-09T01:41:00.000-08:00

I am always wrong when I get into these political arguments, but why the hell is the Republican platform:

"I love Jesus, I own a gun and we all hate gay people?"

Let's take them one at a time.

I love Jesus too. This is a Christian country, but I don't think less of you if you worship someone else. As long as you're a decent human being, fine. No one has a freaking clue what transpires after we exit anyway, so why pretend that you do. Tebow all you like. We fought for our religious expression. Keep it in your speech. Keep it out. Just don't expect me to vote for you because I think you go to church. You're probably banging an intern or trying to get toilet paper from the guy next to you anyway. Always remember one thing:

You're most likely a disgusting, immoral slob anyway.

I don't own a gun. I don't want your gun unless you are using it to blast away senators or the ex-wife and your four kids. Keep your gun. Go shoot some cans. Hold it under your pillow and pretend you're in the Old West. I could care less. I do think you should have to prove that you're mentally competent enough to handle it, and if you aren't, you shouldn't have one.

Fair enough.

And finally, the one that really grinds my gears.

Why in the hell are we always talking about 'gay this' and 'gay that' whenever there is a presidential debate and/or election coming up?

The states seem to be making the laws. We have gay marriage here in New York, and you know what, it hasn't changed my life one iota.

I'm not gay. If you are, that's fine. Let's all be quiet about it now, can't we? The chance that a gay person is going to directly compromise my way of living is none. I know some gay people, obviously. It's part of our society. I don't think less of them.

Because I don't care! I don't see them having sex. I don't know what religion says on the deal. Maybe it was Adam and Steve. Who the hell knows?

I've never seen any of my straight friends have sex either. I have no interest in watching anyone go at it.

Yet every debate raises the issue.

We are fighting all over the world. Banks collapse, CEO's steal bushels filled with money. A fifth of the people in this country are starving. You can't send your kids to college without having to eat anything but dog food when you get older, and the most pressing issue on the table is can 'Elizabeth get married to Melissa?'

Ah well, just a Monday morning rant.

I'm probably wrong.

If we solve the gay marriage issue everything else will fall into line, right?

Can You Lend A Hand?

2012-01-08T01:21:00.000-08:00

An Uplifting Story

There was a man who lost one of his arms in an accident. He became very depressed because he loved to play golf.

One day in his despair, he decided to commit suicide. He got on an elevator and went to the top of a building to jump off.

He was standing on the ledge looking down and saw this man skipping along, whooping and kicking up his heels. He looked closer and saw that this man didn't have any arms at all.

He started thinking, what am I doing up here feeling sorry for myself, I still have one good arm to do things with?

There goes a man with no arms skipping down the sidewalk so happy, and going on with his life.

He hurried down and caught up with the man with no arms. He told him how glad he was to see him because he lost one of his arms and felt useless and was going to kill himself.

He thanked him again for saving his life and said he knew he could make it with one arm if that guy could go on with no arms.

The man with no arms began dancing and whooping and kicking up his heels again. He asked:

"Why are you so happy anyway?"

“I'm NOT happy," the man said.

"My balls itch.”

The Foxhole

2012-01-07T01:43:00.000-08:00

I spent a good deal of the morning listening to Jay Thomas on Friday. He was voicing his theory regarding the military. You see, Thomas doesn't believe in war. He particularly doesn't believe in the last few wars, and he is fond of telling military men not to kill anyone for him, and not to fight for his freedom.

Thomas explains it all by saying that he feels guilty that people are dying for him, and that he doesn't want anyone to make the ultimate sacrifice for his benefit.

I sort of get it.

Now, of course, it is deemed as unpatriotic to say anything about the soldiers, and I don't think that is what Thomas is doing...he just doesn't want it on his conscience. He is unapologetic and unwavering.

Again, it makes sense to me.

But, a 22-year veteran called in and called Thomas an asshole.

Comes with the territory.

Soon enough the discussion swung around to what sort of soldier every man in the room might make.

And this is where Jay and I sort of lined up even more.

We both would've sucked.

You see, there are men's men. They are big, strong, no-nonsense types of guys who can maim or kill on command. They will have your back. They will spring across a minefield to save their squad. They will wear their bravery and their courage on their sleeves. They will stand tall for what they believe is right, and fight, even if it means they may die themselves.

God Bless them, truly!

Don't get me wrong. I'm not a total coward. I would fight to the death for my family and friends, and if I honestly believed America were at risk.

I think there are a lot of guys like me.

But I'd ask a lot of questions first.

One time I hit a possum with my car. I came up the hill and he was sitting in the center of the road. I think he was eating something. The sound of my tires crushing his back shook the hell out of me.

I nearly pulled to the side so I could weep. I still think of him every time I pass the spot where his life ended.

And therein lies the argument that Thomas and I will always try and make. Not to be disrespectful of the men and women who give their lives for what they believe in...but it's all real scary, isn't it?

I wish there weren't a question. I wish no one had to kill for freedom.

Does it make me a pussy? (As many of you are thinking).

I don't know.

I do know that I will think of that poor possum tonight.

I hope his family can forgive me.

Serenity Now!

2012-01-06T01:30:00.001-08:00

Say it with me, Pops.

One of them damn weeks. I have a theory about short weeks.

They suck.

Because people still have agendas, and people have more rest, and they feel that the new year is going to be different, so they are going to sprint out of the gate.

And call me!

Bastards!

There were others who were voicing some of the same concerns. I saw it all over Facebook, but let me tell you, it ruined my first week of 2012.

So much so that I am tired of this year.

But a funny thing happened on my way to absolute destruction.

I found out the date of Bruce's next CD. And tell me if this doesn't make your skin crawl.

As I wrote in Oh Brother! Jeff got sick on the very day Bruce released his last CD. Do you know when he last came to Buffalo?

On my brother John's birthday. A balloon drifted from the rafters. It had been released for Little Steven's birthday. It landed in John's lap.

It said, 'Happy Birthday.'

It was the last concert the E Street Band ever played together with Clarence.

Bruce released his concert DVD. On what would have been Jeff's birthday.

He is releasing the new CD, as rumors say, on the 3rd anniversary of Jeff's passing.

There is a great force at work, here, friends.

It keeps me swinging for the fences.

The Y-M-C-A

2012-01-06T01:30:00.000-08:00

Of course, whenever I hear the YMCA song I think of my brother running through the crowd, slapping his bare ass while wearing his loin cloth Halloween costume, but I digress...

We have been members of the local YMCA for a lot of years now, and in January it's pretty much a living hell because people make resolutions and they head out in force for a few weeks. There aren't any parking spots, the hot tub is filled with flesh, and even as I walked on the track the other day, people were huffing and puffing their way around.

And I can stand to lose a few pounds, but some of the people I saw could stand to run non-stop from here to Edmonton, Alberta and back. No breaks, no food allowed.

And they'd still be obese.

Yet what gets to me is that strange, uncomfortable vibe in the locker room, and seeing some of these humungous asses in the shower.

Upon arriving I always try to find an isolated area of the locker room where I can change clothes in peace. I will head for the quiet corner, and hope that no one else comes by. Then I will go and work out, shower, hit the tub, shower again, and then head for my secluded spot to change.

Except its never still secluded.

The other day two huge, older men...both naked...stood three feet away. They didn't dress as they talked. They simply stood there and talked about their families, their jobs, and who'd win the Pittsburgh-Denver game. They evidently hadn't seen one another in five years. They were happy to have their reunion butt-naked.

I found it weird.

First off, I am not comfortable enough to stand naked in front of anyone for any length of time. I certainly couldn't stand a foot apart from another man and talk about the weather, football, or anything else. Sooner or later I'd have to mention something about the fact that we were both naked.

It probably wouldn't be a kind comment either.

I might have to point and laugh.

I dressed as quickly as possible. They were still chatting. They were laughing. They were still nude.

As I headed for the door, I took one glance back. One of the guys got more comfortable by putting his left leg up on the bench.

"Ha-Ha, you don't say!"

If I could've ran, I would have.

I didn't want to see them embrace goodbye.

I can't wait until the resolution stage is over.

Did You Know?

2012-01-05T01:49:00.000-08:00

God, I was going to vote for Herman Cain and he got bounced, so I switched to Rick Perry, but we found out he's done, so I switched to Bachman, and now she quit, so I was going to go to Newt, but he had a disappointing finish in Iowa. So, I thought about Santorium but there was footage...ah forget it!

Did you know that Hitler was Time Magazine's Man of the Year for 1938?

Did you know that Oprah makes a million bucks a day?

Did you know that your chances of getting killed on your way to buy a lottery ticket are actually better than your chances of winning?

Did you know that Americans spend 25 billion dollars a year on beer?

Which might explain...did you know that the amount of human urine in one day could flow over Niagara Falls for 20 minutes?

Did you know that if a cockroach comes into contact with a human it will run off and hide and clean itself for an hour or so?

Did you know that it's cheaper to have sex with a prostitute than it is to buy a condom in India?

Did you know that Bin Laden's death was announced on May 1 and Hitler's death was also announced on May 1? 2011 and 1945 respectively.

Did you know that in 1897 Bayer marketed heroin as a cough syrup?

Did you know that a married man is 4 times more likely to die during sex if his partner is someone other than his wife?

Did you know that the mobile phone you carry has a more powerful computer than the one NASA used to send men to the moon in 1969?

See the shit you learn reading this goofy blog?

Is any of it true?

This Concludes Our Tour to Open Up 2012

2012-01-04T01:20:00.000-08:00

So my last 3 posts have been about things I've tried hard to learn. We will get back to our regularly scheduled mess-I-make-of-things posts tomorrow. Wanted to conclude with Bruce lyrics of course.

Someone tell me, honestly, that he isn't a genius.

Across the Border

Tonight my bags are packed. Tomorrow I’ll walk these tracks that will lead me across the border.

Tomorrow my love and I will sleep beneath auburn skies – somewhere across the border.

We’ll leave behind, my dear, the pain and sadness we found here and we’ll drink from God’s Blessed Water.

Where the skies grow great and wide, we’ll meet on the other side somewhere across the border.

For you I’ll build a house, high upon a grassy hill, somewhere across the border.

Where pain and memory have been stilled there across the border.

And sweet blossoms fill the air in pastures of gold and green and roll down into clear, cool waters.

And in your arms beneath open skies, I’ll kiss the sorrow from your eyes there across the border.

Tonight, we’ll sing the songs and I’ll dream of you my love, and tomorrow my heart will be strong.

And may the saints blessing and grace carry me safely into your arms there across the border.

For what are we without hope in our hearts that someday we’ll drink from God’s Blessed waters. And eat the fruit from the vine. I know love and fortune will be mine – somewhere across the border.

The 'For what are we without hope in our hearts' may have been something I lifted for the News article, but Bruce wouldn't mind. It was all for good.

Buffalo News - March 2001

2012-01-03T01:11:00.000-08:00

Looking through old stuff is fun! This is still one of my favorite stories about the old writing career. Should be self-explanatory. The News got the ball rolling by publishing my letter.

Reality of Poverty Revealed During Visit to City Mission

Over the course of the last three months, I have been doing book signings for my book, Desperation. I am donating a portion of the proceeds to the Buffalo City Mission.

The more I learn about the City Mission, and organizations like it, the more that I feel that I have to give something back.

What are we without hope in our hearts? That’s a question I’ve asked myself a number of times since touring the mission while doing research for my book.

For five years, I worked on a story that chronicled a family’s attempt to cheat poverty. I read a number of books on the subject, and fancied myself something of an expert on what it might mean to be poor in a material-driven society.

But in the first half-hour of my tour of the City Mission, I learned more about what was in my heart than I did in the years spent researching the subject of poverty.

The statement of the Buffalo City Mission is to restore hope, dignity and lives. In appearances throughout the community, I’ve asked people if they would be willing to lend a hand in return for grace. Who among us would not throw a line to a drowning man? Would we ask for a financial statement? Would we want to know if his credit is any good?

While walking through the City Mission, I met the head of the food pantry, He shook my hand for all he was worth and he mentioned something about finally turning his life around. He showed me the place with a wave of the hand, saying:

“I’m in charge around here.”

Not knowing exactly what to say, I mentioned that he was doing an excellent job. His chest puffed out, and he shook my hand again. He’d spent 17 days at the mission, and he was going to make it this time.

Since that day, I have chastised myself for not finding out more about the man, and even though I didn’t get his name, suddenly poverty had a face, one with some hope and dignity.

Yet, as I walked around looking at the supplies, it occurred to me that perhaps there was more that could be done. The pantry was only partially filled, and the demand is almost overwhelming. Most people understand that food is a basic need for places like the City Mission, but few give thought to the other staples of everyday life that most of us take for granted.

“We have a shortage of socks and underwear,” said Rod Sargent, my tour guide. “No one donates socks and underwear.”

It’s a thought that has haunted me since. Do you take having a clean pair of shorts for granted? We shame ourselves to watch a man beg for survival, and still, we put on clean socks and underwear every day, and pray that poverty and homelessness will go away.

I stepped out into the bright sunshine of a beautiful fall day. I walked back to my car, got in, shook my head and drove away.

I know now that I have words to soothe me, and not enough time or money to give. But for the Love of God, we all deserve clean socks and underwear. The men on the streets have a name, and they deserve our grace.

For what are we without hope in our hearts?

The article was printed in March, 2001 in April 2001 I received a note from Pastor Daniel Brick – head of St. Albert’s Church in North Tonawanda, NY.

Brick had used my article in a sermon at his church and his parishioners provided him with a sizeable donation to City Mission. The donation consisted of brand new socks and underwear.

(The best part of the whole deal was when my wife said: "They are talking about you in church?")

Words from Brick’s sermon:

“I read a guest editorial in the Buffalo News. It was written by Clifford Fazzolari of Blasdell, NY.

It turns out that Mr. Fazzolari has written a book called Desperation. It is a story that chronicles a family’s attempt to deal with poverty. Clifford is donating a portion of the book’s proceeds to the Buffalo City Mission. His editorial went on from there to say that the more he learned about the City Mission, the more he felt the need to give something back. He asked the rhetorical question: For what are we without hope in our hearts?

Mr. Fazzolari said he thought he was somewhat of an expert on what it meant “to be poor in a material-driven society.” He went on to write, “In my first half-hour tour of the City Mission, I learned more about what was in my heart than I did in the years of researching the subject of poverty.” He writes that the statement of the City Mission is to restore hope, dignity and lives. He asks,”Would we be willing to lend a hand in return for grace? Who among us would not throw a line to a drowning man? Would we ask for a financial statement? Would we want to know if his credit was good?”

He then went on to recount one of his tours through the City Mission. He talked about their food pantry and the fact that it was only partially filled. He says the demand is terrific. Then he wrote, “Most people understand that food is a basic need for places like the City Mission. But few give thought to the other staples of everyday life. The things most of us take for granted.”

“We have shortage of socks and underwear,” said his tour guide. “No one donates socks and underwear.”

Fazzolari says that the thought has haunted him since and me too! He asks the question, “Do we take having a clean pair of shorts for granted?”

Jesus probably meant to say, “Woe to you if you have clean socks and underwear and don’t share them with the poor.”

That is certainly what Fazzolari is thinking.

Well, I know one thing. St. Albert’s Parish has always been responsive. And we are not waiting. We don’t need any woes. We don’t have to wonder. We have a plain cardboard box up here on the altar that says socks and underwear. It can be Jockey, Fruit of the Loom – it doesn’t matter! It will all go to the City Mission.

Fazzolari is right, “What are we without hope in our hearts? We know what Jesus wants – he wants us to give hope. Socks and underwear is our little way."

To conclude the story, Rod Sargent of the mission called me a couple of weeks later to tell me that a truck had pulled up and dropped off two filled barrels of brand new socks and underwear.

That's when a light went on:

My writing could be of benefit!!!!

The Heart of the Matter

2012-01-02T01:01:00.000-08:00

I don't mean to do this all of 2012, but I found another piece I wrote back about ten years ago. It's a true story. I was later asked to read this on a radio station somewhere and it was reprinted somewhere else. I still like it.

On a bitterly cold Saturday morning in November, I stopped at a store for diapers, formula and dog food. I had a miserable hacking cough and an aching head. I was dead-tired and aggravated that there was one cashier with six people in line.

I rolled my eyes and swore only to be embarrassed when I realized the elderly woman behind me had heard me curse.

“I’m sorry. I’m just miserable.”

The lady smiled. I figured she was about seventy. A quick glance at her cart told me she probably lived alone.

“I don’t have enough time left to be miserable,” she said. “Being 93, I know I can go anytime. I have to enjoy what’s left.”

I was floored by her proclamation.

“You can’t be 93! You look so young!”

“That’s because I’m never miserable!"

She introduced herself as Diane. She told me she was pleased to meet me. I voiced the question that entered my little brain.

“What’s the secret to a good life?”

Diane’s smiled, touching my left arm.

“I was hoping someone would eventually ask me that.”

Diane talked as the cashier scanned our groceries. She kept talking as we exited the store and walked through the snow to a Chevy in the center of the lot. As I loaded her car, Diane continued speaking, softly explaining the five most important lessons in her life. When she was through speaking, I stood frozen in place. Its eight months later (it's ten years and eight months later now!), and I can’t stop thinking about what Diane said.

Be considerate of other people.

Understand that the guy that cut you off might be on his way to an emergency.

Clean up after yourself – don’t leave your shopping cart in the middle of the parking lot where it might roll into someone else’s car.

Don’t just tolerate the differences in people; celebrate them because variety is the spice of life and you should be open to new ideas.

Work hard and play fair

If someone gives you a job, do more than what’s expected. No one owes you anything. You’re not granted privileges without working for them.

Challenge yourself to be better every day. By making and meeting challenges, you’ll grow as a person one day at a time.

Surround yourself with love

Surround yourself with people you love and love them with your whole heart. When you feel you’ve reached the ceiling of your love – look for more. Love unconditionally realizing everyone has something to offer.

When you feel like you’re alone - search for beauty around you - concentrate on the best things life has to offer:

Like when a mother holds her child for the very first time.

Or when the sun sets bright orange in the sky.

Or when your child laughs.

Or when someone tells you they missed you.

Look up at the sky

Understand the universe is huge and you are not at the center.

Find a star in the sky and be thankful you made it through another day.

Understand nothing in life is guaranteed. Know that those stars numbered, day by day, will provide you with a clear mind.

Fill your heart with faith and hope

Believe in a higher love; understand everyone has problems and know we will all see our share of misery. In the battle between misery and faith make certain faith wins every time.

Surrender your life to a higher power, realizing life might not seem fair, but your reaction to pain and suffering is what matters.

On that cold morning, Diane said:

“Everything you need for a happy life already exists inside you. You’ll never know when life may end, but no one can afford to be miserable."

Think of the innocence of a child. Walk with your head held high and your eyes wide open. Remind yourself you’re young, vital, and important and maybe someday when you’re old and gray someone will come along and tell you that you look 23 years younger than you really are.”

Reading back through this, I realize that my conversation with Diane did not stretch on for as long as it might take for her to tell me all these things, but I do know that it is what I took from our one-time meeting.

Here's hoping that Diane is somewhere celebrating her 103rd year of life.

Looking just 80.

The Bottom Line

2012-01-01T06:55:00.000-08:00

I wrote this back in 2002. Found it kicking around a computer file. It fits into how I'm thinking at the dawn of 2012. Ten years goes fast, my friends.

Some friends of mine are battling the serious illness of their child. Having been down a similar road just a short time ago, I found myself praying for them – wishing that I could buy them a truckload of faith, hope or love.

As I considered this, it occurred to me that sometimes it is impossible to grasp the meaning of faith.

How do we find faith in the face of the events of September 11th? How do we make sense of unknown enemies that want to destroy us? Even more importantly, how do we move forward when the very foundation of our faith is shaken by the unspeakable actions of those in leadership roles in the Catholic Church?

Truthfully, how do we find faith in the eyes of an ailing child?

It is the very mystery of human nature. Yet, when people know some of the dark things that life holds in store, there is still belief. If you are open to it, there are times when faith just explodes into your heart. It’s there in the face of a woman in the immediate moment after giving birth.

It’s alive in the beauty of an auburn sky on a summer’s night.

It surely doesn’t matter what kind of shoes you walk in. There are thousands of religions out there, but they are all predicated on the same set of beliefs. Although sometimes catching love and faith is a little like trying to hug a rainbow, there are undeniably moments when we are allowed to glimpse the treasures of God. It’s in the smile of a friend or the hug of a brother.

It’s in the voice of a father or caught in the sound of the howling wind.

When the world is at its darkest we often search for a sense of faith, hope or a belief in love because the bottom line is that that’s all there really is.

Where there is beauty there is hope and where there is love there is divine love and that’s what you need to pull you through.

It is in the kindness of a stranger or the laughter of a child. Sometimes all that we can ever hope for is that someday we will grasp the true meaning of faith and love.

If you have a moment, help me find a truckload of strength for my friends’ daughter –they really need something to hold onto right now.

Let the possibility of beauty into your life.

Last Day!

2011-12-31T08:25:00.000-08:00

If 2012 is it, as legend has it, we should really pile on tonight, huh?

Chances are, I really won't. It hasn't been that kind of year, and I'm closing it out with a lot on the agenda, and when that happens, I sleep lousy, get antsy, and act like a douche.

So..Happy New Year!!!

But realistically, I feel a good year coming on. I don't expect it, but I will take it if it comes down the pike.

And once more, we use this forum to talk ourselves into dwelling on the beautiful in what can sometimes be an ugly life.

So no talk of Sandusky or Syracuse. No mention of Lohan or the Kardashians.

Let's go with the idea that the faith and love that we have is quite enough for now.

Like the belief that God is in heaven and that He will eventually show the way. Let it Be. There will be an answer. Let it Be.

Like the love of a beautiful wife and wonderful children. They drive me up the freaking wall, but they make me laugh a lot too. And I am amazed by them, every day.

Like the belief that the 27-time World Champion Yankees will be the 28-Time Champion Yankees as the world explodes at the end of next year. The young pitching better work out!

Like the great dogs I have. I tell Melky every day. She's the best dog in the whole, wide world. She likes that.

Like the love of my friends...my extended family...and all the new people who will come into my life. That's what keeps you going, right?

All you need is love.

(There are them damn Beatles again).

So, as we contemplate. Perhaps eat a lot and drink a little.

Remember...stay hard, stay hungry, stay alive, if you can...

...and meet me in the dream of this hard land.

Happy New Year!

New England Book Festival

2011-12-30T03:15:00.001-08:00

So, the book placed in the New England Book festival and despite the fact that the awards ceremony is dangerously close to where the Red Sux eat fried chicken and drink beer during games, I'm going!

When I received the email telling me that the book would get an award I immediately thought of my family. My Mom, my brothers and sisters, and all the wonderful people who sent me beautiful words about Jeff and the story. Like one I received earlier in the day.

Dear Cliff,

I sat down to start the book and never put it down until I was finished.

I cried my eyes out because I have felt that pain before. This was the first time anyone has ever been able to describe what I was feeling when my Grandma had a stroke and was in the hospital.

Although she was older, she was healthy and the head of our family. I would stay with her as much as I could and I hated to leave her in the hospital when I had to return to my "normal" life.

I remember all the glimpses of hope when she would say something or squeeze my hand. And I also questioned why God would do something like this to our family. You talked about the prayer to St. Jude and I would say that prayer to my Grandma every day while she laid there, hoping that she heard me.

Although it was an unbearable time for me, I am very thankful that I was given the time to say goodbye to her. I was able to tell her how much she meant to me and how much I loved her. Some people never have a chance to say goodbye. So that's what comforts me when I think of her. Thank you for writing such a beautiful book. You touched my life.

Amy

And once again, it dawned on me that such words are award enough.

And I thought of Cindy and Nicole and Megan at Sterlinghouse and how they made it the book it turned out to be and how their vision makes me so much better as a storyteller.

I thought of my friends and Jeff's friends. The very definition of friends. Each and every one.

But mostly, I thought of Jeff, and how he would tell me to clean myself up a little, try and hide the belly and the nipples and say something nice.

He would say, 'For God's sake, be funny at the ceremony, and let all them writer nerds know that guys like us can show them what's important.'

So that's what I'm going to do.

Thank you, Amy...and all who made this story an award-winning story of an amazing man.

What the Hell Should I Eat?

2011-12-30T01:16:00.000-08:00

So, if the resolution is to get healthy, drop a little weight, and feel better, can someone please tell me what the hell to do?

Saw an article today that said drinking 80 ounces of water may not be good for you after all.

Raise your hand if you ever saw an article like that before.

I drink about 150 ounces of water a day, no lie.

Eggs?

Eat 'em? Don't eat 'em? Who the hell knows? Brown eggs? White eggs? Fried eggs? Egg whites? Scrambled?

No one has ever really painted a clear picture there.

Carbs are bad, right? Red meat...bad! Butter...horrible.

But don't eat too much fish because of the Mercury. Clams will kill you.

Pork? Chicken?

Become a vegan!

There it is, right?

Wrong. Not happening.

The other day we were talking about cutting back on carbs. A buddy of mine told me that perhaps it would be of benefit to eliminate one of two of my pasta days.

He isn't my buddy anymore.

I now eat a regular breakfast. I went from two sandwiches at lunch to one. I actually try to make it turkey.

Turkey sandwiches aren't cappicola, in case you haven't noticed.

No fast food. No soda. No beer. I ride a bike at the YMCA and walk the track. I'll run it soon if my leg ever goes back to normal.

And I still feel like crap.

Maybe I'm drinking too much water.

Need New Kicks?

2011-12-29T01:02:00.000-08:00

So people are trampling one another for Michael Jordan's new sneakers that sell to inner city kids for $180 a pop.

Every kid needs them. Downtrodden parents are trying to decide between heat for the winter or new shoes for their kids. I saw one mother attempting to buy them one at a time on an installment plan.

This is something I really don't get. Of course, my friends know this about me. I usually kick it around in a pair of eight dollar Pro-Keds. I have never, on my own, bought shoes anywhere other than Pay Less.

In fact, about eight years back, I was invited to my company's Christmas Party. One of the big bosses led me towards his Cadillac in the parking lot. He wouldn't tell me where we were headed, and I was a little shocked when he asked me to follow him into a shoe store where he bought a pair of black dress shoes for me.

I've worn them twice since. But hey, I still got 'em.

And it goes much deeper than that. During my pre-teen years I was the only roller skating champ in North Collins who was actually wearing white, girl skates.

My cousin Carol handed them down.

I loved them.

My mother offered to buy me new skates a number of times, but I turned her down. I had good skates, why spend good money on new ones?

So I can't see the craze. The crowd looking for the Air Jordan's had to be pepper-sprayed to get under control.

And I don't even like Jordan. I read a story about him last week about the petition that his neighbors got together to get him thrown out of the neighborhood because of how poorly he maintains his home, how loud he is, and how he tosses his cigar butts wherever he pleases.

I always thought he was something of a jerk-off, but he's doing something right.

Everyone wants to wear his shoes.

Ain't no one lining up for my white skates or Pro-Keds.

Airing Dirty Laundry

2011-12-28T01:53:00.000-08:00

I don't know about you but I really don't like advertising when I'm having a tough time in a relationship, and despite the fact that I write a blog every day, I honestly don't say a hell of a lot about things that are troublesome.

I was fascinated with the above sign that was posted in front of a real nice home not far from where I live. I don't really understand the message, I suppose, but I do get the angst and pain that went into what appears to be a 4 and a half year knockdown brawl.

Divorce appears to be a real pain in the ass. It also doesn't seem like much of a financial move, but I'm just above the poverty line in marriage while my wife is upper middle class, but hey, I don't air such grievances.

And you don't know whether or not to believe me anyway.

But it's true.

Anyhow...why advertise it? What is gained from such a sign? To embarass the other? Not a lot of respect there. Perhaps that's why the divorce happened.

Revenge is a powerful urge.

Also, last night at the hockey game a middle-aged man that sat directly behind us and commented on every play screamed out a harsh obscentity to a Washington player.

My wife and kids were there. There were a lot of wives and kids there. The guy may have been sipping beer. The guy he was screaming at most certainly didn't hear him.

Why scream out the mother of all words in such a situation? Who is he impressing?

I made a half-turn and Kathy caught my eye as if to tell me to let it go.

I did, but not before at least shaking my head in displeasure. It may have worked too because the guy cleaned it up as he continued his running commentary.

But it's Christmas-time people. Can't we respect each other even a little?

I really wonder about the man who rented this sign and the woman who is now free to chase diamonds elsewhere.

I bet it's a great story.

I'm Only Gonna' Say This Once

2011-12-27T00:25:00.000-08:00

Well, the house is getting there. I haven't taken the tree down yet. I may leave it until Saturday, but the clean-up went well, and there were a few surprises along the way.

I cooked yesterday. 12 pounds of turkey, 10 pounds of ham, a batch of sauce with 3 pounds of meatballs and about 5 pounds of sausage. The sauce was perfect. We also had five pounds of roast beef and I peeled over ten pounds of potatoes and mashed them. Tried Jeff's secret on the gravy, and it was good. Not there, but good.

And usually Kethy's family hardly puts a dent in that much food. They normally eat like birds compared to my side of the family who eats as if we are going to the chair right after dinner.

Well, surprise...they ate nearly everything. They drank a dozen bottles of wine, a bottle of Jamesons and a bottle of Patron.

All right, I helped a little. I pounded a pound of the pasta and tried a few shots.

I cleaned as I went and Kathy cleaned even more than me, but there were still a few stray items thrown about. We were putting them in their proper places so I could sit down in peace.

I was thinking about all the money spent and all the time and aggravation that went into a few hours of fun. It was fun.

Was it all worth it?

Sam waltzed in the room and stood between us.

"I'm only going to say this once," he said.

He paused for a long moment as though he were nervous.

"Me, Jake and Matt are lucky to have you two," he said.

He waited for a response. We were both stunned.

"Okay?" He asked. "All right?"

So cool. So worth it.

A lot of what you do as a parent...the day in, the day out. The getting up early and working late. All the meals. All the diaper changes.

All the freaking money.

He only said it once.

That's all he really had to say it, right?

A Rum-Pa-Pa-Pum

2011-12-26T01:34:00.000-08:00

So there's Matt's favorite present. A pint of rum that you might see a homeless man sucking on as he sits up against a building in any city in the country.

Ahhhh, college.

I'm not sure just how the present came to be the first thing he opened, or why the hell Santa brought him such a thing, but he is the kid that would never have a drink. Heretofore he has been a responsible kid. I just needed a laugh as the presents were opened (mainly because gift-wrapping being strewn about is an attack to my OCD) and he provided it.

Once more, my beautiful wife did a tremendous job of buying and wrapping each present. The kids were appreciative, thanking her with each one.

"What am I wood?" I asked at one point.

"You just funded it," they said.

But we had a great couple of days of being together and feeling the love that accumulates here through the year.

One of my other favorite lines of the holiday came out, in church, of all places. I reached for Jake's hand to hold during the 'Our Father' at Christmas Eve Mass.

"Would you like to hold my hand?" I asked.

"I'd rather have cancer," he responded.

It's impossible not to think back during the holidays, and I must admit I suffered quite a bit as the holiday approached this year, but love is a nice thing to grab hold of.

Even if the hand is elusive.

It's easy to miss too, if you aren't looking for it.

Another year...

Secure...

Here in the Fazzolari household.

Let's break out the rum.

All the Heaven We Got

2011-12-25T00:12:00.000-08:00

On Christmas Day try and think of the ten thousand wonderful things in your life that allow you that glimpse into the eternal bliss that we are all seeking.

In my eyes this is all the heaven we got:

The exact moment when you arrive home and the dog jumps to greet you. There's a little bit of heaven in that undeniable jubilation that controls every muscle in that dog's body.

Hold onto that sunset or sunrise that sort of makes you go, 'Ahhh,'in awe of what you're seeing. I head East on a regular basis. A lot of time before the sun rises. Not many things more sure than the sunrise and if you happen to pay attention, it's awesome.

The touch of someone you love, and it is more than just a sexual thing. Just a rub of the neck, or a pat on the arm. When it seems like you've been swimming upstream all day, it feels good to have a bit of human touch.

Speaking of human touch...a song on the radio that catches you by surprise. Maybe something that you haven't heard for awhile, but you still remember all the words. Capture that moment when you sing like you're actually the singer, and your performance can win you the Grammy.

Think of the smell of the garlic and onions simmering in the pan on a Sunday morning when the bed was warm, Mom and Dad were watching over you, and all you had to do was rise, and be with the family. If that isn't enough, remember that the sauce was always drinkable.

Think of how you feel when an old friend reaches out, and you laugh hard at the glory days as you remember yourself as the 18-year-old that was going to turn the world on its ear. Pretend for a moment that its all stretched out before you again, and then remember that most of what you were wishing for then most likely happened at least a little.

Think of the kindness of a stranger. Maybe someone once let you out in traffic, or held the door for you so you could step through. Perhaps it was a short conversation about the weather or the news of the day that made you smile. And while you'll never see that person again, you feel better for having seen them once.

Think of how you feel the moment when it snows for the first time of the season. Even here in Buffalo that's a different kind of day. It's a day when you think, 'that's cool.' Six months later, when it's still snowing...not so much.

But the weather provides us so much comfort and beauty. Think of the stars filling the sky on a summer night, or the sun breaking through the clouds on what had been a completely gray day, or a cool breeze breaking through the humidity, or a cool rain taking away the stifling heat.

Think of your son coming by and telling you that he's dominating college, or your
4'8" son talking of ruling the NBA. Think of your boy seeing you sitting there and asking, 'What's up, Champ?'

Imagine them ten years down the line, out in the world, living life, enjoying their days, and building on what you built upon that was handed to you.

Think of sharing an old-time story with your Mom or Dad or Grandma or Grandpa and trying to imagine them as a child.

Doesn't it all seem to be in black-and-white?

Listen to the story and bring color into their memory with them. Not everything was better in the good old days, but not everything was worse either.

There is a treasure chest of memories there.

Think of the electric blanket and that moment when you first slip under the covers when you're tired from a long day, or that split-second when the warm water grabs you as you get into the hot tub. Finding the right parking spot. Taking pepperoni wrapped in cheese off the hot pizza, looking at the girls in their summer clothes.

There is so much heaven out there. We are actually living in shangri-la.

A long putt making it to the bottom of the hole. The laughter of a child. Writing the perfect sentence. Reading a wonderful book. Hearing someone say 'I love you', Thunder Road, catching a ball game.

As I reflected back on the year this morning I thought of my knee surgery. My dragging my leg and then the 2nd surgery and dragging my leg through to the end of the year.

And I must admit it was easy to think that it was a lost year, emotionally and spiritually.

But then I thought of all of those things.

And I thought of the benefit that Jeff's friends threw for him, and the love and the beautiful collection of people that gathered.

And it hit me.

There's a lot of heaven right here.

Our Shangri-la.

Merry Christmas to all!

Go Tell It on the Mountain!

2011-12-24T01:28:00.000-08:00

Every once in awhile I get an email or a Facebook post sent to me that screams of the indignity that "they" are trying to take the Christ out of Christmas.

"They won't let the kids say God in the pledge."

"Government officials are not allowed to whisper the word Christ."

"They send out X-mas because they are trying to pretend Christ doesn't exist."

Relax people.

Just calm down.

First off, who's "they?"

Have you ever wished anyone a Merry Christmas and have them said, "Including Christ in your well-wishing offends me?"

I didn't think so.

Everyone in America is aware of the significance of Christmas and the presence of Christ in the conversation. Not everyone believes in a Tebow-esque manner, but the acknowledgement is certainly there.

I went to public school. They aren't standing at the door handing out stickers of Satan. They aren't trying to stifle the children in any matter, unless they are an idiotic, rogue teacher.

The country was built on religious freedom. We fled England for that reason, right?

We are free to Tebow in the shopping mall if we want. We can drop a rug and face East in the freeway.

That brings a question to mind in the Tebow-mania stuff. How would we feel if it were a prayer rug on the sidelines and he peppered his post-game stuff with 'Praise be Allah'?

I'm thinking it'd be fun.

But you know what?

It would certainly be tolerated and perhaps even admired.

On the surface it is a Christian-driven country. We plan around the holiday. We hand presents to idiot co-workers we don't even like in the name of Christmas.

So just relax...

...no one is oppressing your beliefs.

Not even that African-born Muslim in the White House, right?

(That's a joke).

Geez, will everyone just calm down.

Shout what you want from the nearest mountain top. We live in America. Land of the Free.

Merry CHRISTmas!

Peace on Earth, Can it Be?

2011-12-23T01:00:00.000-08:00

All righty then.

You can have anything you want for Christmas, what would it be?

1). A million dollars?

You'll piss your way through that.

2). A BB gun?

You'll shoot your eye out.

3). A new baby boy or girl?

The bastards grow up.

4). To be happy?

That's a beauty pageant answer. You ain't no beauty.

5). Peace on Earth?

All the bad guys are dropping like flies. There will be more to take their place.

6). Enough food on a routine basis?

Your cholesterol...gotta watch your cholesterol.

7). The Bills and Sabres to try to win?

Not happening. Come on over to the dark side. 27-time champions await your arrival.

8). A loving, understanding spouse?

Actually, I hope you find a good companion...can't even bust on that one, but there are limits as we all know on how understanding and loving we all are.

9). Patience and wisdom

This is the year, right? Everything is going to come together! There will be a true wave of knowledge overtaking all that you believe.

Uh, probably not.

10). Health

I wish everyone a happy and healthy new year.

Don't drink and drive.

Don't drink and fight.

Don't do something that follows you into 2012.

It is the last year, after all.

Lisa, It's Your Birthday, Happy Birthday, Lisa

2011-12-22T01:58:00.000-08:00

Remember when Michael Jackson was on the Simpsons and he sang the Happy Birthday Lisa song?

My brother Jeff used to really bust my chops with that song because back in college my close friend Lisa was never too far from my thoughts because I was mainly a drunken, goofy mess, and Lisa was the voice of reason.

She was like a mother to me and my drunken cohorts and I wonder how that makes Lisa feel all these years later as she is the mother to her son and daughter, and most likely to her husband, Frank, a real good dude who knows nothing at all about sports.

And I say Happy Birthday to Lisa today because I don't see her very often anymore, but because her friendship still means the world to me, and when we chat it's like time stood still.

Quite a few years ago, for my birthday, Frank and Lisa joined Kathy and me for a Bills football game. It was Bills-Dolphins and Frank was rooting for Miami.

I told you he lacks sports knowledge.

Anyway, the long ago weekend is fresh in my mind because the Bills and Dolphins tangled this weekend. We could have had tickets, there were 30,000 empty seats.

Things change. We've introduced children to the world. Our families, the Fazzolari's and the Zocco's seem fairly well-adjusted. Lisa deserves some credit for both happenings.

I know that my beautiful wife is grateful for Lisa's presence because if college had gone differently then the Erie, PA. prison rolls may have been littered with the names Fuzzy, George, Fluffy and Rosie.

Happy Birthday.

Have Frank take you to a Yankee game.

Maybe you can talk some sense into him too.

The Real Story

2011-12-21T01:57:00.000-08:00

The story of the Birth of Christ Jesus

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"About that time Caesar Augustus ordered a census to be taken throughout the Empire. This was the first census when Quirinius was the governor of Syria. Everyone had to travel to his hometown to be accounted for. So Joseph went from the Galilean town of Nazareth up to Bethlehem in Judah, David's hometown, for the census. As a decendant of David he had to go there. He went with Mary, his fiancee, who was pregnant.

While they were there, the time came for her to give birth. She gave birth to a son, her firstborn. She wrapped Him in a blanket and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the hostel.

There were shepherds camping in the neighborhood. They had set night watches over their sheep. Suddenly, God's angel stood among them and God's glory blazed around them. They were terrified. The angel said, "Don't be afraid. I'm here to announce a great and joyful event that is meant for everybody worldwide: A Savior has just been born in David's town, a Savior who is Messiah and Master. This is what you're to look for: a baby wrapped in a blanket and lying in a manger."

At once the angel was joined by a huge angelic choir singing God's praises: "Glory to God in the heavenly heights; Peace to all men and women on earth who please Him."

As the angel choir withdrew into heaven, the shepherds talked it over. "Let's get over to Bethlehem as fast as we can and see for ourselves what God has revealed to us." They left, running, and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in the manger. Seeing was believing. They told everyone they met what the angels had said about this child. All who heard the shepherds were impressed.

Mary kept all these things to herself, holding them dear, deep within herself. The shepherds returned and let loose, glorifying and praising God for everything they had heard and seen. It turned out exactly the way they'd been told!" (Luke 2:1-20).

"Ahh, Look At All the Boats!"

2011-12-20T01:22:00.000-08:00

My first trip over the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco was memorable for a couple of reasons.

Let me set the scene:

Dad had been living in California for a few weeks. Mom and I left Buffalo just two weeks after I finished my senior year in high school. On the flight out, we drank pretty good. A ton of laughs between mother and son as we sat in first class sipping champagne, and downed a few during our layover in Chicago.

Dad was a tad aggravated when he picked us up at the airport, but we loaded the car with our luggage. Mom was visitng for a week. I would be staying on indefinitely.

With every turn of the head we took in a golden vision. The entire city should be on a postcard. We headed for the bridge in the Ford Galaxy, a huge car with a wide backseat. I was in the center of the backseat with Dad driving and Mom in the passenger seat. We started the drive across the bridge, I took a peek at Alcatraz.

Mom lowered her window and tossed her cigarette.

Into the backseat.

I was dancing around as the lit cigarette started some of the papers on the floor on fire. Mom was yelling...at me...Dad was swearing. I was stomping the flames.

I missed the whole trip over the bridge.

We were nearly on the other side. The excitement had died down. We were both a little pissed at Mom. Silence took hold.

"Ahh, Look at all the boats!" Mom yelled out, effectively scaring the living shit out of Dad.

I tell that story because last night, at about 3:30 a.m. I woke up laughing.

You see, I lived in California for eight months during that trip. Each day, Dad drove me across the bridge to work. He also took us back at the end of the work day.

Every single day, for those 8 months, he would shout it out:

"Ahh, look at all the boats!"

This week is Dad's birthday. Some may say that he isn't here.

I beg to differ.

He made me laugh at 3:30 in the morning.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

The Ghosts of Christmas' Past

2011-12-19T01:59:00.000-08:00

Not really sure what it is, but I have very little Christmas spirit thus far. I have even less anticipation when it comes to New Year's Eve.

Perhaps it's because there isn't any snow, but I am not big on snow anyway so that can't be it. Maybe it's because I haven't stepped foot into a store this year because my beautiful wife told me not to buy her anything and she did all of the rest of the shopping, but I hate stores too, so that most likely isn't it.

The kids are older so the surprise element is gone. They get presents that make a stack only a few inches thick because all of the new electronics are small. They will open the presents quickly, and be on there way.

The week that just passed felt like a month, but a lot of weeks are like that. So, let's figure it out together and perhaps we can get a few moments of celebration out of the season.

Of course, there is the religious element to it. I was an altar boy for at least ten years at the Midnight Mass Celebrations, so it is hard to not think of the time logged in church. I will certainly dwell on God and I will Thank God for what is here, right?

And what was here.

My Mom was telling me about one of my aunts who faith has been shaken to the very core. This poor woman explained that she just didn't believe anymore because God has made her sad, sadder, and saddest over the past few years.

"What about all the love and moments of pure happiness she felt for all the previous years?" I asked. "If God ripped it all apart, He allowed for it to be there in the first place."

I was saying the words to make my Mom feel better, but after a good night of sleep, I woke thinking of that. Writing it down right now, makes me feel a stirring for Christmas.

And then there are the memories. The memories of all the perfect Christmas mornings. The presents, the laughs, the food, the beer, the food and the laughs and the food.

My sister and I traded stories this morning on Facebook.

I wrote of Jeff wrapping a bag of concrete for Mom on Christmas and how excited she was because it was so heavy. Carrie wrote of wrapping presents for my Dad to give to my Mom including wrapping the old, worn-out coat that my Dad had used to cover up the new stuff. The look on my mother's face was priceless when she tried to appear graceful.

We shared the story of beer pong and Grandma Schryver's fruit cake. The losing team had to eat a piece. We were literally gagging eating it, and Grandma caught us. We offened the hell out of that poor woman.

Ah, the love.

Glad we shared so much. Thrilled, actually.

And my boys will really get fired up as the week goes on. I read a story about an impoverished family today. There won't be so much as a Christmas Slim Jim in their home because of injury, loss of home, and bad freaking luck.

I'm sure God is taking his share of the blame.

Our tree is up. That Yankee tree with the 27 Championships noted is set by the door. We are planning the menu for the Christmas Day dinner.

Let's get fired up!

The snow will come.

The Top Three - Week Two

2011-12-18T01:37:00.000-08:00

Wow, in the week before Christmas we have plenty of stuff to choose from, don't we?

We can talk about how Tim Tebow appears to be the first Christian to ever play professional sports.

Or we can mention Kobe and the sad disintegration of his marriage despite the fact that he only allegedly raped one girl. That's a shame, right? After all, men have urges.

Perhaps Britney Spears and the fact that she is getting married for the 3rd time. I think I'll wait for the divorce to comment on that one.

I already mentioned Deidre Pujols and the slap-in-the-face-insult of being offered #130 mil. Poor lady.

The ever-evolving Syracuse and Penn State stories make me sick, so we will hold off there.

A school here in the Buffalo area was reprimanded for an ethnic chant that evidently went on for years. A former hockey player pleaded guilty of drunk-driving because his stupid wheel fell off; Ryan Braun got busted for steroids.

(By the way, why is it "pleaded" guilty instead of "pled" guilty? That one always frosts my ass).

Plenty...plenty to discuss at this happy, happy time of year. Yet none of them made the top three.

3). Yancy Gates. You never heard of him? He is a basketball player for Cincinnati. He was the main offender in an ugly brawl. I put him on the list for the simple reason that after he nailed a couple of guys he stood in front of their bench taunting them in his best Apollo Creed stance. His eyes were wild. There was froth on his mouth, and he was encouraging all comers. Scary shit.

2). Willy Vega. Another man you never heard of, right? He is a veteran school teacher in Springfield, Massachusetts. He was up for his annual review with his vice-principal. He wasn't enamored with the constructive criticism. He punched HER in the face, knocking a few teeth loose, and effectively lowering his review score considerably. Look for Willy on the freeway with the sign and cup.

1). Sam Hurd. You may have heard of this dude. He's a football star. He's a member of the Chicago Bears. He ran afoul of the law this week. A trunk load of cocaine and a thousand pounds of marijuana were supposed to be delivered to his mailbox. He was busted instead.

And you wonder why people are dissatisfied with the postal service. The poor bastard placed his order, paid his money, and couldn't even get his package properly delivered. Hurd is saying that it is all a big misunderstanding and that he wasn't going to sell it. Evidently his recreational use of these products is a bit out of hand. There appears to be a jail cell in his immediate future.

But hey, he won first place in the Thoughts of a Common Man blog.

Good for him.

Congrats to all of our contestants. Next week is Christmas week. I'm sure we'll have some wonderful entries.

Is it still called Christmas, by the way, or have we officially changed it to Tebowmas?

Dear Santa

2011-12-17T04:53:00.001-08:00

Dear Santa,

My brother called me yesterday and asked me what I wanted for Christmas as he had drawn my name. The question caught me off-guard because I really haven't thought about anything I want. The 27-Time World Champion Yankees aren't the 28-time World Champion Yankees so sadly I don't need a plaque for my front room.

The bottom line being, I have all the material things I need, so Santa baby, there really is no reason to be writing you a letter this year. Unless, that is, you can deliver a few of the things I really need, like:

1). A right leg that doesn't feel like a dead limb. I know we discussed this last Christmas and surgery seemed to be like the present you suggested, but I did that twice. I still feel lousy. Can you get the dim-witted elves on something?

2). A little patience? You got that in your big red bag? Evidently not, I've been asking for it since I wrote my first letter to you at about the age of 6. Every year I look for it: nothing.

3). A decent Bills team? I know you thought it was funny when you brought us four Super Bowl teams that lost each time, but how about one that can make the playoffs.

Is 12 years long enough?

You see, I don't really care, but since we have to pay hundreds of millions in taxes for their 7-game show (3 of which are blacked-out) how about a bonus game each year? There are a bunch of goofy, cold, die-hards who set their lives around these obese criminal bastards fighting for the ball.

4). How about a 70-degree January? Can you get that done? We haven't had a lot of snow yet, but there's quite a bit of time between now and June when I may be able to hit a golf ball without freezing my ass off. What do you say?

5). The new book finished? Can you work on that Santa? I did most of the leg work and I wrote nearly two hundred pages. Can you finish it? All you have to do is hit the sarcastic key a few thousand more times and it'll be ready to go to the publisher.

6). And here's the big one, Santa. It's the one gift I really freaking want this year. I was going to ask my brother for it, but even he can't pull it off. How about one full year free of going to a funeral home to say goodbye to a cherished family member?

Is that at all motherf&*%ing possible?

If not, skip this friggin' house, all right, you fat bastard?

The kids have what they need. The beautiful wife has all she ever dreamed for. The dogs live like kings, I have plenty of stuff to read.

Well, actually, I mentioned a Barnes & Noble gift card to my brother.

"Is that a do-it-yourself home improvement store?" he asked.

Perfect.

Sarcastic.

He might not have been kidding.

Thanks, Santa.

Love, Cliff

PS...Don't waste your valuable time looking for the cookies.

I ate 'em.

How Insulting!!!!

2011-12-16T01:48:00.000-08:00

Deidre Pujols, the wife of Albert Pujols, the guy who just landed a $254 million contract for hitting a ball with a stick, was interviewed about the tormented state of mind that went into the horrific ordeal of free agency.

You see, over the course of the last ten years the Pujols family has had to skrimp and save to get by on the paltry salary of about $16 mil per year. Albert was the best player in baseball and by all acounts, he was due for a big raise.

So his team, the St. Louis Cardinals had the audacity to undercut him. They offered him $195 million over 9 years in spring training.

He declined and talked about respect.

The Cards came back with a shorter offer that would grant Albert the King of all payroll.

$130 million over 5 years.

And you know what Deidre said?

She said that the offer was an insult.

She said that free agency is hard and that she wouldn't wish it on anyone.

You know what's hard, Deidre?

Choosing between the electric bill and the gas bill. Wondering if the check is going to arrive so the kids can be fed.

One in 5 people in this country, the country where King Albert came to be paid a king's ransom...is under-nourished.

Most of the good people of this country, who work hard every single day, digging ditches, climbing ladders, working in healthcare, slaving in the services industries can't afford to send their children to college. They have double mortgages on homes that are breaking down, and those same kids are taking student loans that will take them twenty years to pay off.

And you are insulted!

Perhaps I don't know the context of how you suffered as four teams came at you with contracts in excess of $200 million freaking dollars!

Day after day there is a story that raises bile in me. This broad may have taken the cake.

And she can't even hit a straight fastball.

If I were Albert, and Thank God I'm not, after all the suffering he did during that tormented month, I'd tell my wife to shut her mouth.

But then again, I probably just don't understand.

Shut up, Deidre.

You moron.

Oh, Pretty Woman

2011-12-15T00:07:00.000-08:00

There are some jewels on my I-pod, of course. The other afternoon, while typing work reports, Roy Orbison's Oh, Pretty Woman came on.

I can remember where I was the first time I ever heard the song. It was a Saturday afternoon and I was about 11 or 12 years old. Dad had a state-of-the-art record player that came out of the wall. We were encouraged not to ever touch it.

But this day, Dad was spinning a few records.

"Listen to this," he said.

And I did. Mostly because it was a song that was a story. The narrator (Orbison) was extremely interested in the pretty woman who was evidently just walking back and forth in front of him. She was taunting him with her walk.

That much is real plain to see.

I can remember getting antsy as my Dad sang along. I remember thinking the part where Orbison says, "Mercy!" was cool.

I still think that.

I must have drifted a bit because on that day long ago, Dad told me to pay attention to the conclusion of the song.

What do I see? Is she walking back to me?

How could you not be happy for Orbison?

The girl that he was pining for had noticed him and she turned around and headed back to make a connection that we assume, from the giddy sound of Roy's voice, that was all that he ever wanted or needed.

I remember making Dad play the song again.

36 years later it's on my I-pod.

I still feel good for old Roy when she turns around and heads back towards him.

Love's like that.

We Do A Lot of Texting

2011-12-14T01:14:00.000-08:00

All righty then...

I just finished reading an article about the actor from Lost, Doug Hutchinson, who is 51 years old. I never saw the show, didn't know who he was before reading the article, and had to write his name down before I forgot it.

But he's doing all right, I suppose.

You see, he's recently married...to 16-year old Courtney Stodden.

Yep. He's 51 and she's 16. And it's all legal as far as I can tell.

Can you imagine?

All right, boys, stop imagining.

Because it is a tad weird, me thinks.

First of all, I'd probably have to drive a spike through her head. The other night my beautiful wife suggested a movie and I said, and I quote:

"It's kinda' getting late."

She laughed and it hurt my feelings. "It's 8:22," she said.

And I'm four years younger than this guy.

Of course, I saw the photo of the young wife. She's about what you'd think. Long blond hair, big round....

You get it.

But here's where the story got really creepy. Whoever was doing the interviewing asked them about their sex life.

"He's a tiger," she said.

"I wish I'd remained a virgin until I met her," he said.

Uh, how were you going to do that? You were 35 when she was freaking born.

I just don't see it lasting long. There isn't anything about this story that makes me think this guy can hang in for the long haul. Did they think it through?

When she's 36 he'll be 71.

When she's my age he'll be eighty-freaking-two.

I guess that's the way I'll look at it for perspective. If I did it like him, on one hand the girl that I will eventually marry is now in 6th grade. On the other hand...looking ahead...the woman that I'd have to be with would be Betty White's age.

When they asked the two about the unique courtship the guy bitched a bit about all of the texting that he had to do to win her heart.

Most likely that is the least of his problems going forward.

To each his own, I suppose, but isn't that illegal somehow?

Ah, who the hell knows.

I bet she makes him start movies well after 8 o'clock.

Just Own Up To It

2011-12-13T01:07:00.000-08:00

I don't know why I have a problem with Tim Tebow. Here's a guy who, by all accounts, is a really strong character guy. He leads with a prayer and invokes God name every thirty seconds.

Okay, so I know why I have a problem with him. It's just too much. Over and over he mentions things that I should be doing to lead a great life. Yeah, it's about faith, and I'm all for what he's saying, but the over and over as if I'm not quite where he's at...kind of bugs me.

I just haven't been blessed with the same level of understanding, I suppose. Or maybe, what I believe may not necessarily be what you believe, so I temper it a bit.

Anyway...I thought of Tebow and another player today because sports does teach life lessons if we watch. The other guy is the National League MVP Ryan Braun.

You see a few years ago, when A-Rod was trying to rid himself of the guilt of taking steroids Braun was very vocal. He explained that what A-Rod did was wrong and that he should man up and tell the world the entire truth instead of trying to run from what he did.

I thought that was a great thing for Braun to say.

Uh, then why is he hiding away now?

You see Braun failed a drug test. Steroids. He claims he's innocent. Actually, he has a nicely-worded denial in which he says he never intentionally did it.

His T-cells were 12 times the normal level. He didn't just drink whole milk when he wanted 2%. Something is rotten as they say.

So, I'm sure Braun, given his earlier condemnation of A-Rod would be a man about it, right?

Uh, no, of course not. He says that in due time he will be exonerated.

Perhaps. More likely, he will be apologizing. His cousin gave them to him. Someone dumped the cream on him and told him it was Vaseline. He tripped and sat on a needle that was stuck in the couch cushions. He thought it was a vitamin. He really, really wanted to win the MVP.

Tebow stands up at each press conference and testifies of his love of Jesus and God.

Everyone else stands there and lies through their teeth.

Can't we find a middle ground here somewhere?

People aren't perfect.

The distance from the high horse to the ground is considerable.

God helps us if we ever find out that Tebow once ate meat on a Friday during Lent.

Minutes to Memories

2011-12-12T01:24:00.000-08:00

I run these lyrics every six months or so. Song popped onto my I-pod as I was working on the next story. Simply awesome. Every single person in the world should be exposed to these words instead of watching Jersey Shore.

Minutes to Memories by John Mellencamp

On a Greyhound thirty miles beyond Jamestown
he saw the sun set on the Tennessee line
He looked at the young man who was riding beside him
He said, "I'm old. Kind of worn out inside.
I worked my whole life in the steel mills of Gary
and like my father before me I helped build this land.
Now I'm 77 and with God as my witness,
I've earned every dollar that's passed through my hands.
My family and friends are the best things I've known
And through the eye of a needle I'll carry them home."

Days turn to minutes and minutes to memories
life sweeps away the dreams that we had planned
You are young and you are the future
so suck it up and tough it out and do the best you can.

The rain hit the old dog in the twighlight's last gleaming
He said, 'Son it sounds like rattling old bones,
this highway's long but I know some that are longer
By sunup tomorrow I guess I'll be home.'

Through the hills of Kentucky 'cross the Ohio River
the old man kept talking about his life and his times.
He fell asleep with his head against the window, said:
'An honest man's pillow is his peace of mind.
The world offers riches and riches will grow wings
I don't take stock in those uncertain things.'

Days turn to minutes and minutes to memories
life sweeps away the dreams that we had planned
You are young and you are the future
so suck it up and tough it out and do the best you can.

The old man had a vision but it was hard for me to follow
I do things my way and I pay a high price
But I think back on that old man and that bus ride
And now that I'm older I can see he was right.

Another hot one out on Highway eleven
this is my life
it's what I've chosen to do.
There's no free rides
no one said it'd be easy
The old man told me this, my son,
now I'm telling it to you.

Days turn to minutes and minutes to memories
life sweeps away the dreams that we had planned
You are young and you are the future
so suck it up and tough it out and do the best you can.

My buddy Mike introduced me to this song when we were in college. I know it means the world to him as well. It earned me a speeding ticket a few years back because I stepped on it during the 'Another hot one out on highway eleven' verse.

It's beautiful, simple, and all I wish for my boys.

Live hard, love strong, and take stock in the certain things.

Suck it up!

The Top Three-Week of 12/4 to 12/10

2011-12-11T01:49:00.000-08:00

A new weekly feature here!

We will be talking about the top three stories of each week. We will also have a bit of a lottery so feel free to bet.

Lottery: The top three numbers from 1 to 3.

Here we go: 3...1...2...

Check your tickets. Hope you won.

The Top Three Stories:

3). Cain drops out. So, we went from 9,9,9 to sexual harassment allegations to an alleged 13-year affair and the Godfather pizza mogul couldn't stand the heat so he had to get out of the kitchen.

Here's a scoop: I wouldn't have voted for him, but I'll miss the comedy.

2). King Albert Signs. $254 million dollars. Think of it. You have been working since you turned 15 or 16, right? Some years have been better than others. Some days you're the windshield and some days you're the bug.

Most likely, in all those years, including all the money you've earned in every possible scenario, you probably haven't yet approached earning a mil, certainly not more than a couple mil, right? 3 mil? 4 mil?

Can you imagine?

It's a real damn shame that I couldn't hit a fastball, couldn't run the bases without falling down, and usually cowered when a ground ball was hit sharply.

I was so close.

1). Sandusky Arrested. Of course, the top story is that this creep spent a whole night in jail before he was released on $250,000 bail.

How does that happen? Let's research some of those types of cases for the normal citizen-folk. What do you think the average bail was set at?

Yep...millions. You'd need Albert to bail you out if you weren't a celebrity of sorts. I really don't know what Penn State or the courts in that neighborhood are thinking here. How many more embarrassing moments are still ahead? And Sandusky's wife came to his defense. There was a story that she was upstairs listening to the screaming during one of the attacks, and she turned a deaf ear.

Lots of deaf ears in that there neighborhood. It still makes me physically ill. She should go to jail too, along with JoePa and the rest of those creepy bastards.

And our top 3 people of the week of December 04 through December 10?

3). My friend, Kim Kurek. Kim not only had her birthday this week, but she also continued to show considerable heart in sending a gift that will go directly to Jeff and Lynn's kids for Christmas. Her generosity of spirit is thrilling in a day and age when every single thing I read seems to be the result of horrific behavior.

Sorry, Kim...don't want to embarrass you, but when people live their lives wondering how they helped others, they have a fulfilling existence. The other two people on this week's list do it the same way.

2). My sister Corinne. Check her blog from 12/06. Happy Birthday. Said it all there for her. She is the Queen. How in the hell did she finish #2????

1). Walt Gier. The town where I grew up was an awful lot like Mayberry. We all know and love one another. We all hung out. We all had fun. There were fights and arguments, to be sure, but when one family suffers, we all suffer. Walt was a good man. A family man. A hardworking man. He passed away this week, and I stumbled out to the worst place in the world...the funeral home in North Collins...to say goodbye.

I feel better saying goodbye here. Rest, Walt, you earned it.

The weekly top 3 will run every Sunday morning.

Let me know of things that might be of interest.

I will read everything and compile the list.

Our Trip to Verizon

2011-12-10T01:41:00.000-08:00

I could kill my buddy John. You see, he brought his I-phone by last weekend. I checked it out. It was better than my old Droid. The market had passed me by. It had been a long time since I upgraded.

I thought about it a bit after John's visit and the next day I stopped by the Verizon store to see if I was, in fact, due for a new phone.

As luck might have it.

At dinner I announced to the kids that we would do a telephone hands-me-down sort of thing. I would upgrade, my old phone would go to Jake and his old phone would go to Sam. We would all gain a little.

After dinner we stepped out to the store. I was in my pajamas.

I guess I have officially given up.

Jake was fired up. We stepped in front of a 20-something guy who was a virtual encyclopedia of telephones. He spoke so quickly that I had to have my translator there for me. Before long he and Kathy were in a full-fledged discussion of plans, mbs, gbs, and whatever the hell else came up. They were talking cell lines, land lines, data plans.

It sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher.

My phone was ordered.

I swiped my card.

"You need a support package," the kid said.

I turned to Kathy, and she nodded. Luckily the kid had the same exact phone as the one I ordered. He picked my support package for me.

I swiped my card.

I was informed that it would arrive in a couple of days by FedEx. I would have to keep the old phone until then. That broke Jake's heart. He wanted to leave the store with a Droid.

As luck might have it, he didn't want my old Droid anyway.

"Be patient," Kathy said. "We'll find a good deal on a new one and come back in a couple of days."

Now my kids don't ask for a lot. They really have gotten much better in that regard. Jake nodded, but I saw the look on his face.

And I was done.

"Which phone do you like?" I asked him.

He showed me.

"I can't believe I need to wait."

I took my credit card out. He had been sick and survived. He was a good kid. He really wanted it. All the bad parenting that was part of my decision didn't seem all that important to me.

I swiped the card again.

God help me when that bill comes due.

It's Not About the Money

2011-12-09T11:26:00.000-08:00

Et tu Albert?

He loves the fans in St. Louis. They are the smartest fans and he wants nothing more than to be the next Stan Musial in the world's greatest baseball town. His family is there. He loves it there. Nothing he'd rather do than finish his career with one team.

I guess there are truly only a few really dedicated guys like Jeter, Ripken, and Gwynn. I really thought that Albert fit the description.

What is really going to drive me up the wall is when King Albert starts his Angels press conference by telling us that it's not about the money.

For the record, the Angels are paying him about $26 mil a year and the Cards came in at about $22 mil a year.

If it's not about the money than what is it about?

Wanting to settle the wild west?

I'm sure that before the press conference is over Albert will make reference to the fact that he felt as if St. Louis management had disrespected him.

How dare they insult him by making him such a paltry offer?

The other thing about it, of course, is the going amount for a slugging 1st baseman. Imagine what Mantle and DiMaggio might have commanded.

Albert is one of the larger corporations doing business in California these days, isn't he?

I heard a sportscaster discussing it yesterday and he put it in simple terms for all of us peons. If you're making fifty grand and the company down the street offers you eighty don't you just go?

Probably.

But when you are talking about more money than you can possibly spend in your lifetime, or your grand-childrens lifetimes doesn't that put a different spin on things?

"We make a lot of money, but we spend a lot of money," Patrick Ewing once famously said.

"I gots to feed my kids," Latrell Sprewell once said when he was arguing about the difference between a 50 and a 60 million dollar deal.

As a baseball fan, I wish the off-season movement wasn't about dollars and cents. I am not a hypocrite enough to say that I don't enjoy the trades and the free agent signings.

(The 27-time World Champion Yankees have dabbled in the market).

I just wish I didn't know anything about the dollars.

"It's not about the money," Albert will say. "I just always wanted to bring a championship to Southern California."

Spare me.

I ain't that dumb.

Break a leg, Albert.

Sherman T. Potter

2011-12-09T01:54:00.000-08:00

We all loved Potter, right?

He was always sensible and the voice of reason in a difficult situation.

Wonder what he thought of all the crap during his last few days on Earth.

Like the Beastie Boys being elected into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.

Like Sandusky not being able to answer whether or not he is attracted to boys.

Like Bernie Fine's wife being as big a scumbag as her husband.

Like the Red Hot Chili Peppers being elected to the Rock& Roll Hall of Fame.

Like Newt Gingrich becoming a bona fide candidate.

Like no snow in Buffalo until after December 1st

Like the Miami Marlins spending 200 mil on free agents.

Like the Yankees not spending one thin dime yet.

Like the Colts being 0 and 12.

Like the Packers being 12 and 0.

Like Hawkeye and BJ not picking on Winchester.

Like Penn State accepting the bowl bid.

Like Paula and Simon on television together again.

Like New York State actually considering a tax cut for the middle class.

Like Klinger actually marrying Sun-Li.

Like the economy actually ticking upwards.

I can almost see why Sherman checked out after 96 long years.

He got tired.

Even he couldn't lend a voice to reason through all this crap.

Freeze My Head

2011-12-08T01:31:00.000-08:00

We've been over this before as Ted Williams head was frozen upon his death so that he could come back later on and be a productive human being again. I doubt he'll ever hit .400 again or be better than DiMaggio, but you never know.

The subject has come up again because Larry King is now saying that he wants his entire body frozen upon his death until they can come up with a cure for whatever that finally kills him.

Does it work if he gets hit by a bus?

Yet the whole idea of it kind of scares me. Isn't the idea that we get a certain amount of time to do our thing, and then we go peacefully off into eternal rest?

Larry King is about a hundred years old now. He's been married a dozen times. He's earned millions of dollars for God knows why.

And now he wants more.

I really do believe that to everything there is a season. We don't get an infinite number of days for a reason. The world is filled with people. You can't even get out of a parking lot without a long delay on a Saturday afternoon and Wegmans is already packed.

If Larry King's idea of being frozen and coming back catches on then rich, pompous assholes will never die.

And that can't be a good thing.

Live each day. Laugh a little. Eat a lot. When it's your time to go try and do it with a little dignity.

The word on the street is that Ted Williams head rests on a tuna can in a freezer somewhere. There was a report that a few of the workers damaged it when they were horsing around.

Not for me.

They freeze my head after I'm gone and the wife and kids will be using it for a basketball on lazy summer days.

Maybe that ain't a bad idea for Larry. Five wives on each team. Make-it take-it. You gotta' win by two.

Pops for Prez

2011-12-07T01:29:00.000-08:00

Recently, upon hearing the sad news that Herman Cain had suspended his candidacy for president, I looked around at what was left and decided that I wanted to start a campaign to elect my buddy Jeff Popple.

First off, on Cain...he had those stubborn sexual harassment charges that kept coming up.

Pops is clear there. He treats women and children with respect.

Then there was that 13 year affair...allegedly that Cain supposedly had.

Pops hasn't had any affairs...he was lucky, lucky, lucky (like me) to capture a wife.

So Pops over Cain all day long.

Newt Gingrich?

Remember when he served his wife the divorce papers as she underwent treatment for the cancer that was killing her?

Pops would never do that. He might eat her meal from the hospital tray, but he'd wait until she was asleep.

Rick Perry?

Have you heard him mangle the English language?

Pops is literate in every way. He can read, write and speak. He would be able to answer every question posed, and there would be no side-stepping the issue at hand. He might throw in an F-bomb every now and then, but Cheney spoke that way and we all loved him, right?

So who does that leave? Romney from the GOP, right?

Shouldn't be much of a problem there. Just keep asking Romney what he thinks of abortion. Ask him...wait 3 minutes and ask him again...he'll eliminate himself.

So we have the GOP nod.

Now to beat Obama.

I say a driving contest...winner take all. Pops is one of the great Grape Apes. Obama is a skinny, big-eared basketball player.

I'm saying Pops goes about 320. Obama will be back with me around 210.

The presidency is his.

We will all be better off. People will work. Greed and stealing from the top will be controlled, and Springsteen will play at the inaguration and the 27-Time World Champion Yankees will have him throw out the first ball before next year's Game 1.

I will be nominated as king caddy.

By the way, the ball he hits against Obama doesn't have to land in the fairway.

Just saying.

Start practicing it now.

J-E-F-F. P-O-P-P-L-E!!!!!

The Birthday Blog for Cort

2011-12-06T01:25:00.000-08:00

My sister Corinne is a wonderful woman, full of laughter, sadness, expression and love. She is dedicated, loyal, strong, brilliant and celebratory. She loves the little things in life that other people routinely miss.

The little things she does mean the world to everyone she comes into contact with.

So there we are.

And there are so many stories that I could tell you. Stories that make me laugh out loud to myself as I consider all that went into forming the person she is today.

Like going to buy the shake and bake.

Like chasing us out of her rooms on Saturday mornings with a phrase that would make the anti-gay people in the world tremble in their pillowy slippers.

Like singing Mariah Carey in a falsetto voice that made my sister and me fall on the floor in laughter.

Like dancing with my boys in the parking lot at the Chinese Buffet in the dead of winter.

So many, many more.

But in the end its all about looking for, praying for and expecting guidance from your older sister.

And I don't have enough space in a daily blog to tell you all about that.

My siblings and I have shared so much, and we always counted on the love. When we were all together we laughed so much that others had to stare in wonder.

What the hell was in the sauce on Sundays that caused such lunacy?

Now that we are not together as much, we have had to struggle with our own feelings of grief and loss.

We've made it to the other side, probably closer, certainly sadder, but we can still laugh.

And laugh hard.

Because of our big sister. The larger than life example of strength...

...and love.

There were, at varied times a lot of other factors involved in the making of our family dynamic, but more than anything else, there was love in that sauce.

The sauce tastes different now that there is separation, but today on her 39th birthday I can say one thing:

Corinne is still the one with the spoon in her hand, stirring the sauce.

Saturday Night is All Right for....Bevis?

2011-12-05T01:08:00.000-08:00

What started in the summer as an opportunity to control chaos has sort of become a lifestyle change that I've really enjoyed.

You see, rather than tip a few on the weekends I decided to give it up for awhile. I haven't had more than a dozen drinks in ten months. It started out weird, but now I don't even consider ordering a drink.

I must admit that more than a few of my friends are a little perplexed, but I do feel better.

Whatever, this isn't an anti-drinking blog. Even I'm not enough of a hypocrite to say that drinking is evil. It isn't. It's fun.

But, what to do on a Saturday night?

I let my beautiful wife choose the movie. We sat through the same movie that we've seen about four hundred times.

Yep, a romantic comedy. Justin Timberlake and some dark, pretty, "damaged" girl.

First off, neither of these people, despite their angst would ever have a problem getting laid. We are supposed to suspend belief there. Then they hook up, have a misunderstanding, swear each other off as lost causes, have an awakening, a famous final scene, and head off into a life that we know will be filled with days of unending bliss after a long proclamation of dedication.

I glanced over at my Juliet. Sweatpants. Tired eyes. Sick of every one of my dopey jokes. I knew exactly what she would say:

"Ahhh, that's cute."

"Show them twenty years down the line," I said. "Ready to dig one anothers eyes out."

We laughed. Thankfully that isn't how our movie has played out thus far.

Then the boys came in. They wanted the big television. They wanted to chase two former party people up to their rooms at 8:30. Instead, we watched a basketball game. St. Bonaventure versus U.B. We listened to the announcers praise the brilliant student-athletes. They were working to build up guys who will never sniff the NBA.

After one long, drawn-out praise of a guy who made a shot, I turned to Jake.

"And his urine cures cancer!" I said.

The game ended. 9:15. Still not ready for bed.

"How about an episode of Bevis and Butthead?" Jake asked.

Kathy shrugged, so I did too.

Why not?

We are wild and crazy.

And you know what?

We laughed a lot. Sam and Jake laughed with us.

A great Saturday night! But there was more! We had 48 Hours Mystery.

One problem: It started late.

I never made it past the introduction. It was a mystery about whether or not a man killed his wife.

I bet he did it.

He wanted more than just spending quality time watching Bevis and Butthead on a Saturday night.

Sometimes the Truth is Just Plain Weird

2011-12-04T01:14:00.000-08:00

As per usual I was listening to a bit of talk radio as I drove this week. Hands down, the strangest item I heard was about a man in one of them there states where teeth are a luxury, and incest is an option, and where they vote straight Republican.

This guy may have taken it a bit far.

It seems his wife made a discovery. Allegedly the gentleman, whom she had shared her marriage bed with for 15 years, had drilled a hole from the interior of his garage, so that he could place a camera in there to monitor the activity of the interior of his bathroom.

The only images that his wife supposedly saw on the tape were those of her 57-year old mother as she took a pee.

There was a lot of footage of the activity.

Of course, Jay Thomas handled the subject with his usual dignity. (I love him).

"I am reserving judgement of the act until I see what the mother-in-law looks like," Jay said.

"That marriage might just be over." He added.

Yep, that one there is a deal-breaker, I'm sure.

How do you talk your way out of that?

"Sorry, honey, I was just making sure she had a good flow because I love her so much?"

Probably won't work.

"I was just thinking she was using way too much toilet paper and I wanted to catch her in the act."

That one won't fly either.

Evidently Thomas and the crew had a photo of the man. They were fairly adamant that he just looked like such a fella' might look.

I'm not real sure I want to see him.

How in the f&*%k did mankind get so creepy and weird?

I believe that it may have always been this way.

My Friends in the 'Cuse

2011-12-03T06:25:00.000-08:00

I have been going to Syracuse every couple of weeks since about 1991. I know the town inside and out, and like Buffalo the people who live there are hearty types. They work hard, they suffer through miserable winters and they try to grab something they can hang onto.

For most of the fine citizens there they identify with the Syracuse Orange and the football team, which isn't great, and the basketball team, which has been great.

They really identify with the head coach of the team, Jim Boeheim, who is from the Central New York area.

So none of them were ready for wise-cracking Cliffy who made a visit.

"Hey, now I know how you got those season tickets to the Orange games, Tom. How is Bernie by the way?"

"One way of getting a child through the shame of molestation is by having your wife do him when he gets old enough."

And none of it is a joking matter. Another real sick situation, and one that is even closer to home to me than the Penn State deal.

"They should fire Boeheim today," was one statement that I made in the office.

It was met with a bit of trepidation.

"Maybe he wasn't aware of it. He is just a coach, he doesn't meddle in his coach's personal lives."

But it was the same thing if you ask me. Those in the know, knew. They kept it quiet to not bring shame on their beloved program. They most likely did it at the risk of those boys.

The one difference being that the authorities haven't really had their say in this matter. Far be it from people to lie, but there is a bit of finger-pointing going on here and charges have not yet been brought.

I tried to bring a bit of levity to the situation yesterday, but it is far from a laughing matter, and those people, who had nothing to do with any of it, are a little ashamed.

I found it weird that the alleged horrific act of one man could do so much to lighten the mood in a good town.

Think on the bright side, Syracuse citizens:

Buffalo was where OJ was a star.

Tim McVeigh was raised here.

We even shot a president downtown somewhere.

And look how Buffalo thrives!

A Ten Pound Weight

2011-12-02T01:23:00.000-08:00

You never know what you'll hear on Howard.

In the middle of a funny interview with another radio shock jock, Jason Ellis, Howard got to the bottom of Ellis' marital strife. Ellis actually uttered the great line.

"Even the strongest man in the world can't hold a ten pound weight over his head forever. Eventually, he will drop it."

Profound, right?

I know a lot of people who hold a weight over their own head, every day of their life, pretending that they can handle it forever and too afraid to just let it go. I have carried various weights, at various times, for varied durations.

Sometimes we need to ask others to help us hold the weight for a little while until we can get our grip back.

There are even more days when we should just give up hoisting it aloft.

The problem being, of course, that we don't want to appear weak. We don't want to ask for help, and sometimes when we get used to lugging the burden we sort of hang onto it like a crutch, afraid to let it go even though it's painful to hold it up.

I must admit that I've carried more than ten pounds over my head for the last few years. I am afraid to set the boulder down, knowing that I am going to have to let go, not only of that boulder but all the great memories that were attached with the boulder being hoisted on my back.

Don't you love the peaceful moments of clarity that life allows us to glimpse from time to time?

I remember us all driving home from my parent's home back when the kids were real young. It was a bright, clear summer night. The stars were high in the high sky. Two of three of the kids were sleeping in their car seats. Mark Knopfler was on the car stereo, and we returning from a good meal at Mom and Dad's. The entire family had been there.

My mind was at ease.

With everything.

"I wish I could bottle how relaxed I feel," I said to Kathy.

I couldn't.

It was one of those pure, innocent moments of clarity.

I do know some people...very few it turns out...who feel such a sense of peace nearly every day.

You know, writing about it has cleared my mind a little bit. I feel like I set the boulder down. I'll probably pick it up again first thing in the morning, but for right now, my shoulders feel light.

Wish I could bottle this.

But I can't.

It's All Passing Me By All of a Sudden

2011-12-01T01:05:00.000-08:00

Sam was singing a rap song the other day. I think it came on during a movie or a commercial or something. As he sang, I lurched for the remote.

"Hey!" he screamed as I muted it. "That's a good song."

"That's not a song. No instruments, no singing, nothing. It's hurting my ears."

Then it occurred to me that I have never seen any of the following shows:

Dancing with the Stars, America's Got Talent, Grey's Anatomy, Big Brother, or even American Idol for that matter.

I don't know anything about any of the following movies:

Harry Potter, or Twighlight.

The world has officially passed me by.

Last night I watched an episode of Bob Newhart followed by the Odd Couple. Newhart was from 1974. Oscar and Felix from 1972.

Tony Randall is dead. Newhart's wife is dead. Klugman and Newhart are barely hanging on.

I got aggravated watching football this week. One guy stepped on another guy's head. Every first down was cause for a Broadway Show by the guy who made it across the line, and touchdowns, forget it! Those were flat-out one-act plays.

"You gotta' get with the times," my buddy told me.

But perhaps I am just fine with this wave of crap passing me by.

Quick: name the number one rapper from 1999.

Hell: Name one from then who is still alive or out of prison.

Quick: Who won the last 3 Dancing with the Stars?

Hell: Who won the 2002 Super Bowl?

I know who won the 1969 Super Bowl...Namath was an entertainer. I never once saw him fake shoot himself in the leg.

Man, I used to get so mad at my Dad when he presented this argument. Maybe I am wrong. Maybe all of these people are wonderfully talented and I'm just a grumpy old bastard.

I've been wrong before.

But I really feel like the moral center is gone, and that there is little hope for mutual respect out there.

No one will ever write a great song again. (With the exception of the old guys still doing it).

We will never see another great new show.

Getting old?

I'm way freaking past that!

I Love A Good Parable or Four

2011-11-30T01:16:00.000-08:00

Time

Imagine there is a bank that credits your account each morning with $86,400. It carries over no balance from day to day. Every evening the bank deletes whatever part of the balance you failed to use during the day.

What would you do?

Draw out every cent, of course!

Each of us has such a bank.

Its name is TIME.

Every morning, it credits you with 86,400 seconds. Every night it writes off, as lost, whatever of this you have failed to invest to good purpose. It carries over no balance. It allows no overdraft.

Each day it opens a new account for you. Each night it burns the remains of the day. If you fail to use the day's deposits, the loss is yours. There is no going back. There is no drawing against the "tomorrow."

You must live in the present on today's deposits. Invest it so as to get from it the utmost in health, happiness, and success!

The clock is running.

Make the most of today. To realize the value of ONE YEAR, ask a student who failed a grade. To realize the value of ONE MONTH, ask a mother who gave birth to a premature baby. To realize the value of ONE WEEK, ask the editor of a weekly newspaper. To realize the value of ONE HOUR, ask the lovers who are waiting to meet. To realize the value of ONE MINUTE, ask a person who missed the train. To realize the value of ONE-SECOND, ask a person who just avoided an accident.

Treasure every moment that you have! And treasure it more because you shared it with someone special, special enough to spend your time. Remember that time waits for no one. Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is mystery. Today is a gift. That's why it's called the present!

Knowledge

A scientific convention was held at a lakeside resort. After the first days proceedings, a mathematician, a physicist, an astronomer and a molecular biologist hired a boatman to row them around on the lake. As they sat in the boat, they discussed string theory, bubble universes, the Gaea Hypothesis and other abstruse topics.

The biologist noticed the boatman looking at them from the corner of his eyes. He asked him:

"What do you think of these ideas?"

The boatman replied, "I didn't understand any of it."

The astronomer asked him how far he had studied. He told them he couldn't even read.

"I hate to say it," said the physicist, "but you seem to have wasted a good part of your life."

The boatman remained silent. By now they were out in the middle of the lake, far from shore. A sudden storm whipped up. The waves started churning and heaving. All of a sudden, the boat flipped over. The boatman started swimming for shore. The scientists cried out:

"Help! We can't swim!"

The boatman called back, "I hate to say it, but you seem to have wasted your whole lives."

Most Important Lesson

During my second month of nursing school, our professor gave us a pop quiz. I was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions, until I read the last one:

"What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?"

Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark haired and in her 50's, but how would I know her name?

I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Just before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count towards our quiz grade.

"Absolutely," said the professor. "In your careers, you will meet many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say 'hello'." I've never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.

Happiness is an attitude.

The 92-year-old, petite, well-poised and proud lady, who is fully dressed each morning by eight o'clock, with her hair fashionably coifed and makeup perfectly applied, even though she is legally blind, moved to a nursing home today.

Her husband of 70 years recently passed away, making the move necessary. After many hours of waiting patiently in the lobby of the nursing home, she smiled sweetly when told her room was ready.

As she maneuvered her walker to the elevator, I provided a visual description of her tiny room, including the eyelet sheets that had been hung on her window.

"I love it," she stated with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old having just been presented with a new puppy.

"Mrs. Jones, you haven't seen the room .... just wait."

"That doesn't have anything to do with it," she replied. "Happiness is something you decide on ahead of time. Whether I like my room or not doesn't depend on how the furniture is arranged ... it's how I arrange my mind. I already decided to love it ... It's a decision I make every morning when I wake up. I have a choice; I can spend the day in bed recounting the difficulty I have with the parts of my body that no longer work, or get out of bed and be thankful for the ones that do. Each day is a gift, and as long as my eyes open I'll focus on the new day and all the happy memories I've stored away ... just for this time in my life."

Just Catch the Ball

2011-11-29T01:22:00.000-08:00

The star wide receiver for the Buffalo Bills, Stevie Johnson, is a Thoughts of a Common Man idiot.

Last year he dropped a pass and blamed God. He became a big star for writing something on his chest and showing the world after catching a touchdown pass. Everyone thought it was funny.

So yesterday, he caught a pass and pretended he was shooting himself in the leg to make fun of another player. Then he played a crashed Jet and received a penalty that cost his team 7 points.

All in good fun, right?

It's the basic problem in the world right now, if you ask me. Everyone wants to be a star. Everyone is disrespectful to the next guy. No one is accountable to anyone else. When all else fails, blame God.

Now I know it's just a football game and he isn't a Rhodes Scholar, but it aggravates me because my boys thought it was so cool.

"He made fun of the guy who shot himself!"

It's a vicious circle. The guy who shot himself took a gun into a nightclub because he wanted street cred and he wanted to be a big shot.

As if God were actually watching, Johnson dropped a pass later in the game that would have brought victory to his team.

He didn't perform a dance after dropping the ball.

When does it all end?

A woman pepper sprayed another woman who was reaching for the same sales item on Black Friday.

The Syracuse coach allegedly molested young boys, and in the craziest of all scenarios his wife admitted he had issues and just for good measure, she slept with the kid too.

I'm not blaming Stevie Johnson for all the worlds ills. He's a pass catcher in a dumb game. But the attention-grabbing, look-at-me-at-all-costs-and-consequences-be-damned mentality drives me crazy.

The coach didn't see it and doubted he would discipline Stevie. All in good fun.

My advice?

Do your job...whatever it is. Don't worry about being on television. Don't look for additional compensation for doing what you're supposed to do. God didn't do it to you.

Last year after being fined and ridiculed for his actions Johnson said he made a mistake and would learn from his actions.

He said the same thing yesterday.

He'll say the same thing next year.

Fortunately I am in my kid's ears to remind them.

When you point your finger cause your plan fell through, you got four more fingers pointing back at you.

Just Another Roll of the Dice

2011-11-28T01:21:00.000-08:00

The Buffalo News ran an article about a woman who gambled away the money raised for her sons fight against cancer. It's a really tragic story as they held a benefit, she took control of the cash, and then she played cards at casinos all across the area.

Evidently she isn't a very good card player.

The outrage is predictable. Letters to the editors explain that she should be put to death. Her son instantly forgave her. I must be getting old because I didn't really buy her story about being scared and lonely and that others in her position just might do the same thing.

She should have stopped it somewhere along the way. Loneliness isn't a valid excuse. Her son was on the verge of death. He needed the money. It was money donated by hardworking people.

Leave your ATM card at home if you can't stop yourself from withdrawing the money your kid needs to fight the disease that might kill him.

Of course, that's the lazy way of attacking the subject. Of course she was wrong. I don't feel much like kicking her at this point. The problem is bigger than that anyway.

I like the slot machines for the escape of it all. I'm also fairly lucky at it. There have been a couple of times where I lost more than I felt comfortable losing, and it made me sick. The real problem is that if you are equipped with the addictive gene, and you don't have the money to fill the emotional hole in your heart, you could be in trouble.

There are more casinos. There are more people embezzling. More fathers blowing their life savings. More robberies. More stealing.

The next spin will make it all right. The next card you turn over will be an ace. The dice will smile on you if you just lift another $200.

The woman had a telling comment when she said that it wasn't about winning or the money. If she won it just meant that she would be in the game longer.

Looking for a place where the world seems right.

When the cops came looking for her she was glad that it was over.

Her son is doing well. He may just have beaten the cancer even though the odds weren't in his favor.

Looks like she finally beat the house.

Working on a Dream

2011-11-27T04:14:00.001-08:00

So we all gathered last night at my brother John's. The kids were running around, all of them...Jeff's kids were also there and Rocco, John and Farrah were leading the charge. We had pizza, chicken and a great batch of chili that Dana prepared the hell out of.

Springsteen's Working on a Dream was on low in the background, and the wounded adults were smiling, tossing a few insults out, and having a couple of beers.

I was drinking tea. My leg was great all day but stiffening up as the night moved on. The music was just loud enough for me to hear a few lines.

There's a pillar in the temple where I carved your name.

Johnny looks so much like Jeff when he was young. Rocco is so big and strong. Farrah is just beautiful.

All random thoughts running through my head.

But here the nights are long and the days are lonely. I think of you and I'm working on a dream. Working on a dream.

We also celebrated Mom's birthday some more. I had asked my son Jake to write something in the card for his Grandma. This is what he wrote:

"You're my dad's Mom so that makes you my grandma. Love Jake."

My mother laughed her ass off.

There's a wonderful world where all you desire and everything you've longed for is at your fingertips.

My brother Jim's favorite subject is the shape of my eyebrows. He spent about ten minutes calling me Uncle Leo from the Seinfeld show and laughing until there were tears in his eyes. There was even a half-hearted attempt by my nieces to fix them.

"It's hopeless," Andrea said.

Darlin' I can't stop the rain or turn your black skies blue, but let me show you what love can do.

I saw Rocco coming from a hundred feet away. His eyes wide, his smile huge. He ran straight for me and jumped towards my chest. I grabbed him and hugged him tightly as he giggled. A wonderful, perfect giggle.

"I love you buddy," I said.

"I know!!!" he giggled.

This life, this life and then the next, with you I have been blessed. What more can you expect?

"Can we go now," Jake asked. He was holding his phone out for inspection. "We can't get any reception here."

"A little while," I said.

I was sitting in the center of it all with my leg propped up, just watching the chaos that comes with all the kids running around.

"You can do the same thing at home," Jake said, pointing to my leg.

"No, I can't," I said. "Now relax a little while. I'm listening to the music too."

"Bruce sucks," Jake responded, as he walked away trying to get his phone to text.

With you I don't feel the minutes ticking by. I don't feel the hours as they fly. I don't see the summer as it wanes. Just a subtle change of light upon your face. Walk away, walk away, walk away. This is our kingdom of days.

Did I mention the chili was great?

Let's See What Comes Out

2011-11-26T01:42:00.000-08:00

A whole bunch of random thoughts, I suppose. It's been another traumatic week. I don't know what to think, so this is an exercise of what pops into my head.

1). 69% of people can find something dirty in every sentence.

2). Newt Gingrich is a tad crazy.

3). Football is a group of lousy teams and Green Bay. Which means, of course, that one of those lousy teams will win the Super Bowl.

4). I can't think of a single thing I want for Christmas. I've given up on world peace.

5). The weather in Buffalo has been tremendous. Isn't it a shame that I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop?

6). My family is so punch drunk from horrific news that when the phone rings we all cringe.

7). I've done the hokey-pokey a thousand times at weddings and I still don't know what it's all about.

8). I wish John Lennon was still making music.

9). Bruce has a new tour coming. I can't wait for the new music and the excellent writing. He puts a stamp on what I'm thinking at any given time through the year. He just lost Clarence. Wonder what sort of spin he will put on grief. Could it help? The only sure bet in my life.

10). Studies show that if your parents don't have any children chances are you won't either.

11). When a dog throws up there's always a great build-up. It isn't enough time to get them out the door and off the carpet or comforter, but it's violent and scary. Guess feeding them a little turkey to celebrate Thanksgiving isn't really doing them a favor.

12). Still waiting for the 27-time Yankees to get me another starting pitcher. Did I say I didn't want anything for Christmas?

13). When I finished the eulogy for my Uncle Jim another uncle came to me and asked me if he could hire me to do his. I told him I didn't think anyone would be in the church to hear it. At least we both laughed.

14). Don't sweat the petty things and don't pet the sweaty things.

15). The wise man in the storm prays to God, not for safety from danger, but for deliverance from fear.

You see what happens in my mind in five minutes time?

It's not much fun.

My Mommy

2011-11-25T14:34:00.000-08:00

Today is my mother's birthday.

I've had enough of the rest of the bullshit holidays that are set on the yearly calender. She deserves a national day of honor.

If you are a follower of this blog and you have read the words of loss and despair over the last few years, you have to wonder, in awe, about the strength of a woman who has been smack dab in the middle of the heartbreak.

I know I do.

Mom has endured. She has not missed a single gathering. She has had her moments of sadness to be sure, but she hasn't dropped it any of our feet. No matter why we get together, she's right there in the center of it all, telling a joke, offering an opinion, cooking something that no one else will even bother to try cooking because she just blows everyone away.

Her eyes fill with tears at the mere mention of some of those we've lost, but she fights them back.

She's the strongest person I've ever had the pleasure to meet.

And I tell anyone that will listen. I have never had a fight with my Mom. We've never really disagreed to the point where we were even a little angry with one another.

That goes back 47 years.

And today is her day.

Happy Birthday, Mom.

I can't promise you won't feel the heartache today, but I do know one thing for sure, you'll battle it back...

...and lead the rest of us through the darkness.

Happy Black Friday?!!!!!

2011-11-25T05:23:00.000-08:00

As has become a habit over the last three weeks, I flipped the television on before getting up the nerve to put my feet on the floor.

"Happy Black Friday!!!!" the announcer screamed.

My head almost hit the ceiling. He was actually screaming. What an idiot.

When did it become a holiday?

The announcer was absolutely giddy about the prospect of saving money through his exhaustive system of getting to the right store at precisely the right moment. They showed people camped out. They showed footage of long lines and they interviewed a couple of the "shoppers".

Everyone was so freaking excited.

I tried to figure out if there was anything I would lie in a parking lot to get.

Springsteen tickets in New Jersey?

Nope, not even those. I'd wait it out and then just call a scalper.

Then they showed the doors open at one of the Target stores. Men, women and children were busting through with their arms raised in a victory salute.

Are you freaking kidding me?

When the empire finishes crashing down at least we will have footage of the near end.

Happy Black Friday?!!!

Of course, I must admit that my wife is out there somewhere. She passed by me this morning muttering a question about helping me get things set up for the morning, but she had a mug of coffee and a few newspaper ads.

"I'm all set," I said.

Of course, I have a real busy morning planned.

I have to figure out how in the hell to appear interested after she tells me about running into an old lady, fighting with some jerk at Wal-Mart, and the $11 she saved on a video game that will end up being chewed by the dog.

I know it's good for the economy. I know that some people enjoy it.

That's not to say I have to understand it.

Thank You

2011-11-24T16:16:00.000-08:00

All of the small words are the ones that mean the most. Yes, Please, God, Love, Thank You.

I don't know why the words 'Thank You' sometimes get caught in our throats. They are two very easy words to say, but that's the way it is sometimes. Have you ever received a compliment from someone and instead of simply saying thank you have offered up some other words, like, 'I told you' or 'Yeah, thank me! You can thank me!'

I personally use that one all the time when my beautiful wife says thank you.

Which is once in a blue moon.

But we should feel thankful every day. There are a lot of people who help us make our loves go. Thanks be to God. Thanks to your Mom and Dad. Thank you to your siblings, your spouse, your children, and your dogs.

Truth be told we can spend our entire day thanking others if we were so inclined.

There's a lot of garbage going on in America. A ton of unrest. The lower class sucks, the upper class blows, those of us caught toiling in the middle deserve better. Racism sucks. Poverty blows. Socialism is bad. Greed is horrible. Republicans are idiots. Democrats are bleeding hearts.

We all just need to say thank you now and again. Thank you that we live in a free land, with a chance to shoot off our misinformed mouths.

I will most likely eat a lot this year. The mood of the family is unbelievably shaken again.

But Mom made the stuffing, and Jim is hosting the party, and we will laugh and watch some football.

Mom's stuffing can't be over sold. It is flat-out greatness.

Thankful that we are still together through the hurricane winds that have blown through our lives.

Thankful that we still feel the love.

Even when we don't feel much like giving thanks.

For Uncle Jim

2011-11-23T13:47:00.000-08:00

Very difficult words to say aloud. There is certainly another huge void.

I’m not sure that this is breaking news, but there are some members of the Fuzzy family that have some of the following qualities:

Obnoxious, Loud, Wild, Quick-tempered, emotional, boisterous, impatient, emotional and a tad confrontational.

But loving…always very loving.

I was speaking to one such member a long time ago when at the age of 12 I helped my Dad make the sauce. I was chopping up onions and garlic when I said to him:

“You know, Uncle Jim is a really good guy.”

Dad agreed, of course, he thought the world of his little brother.

And through the years I thought a lot about that moment.

How had my uncle, in the middle of the Fuzzy storm, figured it all out?

There are so many distractions along the way. There are way too many temptations in life that can throw you off your game.

Uncle Jim was always able to stay the course.

How’d he do it?

First off, he had a great love of family. He loved his wife, Aunt Sherry, through all of the years, through the thick and thin, and when the chips were down.

He loved his daughters, Jamie and Kristin with every ounce of strength he could muster, and that happened, in spite of the fact that one of them may or may not have had some of that stubborn Fuzzy blood coursing through her veins.

I’m not going to say which one. (Kristin).

He loved his grandchildren, Dom, AJ and Brandon and was a great grandpa. He turned his car into the swim mobile. He called them sucky-thumby- babies. He teased them about playing so much hockey, telling Dom to find two dead ants to play with him.

He loved them for every second of their lives.

Then there was his love of food: Tripe, calamari, pork chops, pasta and peas, pasta and beans, pork chops, marinara, pasta and broccoli, pork chops, linguine and clams

Are you catching a theme?

And Italian Sausage. Every three months or so Uncle Jim, Jim and Paulie would get the ball rolling and we would meet to make the sausage.

Every time we showed up the container that Uncle Jim brought to bring his share of the sausage home in, got bigger. This year he had about an 80-gallon cooler. We would work, eat, have a few beers and laugh.

And the love of family extended through the sadness. Over the last few years we have lost some extremely well loved members of this family. Jeff, Dad, Aunt Carolyn…and we’ve been reeling.

Uncle Jim was there for all of us. He called us with a quick joke or a message. He wanted us to keep smiling and keep moving forward, never forgetting the love. He sent me a note one day that said simply, “I miss my bro today.”

I called him on the phone and before long we were talking about food. Know, with all your heart that he wants every single person here to smile and laugh as much as you can with the time you have. I know he does. We talked about it.

Uncle Jim also used faith in God above to fashion his great personality. His personality traits should be studied at the greatest universities in the world and taught to the general public.

I was in church one time and Uncle Jim was working as an usher. He called himself Frank Barone from the Everybody Loves Raymond Show.

And there was more love.

Sometimes I referred to Uncle Jim as Uncle Billy Joel and he enjoyed that because he always told me that he ‘got his Christie Brinkley’.

And he really meant it. We should all love our spouses in such a manner.

And there was more family.

Every June the 2 was cause for celebration and happy phone calls were made all through the family. June the 2 should be a national holiday from here on out.

And Uncle Jim believed in heaven and heaven is a better place now. He knew that the way to get there was to work hard, have faith in God’s plan, and eat a good meal.

No more chicken!!! (Sorry, Aunt Sherry)

Uncle Jim battled through a lot of tough times. Certainly things weren’t always smooth, but he battled through, day after day and hour after hour.

He didn’t feel sorry for himself. He never put it on someone else.

Instead, he forged ahead and asked us to join him in love.

The sadness that we feel now is the price that we have to pay for spending so much time in Uncle Jim’s loving embrace.

We don’t have to feel the separation because he is with us. He always will be with us.

And back when I was 12 years old, I was completely wrong.

Uncle Jim wasn’t just a good guy.

He was a great man.

And we should all be honored that God allowed us to share his kingdom of days.

Man, the Dope Is That There's Still Hope.

2011-11-22T11:49:00.000-08:00

The only possible news that could have lifted my spirits yesterday was that Springsteen was coming out with a new album and touring the country in the near future.

So he announced on his website that it was exactly what was happening.

It's just music. He's just our family's favorite artist. He did what he could.

So, this morning, I put on the E Street station and headed out on a long trip, thinking of my uncle and writing his eulogy. I don't want to write it. I never wanted to write it. I will though because I can't help my aunt around the house in the near future as my other brothers or even my wife can.

So, I'll do what I can.

And as I drove I thought of my brother John and the fact that today is his birthday. A wake is a crummy place to spend your birthday. I hoped Bruce could help a little.

At noon they started the concert for the day. They play an entire concert from start to finish. I needed a full show. As they were announcing the venue and the date I was hoping that it was a newer show because Bruce just had so much more music to choose from. I wanted some of the newer stuff mixed in.

From HSBC Arena in Buffalo, NY from November 22, 2009.

That would work just fine. It was a show that a lot of us attended. It goes without saying that it was a great show. They played all of Greetings from Asbury Park.

I concentrated on the lyrics. (Listen to the words!) even though I knew them all by heart.

"Man, the dope's that there's still hope."

Over and over I sang that lyric.

Thanks, Bruce, again, for reminding me.

At a rest stop I texted my brother to let him know they were replaying the show.

"No kidding," he texted back.

I know two people who had their spirits lifted on a cold, gray day.

Just Can't Pick it Up

2011-11-21T11:07:00.000-08:00

So, feeling, once again like I have my shit together, but having a lot of trouble picking it up.

Let me tell you about the weekend.

Saturday morning I woke to a swollen left ankle. Big deal, cry me a river, right?

Well, I had a choice of which leg to put on the floor. The swollen, very painful ankle, or the still real stiff, swollen, surgically repaired (twice) knee.

I laid in bed from 3:30 to 7 a.m.

Thinking...

Of Jeff

Of Dad

Of Aunt Carolyn

Of Uncle Jim

WTF? WTF? WTF? WTF? WTF? WTF? WTF? WTF? WTF? WTF? WTF? WTF? WTF? WTF?

I didn't say it was profound thinking.

My problem being that I needed that time to lie there and consider everything. Besides, if I'd gotten up, I would have had to let the dogs out, feed them, and give them a ride in the car.

I took a pain pill.

It would work for the ankle and the knee. It wouldn't work for the WTF? portion of the program.

By 7:00 I got out of bed. I put on a pair of pajamas and headed to the door with the dogs. I stayed in the backyard, looking up, feeling the love of those who'd gone, but feeling the pain they left behind.

Melky immediately wanted her ride. I didn't have milk for the coffee anyway.

So I limped to the car.

Damaged as I was, I felt that I could still move forward.

Picture it:

Limping on both legs...doing the ow, ow, shit, ow, mother fu&%$, as I walked down the aisle of the mostly empty store. In my pajama bottoms, Carhartt, and sneakers with untied laces.

I felt the eyes of the cashier boring a hole through my back. She must have been thinking: "WTF?"

If she only knew.

June the 2, Pork Chops, Billy Joel & Greatness

2011-11-20T08:11:00.000-08:00

When I lost my brother my Dad and my Uncle Jim made sure that they stepped in to make up for some of the loss by calling me and telling me they were thinking about me.

When Dad passed, Uncle Jim, his own heart broken worked even harder to touch base. We talked Yankees, food, the Ria sisters (Gonna and Dia), and how much we missed our brothers.

Uncle Jim got pretty sick, really fast. We lost him this morning. He will most likely get to heaven before the pasta is served. If life is fair, there will be pork chops in the sauce today.

My Uncle loved pork chops. I'm talking, he dreamed of them sometimes. He'd call me late in the afternoon and ask me what I was having for dinner. We shared dinner quite a few times...not enough though.

He loved his family even more. Uncle Jim would call me the day before my birthday. Every year. He said he wanted to be the first one to wish me a great day. Then he would call me the next day and ask me if he'd been first.

He was so dedicated to his wife, daughters, and grandchildren that like my Dad, every other pursuit of the fleeting things in life was dismissed. As long as he fostered that love, he was happy. And he was always happy. His personality traits should be studied and taught to others in this world.

For years I told Uncle Jim that he resembled Billy Joel, and he did a little. He loved when I told him that because he would insist that he got his Christie Brinkley.

And he did. He loved my aunt so much. He loved his daughters and grandchildren even more. He loved his mom and dad and his brothers and sisters. Since I was a small boy, I'd tell my Dad that Uncle Jim was one of the best guys I ever met.

My Dad agreed.

Everybody did.

So, here we are again. June the 2 will never be the same because Uncle Jim was the one, who like George Costanza's father, made it into his own holiday. This past year my "Merry June the 2" call came at 6:30 a.m.

I smiled when I saw Uncle Jim's name on the face of my phone.

As a matter of fact, he always made me smile.

And there's a great temptation to feel sorry for my family here. Yeah, we've taken an absolute beating in the last 3 years, losing parents, uncles, nephews, brothers, aunts and moms and dads.

I dread all of the pain, but I do know...for certain now...that we will sustain. I've said it so many times: love kicks deaths ass if we look at it the right way, and there is no separation, if we don't allow our hearts to feel it.

And we will sustain because of the love they showed us, taught us, and demanded of us.

I'll miss you more than you know, Uncle Billy Joel, but then again, you're right here, always, in the muscle beating underneath my shirt.

Feeling thankful that I basked in greatness.

With Love

2011-11-19T04:06:00.001-08:00

Roulette

2011-11-19T01:31:00.000-08:00

hey say that all you really need is your health. I'm not sure who "they" is, but I can tell you for sure that you really miss your good health when it's gone.

And I'm just talking about a bum wheel.

There are so many other things in the grab bag that can really strip you of the vibrant health of your youth, and it occurs to me, we are all going to get something.

Somewhere along the way, our nice little life is going to be threatened by a disease or a diagnosis that makes us scramble to google for a clue on what went wrong with our given vessel.

Yesterday there was a boy and his sister on the news. The sister started her fundraising campaign to help her little bro raise money to battle what was ailing him. They interviewed her first and then they cut to her suffering sibling. His face was pale, he was rail thin, and his speech was stilted. His sister, on the other hand, was positively glowing with excellent health.

It just didn't look fair.

It's all a crap shoot.

They say to eat right, get a good night's rest and try not to attack your own body with poison unless you practice moderation.

"A glass of wine is good for you," an alcoholic might say.

A liter of Jim Beam...maybe not so much.

In any regard, at the end of the day, perhaps it doesn't matter. Maybe all there is up there is a board with a name next to it that begs for an affliction to be placed next to our name.

"Look it up," those in charge tell us.

So what will it be?

Catfish Hunter, an athlete in his 50's got Lou Gehrig's disease. Every single man will get a dose of prostate cancer just for fun (and people say God doesn't have a sense of humor).

Another youngster in the community died in his sleep the other day. He was ten years old.

Breast cancer? The line is long.

Heart disease? That one stretches around the corner.

And there are charities set up to battle the disease of the day.

"We have to stomp out _______!"

Fill in the blank.

But there will be another new disease on the opposite corner because our vessels weren't built for the real long haul. Parts wear out. Things need to be repaired or replaced. It would be an awfully crowded place if we all went to 223 years of age or so. Something has to get us.

It's all a game of cruel roulette.

The wheel goes round and round and we don't know where it's going to stop.

Stands to reason we best enjoy ourselves as the wheel is spinning.

Things We Should Be Able to Do Something About

2011-11-18T01:26:00.000-08:00

All right. We are occupying the land, right? Are there things we can put on the agenda for discussion?

1). No more ATM bank fees. We can all get behind this, right? Have you ever been at a casino, for instance, and been hit with the question of whether or not you'd pay the fee to get your money?

Sure you have. Have you ever considered not hitting yes? Get rid of the fees, please.

2). No more lawyer ads. Ever. The appearance of the lawyer acting compassionate makes my skin crawl. A soft song plays over the narrative...as if the lawyer loves you.

"Have you been hurt in a car? Do you know what to do? You've heard it said a million times."

Yeah, we have. You're the one who keeps saying it! Shut-up! Shut-up! Shut-up!

3). No more political ads, either way, talking about how the other guy is all for his own party and will not cooperate with the other party and that when you are elected it will be a fantasy-land of cooperation.

You all hate the other party, and we all hate you. Don't make the ad.

4). The rules of congress have to be changed. 60 Minutes was all over the truth the other night telling us how these guys make millions. It's stealing and cheating.

A congressman's business card should say, "I steal and cheat. Thank you for being so dumb."

Term limits. Arrest the bastards. Something. We should be able to do something about it.

5). Stop telling us about the healthy choices at your fast food restaurants. We know the food sucks for us. We know that it's going to sit in our guts like a bowling ball. We don't want a salad. Got cheese, add it. Got bacon, throw that on there too. We ain't stopping at your greasepit to stay under our alloted points for the day.

6). And another thing. When we walk in to a place and step up to read the menu, don't immediately ask us if you can help us. Yes, we want you to help us, but we'd like 3 freaking seconds to look at the menu to figure out how we are going to make our hearts skip a bit. And when I'm done ordering don't ask me if I want an apple pie. I'm not a moron. If I wanted one I would have ordered it.

7). And those of you at the drug store and the dog food store. Please don't ask us if we'd like to save 1% on our purchase by filling out an application to carry your rewards card around in our wallet. Just check out the 40 pound bag of dog food I'm holding and shut up about your neat fan club card.

I'm not allowed to sign up for anything anyway because my wife revoked my man card about 12 years ago.

Occupy that, please, as long as we're bitching about things that won't ever change.

Everything I Know-Decisions, Decisions

2011-11-17T01:22:00.000-08:00

Everything I Know About Making the Right Decisions

A successful life hinges on making a higher percentage of wise choices versus stupid mistakes.

It is easy to make a mistake.

A lapse in judgment is possible in every waking moment. We make mistakes because of inner conflict, because of resentment, out of feelings of guilt and frustration.

Sometimes they are mistakes that do not allow us room to recover.

The greatest mistake that we can make is to let an error in judgment strip us of faith in ourselves.

There is a right and a wrong way to live life.

I believe that living right is based on a number of true scientific principles. If you break the laws of science your life may go terribly wrong.

Common sense, hopefully, will tell you that making honest, unselfish and right decisions will allow you to lead a more peaceful life.

Unfortunately we can’t see very far down the road.

In a lot of instances this shortsightedness costs us in the end. Realizing this should provide enough instruction to make each step true. Put each foot down in wisdom and faith, and turn your stumbling blocks into stepping stones.

Sometimes the decisions that we need to make don’t come easily. We are driven face first into the ground ahead as we trip on the past mistakes that we don’t disregard as useless baggage.

In some instances it is fear of moving forward that stops us in our tracks. By keeping your energy levels high, and believing in your solid heart, you will discourage those fears.

Ask yourself ‘Am I doing the right thing?’

Ask that question over and over, and before long, you’ll know everything I know about making the right decisions.

Love & Happiness

2011-11-16T01:18:00.000-08:00

Mellencamp wrote a song back in the 80's called Love & Happiness. The lyrics of the song pop into my head every now and again because things haven't seemed to change all that much. I think the song sort of hit me back then because I was just figuring some things out. It's a downer, but as I considered the Penn State deal, it kept finding its way to the front of my mind. JM doesn't offer a lot of answers.

Because there aren't any.

Love & Happiness by John Mellencamp

Well they're dropping their bombs in the southern hemisphere
And people are dying who live right here
And they're fighting wars in the name of peace
And they're killing each other in the middle east

Well love & happiness have forgotten our names
there ain't no value left in love and happiness.

They raised the price of oil and they censure our mouths
if you're a young couple today forget buying a house
we wage our wars in the neighborhoods
we kill the old to feed the young
and man that ain't no good.

Yeah but love & happiness have forgotten our names
and there's no value left in love and happiness.

So if you sell arms, or you run dope,
you got respect
and you got hope
But the rest of us die on your battlefields
with wounds that fester and bleed
but never heal

Love and happiness have forgotten our names.

Replacing Regis

2011-11-15T01:57:00.000-08:00

So getting back to work at my long-time job is on the immediate horizon. I am ready...easy goes it, but on the way back.

And in the meantime, the world is calling for me to take a new job:

As Regis' replacement on Regis and Kelly.

Call it Clifford and Kelly.

I suppose I'd have to do it, but there are some problems:

1). I'd have to give up a lot of time with my beautiful wife and spend those moments with Kelly Ripa. We all know that there's no contest there. Ripa is all right.

She ain't no Kathy Fazzolari.

2). I'd have to learn how not to swear. It's live television and television show hosts aren't allowed to say the first word that pops into their minds. Unfortunately for me, every sentence seems to start with 'What the F&^%?'

3). I'd have to fawn over alleged superstars. This may be a major problem as I really don't kiss ass very well.

"So, you've kicked your spousal abuse problem by going through anger management?"

May very well turn into:

"Good morning, you piece of f*&^ing s&*%t, why are you here?"

4). They don't start the show until 9 a.m. Given my present work schedule I may have to grab a second job that starts more in line with the time I get up in the morning. Perhaps I can work on the set or something. You know, help Gelman out a bit.

5). And then there's the problem of the money. Regis made way too much money for sitting there and reading the newspaper. By all accounts, he's a good dude, but I'd shame the rest of them by donating a lot of the cabbage to people who are less fortunate. That would most certainly cause a chain reaction in which all the entertainers making zillions of dollars for easy jobs would have to give back.

6). The other people up for the job are Nick Lachey, Kelly's current husband Mark (that would change if she had to spend a lot of time with me...that relationship is doomed), and Ryan Seacrest.

They are all perceived to be good-looking guys. My emergence on the scene would change what everyone sees as good-looking.

I'm not sure I'm ready for all that sex-symbol attention.

Again.

So, as you see, there is more there than meets the eye as I consider taking the job.

Besides, I have to answer them about hosting the Oscars before I really consider taking over for Regis.

Just Watching T.V.

2011-11-14T01:06:00.000-08:00

Man I've logged some television hours this past week. In a glimpse into the future, I've tried hard to stay grounded. Like an elderly man, I've put down a few things on a daily schedule and those things have really grated on me during the course of the day, until I get them done.

So, what kind of television has been on?

True crime dramas. Not certain what station it is - 104 on our cable box - but it replays the 48 hours and dateline deals. Lots of husband killing wives and vice-versa. They do them in mystery form. The I Almost Got Away with it ones are good too, but too many shows like that over and over makes it difficult.

The brain goes to mush.

So then there are the Westerns. Bonanza, Gunsmoke, Rawhide. We've been over this...good morals...good stories...simpler times, but the guns and horses and all that, sooner or later, the brain goes to mush.

So switch to the comedies. Seen them all over time. Big Bang, Two & a Half Men, Friends. The simple plots, the quick wit, the crazy antics...

Mush-mind.

But here I sit. Notebook and laptop ready for writing. Facebook and Twitter for the arguing with friends.

All mush.

The kids have entertained me though. We've had a lot of time to joke around, and I sort of like them. My mind is active when they are in the room.

Two more weeks of laying low. I will certainly amp up the schedule for the coming two weeks, but I'll be careful too. No way this leg will take another surgery.

So here I sit. For the time being.

Just watching t.v.

Merry Mother of Muffins

2011-11-13T01:33:00.000-08:00

In the family dynamic that has developed here in our home Sam has become the 'Carrie' of the unit. He's the guy everyone calls for when we need something done.

"Sam, get me a water."

"Sam, let the dogs out!"

"Sam, where's the remote?"

And it works nicely because like Carrie, Sam is always ready, willing and able to help. He's actually what makes the machine go around here.

So, to thank him, when a pair of hockey tickets became available, I grabbed them for Sam, and my niece. They headed to the game on Friday night.

A grand gesture and a big payback, but one aspect of my plan was not well-thought out:

I was going to be without Sam for the evening.

The leg sucks. At least this time I know that it isn't anything I can change. Having had it done six months ago I have a bit of insight. It's going to feel like a bowling ball is in there. Standing on it, or climbing a ladder for that matter, is not highly recommended.

So I won't be fooled again.

"Can you take this ice pack?" I asked my beautiful wife in the late afternoon. It was the white one. Sam wasn't there to put it away.

About 4 hours later Kathy and Jake joined me for a movie. During the movie I needed a water. I verbalized my needs.

"Grab me a nutty cone when you're up," my beautiful wife said.
"I'll have an ice cream sandwich," Jake chimed in.

"Sam!!!" I called.

We all laughed and Jake finally got up, moaning and groaning his way across the treacherous 30 feet to the kitchen.

"Grab the white ice pack," I said.

He came back with the water and the BLUE ice pack. The problem being, I had just put the blue ice pack back.

"The white one," I said. "Sorry, this one isn't cold yet."

Jake made a grand show of being put completely out. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my wife grow a tad uncomfortable.

"Where the merry mother of muffins is it?" Jake cried out from his space in front of the freezer.

"Uh-oh," my wife said.

"Sam!!!!!!" I yelled.

Poor kid.

He's not going to any more hockey games.

The Sun Rises...

2011-11-12T01:13:00.000-08:00

...over Happy Valley.

One of the interesting aspects of life is the picking up of the pieces after tragedy strikes.

It isn't easy to do.

When multiple people are involved in a tragedy it is imperative that they step through the healing process at roughly the same pace, or resentment and anger is displaced and the tragedy spirals.

Stepping together is difficult. Nearly impossible. Parents who suffer a tragedy don't make it through, usually.

The sun will rise over Happy Valley no matter how unhappy everyone is.

The most difficult aspect of a tragedy is to internalize it and try and make sense. It is so difficult for a rational mind to understand the workings of an irrational person. What may be even more disconcerting is attempting to make sense of God's plan when the answers are not available.

At all.

No matter how we want them to be.

There are people who are drawn to serial killers. For every ten people who are disgusted by the evil that lurks around 3 out of 4 corners there is someone who thinks its sort of cool.

Why would the masses continue to cheer?

Because they don't understand.

Much about anything.

I've lived long enough now to know that the next horrific event is right around the bend. No matter how many rivers we cross there will be another river ahead.

We have to keep crossing them, hoping that we don't lose each other along the way.

Hoping that we don't lose hope.

Hoping that maybe we have learned from the latest horrific act.

And begging God to be merciful because like I said yesterday:

We are a mess right now.

But the sun will rise again.

Over Happy Valley.

Post # 1,500 - Oh the Humanity

2011-11-11T01:43:00.000-08:00

I never imagined that I'd get to 1,500 posts on this blog, but like everything else, I worked it into my schedule and then sort of obsessed about doing it, not really caring about how it was received, but trying to enjoy the process.

Sometimes it's a bit of a drag as I wonder what the hell to say. Sometimes I wonder why I say what I said, and sometimes I just hope it's funny. I don't purposely set out to piss off any particular party of people.

But it doesn't bother me if I do.

Sometimes I take to the keyboard to convey sincere love, pain and hope. Sometimes, I'm really, really pissed off.

It's disconcerting to me that it is my starting point for the 1,500th post.

I am nauseated by the Penn State situation.

Not the crimes so much....mental illness will always be around...horrible, but basically unsolvable.

Especially when it is allowed to fester.

And make no mistake, it was allowed to go on. People knew. The man was reprimanded. He was still allowed to roam the campus. Word never leaked out because it was going to cost money. Millions of dollars. Reputations would be ruined.

The second thing about it that really bothers me is the reaction. Fans were cheering for the coach. He didn't do it. He only knew. Regardless, he should not be cheered. Never, ever. Not on a train, not on a boat, not in a car, not with a goat. Never.

Fans should not be chanting "Beat Nebraska!"

The team should not be allowed to finish the season.

It's that simple.

And if the world was right, it would stop. And save me the innocent until proven guilty. He was reprimanded years ago and promised to stop showering with little boys. He admitted the abuse and said he hated himself to the mother of one of his victims.

That is public record.

So, why am I so upset?

Because it is a microcosm of the world we live in. It's smack dab in the center of my life and in my life, I've decided to write, for myself and for those I love. I can't let it go.

We are in a mess. We are collectively a country of people who have lost their way. We pay millions to CEO's who don't earn it. We pay hundreds of millions to sports stars. We cheer for celebrities who have stolen our money and committed crimes, and we shrug it off, saying they deserve second chances.

We need new rules. If you can't behave, we will give you a second chance, but not a second chance to be a glorified millionaire. Blow it once...it's gone. Join the rest of us worthless slobs at the bottom of the pole.

We elect pedophiles, serial cheaters, guys who are accused of stealing, raping and harassing. We overlook it. We cheer for them because we all want to have our own little piece of celebrity action.

People go on television and act like idiots. People speak in public as if they are in the middle of a bar.

I'm not sanctimonious. I've certainly made mistakes, but I've never done some of the things these people have done and expect to still hear people cheering for me. When I make a mistake, I ask for forgiveness. I try my best to keep my mistakes to a minimum and I certainly couldn't live with myself if I had a raped child or two on my conscious...even if I just heard a whisper.

It would have been reported. I would have at least blogged about, cursed about it, and screamed it from my bedroom window.

Tomorrow I will most likely write a post about something light. Maybe the Yanks, maybe the dogs, maybe my love of family, or sunsets, or Judge Judy.

But today, I am sick of a lot of things.

People chanting for Tiger, Vick, Paterno, Mel Gibson...there are hundreds more...and will be thousands after this...

People stealing from people who can't afford to eat.

We need a moral center.

Right now, morality is just a rumor.

And that is aggravating to me.

Down Goes Frazier!

2011-11-10T01:24:00.000-08:00

When I saw the R.I.P. next to Joe Frazier's photo one thing came to mind quickly:

"He was something."

Frazier, of course, fought Ali back in the days when boxing was a major sport. Ali was a master and Frazier was more than a worthy adversary, he was sort of nuts. He'd just march forward with his head down taking hit after hit after hit and offering his own punishing shots.

"Down Goes Frazier!!"

I can still hear Howard Cosell screaming it as me, John and Dad watched the Thrilla in Manilla fight in 1975.

We all wanted Frazier to get up. He always seemed to get up. After that fight Ali said he thought he might die in the ring.

About 20 years ago I was out of town for work. I was in Scranton, Pa. for a job and I pulled up to a little rinky-dink hotel that had a great steak house attached. There was a huge stretch limo in front of the steak house, but I didn't pay it much mind. It was only a one-room restaurant however so everyone that showed up that night got to watch Joe Frazier eat his steak.

He was about thirty feet away. The steak he had was as big as his own massive head. The heavyweight championship ring on his finger was as big as the steak.

"He'll shake your hand," my waiter told me. "Just make it fast."

You wouldn't believe how fast it was. I told him he was great and he said something that I really didn't understand. His hand engulfed mine. He smiled.

As I left the joint, all the things I whine about now popped into my head.

"He's just a boxer."

"He makes his living at sport."

"I couldn't even understand him!"

But I kept looking at my hand.

Shake the hand that shook the hand of Joe Frazier.

He was a legend.

The other thing that stands out about that night was that I ordered the same steak he did. I specifically remember telling the waiter:

"I'll have what Joe's having."

My steak was waaaaaaaaayyyyyy smaller.

(Still ain't over that).

C'Mon Up! There's Room

2011-11-09T01:03:00.000-08:00

We have a horribly mentally-affected dog. By all accounts, Paris is a wonderful canine, but if she were Mike Vick's dog...well, let's just say she'd have been disposed of by now.

The word for it is skittish. Paris runs from company. And I'm not talking about being a little shy. When my brother Jim was by, she was so afraid that we had to literally go outside and get her with a collar...two days later.

When I returned from the hospital I was on crutches. Paris' new phobia is crutches. They are near my bed now and she won't come up the stairs because they're in my room.

Right now, in the middle of the afternoon, with Bonanza on, a minor miracle has occurred. Paris is in the middle of my bed, just mere feet from the hated crutches.

And given the fact that I have a lot of time to think, there's a life lesson in there because you see, Paris really loves me.

Her love has conquered her fears.

We have a strange dynamic around our house when it comes to the dogs and it all stems from their love of me. Melky is unbelievably protective, not even allowing someone to approach me with the ice pack. Paris tries to be as close as Melky and me are, but those damn fears!

Regardless, its strange when I open my eyes in the morning...the love fest begins. Both dogs sit in front of me, or on top of me, begging for my affections.

"That's 'cause you smell just like them," my beautiful wife said.

Yet watching how the dogs react to love, security, and a stern word is interesting to me in that you can tell that they are like the rest of us.

They don't want confrontation or chaos in their lives. They want to be warm, fed, played with and loved. They don't want the fear of torn cartilage, or big bad crutches, or even strangers in their home.

As Paris lies on the bed, she lifts her head every few minutes to make sure that the crutches haven't started walking across the room.

For now, everything is all right. Love has displaced fear, and this episode is featuring Little Joe.

Life is good for an hour or so.

Happy Valley

2011-11-08T07:10:00.000-08:00

I'm disgusted again.

I thought Joe Paterno was a cool guy. He talked a great game. It was more than football. It was about educating young men. He always seemed to say the right thing.

As the new disgusting story of the day goes one of Joe's assistant coaches saw one of Joe's former coaches anally raping a ten-year-old boy in the shower. This allegedly happened in 2002.

Over the weekend Joe released a statement that way back then he did what he was supposed to do by calling it in. He is shocked and saddened.

Okay, Joe...that's fine. Keep your job, your millions and your legacy. No biggie.

Seriously?

I am actually sick to my stomach thinking about this one. Why in the world, when you took that phone call didn't you hold an immediate press conference, call 911 and bitch slap the guy until he owned up to his sick mind?

I'll tell you why...because you only gave a crap for your legacy and all that you built over your big, impressive career and that maybe it would cost you money.

It's a ten year old boy!

And now there are people saying that Paterno has earned the right to quit when he wants to and that the program will do things better from now on and that Joe is shocked and saddened.

You didn't do what a man is supposed to do!

If you saw your neighbor beating the shit out of his wife would you not make the call? If you saw someone shoot someone on the street would you pretend that you're blind?

I can keep coming up with examples, but there's nothing as vile as what you did, except of course, for what your coach did. And you knew all about it! And he spent nine more years attacking innocent children, while you prayed it would be okay so no one would say something bad about you.

10 years old!

Quit. Go sit in a chair somewhere and never show your wrinkled face in public again.

You're an asshole.

How's that for Happy Valley?

Way Too Early

2011-11-08T01:20:00.000-08:00

TBS played How the Grinch Stole Christmas on November 5th. This morning I saw dancing Hersheys kisses in their Christmas outfits and a commercial about Santa with back pain.

My beautiful wife is already in her fog of gathering gifts for a few boys who have whatever the heck they need anyway.

"What do you want for Christmas?" is a question she doesn't even bother to ask me anymore.

Especially at the beginning of November!

What the hell happened here? Christmas is nearly 50 days away. Didn't we used to wait until Thanksgiving passed before all of this started?

Now, I'm not against Christmas...and I like presents too, but the 27-time Yankees didn't win the world series this year so there won't be a new plaque on my wall on the 26th. Sox without a hole for the big toe may be the big present for me this year.

The theme behind the Grinch movie is about the real meaning of Christmas. Dr. Seuss would probably be a little agitated with the fact that the commercialism is starting so early.

Of course, a lot of my Christmas shopping was done with a few flicks of the computer. I had Sam figure out which Sabres game they'd like to go to. Last year we went and the entire event was a success other than the $500 that was coughed up. But I remember how excited they had been walking away from the arena. Hockey isn't my favorite thing. Coughing up that much money for the billionaire who owns the millionaires is aggravating, but...

...but they will be smiling.

The gift won't be a surprise to any of them, but Sam chose a gold game. Ovechkin and the Capitals in town on the day after Christmas.

Thank God I have 50 days to save up the money.

Sabatoge

2011-11-07T01:04:00.000-08:00

Perhaps the worst and best of being laid up is that you have a lot of time to think. Unfortunately, sometimes the thinking comes in the middle of the night whenever everyone else is asleep, and there's no one to bounce things off of.

The conversations with Melky are a little one-sided and she hardly reacts unless I mention a squirrel somewhere in the message.

I'm reading a memoir of a girl who, during her formative years, slept with a lot of men as she searched for validation and love. A fairly common theme, I'm told, although those girls saw me as a good friend as I grew.

Yet the striking thing about it is the lengths that we all seem to go to in order to sabatoge our own efforts. We can do everything right for all the hours out of the week and then screw up the effort with a bad word, an hour of weakness, or a three-hour window where we forget to do the things we are supposed to do.

I'm not sure what to make out of all of it except to understand that as humans we are weak. We know the big picture and the right way to go about it, but we cave.

Growing up, the nuns taught us a lot about our conscious. That's a good thing, right? Listening to them, I never felt anything but guilty.

And as the protestors gather, I wonder what the conscious is like for some of the people who are out on yachts and living in a summer home while others suffer. They most likely don't feel a thing. How could they?

Newt Gingrich was talking tonight. Middle of the night, flipping by kind of thing.

"People should not get a handout, period, unless they have a severe disability."

I know we are all supposed to make our own way, but I find Newt's comment incredibily short-sighted. We don't all have the same opportunities no matter how good that sounds. It isn't the same for everyone. There are people without severe disabilities who are struggling in this new world order.

And the opportunties to sabotage our own lives are endless. It seems that every single day I read about a middle-aged man or woman convicted of embezzlement. Last night's news went like this:

Pedophile, embezzelment, fire, murder, celebrity jailed, sports and then weather.

People aren't bad. Over and over I need to tell myself that, but that's what we are fed, day after day...night after night.

Living the right way is harder than taking the low road. I'm hoping that I don't sabotage my efforts at all this week.

Gotta' go, there's a squirrel outside the window and Melky wants to have a conversation.

Andy Rooney

2011-11-06T01:20:00.000-07:00

How could you not like Andy Rooney?

His eyebrows were a little scary, but he always seemed to tell the truth about everyday living.

The fact that he retired just a month ago, at the age of 92, and died almost immediately was kind of comforting because he wanted to work right up to the end.

And what I liked the most about it is that he said, a lot of times, that a writer's job is to tell the truth, and that was what he did, no matter who liked it or how popular he was or wasn't. He wasn't swayed by working for 60 Minutes or the big shots. He called his own shots.

And he was moral and a voice of reason in a lot of ways.

Being laid up again, I'm watching a lot of old Westerns. I don't know why I need to go there when I have nothing else to do, but it seems that the messages are so much simpler. There's a good guy, a bad guy and a moral choice. The good guys usually win, but not without having paid a price. To get what they wanted they have to give up something else.

But in the end, doing the right thing wins out.

Contrast that with the show Two Broke Girls...a new show that is trying to be funny. On last weeks episode they talked at length about their vagina's. At 8 o'clock at night.

The episode wasn't funny. In fact, it was downright stupid. I changed the channel. No moral choice because the morals are gone.

A buddy of mine and I were chatting about it.

"It's a money grab," he said. "Don't care about anything but making money."

I'm sure that Andy Rooney crowed about it somewhere along the way. You don't live as long as he did and not see such a shift. Hell, you want to see the shift, just watch one of those old shows.

They had to tell a joke to make you laugh. It wasn't all about the shock.

And as I write that I think of how contradictory I sound because I love Howard Stern, but what can I say? Howard is at least clever, and tries.

Anyway, thanks for the memories.

Lou Shaves My Leg

2011-11-05T01:56:00.000-07:00

I don't remember them shaving my leg for the last knee surgery. I imagine that it must have been done, but it wasn't done before they knocked me out. This time, a very pleasant man came at me with the razor.

"How did you hurt your leg?" he asked.

"It's a long story," I said. "Originally, it may have been from playing my kid in hoops, but I beat him."

Lou took his razor out. He talked about the NBA. We were both a little uncomfortable. I'd never had a man shave my leg, or a woman either for that matter, and Lou probably did it before, but he wasn't thrilled I'm sure.

What to talk about in such a moment of intimacy?

Lou stuck to basketball until I told him I really didn't give a flying crap about the lockout and then we went to hockey and football. Lou hates hockey.

He moved the razor deftly and told me how bad hair is for infection during an operation.

There were others in and out. I tried my best to be cheerful, remembered to say thank you every time one of the nurses popped in. My beautiful wife is a nurse. Does it hurt to be nice to them? I told the one who took my blood pressure she was the best. When Lou was done shaving my leg - it was real smooth - I asked, "Who's better than you?"

Lou seemed a tad concerned.

I thought about the whole deal. A bunch of selfless people, right? Some of the things that those in that profession have to do. I mean who the hell wants to shave my leg?

Feeling better already...I had another tear in cartilage that was causing the problem after the repair of the last tear. There is most likely a cause for the second tear:

Stupidity.

So, this time, I will pay attention. Unfortunately self-knowledge only shows itself after we've completely screwed something up.

So, here we are.

Lou is probably helping someone else. I really hope he isn't writing a blog about having shaved my leg, but I'm glad he did it.

It's so smooth!

There's Something Wrong With You!

2011-11-04T01:07:00.000-07:00

So, let's analyze. Why do I like Judge Judy? I have heard that it is a fixed sort of show, where they allow people to stand there and settle their dispute, and in the end, the show picks up the tab.

That's fine. It's not the Kardashians. She isn't fooling me.

Why I like it though is because I am amazed at the people who are happy to get on television even though what they are doing is actually downright despicable, if not just plain stupid.

The Wednesday night episode had two cases. In the first, a pretty girl locked her boyfriend out because he showed up 7 hours late for a date. He kicked in her door and she took him to court for the cost of the door.

As a guy, how do you agree to go on television to talk about such a moment?

How many doors have you kicked in during your life?

Judge Judy stopped the case, telling them that she was tired of their stupidity.

Perfect answer.

The 2nd case was about a woman who was suing for money because she needed plastic surgery.

Judge Judy asked her about her kids and then lectured her about throwing away money for a breast implant when she has kids to take care of.

THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU!!!!

JJ yelled that about five times.

She's right. That's what I like.

We honestly should have a television show where someone just stands there and tells people over and over again what is stupid. Perhaps if we could just get it all out in the open, we'd be able to do something about reducing the level of stupidity in the world.

I'd love to host such a show.

Just one scenario after another. People would line up to stand in front of me because everyone wants to be on television. They can tell me the story of their life. I'll listen, and then tell them how stupid they are. We can all have a good laugh.

It would be a hit.

Me and JJ could change the world.

The Number 23

2011-11-03T03:25:00.000-07:00

The address to this website is Fazzolari23.blogspot.com.

That isn't a mistake.

Whenever I program something into the microwave it has a 23 in it. Need to heat something up?

1 minute and 23 seconds will do it.

It's the first number I pick on the quick-pick for the lottery. I don't use it for passwords though because that would be too obvious.

Because, you see, my favorite baseball player of all-time wore #23. Donnie Baseball.

And I shared the love of that number with my brother Jeff. We fought over the number on our softball team. We played Captain Says Shoot for it.

Guess who won.

We used it as our calling card.

So, why am I bringing it up now?

Well, I have been glancing at the clock lately and the number always seems to be 23. I woke in the morning, pulled the clock to me: 5:23.

Driving along, I look up wondering how much time I have to make it to an appointment: 10:23.

It's driving me crazy!

It's happened ten times in the last two days.

I set my GPS for a destination this morning. I was glad to see that it was 7:14 when I did it.

"At least there isn't a 23," I whispered.

The details of the trip came back to me.

Yep...223 miles.

If Jeff is taunting me...

...it's working.

"Cut me, Mick"

2011-11-02T04:07:00.000-07:00

So, they are checking the knee again. Perfect timing because it really is getting to me. Golf is shut down and the knee has been troublesome from the time they did it the first time.

Of course, they fixed the old problem last time...mobility is actually way better, but the pins and needles and the swelling.

So, borrowing from Rocky Balboa...do it! Cut me!

There are a couple of things I plan on doing differently this time.

First off, I won't climb a ladder 12 hours after the surgery, under any circumstances.

Secondly, I will do the rehab to the letter of the law. I plan on going to the YMCA and riding the bike, and sitting in the hot tub.

I may be dumb, but I can't possibly make the same mistakes twice in a row, can I?

Melky is ready for the downtime too. We are going to watch Bonanza and Gunsmoke. The laundry will be done tonight and the house is clean so there may not be a need for me to move around a lot until Monday.

But...and I caution you...get ready for the whining.

Do you hear me, Larry?

Damn, I wish it was baseball season.

Oh yeah, if the anesthesia gets me...it's been a fun ride.

Topping Eyewitness News

2011-11-02T02:57:00.000-07:00

Remember when they used to say:

"It's 11 o'clock, do you know where your children are?"

My Dad used to say, "Yeah all the bastards are right here."

Anyway...who could have called the Kim and what's-his-pus divorce? This just proves to me that anyone who watches one of those reality shows should be lined up and shot. They are all fake, people. It's like pro wrestling.

Also, I may be in the minority, but I wouldn't know a Kardashian if they hit me with their big asses. Don't remember ever seeing one. Hear they have nice butts though. I'm an ass man.

I walk down the street and people yell: "You're an ass, man."

(Thanks Rodney).

I see that Cain went to the Dubya school of politics - did you hear him speak?

New rule:

If you can't complete a sentence an eigth-grader can complete, you can't run for president.

And Rick Perry? He's downright dim-witted. Not that I'm against all the Republican candidates, but is this what they can drum up? Holy crap. One is dumber than the next.

Not to say that Obama has had an easy time of it. It seems that no matter what happens the economy continues to tank, or at least that's what they tell us...economy is pretty good around CC Sabathia's house these days.

And the Bills paid their quarterback 10 mil a year. Ridiculous? He's 13 and 15 as a starter.

If Cain or Rick Perry were doing the math that would be a million per win.

Leaving Iraq, huh?

Good news, but the exit plan was sort of slow...nine years after mission accomplished.

I hate Halloween.

All of it.

The candy, the costumes, the little bastards making me get up from watching Judge Judy.

I gave them all a lot of candy though.

That's the news for now.

Go find where your kids are.

That's so funny to me...like the news comes on and the announcer says, "Do you know where your children are?"

And you're going to go:

"That's right!!!! I have kids!"

And With Your Spirit

2011-11-01T01:46:00.000-07:00

So, I went to church in North Collins on Saturday. Unfortunately, mass was in honor of Dad and Aunt Carolyn. It's awesome that the mass is said in their honor, but....ahh, you know.

Anyway, it was the first mass where they introduced the changes that the Catholic church is making. The Roman Catholic church has been hammered at all angles by accusations of molestation of little boys and the biggest changes they make, after all this time, is to change a few words in the prayers so that now those of us who went to chuch all of our lives shout out the wrong answers.

I tapped my brother-in-law on the shoulder as the changes were being announced.

"Is Jesus still the guy we're talking about here?"

"Yep," Chucky answered.

"Cool."

The first prayer where the changes were evident contained the word consubstantial. Quick, use consubstantial in a sentence. What the hell does it mean?

"That's not even a word," I mumbled.

"I smell a blog coming," Corinne said.

And I suppose it was inevitable. Why the changes? What's the difference if he says "Peace be with you," and we say, "And also with you," like we used too instead of with "And with your spirit."

Explain please!

Was it just a bunch of Cardinals sitting in a room saying, "Let's mess them up. Anybody know a really big word that no one has ever said before?"

"Consubstantial."

"What does it mean?"

"Who cares, they'll say it."

A few times during mass people shouted out the old answers. At one point the priest just kept saying the same thing over and over until he got the new answer...he got it from everyone but my brother, who having caught on to what the priest wanted...said the old answer again to make my boys laugh.

We'll catch on, I suppose. I may even know what consubstantial means real soon as I'm thinking of looking it up.

But as long as we are talking about religion, I must comment on Josh Hamilton of the Texas Rangers who said God told him, on the on-deck circle that he was going to hit a home run.

Why does God choose to only speak with certain people? And why didn't God tell Hamilton not to shoot drugs for ten years if they had a line of communication open?

Hamilton went on to say that God didn't tell him who was going to win the game.

Could that be because God doesn't really give a crap about a baseball game (that doesn't involve the Yankees)?

What does God's voice sound like?

How did Hamilton hear Him over the crowd?

Did God tell him that the outcome of the game was consubstantial to what else was going on in the world?

Not sure that is right, but it sounds good.

Peace be with you...

...and with your spirit.

Bobby Screw and Your Own Pew

2011-10-31T01:38:00.000-07:00

We were watching Game 7 of the World Series. Sam was rooting for the Rangers and I sort of wanted the Cardinals because I like Lance Berkman. Either way, it didn't really matter to either of us because the 27-Time World Champion Yankees weren't involved.

Oh well, free agency starts this week.

During the 7th inning stretch Joe Buck-up announced that a grammy winner was going to lead the tribute song to America. Buck-up introduced singer David Nail.

Never heard of the guy.

David Nail?

I turned to Sam and said, in an angry tone, "David NAIL? What was Bobby Screw busy?"

Sort of a dumb, throw-away line that my brother John is really good at. Puns that make you laugh because they are really dumb.

Except Sam couldn't stop laughing. He got caught in a giggle that went on until the game was over. He would look at me and just say, "Bobby Screw, Bobby Screw, Bobby Screw."

The sound of his laughter took me way back...I was probably Sam's age. I was seated beside my Dad at church. An elderly, poverty-stricken, sick-with-a-cold woman was in the pew in front of us. She got caught in a coughing fit. As she coughed. She farted. Very audibly.

My Dad laughed so hard that he almost drowned out the sound of my laughter.

"She's sitting in her own pew," he said.

That was enough!

The usher had to come over to see if I was okay. My stomach hurt so badly from laughing. My mother was giving Dad the angry glare. The eight of us were the main spectacle.

I honestly remember that Dad and I had to leave mass. For the next thirty years we laughed about it.

The game ended. The trophy was handed out. Years from now, we may not remember who won in 2011, but this morning Sam came up the stairs. My I-pod was playing a Bob Seger song.

"Is that Bobby Screw?" Sam asked.

And he started laughing again.

What are You Reading?

2011-10-30T01:19:00.000-07:00

I do enjoy my birthday for a couple of real tangible reasons. First off, my great sister, Corinne, never forgets and she always gets a present that matches my personality. Two Italian salamis this year.

They're almost gone.

Secondly, my mother always gets me a gift card. For a book store.

I guess she knows me well too.

Like Mom, I am not great at sharing books. I want to buy them (to help the author who worked his ass off) and I want to keep them in my room when I'm done reading them.

So, what did I get this year with my gift card?

13 Reasons Why by Jay Asher. Loose Girl (I liked the title) by Kerry Cohen. Bad Blood by John Sandford (I read everything he writes). South of Broad by Pat Conroy (with a nod to my buddy Jan for turning me in that direction). Cruel Death by M. William Phelps (I met him in Rhode Island at a Book Awards Show...we had a couple of beers...great writer). Moneyball by Michael Lewis (Baseball...can't get enough) and The Winner Stands Alone by Pablo Coelho (He is a master).

So, there we go. I also received a gift from my friend Molly - Heaven is for Real by Todd Burpo...that's the one I started with...AFTER!

AFTER!

After, for the 2nd time in my life, I put a book down and refused to finish reading it. It was a book written by Max Tucker called Assholes Finish First.

I am hesitant to write about it because it was a vile, ridiculous account of the author being, well, being an asshole.

Now I love Howard Stern. I listen to his show every day. He can border on the tasteless, but I laugh along knowing that Howard is really a decent man. Max Tucker, as far as I can tell, is garbage. The stories were so horrific and the treatment of women was so degrading that I was shocked. I love writing comedy. I know there is a line to straddle. Tucker's stories are so offensive that on page after page, I wondered why or how he got it by a publisher.

And it really galls me to know that it is his second accumulation of filth that has achieved Bestsellers status. I was saddened. Really saddened that people are reading it. I am embarrassed for him as a man because when he grows up, he is going to look back and read it, and its going to make him want to vomit. And if it doesn't...that is even more sad.

As you will probably note, I went over the amount of the gift card. I will most likely finish those books by the time my next gift card comes from my Mommy at Christmas.

I guess sometimes assholes do finish first.

And by the way...what was the other book I put down without finishing?

The DaVinci Code.

It was also vile, but only because it was so poorly written.

The Shitcoms

2011-10-29T01:59:00.000-07:00

Since I did the top ten sitcoms of all-time, even though I left Friends off the list...which was great, actually...here are the worst.

10). Joey -Speaking of Friends. I wanted to like it. I really did. It was awful.

9). Bewitched. Larry Tate was great, but when they switched the Darrin's I got all mixed-up and they didn't even address it. Like we were supposed to believe they were the same guy.

8). Designing Women. Who the hell cared?

7). Gilligan's Island - Sorry. It sucked. Tell me that those guys wouldn't have tried to bang Ginger and Mary Ann, and/or smothered Lovey in her sleep.

6). The Brady Bunch - It sucked too. Sorry. Alice getting laid? Hard to believe. And the Dad was gay. Can't watch the show, listen to him dole out advice, and not think of the fact that he was gay. Or that Florence Henderson banged Greg or that Greg did Marsha. Too freaking crazy for me.

5). Tyler Perry anything - always seems to be on TBS. Always seem to be yelling. Tried it a couple of times. Never laughed once.

4). The Nanny - My God was she annoying. The voice. The laugh. The fact that she was doing the rich guy. Oh, wait...Arnold did his maid.

3). One Day At a Time - McKenzie Phillips stoned. Schneider stupid. The old lady miserable. All we had was Valerie Bertinelli. I watched it for a lot of years because of that.

2). Leave it to Beaver. Sorry again, but it sucked too. June dressed like that. Ward being hard on the Beaver. Lumpy and Eddie Haskell tried to save it, but it was way too lame.

1). How I Met Your Mother - hate it, hate it, hate it. It sucks. It blows. It isn't funny and that whiny bastard has little chance of finding a wife. Horrible.

Add to the list!

Occupy This

2011-10-28T03:15:00.000-07:00

Man, the protests are growing. What is going on in this country? A lot of unrest, for sure.

Let me try and figure out what I think.

Tuition is going up. Fuel costs are through the roof. Food prices are high. Entertainment prices are higher than ever. Medical costs are a freaking joke.

Those that have jobs have not been handed cost of living increases. Wages have been stagnant for 30 years.

Debt is through the ceiling.

We are fighting with everyone, still, right?

Do I have it down?

So, why are they protesting?

The battle seems to be that none of them truly know.

Let me tell you a story. I was teaching a class this week. One of the people arrived for class twenty minutes late. I decided to excuse the fact that he was tardy and told him to sign in and grab the handouts. He needed the class to keep his job.

He screwed up what he was supposed to do. With 30 people looking on, I repeated my instructions. He got the proper paperwork, went to his seat, took out his cell phone, dialed, and began talking loudly.

While I was talking.

"Do you believe this guy?" I said, and everyone laughed.

He jumped from his seat and ran to me, shouting every curse word he could think of.

"Get out," I said.

"You're fired," his boss said.

He was escorted from the room. Now he's looking for a job. To hear him tell it, he's being beaten down by the man.

So, while I do sympathise with men and women who bust their ass every day, I really feel as if personal responsibility is lacking in a lot of people's hearts.

Let's interview me in the style I hate:

Is corporate greed a problem?

You'd be crazy to think it isn't.

Are politicians to blame?

They are stooges in the battle to the corporate heads.

Do the people who have no idea that they can't afford a thousand dollar mortgage with a $800 paycheck deserve some of the blame?

Do the math.

I am sick to my stomach when I read the stories of the rising prices and the shrinking benefits. I'm doing okay, but certainly would feel more secure if the world wasn't going crazy just outside my window.

I know guys who work real hard every day and are one bad break from being out in the street with hungry kids.

I know other guys who have good jobs and they act like they are being pinched if they are working harder than they think they should.

We need to occupy a whole 'nother attitude fairly quickly.

This is getting sort of scary.

A Sitcom Junkie

2011-10-27T01:26:00.000-07:00

I love sitcoms. I would watch them over any other thing on television other than a sporting event. They certainly are better than reality television.

I was catching an episode of Seinfeld in the hotel room tonight when it sort of dawned on me that I need to talk about my favorite all-time sitcoms. What's yours?

It seems that years ago there were a lot more to choose from. I remember Thursday nights on NBC in particular. Wings, Frazier, Cheers. It was can't miss television.

So, how do I rank them?

Let's go backwards from ten:

10). M*A*S*H - I loved that show, but when I heard a comic say that it lasted longer than the Korean war, it kind of bugged me. Loved the final episode though. Watched it in the college dorm freshman year.

9). King of Queens - laughed hard every time she got on him about his weight. She was a tad nasty though.

8). Everybody Loves Raymond - loved the finale of this one too. A lot of yelling, but Robert and Frank made the show.

7). Modern Family - This one is new, but Al Bundy makes it.

6). The Office - Never liked it until it came on reruns. Saw all of the old ones and never miss the new ones even without Michael.

5). The Simpsons - Remember watching the pilot with my brother and laughing my ass off. I know its a cartoon but it counts.

4). The Big Bang and Two and a Half Men - a couple of more new ones. I grouped them together for no other reason than I'm running out of space.

3) Seinfeld - Don't watch it a lot anymore but that's because I've seen them all. Great show - Larry David is a genius and Curb Your Enthusiasm is even better, but its not really on regular television.

2). Cheers - Eddie LeBeck, Woody, Coach, Diane, Sam, Frazier, Diane, Rebecca and Lilith, Cliffy and Norm. I only have to say their names.

1). The Odd Couple - Still my favorite. Watched so many episodes with my Mom and Dad. You haven't lived until you've seen the one where they are tied-up in a robbery and Oscar makes funny faces.

There are so many more. Taxi, Dick Van Dyke, Married with Children, All in the Family.

I can watch them all. Beats the hell out of American Idol.