Thoughts of a Common Man

I spent an hour and a half listening to a guy named Alex Jones talk about a whole bunch of things. Jones was on the Howard Stern Show and he secured the booking by going stark raving mad about gun control on Piers Morgan. Now for the fun of it, I do listen to differing opinions from time to time. I say that Jones and I have different opinions because he appears crazy to me, and as we know, I have some real opinions of my own. None of which are wrong. In my head. Jones not only is dead set against any sort of gun control. He believes a whole bunch of things like tyranny, and that the government allowed 9/11, and that breast cancer is a conspiracy to control population, and that we need to stockpile guns, food, and all sorts of other survival items because the government that is in now is indeed rogue and will be knocking on our doors soon, not only to grab our guns, but to shoot us to our death. By the time that the interview was over my head hurt. Jones cited a whole bunch

February is a cold month. We need to spice it up somehow, don't we? I don't think that Valentine's Day quite cuts it. There are only 28 days, usually, but the month seems eternal to me. The ice and the cold are a true battle. As a young man it's easy to make fun of the people who migrate to warmer climates for the winter, as a just-past-middle-aged man it seems like a grand idea. Football season is over. The real college basketball season isn't here yet. The guys in baseball are denying the new batch of steroid claims, and playing catch in the sun. Hockey blows. Seems all a little slow, doesn't it? Some people amuse themselves with the Oscar's talk, but I normally don't see the movies that are up for consideration. I did see the White Lightning thing because Bradley Cooper was in it. I get to see Bradley Cooper, Channing Tatum, and Ryan Gosling movies...by my beautiful wife's request... ...because those guys remind her of me. I

Did you happen to hear Ben Affleck (a Red Suck fan and one of my least favorite actors) stumble over his thank-you to his wife in his acceptance speech. First off, he likes the Red Sucks so he can't be overly brilliant, but he forgot to thank her one other time when he was getting an award so this time he went out of his way, but he called his love for her, 'Work.' I almost felt bad for the moron. "It is work," he said. "But there's no one else I'd rather have working with me." All right. He might've saved it, but it got me texting with a buddy of mine as we considered marriage. I'll tread lightly. I'll also allow my buddy to remain anonymous. You'll see why. "It's not the same as we believed, right?" he asked. "We were bamboozeled," I replied. "Hoodwinked," he answered. "A great heist," I sent back. I decided to break it down. "Yet we love 'em and soon

Guilty until proven innocent is an important concept particularly if you are wrongly accused. Yet with that being said, I'm not sure I'm buying the Blade Runner's story. To paraphrase, he was hot and he got up out of bed to retrieve a fan. His beautiful girlfriend, who he loved above all else was asleep beside him when he hopped out of bed. When he was getting the fan he heard a noise in the bathroom. He was so scared for his life that he raised his gun, after putting his legs on, and shot through the door, killing her by accident. Uh, yeah. Sounds plausible. Let's try and imagine it. First off, that wouldn't happen in my home for two very important reasons. 1). I don't own a gun. and 2). My beautiful wife most likely would've left the door open. But all that aside. Don't you call out to the person behind the door? Did he do that? "Who's in the bathroom?" Frightened Oscar says. "It's a marauding intrud

My publisher and friend, Cindy, said something to me late last year that sort of stuck. I was mentioning that I was heading up to the New England Book Festival to appear on a panel about writing and she stopped talking for a second. Then she slowly said. "You don't even think it's unique, do you?" "What?" "People don't just get to do these things," she said. "You just casually mention things like we all know what it feels like to get such honors." I suppose that I am guilty of that although I certainly do not feel entitled. It's just that the writing was always a natural course of action for me. I do know what it feels like to be honored and I'm certainly appreciative, but those honors aren't just mine...they are Cindy's too. They are my friends as well. They most certainly belong to my family. The Oh Brother! honors are way less mine than they are my brothers and sisters. We all could've written that bo

Okay, there certainly was a time when we thought 'we were the wildest things we'd ever seen' and that we'd make it in Hollywood someday. Actually, that went on for just a couple of years...watching Letterman when he first came out, tossing rocks at prisoners jail cells in the Erie jail, sharing a single McDonald's hamburger because we were broke (I got the pickles). One of the guys who I actually thought I'd be writing comedy with - Terry - submitted the column today - poking fun at my alleged new television gig. He wasn't the only one to respond, either...I have a lovely photo of myself as Costanza as well. (Thanks Jeffy). TOP TEN THINGS ABOUT CLIFF'S NEW GIG: 1) Was the show CSI or something that needed a cadaver? 2) They're remaking Brian's Song and need someone that looked like they're in end-stage...whatever... 3) I don't know if I'd watch a sit-com where the dad is the Elephant Man. 4) Wow. You as the dad; Kate Up

Got home from another aggravating work day yesterday (aggravating because it's cold and I'm old) and in the middle of typing my first report the power went off. The power going out around our house is a true emergency as it kicks teenagers off the X-Box. It also ruins reports that aren't quite saved yet, but I wasn't about to panic or said teenagers would follow suit. So I headed down to do something productive, passing Sam on the stairs. "Someone wants you on television," he said. "What?" "I don't know. Someone from New York City wants you to be on television. She left a message on the answering machine." I went towards the answering machine. There were no lights blinking. "There's no power, genius," Sam said. I prodded him for information but he didn't have any. So we waited. We even spotted Jake who had left his room with his controller still in hand. About an hour later the power returned and I

It's weird but following sports is a job for a lot of people. "They should fire Ruff and Reiger!" I've been hearing that one all year. And you know what's weird? When the Sabres finally dropped the hammer I felt bad for Lindy Ruff. I'm not the world's biggest hockey fan. I think they made the game boring with the blocked shots and the clutching and grabbing. A guy can hardly ever get a shot through to the goalie, and if he does it will most likely be stopped because they're wearing pads as big as my bed mattress. Anywho-ha. Lindy is gone. He was here a long time. It brings to mind the only time in my life when I was fired. My Dad left the job. It took about two weeks for his rival to fire me. I didn't take it lying down. I told the guy that there were only two things that he didn't know anything about: Construction Management...and Weight Control. And that's the way that I wish Lindy would have gone out. Both g

The guy above is a street performer. I found the shot on Twitter and there was some great debate about whether or not it was an actual photo or if it had been doctored in some fashion. I believe that the actor was David Arquette and he posted the photo swearing that it was legit. I can buy it. Our minds are truly capable of some unbelievable feats. The problem being that we certainly don't use them, very often, for understanding things that aren't right in our wheelhouse. Have you ever been amazed by a magician? Someone sent me a video of one of the famous guys doing all sorts of tricks with a coffee cup. "How is that possible?" I wrote back. I watched the video over and over and had no idea how the trick was performed. Some years ago a company hired a magician to work the tables at a Christmas party. I had a couple of belts in me when the guy came over to me and asked to see my driver's license. "Don't take it out of the wallet,&quo

So, Danica Patrick will be sitting in the cat bird's seat for the running of the Daytona 500. Good for her. I am not much of a racing fan. I find the Daytona 500 very interesting and each year, after the race, I tell myself that I'm gonna' pay more attention to who's winning, but soon enough I don't understand what the hell they're talking about, why the races look different and who is in the lead in the standings. It's not like they print the box scores in the paper and I certainly ain't gonna' search for them. Yet Danica makes it interesting, doesn't she? In what other sport are their females competing with males for supremacy? None. And believe me, I'm not getting into any discussion of why men and women don't compete on the same field more often, I'm writing this entire blog just to bust on the guys who love NASCAR. "They have to be great athletes," my brothers and my brother-in-law have told me time and

I have thoroughly aggravated each of my children with my repeated bringing up of the fact that I was some kind of an athlete. World class. The kind of star that only comes around every once in a blue moon. I've learned that if you say things enough times people will believe it. Just look at Michael Jordan and his whole 'greatest player ever' deal. I argue with the kids about this all the time. Wilt would've shut him out in an one-on-one. That's not debatable. But back to me. I started it with my "I'm Jerry West in disguise talk." I had Sam believing that for a little while. When he figured out that I was less than ten years old when West was dominating the shooting in the NBA he sort of had me. But there are enough stories to keep the world class talk going. I tell them about the time I dribbled it off my foot and out of bounds in a game when I played just 2 seconds. I was put in to shoot a bomb from before half court because I had ma

How do you handle the cleanup after a meteor strike? There probably isn't much of a call for a meteor cleanup program. I hope it remains that way. But a few things to clear up this week as we wait for the big strike to finish us all. We'll never really see it coming, will we? 1). Sad Story - The blade runner story is so tragic that it's hard to comprehend, right? There were so many lines that popped into my head when I considered his crime that I just wrote them all down like a comedy writer. It was fun. I posted a few of the better ones on Facebook: The cops are searching leads but so far they're stumped. He was two feet away from escaping. Do you think he'll stand trial? I think he'll skate. And some guy jumped all over me for my lack of compassion. I just laughed as I wrote, 'Lighten up, Francis.' Yet it is a really sad story. A beautiful, intelligent young girl lost her life in what looked to be a truly abusive relationship and i

So, we have meteors crashing into Russia and asteroids screaming by the Earth close enough to see. Strange, right? It sort of blows my mind when I think about the fact that the asteroid is the size of a couple of football fields and it's gliding on by. When you think about all that has gone on while the universe is spinning, you get that we are but a speck of that time. Think of that when you're waiting in line behind the guy as he clicks through his lottery picks. Time passes slowly there, right? We argue over the most mundane and senseless stuff. We entertain ourselves by watching bad behavior. We are trying desperately to amuse ourselves to death, but consider this: The other night I woke from a dream thinking: 'We're all connected.' And I had no idea what it could mean. Are we all connected? I'm not just talking about me and you here. I'm actually considering everyone all through time. I've become fond of saying that love kicks death&

So I fell down last week. It sucked because I was already limping. The concrete landing made my limp a bit more pronounced. The worst part about it is that my wife actually has more of a side tilt as she is on her feet non-stop as Nurse Kathy. By the end of the work week we strike quite the pose. That's the sort of shape we were in as we headed down an icy path towards the church door. Our son, Jake, stood at the door, holding it wide open for us to step through. The problem being that we were still a good twenty feet away. "I'm not gonna' stand here and hold the door for a broken down old man and his penguin wife," Jake said, as he disappeared and let the door swing closed. True to our nature, my beautiful wife and I laughed. "Isn't that wonderful?" Kathy said. And here we sit with another Valentine's Day in the books. Not a single card has ever passed between us on such a day. We don't buy flowers, or any of that goofy stuff.

I don't watch the State of the Union Address. It doesn't matter who is the leader. I hate the format. No one needs the clapping. I'm not much of a clapper unless I'm at a Bruce concert. Which brings me to my point. Leading up to the State of the Union I was exchanging texts with a couple of people from my small hometown. We were talking about the cop-killer in California, the gun laws, the economy, and raising our kids. We were in a bit of despair. Before the president spoke I heard from a lot of people who were not willing to even listen. After he spoke I flipped to CNN. Rubio was being introduced as the guy who needed to respond. The host asked about the moving tribute to the victims of gun violence and asked him if what Obama asked about presenting the vote was a legitimate point. "He can ask for whatever he wants," Rubio responded. I shut the television off and said, out loud, to the empty room: It's gonna' be a long walk home. And it

I heard about the fight with the basketball player at some NYC club. I heard about the beat down of his girlfriend who wasn't his girlfriend, then might be his girlfriend, and then definitely was his girlfriend. He allegedly fought with someone named Frank Ocean who is another singer evidently. Is that Billy Ocean's kid? Then he drove his car into a parking garage wall to hide from the camera guys chasing him. Has anyone else had enough of this Chris Brown guy? I actually saw him try and sing a song once and it sounded like something out of an Alfred Hitchcock movie. Why do I know who he is? Why do I care who he punches next? Why is anyone with a camera following him? I'm serious here. I've written a whole lot of books. All wholesome, life-affirming, good stuff...and even when I win an award at a show I can't catch more than a mention in the local penny saver and this guy dumps all over his girlfriend...and everyone else for that matter and we

I remember my first day of Catholic grammar school as if it were yesterday. The nun lined us up against the blackboard and had us all say our names out loud. I was scared out of my mind. I had never seen anyone dressed as she was. I didn't know that she really talked like a real person. She had a huge cross hanging around her neck and she said that she was married to God. Then the priest came through and we introduced ourselves to him. He was also dressed up in a long gown that I swore was a dress. He spoke about God, the Bishop, and the Pope. Over the course of time we were introduced to each on a daily basis. It always felt like play-acting to me. Yet through the years I certainly bought into all of it. I bought in so much, in fact, that I wore a gown right alongside the priest as an altar boy. I was happy to do it. When I mention it to my boys they point and laugh as though I must have been molested. Thankfully I wasn't. But I could have been, I suppose, and th

Chris Christie was on Letterman this past week making fun of himself for being obese. I sort of respect that. In fact, he seems like a decent human being. He is a huge Springsteen fan. (The huge was unintentional), and he responded well during the hurricane crisis. Add making fun of his own failings and I'm sort of with him. Letterman had a great line of course: "Governor Christie celebrated his 50th birthday recently and as he blew out the candles on his birthday cake he wished for another birthday cake." Of course, someone jumped all over Christie telling him that his girth isn't funny and that he might just drop dead because of it. I have news for the skinny folk of the world. You'll be dropping dead too. Courtesy of Redd Foxx: "I hate the health nuts. Some day they're gonna' be laying in bed, dying of nothing." Yet, it always struck me as weird that people just jump all over the people in the world that have a few extra

I get a weird feeling as tax time comes every year. I suppose that it goes back quite a few years when I anticipated a return but was instead hit with a bill. I really don't understand a lot of what happens, but I try and keep good notes and hand the whole package off to someone smarter than me. Regardless, I sort of don't like the whole process. Thankfully, my tax guy is a good guy, and he usually does me justice. Not to know if he didn't, but whatever. The problem that I have each year is that it seems to get harder to make it through the season and expect that refund. "How old is Jake?" my guy asked me. "I'm not quite sure," I said. "He's big and his voice is deep now." The guy looked at me. I tried to do the math back to the time when I played softball, golfed regularly, drank to excess, ate like there was a gun to my head, and laughed every day. That was a long time ago. "Let me figure how long I've been

We are all sort of fascinated with the life of cops, aren't we? When we're young boys we wanted to grow up to be one. Well, I didn't. I've always been extremely cowardly. We watch television shows that speak of the profession. Think about it. How many cop-themed shows have you watched in your life? And in our own lives, we sort of shy away from them, hoping that we never have to speak to them. I've never had the cuffs on me (professionally), which is a good thing considering I'm well into my fourth decade, and I'm thinking I'll get through life in such a manner. I have had a few traffic tickets, of course, but I've always tried to be respectful. They have a job to do. They aren't picking on little old me. 65 is 65...not 77. I've usually deserved it. (And I know what you're thinking with that professionally thing...I wish...when we were kids we had a set of cuffs). Yet there are a couple of officers in the news in rece

February sucks. The temperatures are low. There's ice everywhere. I have to walk out in it. I headed to the first site of the day on Thursday morning. A worker that I've known for quite some time was walking ahead of me on a concrete pad. He sort of stumbled as his boots met the icy ground. "Why don't you get some ice melt down on this pad?" I asked. "You're stumbling around like the drunken bastard that you normally are on the weekend. Look where you're going. Get your stupid hands out of your pockets." I had just finished the sentence. He sort of laughed and so did his coworkers. I took two more steps. AND THEN The ground came up to meet me. I hit the concrete so hard, and with such force that my head snapped back and the back of my hardhat made direct contact. So did my entire left side. The side with the bad hip. I rolled over and thought about popping straight up. But I couldn't. The only two thoughts in my head were:

You know, back when I was a kid I was told, by everyone it seems, that anything is possible. You can be whatever you want to be. Just put your mind to it. Do they still peddle that crap these days? He can change the world if he wants to , my second grade teacher allegedly told my mother. She was a nun. She ended up at the funny farm, I think. I say all of this because I was thinking about human behavior this morning. I teach a lot of classes for my job, and I very often polish my stand up act in the class as we discuss why people do what they do. I have a good client that has seen my act on an annual basis for about five years now, and I stood before them, and worked out some new material as I spoke about defensive driving and talked about the perils of driving under the influence. I'm not quite sure why I got off on that tangent, but for a split-second I stood before them thinking that they were a little tired from too much lunch, and that I had better turn it into s

So...it's in the books and I was wrong with my prediction although if you go back to September I had predicted the Ravens in the big game. I don't take any credit, however, because I really wanted them to lose. And that's a shame because I do like Joe Flacco. He's really good. So how was the game experience at Camp Clifford? We won one square as a family. Our resident gambler, Sam, picked up a square in the family pool. (For entertainment purposes only). He wins one every year so no big surprise. I was shut the hell out. The first half of the game, of course, was a real downer. The Ravens scored at will. The Niners looked awful. As we prepared for Beyonce I was thinking about getting to bed early. But the freaking Ravens wouldn't even do that for me. They pulled a Buffalo Bills super bowl impression in the second half. But I'm getting ahead of myself. What to make of Beyonce? Damn. She may not Kathy Fazzolari, but she is on the attractive side,

One of the contractors that I work with brought a financial planner into their annual safety meeting. The guy was way too excited about breaking down financial things for the audience, but that's his job, right? I saw the doubting looks on some of the faces gathered before him as he spoke of saving a portion of their weekly income for things that people might need down the line...like food...and a place to live. "We all have choices to make," the planner said. "There are people who are living completely underwater, choosing the newest model of phone over their peace of mind in their retirement years." As is apt to happen in such circumstances we often break it down to our own capabilities to withstand the years ahead when we are supposed to be fading off into the sunset. A very well-thought out guy stood up and asked a few questions. "How much money do you think, on an annual basis, after the age of retirement, will we need to have set aside to su

My buddy John Mellencamp writes a blog every now and again for me. I heard this song on Saturday morning as I was doing my taxes and feeling a little worn down from a weary and tiresome week. It made me smile because I know that a lot of people feel this way from time-to-time. Here's hoping it passes for you each day. John Mellencamp - A Graceful Fall Lyrics Artist: John Mellencamp Album: No Better Than This Genre: Rock Songwriters: John Mellencamp A Graceful Fall It's not a graceful fall from dreams to the truth There's not a lot of hope here if you got nothing to lose When it feels no good, when you're flat on the ground Yeah, the future's not bright when you're falling down 'Cause I'm sick of life, yeah, it's easy to do When everything is so hard has been handed to you Yeah, I'm sick of life 'cause it's lost, it's found I will see you in the next world if there is really one Well, I'm not falling off the lad

As a Buffalo guy it's pretty hard not to think of the Super Bowl in terms of losses, and losses, and losses and losses. Four straight of them bastards. A long time ago, now. Ah well. We'll get 'em next year. Losing a game is not quite as bad as losing in life. Which brings me to this years game. I'm not all that enamored with the matchup. I lived in the San Francisco area in 1983 and again in 1987. I was there when they were really great, and I couldn't get into their team at all. I even went to a couple of games during a Super Bowl winning season, and it did little for me. Bur I'll be rooting for the Niners. And this is in spite of the fact that I also lived in the Baltimore area and a lot of people I love still live there. I really wish I could throw my support to the Ravens, but, uh, you know why I can't, right? Yeah...Murdering Ray. Blah, blah, blah, it ain't up to me to judge. Blah, blah, blah, he went through the system. B

As an adult the memories often go two ways. First off, we are trying hard to give the boys shared memories that they can think back on and smile. We went to the Harlem Globetrotters show at the First Niagara Center. And it was great fun. The old gags were brought out and the fans helped play along. The one thing that I remembered was the old water and confetti trick...it came with a twist...there was actual water in the bucket...and they threw it on the crowd. Right where we were sitting. I was doused pretty good as were the boys, and we laughed. The guy behind us yelled out the F-word in anger. Dopey bastard. Yet the second branch of the memory tree came as I considered the only other time I sat on the floor for a real basketball game. I was seven. I was the world's biggest Wilt Chamberlain fan. Dad got the tickets and he sat between me and John. I told Sam about it as we sat down. "Did the Lakers win?" "I think it was a win during their 33-game w

I remember how excited I was back in 2004 when the news reported that the Yankees were on the verge of dealing for A-Rod. It wasn't because I loved him as a man (I actually couldn't stand him) but I knew that he was a great player, and that he would come to New York and deliver championships. It hasn't really worked out that way. They did win one in 2009 by beating the hapless Phillies, but A-Rod has been way more aggravation than he's been worth, and the longer he stood next to Jeter on the left side of the infield, the worst he looked as a player. Yet I stuck up for him a little because there were a lot of guys cheating and when he got caught he stood there and took the heat. At least a little. But now there are even more allegations, and he struck out a zillion times with a runner on third and one out, and he chewed his gum like a cow and smiled as he walked back to the dugout, and he was cashing huge checks, and giving fake interviews, and waving to girls