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Showing posts from August, 2018

Heartbreaking

When the boys were young they played with a kid who visited his grandma quite a bit. The kid was always at my house. Ate a thousand dollars worth of my food. Yet, each time he came by we got a little more of the story. His father and mother were always fighting. His father didn’t work. His father was mean. Even went to jail. I was careful not to say anything derogatory about his father, but I prayed that Grandma would get full custody. “That kid doesn’t have a chance if he doesn’t get out of that situation,” I mentioned to Kathy. The kid would pop in a little less frequently as the years went along, but I was really positive every time, hoping he was staying out of trouble. Then he disappeared. His grandma passed away. He had no reason to come by our neighborhood anymore, and I’d ask the kids now and again, but they hadn’t heard anything. Until last night. For one reason or another his name came up. “He’s in jail,” Jake announced. “Manslaughter.” I felt my hea

Kansas

It’s really weird to get out of bed before 4 a.m. and take the dogs for a ride before getting on a plane, and some 5 hours later, walking on a site in Shawnee, Kansas. “You ever have real burnt ends?” The supervisor asked me. “I’ve had burnt ends,” I said. “Not the real ones though.” He explained the beauty of real burnt ends and then took me to a hole in the wall place called Roscoes. It was a small sandwich. As I was eating it I mentioned that I could eat 4 more. What’s wild about this part of the country is that when there’s a storm, it’s a real beauty. I stepped into the parking lot and the lightning lit up the sky. Yeah, I thought of Dorothy, and the possibility of a tornado. “It’s fun to watch the storms,” one of the guys said. “You guys need to get a life,” I answered. But I must admit that I opened the shade and watched the storm arrive. I know it’s the same sky, but it’s always seemed bigger to me out here. And what’s funny is that I walked into the trail

Summer Fading Away?

It’s supposed to be 99 degrees in Buffalo, on August 29th. It’s a little weird to think about, but Buffalo has never had a 100-degree day. May as well get there, right? I have not once complained about the heat this summer. I remembered how miserable I felt all through the winter. “God, this sucks,” one guy mentioned, on a site. “I’ve been sweating my ass off all day.” I enjoy the sun on my face, the girls in their summer clothes, and being outside. When the sun shines it’s hard to stay too down for too long. But here we are. “Who are the Bills going to start at QB?” Is the number one question being discussed. “Peterman, is my guess.” I may tune in to the first game just to see, but it’s going to be a long year... ...check this space tomorrow for my annual football picks! But I feel some sadness. “The farmers are saying it might be a mild winter,” another guy said. “I want some snow!” “You’re an idiot,” I answered. Yet, I did live in California one year. O

John McCain

John McCain died on Saturday evening. What a life, by any measure. A captured prisoner (which is highly honorable, no matter what the Orange dude thinks). He also ran for president and lost, but he only lost my vote when he brought Sarah Palin around. I, most certainly, did not agree with all sides of the agenda, but I think that he was a fundamentally decent human being. When he was running for president, a person that he met in a forum asked him a question about Obama being an Arab. McCain stopped it right there. When Obama won the nomination, McCain called to congratulation him. He championed repealing and replacing The Affordable Care Act. He was very vocal, but when the healthcare bill was presented... ...he punted. Because it was a lousy piece of legislation. A move that has been mimicked because he gave a thumbs-down sign. Was a good political message when it appeared that there was no heart at all in the plan. He also talked tough in some cases and cav

And Down the Stretch they Come

Had a conversation with a Red Sux fan over the weekend. (Yeah, he’s a dopey bastard). “Yankees won,” I said. “Red Sux lost.” “Boston has a 9-game lead,” he said. “Oh, are you talking about the past?” I answered. “I don’t want to talk about the past,” he said. And the Yankees are having a tremendous season. They will, most likely, win over 100 games. That’s not a level they reached more than once when they won all those World Series. But Boston is on pace for 110 so there’s a real temptation to try and write the Yankees off. They have the 2nd best record in the game and they’ve done it on the backs of a couple of their own rookies. They can certainly win the series this year. Yet, what drives me nuts are the injuries. It’s a long season and I don’t want people trying to play injured, but man! A guy belches and the Yankees send him for an MRI. “He’s getting close to 100 pitches.” That drives me nuts too. I once saw Guidry lose a game in the bottom of the 9th i

Lots of Limping

Melky is 12. Poor dog likes to run and bark at other dogs. She does it in spite of what it does to her. Limps all around. Jake’s need has been bugging him. Torn meniscus. “Where you going?” I asked him the other day. “Shoot hoops.” Limps all around. My own struggles are well-documented. Construction hums in the summer. Work beacons. Limp all around! But my beautiful wife has worse struggles right now. Her knee is also tore up. As a nurse, she’s on her feet constantly. She uses a cane. Sometimes two. “The Clavins are a sight,” my sister Corinne said. Just limping in through.

Working Men

My Dad enjoyed telling stories about my first few days as a union laborer back on the job in San Francisco. Dad was the big boss and I enjoyed seeing him on the job. I was pushing a garbage tote, filled with drywall, when he walked by. “Hi Dad!” I yelled. Little did I know I was approaching the edge of the ramp. I went over the top of the tote I was commanding and I ended up in the dumpster. Dad denied knowing who I was waving to. Later on, I was asked by my off-the-boat Italian labor foreman to go get a tube of grease. After looking through the tool container for awhile I returned: “What is tuba grease?” I asked. He told my Dad and they laughed and laughed. On Thursday morning, Sam was moving around the kitchen at 6:30 a.m. “It’s going to be a long day,” he said. He headed for the door. “You want a ride?” “I’ll walk,” he said. Then he stopped on the stairs. “I’ll take a ride.” I’m the only person at Camp Clifford who is awake in the morning. I sing to t

Spinning In Circles

Politicians suck. I think we can all agree on that, right? Spinning in circles to try and justify whatever it is they need to justify. Tuesday was a huge news day... ...which meant that Wednesday would be extraordinarily disturbing. The first Trump tweet was highly anticipated and he didn’t disappoint. He told his supporters to look at anyone but Michael Cohen if you need a lawyer. Pretty funny, huh? The president is an unindicted co-conspirator in a felony case and he’s joking about his choice of lawyer. Then he put his spin on it: “It’s not even a crime.” The GOP’s media blitz was also anticipated. Paul Ryan put out a statement saying that he needs more information. Graham said that a sitting president can’t be indicted. McConnell, the guy who wanted to make sure that the office of presidency was not tarnished by when  Clinton was there... ...doesn’t seem to have a problem with paying off porn stars now. But the best was put forth by Huckabilly Sanders

MAGA - My Attorney Got Arrested

Wish I could say I thought of that... ...borrowed it. Michael Flynn took a deal. Rick Gates took a deal. Paul Manafort is now a convicted felon. And Trump’s fixer has plead guilty. Witch hunt??? It’s a mess! And there’s such a desire to scream in the faces of those who voted for a guy who was a con from day one... ...but I can’t... ...cause they aren’t paying attention! They’re still talking about her emails!!! The other day the idea of treason came up and a woman chimed in... ...”you don’t think she was careless with her emails?” There is going to have to be a shift for the country to heal. I’m not sure how that happens. Perhaps when all the evidence is laid out and the “truth is not the truth” arguments are set aside... ...we can heal. Digging in and denying it won’t help. Perhaps yelling “I told you so!” won’t help either... ...but there has to be some of that right? Please agree... ...I have some people I need to yell at. If you’re stil

A Little Lost

The Catholic Church was a huge part of my childhood. I went to Catholic grammar school. I was an altar boy for a long, long time. I worked for the priest, cleaning weeds out of the cemetery. The nuns beat me pretty solidly, but when I look back on my Catholic school years... ...I feel good about it. No weird stories. But when I left for college, we met a couple of priests who seemed way off. My college buddies and I were texting back and forth about it. It was absolutely sickening to think about it... ...and it occurred to me that I haven’t been to church quite as often as I have in past years. Why would I go? There was a large crowd of pedophiles with clear access to children. I was lucky! These men were preying on children and when they were discovered the sins were covered up. Bill Maher said it best. If you knew that hundreds of kids were being abused at Jiffy lube would you go back? And give them money every week? What did they do with the money that th

“Truth Isn’t Truth”

Rudy Giuliani was out on the Sunday shows trying out a new set of lies and misdirections on the public in an effort to kick up enough dust to try and obscure the picture. He tried a “They didn’t know it was a Russian meeting. Donny Junior only knew that it was a woman with a Russian name.” That’s a new one. Also, proven 100% false by the actual email that Junior received and responded: “I love it!” But the real head-scratching moment came when Rudy nearly had a heart attack trying to say that: “The truth is not the truth!” It’s a truly remarkable exchange as Rudy’s eyes bugged out and his bright white top teeth and stained yellow bottom teeth struggled to keep the spittle from flying all over Chuck Todd. It’s going to get a lot worse. The Manafort verdict will come down really soon. The White House lawyer has had 30 hours of interview with Robert Mueller. Newsweek had an investigative story about 59 instances of money laundering between Trump and Russia. It’s all

Could It Be?

“The rookie quarterback looks good!” Someone sent me that text on Friday night. Moments later, Jake came out, checked the Yankees-Blue Jays score on the television and said: “Are you watching the Bills out here?” “Does it look like I am?” “I mean, are we watching the second half?” “Do you want to watch the Bills on the big television?” I asked. “Only if you do,” he laughed. “I want to watch Josh Allen.” Josh Allen is the rookie quarterback. He’s the latest in the line of quarterbacks who are the hope for a crazed fan base. All indications are that he played well... ...I went to the smaller television in another room to catch the rest of the Yankees game. The newspaper writers were thrilled. Facebook was alive with hope. “Kid is going to be a superstar!” Someone wrote. I was in a feisty mood. “He’s the second coming of Losman.” That’s the best way to fire up the hungry base. Three sentences later I was being lambasted. I’m hoping the kid is actually g

“Let’s Rob A Bank!”

We watched an old 20/20 about a father who robbed banks in the Houston area with his son and daughter. It was actually a pretty horrible story. The guy was an engineer and was living a successful early life with his wife and two young children, but life got in the way. Mom got breast cancer and died at the age of 32. Dad tried to raise the kids, but started drinking heavily, and everything fell apart. Somehow the kids were still with him when they decided to grab some quick cash. They got busted. Their story isn’t all that important... ...it’s more about the daydream. “Can you imagine me trying to rob a bank with Jake and Sam?” Kathy laughed. “That wouldn’t go so well.” I couldn’t think of anything other than yelling: “Sam! Get over here! Let’s go!!” You see, my children are lacking a couple of practical skills that might come in handy if we were actually trying to pull off a heist... ...like attention to detail... ...and any sort of attention span whatsoeve

Crashing

It sits there in the back of my mind. I ignore it for the most part, as I concentrate on music, or sports, or the massive amounts of work I put in front of myself. But it’s there. I’m reminded every now and again when I happen upon a news story, or a tweet, or a stray conversation. I haven’t seen a MAGA hat on a live person in a long, long time, but I hear that his approval rating is siting at every 4 out of 10. And I know we are heading for the crash site. Back in about February of 2017, I remember thinking: “We can’t sustain this. We can’t entertain his every rant. We will stop caring.” And we have. People were shocked with the tweet calling his former reality co-star a ‘Dog.’ I kinda’ laughed. Shocking! He is what we thought he was! We’re heading to the debris filled fields of the crash site. America is really suffering. The tax cut was a money grab for the rich. The GOP that was supposed to keep him in check is a field of crickets. He’s gearing up

Feelin’ Groovy

“Slow down, you move too fast. Gotta’ let the moment last.” The old Simon & Garfunkel song entered my mind on Tuesday afternoon. I had a fairly busy day and we were going to make it a quick dinner. Cheeseburgers with chips and dip. We didn’t have any dip though. So, I was heading down Lake Avenue slowly... ...very slowly. The man driving the Lincoln Town Car in front of me was going painfully slow. Even though it was a posted 30 mph he was going (from my read) 18. “Come on, dude!” I yelled. It didn’t help. We made it to the stop sign. There was a car stopped on the cross street. He looked at the guy in the Towne car and waved Towne car on. Guy in the Towne car waved back to let the other guy go first. Neither car moved. “Someone has to go!” Finally the other guy went, and then Towne car got rolling. I was almost to the 7/11. At the last second, Towne car hit his turn signal. He was going to the 7/11 too! I didn’t wait. I cut to the left of him and beat

Joyride

“There are some people who love me.” The “pilot” was working his way through the final minutes of his life. He spoke of being a confused guy who didn’t know he had a screw loose until he jumped in the seat and took the plane for a joyride. And it’s easy to dismiss the guy as a nut job and that a bunch of people dodged a bullet when the plane crashed in a remote area and he was the only casualty, but I listened to those recordings a bunch of times, and really felt badly for a man that lost. We all have days, right? Bad days where we consider doing something drastic or stupid. That was epically stupid. He jumped behind the controls of a plane and took it up for a spin, knowing that he wouldn’t survive. And he didn’t care. That’s a bad, bad day. And it called to mind all the people who are running around, trying to stay balanced, wondering how they can hold it together. It seems to me that there is little that we can do about a man like that. His co-workers liked him

Asbestos Is Back!!!

Who doesn’t one day dream of dying of asbestosis? I hear it’s a particularly nasty way to go, but a small price to pay when a developer needs to save a few thousand dollars. I work in the safety field. I must admit that I’ve watched the asbestos safety about 800 times over the last ten years. Think cancer, rapid weight loss, chemo, radiation, death. Yet, I’ve also had arguments with owners and general contractors who’ve wanted me to stop aggravating them with my “bullshit.” A few years back, I got a call from a dry waller who was installing ceiling tiles in a hallway, at a college, that was leading to the pool. There were students passing by, as this worker was on a ladder, banging into a pipe that had suspicious looking materials on it. “Cliff, I am pretty sure it’s asbestos.” I was in the hallway looking up when a man in a very fancy suit started screaming in my direction. “Who the f*** are you?” He asked. “Cliff,” I said. “I’m his safety consultant. Who the f*** ar

Never Enough

Chris Collins net worth is said to be in the neighborhood of $600 million dollars. He was in the group of congressmen who worked hard to bring tax relief to the top 1%. That tax plan was sold as a huge relief for hardworking Americans because the money would trickle down. Didn’t quite work out that way. Research shows that most of those companies bought back their own stock. Regardless. This ain’t about politics. It’s about the mindset of having $600 million and standing accused of trading information to save money or make money. When is enough enough? Never appears to be that answer. You hear about the top 1% a lot... ...controlling the majority of the dollars. Yet, when do you stop and think: “I’m all set. I’m going to give back, or just have some fun.” Never appears to be that answer as well. I’ve known some millionaires. One family that was undeniably well off was the biggest mess of a family I’d ever seen. The children were afraid of the father. They

Thoughts From the Pepper Party!

We had a subdued, but exciting pepper party. I’m not sure how many years we’ve gone now, but I certainly put in a decent effort. My peppers had prosciutto, tomatoes, pork sausage and 3 different cheeses. I wrapped some bacon around them for fun, and I tried one at home before the event. Good! Good doesn’t win that pepper prize. My nephew Tony came in 2nd. My Buddy Pops son, Nathan came in 3rd. Freaking Pops took Home his 3rd title. We had a cornhole and a scat tourney and Corinne and Chucky were terrific hosts. Corinne buys prizes that mean a lot to the winners... ...all thoughtful gifts. Where it went wrong for me? I got a couple of really hot peppers right off the bat. I usually don’t get hurt by hot stuff, but it put a damper on things. Life is easy with the family. “Nothing feels better than blood on blood.” And pulling into the park, Bruce chimed in with: “We are alive.” We pulled the cornhole teams out of a hat. I got Corinne as a teammate and we got e

Football is Back

You really have to hand it to the NFL. My sons and their friends were all in a tizzy watching the Bills practice the other night. Jake went to the game, and showed me clips of each quarterback and passes that they almost completed. Then, of course, a few guys knelt for the National Anthem and bloviator-in-Chief went off... ...talking about suspensions without pay! The guy who drooled all over Putin’s feet, and may or may not have sold our country to Russia (he did) is going nuts and people are with him on that. Then I had a long, drawn out social media discussion about the Bills running back, who once again had a violent encounter with a human being (allegedly) this past off-season. Appears he’s gonna’ get away with his girlfriend being beat just as he got away with a cop with a fractured skull the year before. Poor guy is always in the wrong place... ...but Bills fans love him!! Cause he runs fast with a ball!!! (So does my dog). Are you ready for some football

Work, Work, Work

Through the years I’ve spent a lot of time on the Cornell University campus. It’s a beautiful place, but don’t think you can park your car there illegally. I’ve paid at least 4 parking tickets there. I was there on Thursday, and I parked a ways away and walked to the job. I paid the $3.00 for parking for an hour. Beats a $40 ticket. I crossed over the Triphammer Gorge and paused a second to look at how beautiful it is. Except the fence around it is now huge, and there are also nets below it that extend out quite a bit. “Had some jumpers,” a woman who saw me looking at the nets said. That’s pretty sad. I took up the conversation with the crane operator. “These kids are all brilliant,” he said. “They come here on scholarship and then the workload is too much. That’s too much pressure on a 19-year-old. I thought of my kids at Camp Clifford. We’ve never put too much pressure on them. I called home. They weren’t there! Sam was at work!! Jake was at his job interview.

Looting

There are an awful lot of angry posts about people living in poverty (many of them work 2 or 3 jobs) and collecting government assistance in an effort to keep their heads above water. “Make them take drug tests!” “They’re living off my tax money!” One guy wrote a post recently about a man who was buying beer on a workday. “Why doesn’t he have a job!” The guy wrote in a rage-filled Facebook post. Somehow the rich people have convinced many in the working class that the poor are the cause of the money problems... ...here’s a secret. The people with zero money aren’t the ones crippling us. It’s the ones who make millions and steal millions more who are doing it... ...and they’re the ones screaming about the poor!! Chris Collins, the GOP senator from Western New York was arrested yesterday. When I received the news alert, I laughed. Now I’m not sure that’s a Christian response to another man’s problems, but if you’ve ever listened to that self-righteous, all-knowing,

I’d Rather Do Life

Miami Steve, Little Steven, Silvio... ...Steve Van Zandt of the E-Street Band and The Sopranos was asked about his buddy and former band mate Clarence Clemons on the anniversary of the Big Man’s death. “I don’t do death dates,” he answered. “I’d rather do life. I don’t want to acknowledge the day when someone died. I celebrate their birthday.” I liked that. I tried to think of that, knowing that Dad’s day was coming up. “Not even going to consider it,” I thought. Two nights I dreamed about him... ...woke up tired and aggravated. Sometimes when I get a visit in my dreams I feel good about it the next day, but I wasn’t in the mood, evidently because every time it entered my mind, I thought about talking to Dad. He’d be pissed about the Yankees recent struggles. He’d be really irritated with a certain politician or two. He’d be calling me every other day or so to tell me what he’d made for dinner. All stuff I enjoyed hearing about. Yet, I kept thinking about Miam

Jack Of All Trades

I grabbed an old book from deep off my shelves. “The Long Goodbye” by Raymond Chandler. A Philip Marlowe detective story. I’ve been reading some of the old classics that I haven’t read in years, but this isn’t about the book. When I opened it, a business card fluttered out. Randy Datno. It wasn’t a classic business card, instead it listed his profession as: “Professional musician and certified hypnotist and life coach.” That covered a whole lot of ground. Below that were his rates: $40.00 an hour. On the reverse of the card his menu of services was offered: “Trumpet lessons, piano lessons, hypnosis therapy, tarot card readings, Massage therapy, life coach consultant and finally, professional consultant services.” There wasn’t an email address, just a phone number. I was tempted to call the number. Ask about the trumpet lesson. Yet, I kind of respected the guy’s ambitions. Whatever you needed... ...he was the man! I’m wondering if you could mix and matc

The Mall

We went to the McKinley Mall on Saturday night to catch the movie Deadpool 2. It’s a great place to see a flick. $3 to get in and the seats are huge and fully recline. If I had a blankie I might’ve fallen asleep. A bottle of water was $4 though... ...more for the water than the movie. Yet, it was a fun movie for sure, and as I was walking into the theater, I had a thought: “I helped build this place.” My beautiful wife and adoring children are sick of hearing that every time we go to the McKinley Mall, but the truth is, I spent the summer of 1983 as a union laborer there. I worked on all of the theaters, using a tamper to smash down the dirt before the floors were poured. I wasn’t good with the tamper (who would’ve guessed?). It was a heavy piece of machinery that was hard to control and I once tried to tamp too close to a excavation. Yeah. Heavy. The machine went into the hole and me and my laborer partner, Joe, were trying to raise said machine  out of the h

No Contest

There’s a battle brewing. Now, I’m not a LeBron James fan when he’s on the basketball court. He’s great and all, but I hate the way he plays. He always has a scowl, he flops, and when the game is over he talks about LeBron a lot. Yet, off the court, I’m a fan. I thought he was great in “Trainwreck” the Amy Schumer movie. He gives back, over and over. He seems like a good dad and husband. He made news last week because he is opening a school for underprivileged children. It’s an amazing endeavor, and he was making the rounds on the talk shows to discuss. He landed on the Don Lemon show on CNN. Just two successful black men talking about the school and the country in general. The interview might’ve been quickly forgotten, but a robust orange cloud burst over it. He called Don Lemon dumb and then praised him for making LeBron look smart and made mention that it’s not easy to do that. Two black men... ...dumb. He calls Maxine Waters... ...very low I.Q. and we see th

I’ll Be Fine

The Yankees have lost the first two games of the “big” series against the Suck Sux. They’ve deserved too. They have played sloppy, have pitched poorly, and have run into some bad luck, hitting rockets right at people. As John Sterling says: “That’s baseball, Suzyn.” Now don’t get me wrong. I want the Yankees to win every game. I root for them to win every World Series, but I am also quite content with the 7 titles I’ve seen. What kills me is that I routinely get my, uh, chops busted by fans of the following teams: Bills, Sabres, Orioles, Mets, Phillies, Braves and Red Sux. There aren’t 7 titles in that whole group over the last 50 years. I try to explain that losing to the Sox doesn’t bother me more than losing to the Rays does... ...but my so-called friends have a grand old time reminding me of the score or the inning. And do you know why they do it? I do. It’s because when the Yankees win I’m the worst winner of all time! I have two buddies who have receiv

Printing A Gun

I can’t wrap my head around it. People want to be able to print guns, at home, on their computer. These guns will be plastic and undetectable at stadiums and airports. What could go wrong? First of all, I can’t even get the paper to load straight on my computer to print a freaking email. Secondly, every time I print something I get a message that says “printer is low on ink!” (That’s a $60 trip to Office Max). Can you picture me making a gun? And the “it’s our god-given right to make guns in the privacy of our homes” crowd is already yelling. “What about not infringing on our computer rights don’t you get?” “Our forefathers wanted us to be able to defend ourselves with guns we make, don’t register, hide, and sneak into movie theaters!” Chances are that if you feel the need to make your own gun... ...you probably shouldn’t have one. Of course, I’m wrong. I know it and people will now immediately tell me! The more guns we have the safer we will all be! Wha

August

Pretty hard to beat August as a month. Sun shines a lot. Back in the school years, we knew that we were still free for awhile, and the graduation parties are done... ...just relax. Of course, there are always people who start the month by saying: “I can’t believe it’s August.” “Well, yesterday was July 31st...so.” The Yankees are starting a big series against the Red Sux tonight, and the damn Boston fans have reminded me about the deficit the Yanks are facing, but August started with a dig about it and I was ready: “1978,” I texted back. “Yankees were double digit games behind and they headed to Boston for a crucial series. 4-Game sweep. They still call it the Boston Massacre.” Now I’m not sure that it’s going to go that way this year. The Yankees are pretty banged up and have been playing a tad mediocre for awhile. Still. It’s August! Trade deadline is behind us... ...the final stretch. I can’t say that I’m going to enjoy the next four games though... ...

Manhunt!!!

Pretty scary evening. The Yankees game was just starting when Jake mentioned helicopters outside our home. “There’s been a murder around here,” Jake said, a moment later. “They’re looking for 4 guys who escaped in a car that broke down on Lake Avenue.” “What?” I immediately flashed back to when I was a kid. A man had shot an Erie County Sheriff in our little hometown. The cop who died that day was a friend of my parents. He lived right up the road. I headed to the basement. As usual, our front door was unlocked. On top of that, it was open. The social media took over. I got a few texts and a couple of calls. I had a son to get home. Sam was playing hoops in a park in the neighborhood. I texted him. “We saw a dude with an AK walking down our street when we left,” he wrote. “A good guy or bad guy?” I asked. “I didn’t ask.” We got the boys in the house. And a thought occurred to me. “What could I even do?” Heavily armed men moving through the neighborhood.