Thoughts of a Common Man

So, the First Lady chimed in. Let’s talk about her for a minute. Every time she gets dressed up someone compares her to Jackie O and mentions that she’s classy. She came off a stripper pole, and there are plenty of nude photos of her. We’ve heard it said that she was Epstein’s girlfriend and she was handed off to the orange blob. Now, she’s chiming in on a joke that Jimmy Kimmel told about her being an expectant widow. Jimmy Kimmel is a comedian who gets paid for telling jokes. His joke didn’t call for anyone to be 86’d… …she’s married to an 80 year old man who eats Big Macs like tic-tocs. She’s an expectant widow. Another thing. I’ve heard that she can fluently speak 5 languages. I heard that out of the mouth of the man who lies as he breathes but I tell you that one of the languages isn’t English. She’s an immigrant who got in under suspect circumstances, but that was a long time ago, and she really can’t speak English. She destroyed the rose garden. She doesn’t live with her husband...

We like Jon Hamm in most everything he’s done, and we saw season 1 of ‘Friends & Neighbors’ where he’s a rich guy who gets fired and divorced and does his break bad. He starts robbing his rich friends and neighbors, and seeing the wealth on full display has always been nauseating to me. So, it’s a show where it’s easy to root for the guy doing the stealing. There has never been a greater divide in this country than right now. It’s not blue versus red either. It’s the rich against the poor, and sadly there are millions more in the poor camp, but all the millions of people have less money than just a handful of men. When I hear that someone has an obscene amount of money I often wonder: “What do they do with so much money?” “Why do they want more?” But, make no mistake, they want every last nickel. We can’t afford to feed kids at school or make sure that a family doesn’t have to go bankrupt if someone gets sick…. …but we can bomb another nation because Israel controls us. And everyon...

James Comey may be solely responsible for this mess as he interfered in the 2016 election by pulling a stunt that destroyed Hillary Clinton. Over email bullshit. Doesn’t that seem funny to everyone now as we’re being robbed blind by the current administration?? They’re committing crimes every day. Anyhow, back to today. Comey has been indicted for a 2nd time - the first one was immediately dismissed. His HUGE crime? He wrote ‘86-47’ in seashells and posted it on twitter. Seriously. He was arrested for that! In America… …where we are free to… …to what? How much longer before they come after some guy for calling a politician a fat, orange, lying pedophile criminal in a blog? Can’t be much longer, right? ‘86’ is a term used in the restaurant business for get rid of a meal. ‘47’ is the number of presidents there have been if you’re actually counting #45 and #47. I don’t think either should count as he’s done absolutely nothing for anyone except himself… …but okay. ‘86 - 47’ Can loosely be ...

On Sunday morning we made it to my happy place.  We were missing one member of the usual foursome, but it was great to see the boys in the lot as we loaded our clubs onto the cart. It’s been a long winter and I’d grown mighty weary of the rain and mud. The look at the first hole was one that lingered. I just wanted to take it all in. Got a good swing on the first shot, but pulled it left. There was a lot of that. I missed fairways, but hit a lot of mid-season shots too. Just getting a feel, and a look around at the beauty of the course. We chatted. Lots to catch up on. JC bought new clubs. No political talk. Very little work talk. Just outside on a Sunday morning. And the soreness and the tired muscles felt great. Here’s hoping it’s a weekly event.

We can’t trust anything we’re told. So, I have a simple philosophy: If they tell us something, the opposite is probably true. I don’t even want to comment on the violence at the correspondents dinner other than to say: “Thoughts and prayers.” Offer him a bulletproof backpack and lunch pail and teach him how to hide under his desk. Also, who runs their security? Don Knotts and the Apple Dumpling Gang? How do they keep bringing guns into secured locations? Whatevs as the kids say. I can’t keep having my mind controlled by distractions. “The war isn’t going great. They still want to see the Epstein files, and everyone is saying that the Butler shooting was staged.” “Oh, I have an idea! Let’s stage another one!” “Great idea, sir! This time we won’t kill anyone!!” “Right, and the moment it happens how about we all tweet that we need a ball room?” Nope. Bulletproof backpack that’s all you get.

I headed to BJ’s this morning because we have a tee time tomorrow, and I’m not sure short pants will work, so I needed a pair of pants. My sweatpants are embarrassing.  As a matter of fact, as I was looked through the selection of pants, a wife scolded her husband. “Once we buy these,” she said. “We are no longer going to wear clothes with holes in them.” “I’ll try,” the poor bastard said. I found some pants, and turned around, and there it was. ‘Revenge Prey’ the just released book by John Sandford. My heart jumped. “No way!” I said. I all but skipped home, and excitedly explained that: “SANDFORD HAS A NEW BOOK OUT!” “Good Lord,” Kathy said. “He’s going to be all geeked out for a couple of days.” It’s the absolute truth. I’ve been reading Sandford’s ‘Prey’ books for well over 30 years, and the last book I released, ‘The Crime’ was written in Sandford’s style. (I nailed it by the way). Damn! I’m all fired up. Thanks to John Sandford… 💥 …Hope he’s halfway thru the next one. “You’re...

Another cold morning here as we approach May, and I visited a huge site where a data center is being built. I have no idea what that means other than there are about 7 buildings, a number of tower cranes and about 700 employees. “What goes in a data center?” I asked. No one knows, but there’s millions being spent. It was a long ride and my mind began to wander. “I want a big steak,” I thought. I stopped by the butcher and noticed that the porterhouse section was empty. “We have some,” the butcher said. “Just have to cut them.” “I’ll take two,” I said, “Cut them thick.” I had a strip steak for Kathy. Both Sam and I would get the porterhouses which were cut about 2” thick. “Geez, how much does that way?” Sam asked as I took them out of the oven. “They have to be 30 ounces each,” I said. Now, there was a day when I could eat a 30-ounce steak, but not anymore. Sam couldn’t finish either. “How much were the steaks?” Kathy asked. “I didn’t ask,” I said. Sometimes you need a steak. Was a long...

I followed a Yankees fan page on Facebook figuring I’d get a little information and a few updates about my favorite squad. Every article - written by a ‘fan’ of the team was ridiculously negative. “Boone should be fired for this lineup.” That was before the game (which they won by the way) and I skipped it. Then I noticed that the ‘fan page’ was 98% negative. I’m a newbie to the NHL playoffs. The city of Buffalo has fallen hard for the Sabres, so you’d think they’d get some love, right? “Their power play sucks!” “Someone needs to get Power off my team!!” And my favorite… …3 games into the playoffs that you’ve been waiting on for 15 years… …”I’m done watching! This team can’t win the cup!!” There are fans who scream bloody murder every time their ‘favorite’ teams lose a game. Some people send death threats to the players and coaches. Just nasty. I’m an optimistic Yankees fan. I know the game is hard. Guys don’t want to strike out. Enjoy the game… …you don’t have to hate the team you lov...

We’ve needed a vehicle for a while. Well, not really, but the Jeep spends a lot of time on the disabled list and while we were sharing the black Ford Escape, with Kathy making appointments for when she figured I’d get home… …whatever. I grew weary of changing the mirrors every morning. “We should get a new car,” I mentioned on Sunday.  It was a throw-away line, said halfheartedly. On Monday I got a text during the work day: “I found a new Escape.” This is where I mention that I HATE change. I’ve had 5 straight Ford Escapes because I don’t like a different look. “Really?” Kathy also knows that I don’t want to talk to a salesman - ever - and that I don’t want to see an endless photo shoot of vehicles. By the end of the day on Monday she’d asked when I wanted to sign the papers. She sent me a photo of the vehicle. By Wednesday afternoon, after just ten minutes with the sales guy, I drove the red Escape out of the lot, and that’s when there was angst. The seat was different. The music ...

I’m not a guy who likes to attend meetings, or conferences, or luncheons or dinners after work. I like to do my job and go home. Which is why my friends in the safety community - which is a tight-knit group of people who are genuinely concerned with making the industry safe - needed to put in a colossal effort to get me to show up to receive what amounts to a lifetime achievement award for my years of work. First, they lied to me. Told me that the award was going to a lifelong friend.  They also involved Matt and Jake, and then mostly subtly avoided me so they didn’t have to continue to make up stories. Their cover story was a good one because I had to go watch my decades long friend get an award. And as another close friend started the introduction, it didn’t take long to figure out that he was talking about my resume. It’s an odd thing to receive an award because we all live our lives trying to do the best we can (or at least I hope so) and being recognized for it is a little wei...

The Sabres played their first playoff game in 15 years on Sunday night, and for more than 2 and a half periods the Sabres couldn’t score. The arena wasn’t exactly quiet, but there was nervousness. I felt badly for my boys - especially Jake who texted me during every game all season long. I watched the first two periods on the big television - Boston had a 1-0 lead - but decided to go to a smaller screen for the 3rd period. Boston scored early in the third and I figured that would do it for game one, but I sent an upbeat text to Jake. “Sabres are dominating them. Just have to get one and the floodgates will open.” They got one. They got two just two minutes later. They got three two minutes after that. Then an empty net goal. “Holy shit!” Jake responded. The crowd in the arena going insane was incredible. The crowd standing outside the arena in 38 degree weather was in an absolute frenzy. They held on. “Geez, that’s only game one.” Imagine if they went to the cup final. Dream about winn...

Went to bed in decent enough shape on Friday night, but woke up Saturday morning thinking: “I feel like garbage.” I couldn’t put my finger on any symptoms. A half-ass headache, no energy. A friend of mine reminded me of the old show, ‘Veep’. This is the golden age of television because it’s like snapping your fingers. I put ‘Veep’ on and watched it, and watched it, and watched it… …only getting up to play with Ollie. Still lousy with rest. Then I caught a glimpse of the backyard. Maybe moving would make me feel better. 👎  Took a nap when I was done. Watched the Yankees. Back to bed. And Sunday wasn’t much better. So, I go into the week well rested. I even stayed away from the news. Yankees swept the weekend. Sabres are in the playoffs. They stopped him from dropping a nuke… …and I’m feeling better.

And now they’re kicking around the idea that the assassination attempt in Butler, PA., was staged. Here’s the thing: The first time I saw the footage, I said: “Yeah. That’s bullshit.” There has never been investigation because the guy who was supposedly shot in the ear didn’t want it to continue. Here’s what made it abundantly clear that it was about as real as an episode of smack down. 1). Everyone at the rally and the secret service watched a kid, carrying a rifle, scale the building closest to the stage, and they didn’t try and stop him. 2). He stood up, and secret service agents ducked down, and they raised the flag behind him so he could yell, ‘Fight, fight fight.” That’s not what secret service agents do. 3). There was absolutely no injury to his ear. At all. Check the photos in the seconds after the attempt. 4). The shooter was killed. Quick, what was his name? What do we know about him? Why isn’t captain narcissistic mentioning his name? 5). They stopped the investigation immed...

The Sabres are playing their first playoff game- in 15 years! - on Sunday night. This town is going to go crazy… …the arena will be packed and fans will line the streets all around the building.  Of course it’ll only be about 35 degrees…but who cares, right? And for the first time in a while, I’m invested. My son Jake is a fanatic and he texted me every time a Sabre scored this year, so I started paying attention. What makes me laugh is that I saw that one of their players - Zach Benson - is just 20 years old. By the time he arrived on this earth I was already way over the freaking hill. Hell, I have kids who are more than a decade older than him. The hockey playoffs are an absolute grind. This first round series won’t even be over until May. The cup isn’t awarded until nearly July… …it may not be under 50 degrees by then. Let’s hope it’s a good, long run. We need it because this weather has absolutely sucked. So. Oh, ah, Sabres on the warpath!

Reporter: “The gas prices are high. What do you say to Americans about when prices will go down?” Jesus Epstein Trump: “The gas prices came down very powerfully in the last 3 days, and the stock market is up, and Iran doesn’t have a nuclear weapon so things are going great.” Just absurd. Has anyone pulled up to the stock market/convenience store to fill up? Then, we hit on religion. Reporter: (paraphrased) “Are you done fighting with the pope?” Orange Hitler: “Well, I’m all about the gospel, probably better at the gospel than maybe anyone.” He’s the president of the United States. He can press a button to destroy the planet. And he’s completely out of his freaking mind. Are there people actually listening to this nonsense? Where are the adults????? Reporter: “What are your feelings about Melanoma talking about the Epstein files?” Swollen Ankles Pedophile: “Well, the victims didn’t want to go under oath, I’m told, so Melanoma wants them to do that, because the stuff about me was totally...

The alert sounded on my phone for the third time this afternoon: “Heavy thunderstorms.” I got that alert after a spam blast of six straight calls from people who evidently want to give me hundreds of thousands of dollars in loans. I also get about 10 spam emails a day as well. Yet, the phone can also spook me from time to time. Sam left the house wearing the one pair of shoes that I own that aren’t my work boots. I was holding the phone in my hand as I had a conversation about how I guess I needed to buy new shoes. I was immediately blessed with ads for shoes! I’m not kidding. It was picking up my private discussions. Sometimes it works out though because I looked up information about the new Stones record - yeah, in their mid-80’s they’re releasing an album of new material - and after looking around… …I got a bunch of Stones interviews. There is no doubt that my phone is aware that I’m a pasta-eating, fan of rock and roll who likes golf and the New York Yankees. And they try and sell ...

My son was all fired up about having a day off. “We’re golfing at Diamond Hawk at 3:45. We have a spot open.” “I’d love to play,” I said. “I can probably be ready by then.” “You’re in!” Sam yelled. “But there aren’t any carts, you know.” Yet I went around the sites as the skies threatened rain. I thought about walking 18 holes, and knew the course would be wet. Decided to back out. I was working on reports when Sam texted: “You’re backing out? There’s no rain. They have push carts.” How could I disappoint him? “No, I’ll be ready,” I said. I only played Diamond Hawk once, and it kicked my ass. The big problem was the walking. I haven’t walked a course since I was 18 years old! Around hole 7 I thought: “This isn’t so bad.” By hole 13, I changed that opinion. My back was barking. But we had some laughs, and the course to ourselves. I was sweating. Had hit some good shots. Definitely parred a few holes, but I abandoned keeping score as the conditions weren’t great… …and by 15, I wanted to ...

I don’t want to even think about the giant, orange pedophile, but here I am. Woke this morning and was immediately greeted by a photo of him, as Jesus, with his hand on the forehead of a dying man who looked like Epstein. There are all sorts of religious lights and figures around him. He looks as if he’s shooting flames out of his hands. It’s similar to the photo that he put out with him dressed as the pope. There was another showing him walking on water. What’s funny is that in the fake photos he’s as fit as Rocky Balboa. Well, this time, he pissed off all the people who believed that he was a true Christian, who lives a life of piety and respect and dignity.  A real beacon of love. This time, they didn’t like that he pictured himself as white Jesus. So, they asked him about it, and he blamed: All together now! THE FAKE MEDIA “I posted it because I thought I was a doctor.” The president of the United States ladies and gentlemen. Let’s recap what fake Jesus did this past week: 1). ...

Weather was all right this weekend which allows us to get a jump start on clearing debris and figuring out where all the garbage that accumulated in the garage came from. I cleared some of the leaves that were stuck along the fence, and opened the garage to see that the garage was used as a place for my boys to drop off the garbage they no longer need. It was now my task to drag it to the curb because it was big garbage day, which is an exciting time for all. Big garbage day is an exciting time for an elderly guy who scours the neighborhood for gems. The guy has a pickup truck that looks a little like the vehicle that Lamont Sanford had in Sanford & Son. He takes anything and everything that has any value at all. One year, I decided to clear out the bikes, as the boys were done with them. I lugged all 6 bikes to the curb and put a huge ‘Free’ sign on them. Ten minutes later, I heard his truck. I watched him load a bike. Then another. He was going for a third one when I headed out. ...

The sun was shining. Yeah, it was only 44 degrees, but I felt all right this morning. “I’m gonna’ hit a bucket,” was my first thought. I made the short drive to the range, and noticed that there weren’t any other cars in the lot. Saw the owner walking by. “Can I hit a bucket?” “Yeah. The mats aren’t set up, but you can hit from the dirt in front.” Which was fine with me. I’d rather hit off the ground than a mat any time. “But it’s a little muddy,” he said. Which turned out to be the understatement of the year. I struggled mightily with the tee as I hit a dozen balls with my seven iron. Then I moved forward a little more and hit about 25 balls with the cheat club that is my 7 wood. Finally, pulled the driver out and swung until I was tired. I could count the number of balls I hit well on one hand, but I was winded. Felt good. A little more waiting, but getting there. I cleaned each club, and put the right club in the right slot in my bag. They’re talking sunny and fifty tomorrow. I’m he...

I have a hoodie that was given to me by a contractor. It’s very comfortable, and unfortunately, I WEAR IT EVERY DAMN DAY! Other contractors, seeing the company name on the hoodie I wear have given me gear from their company. They don’t feel the same. I love my hoodie, but I’m not kidding when I say that I’ve worn it every day (with the exception of being in Florida for 5 days) SINCE SEPTEMBER! SEVEN MONTHS! And of course, I wash it. That’s the first question I get when I mention how long I’ve worn it. I’m tired of it. I want to golf. I feel like a single round will get my mind right. But the weather simply won’t cooperate. It’s cold and clear, or warm and raining. The guys I usually play with are allergic to even a single rain drop so we won’t be roughing it. If Doppler shows even the hint of a misting we don’t go. (I’m just busting on them…I have nothing else to say). With all the bullshit…and the Yankees suddenly not hitting…I need somewhere to hang my hat… …or my hoodie… …if I ever ...

It happens to every construction guy at least once a year. There are elevation changes. There is debris. Cords and hoses. Sooner or later, you’re gonna hit the deck. I can attest that as an older man, hitting the deck is not good. Was a bright sunny day today. I visited a job that had a scaffold about thirty-five feet in the air. I didn’t have to access the scaffold, I just had to simply walk around it and make sure the setup was good. I’d like to say that I tripped because I was looking up as I walked, and I didn’t see the 2’ crane mat near the scaffold. That’s not what happened. I saw the crane mat, and I had a thought that standing on the mat would allow for a better photo. I was looking at my feet. I knew I had to step up. I just didn’t pull it off, and man, I went down hard, dropping my iPad. My phone fell out of my shirt pocket. My hardhat fell off. And I had an instant panic because my knee hit hard and sent waves of pain to my brain. The thought I had was: “Bounce right back up...

I don’t want to talk about it. I’m so tired of being driven to anxiety by a raving lunatic. I know there will be another immediate distraction because we are characters in a reality show being produced by someone who is trying to distract the world clear of the fact that he raped children. But I don’t want to think about it. It was 28 degrees when I got in the car this morning, but the sun came out, and by the end of the day, I was tossing the ball for Oliver in shorts and a hoodie. Every day is an Ollieday. For those wondering, he surpassed 15,000 catches for 2026. He’s averaging about 180 a day. It was Wednesday, and that’s a pasta day. I made linguine and clams, and it was outstanding. It was probably better because I thought about it all day. Miller went to the spa. My beautiful cat was washed, got a hair trim, his nails were also cut, and we heard this gem from the groomer: “He was a little irritated with me, and tried to hide his nails in his belly rolls.” The groomer fat shamed ...

I’ve been around a while. This afternoon, I got to the point in my day where I decided that I was mentally strong enough to see what was going on outside the walls of my construction visits, and the songs on my phone. Lo and behold, the so-called President, a convicted felon, an almost certain pedophile, and a raging lunatic put out a post where he threatened to wipe a civilization off the face of the earth. We don’t quite know why. He started the war by saying that he was saving the people of Iran. Then he bombed their schools and killed hundreds of their children. Then it was because they were too unstable to have nuclear weapons. As Americans we have never been directly threatened by a terrorist country to such a level. And that’s when it hit me: America, our country, is now the most dangerous nation on the planet. We are terrorizing innocent civilians with threats of extinction. What made it even sadder was I saw the people of Iran, making a human train around all of their bridges,...

Got my first text of the week at 6:30 on Monday: “Hey, my last day of work is tomorrow. I have to retire for health reasons. I was just thinking about all the laughs and stories we told each other through the years, and just wanted to let you know.” I didn’t respond.  Of course, I went straight to his job. He saw me pull up, and smiled. Up until November, he was a healthy guy. 62 years old. On a couple of meds for cholesterol. Needed a new med for something else. In November, he started throwing up and couldn’t stop. Spent a week in the hospital and was told that his meds weren’t compatible. He had damaged his pancreas. Nearly killed him, but by the new year, he’d regained his strength, and things seemed back to normal. When I saw him yesterday, I was shocked by how much weight he’d lost in just the last two weeks. He looked like an old man, and though he was smiling, the news wasn’t good. “My pancreas is badly damaged, and they can’t fix it.” I gave him a hug. We told each other a...

Had a nice, easy Easter Sunday. Started it off with a couple of episodes of the ‘Rockford Files’ and threw a few rounds for Ollie as we waited for the house to come alive. (I did read the absolutely putrid, hateful, vile tweet about nuking millions of people, but decided to ignore it). Dinner was prepared over a number of trips to the kitchen doing a couple of things each time, and the boys came around. We talked baseball, the NCAA Tournament, and the upcoming work week. My wife is going to finish in the money, and that was a hot topic around here. She is explaining her wealth of knowledge to a group of guys who’ve watched plenty of games. To her credit, though, she DOES know what players are good, and is pretty confident that Michigan will win tonight. “I’d ask you what you think, but you finished in 70th place,” she said. Yeah. Yeah. We stayed away from the news and social media. Had a great dinner, and went straight into the Yankees game. That’s all anyone wants to do. Why are our l...

As usual, it was a truly weird day, as reports trickled out that King Pedo was taken to Walter Reed for a medical emergency. Then Iran started putting out statements that there has been a coup, and that he’s dead. So, as Americans, we should be informed of anything that’s going on, right? Nope. There’s a lid on the White House. So, on Easter Eve, the world waited for news. And, man, if there’s a chance that I might be leaving the world, I think that I’d rather not have strangers on the internet comment about it… …especially if I was hated as much as Pedo. There was a comment from Satan who stated that he was waiting for the call to pick up the soul. One guy commented: “Come on blood clot!” And that’s where we are as we wait for the Easter bunny to hop around. We may never know what happened this weird Saturday.

Ten years. Bono of U2 made a statement yesterday, saying that the idea of America was one of the greatest ideas ever conceived. He added that electing the pedo pig, even once, was the worst of all ideas. And I bring it up because of the dark cloud pushing down on all of us. The military leadership has clapped back, saying that what they’re being asked to do isn’t even legal. A dozen military leaders were fired. And the thought being that the idea being presented is to use a nuclear bomb, and in pedo pig’s own words: “Steal the oil.” And meanwhile, Americans are forced to go about their days, pretending that life is grand. I have great memories of Easter week.  The joy that’s been stolen. The days of peace. We all went decades not worried about having a damn psychopath in a position of power. Do you even question that he would drop a nuke and three hours later brag about his ballroom? “We can’t handle daycare or healthcare. We are at war.” America first, huh? Prices soaring.  H...

My buddy Bruce is out there making ‘Good Trouble’ by standing up and saying all the things that those of us opposed to this mess are saying in private. As usual, he was very thoughtful in his presentation as he spoke about what matters in this country, and one of the things that he said that caught my attention was that being kind, thoughtful and moral matters. Those of us who’ve been kicking around for a lot of years understand that over the last ten years the national dialogue has become nasty. Of course, the words coming from the office of President has reached new lows. Think the death of Rob Reiner, or Robert Mueller. Just absolute cruelty. And those words ‘Being thoughtful matters!’ was delivered in Bruce’s usual impassioned plea. So, what happened on Thursday morning? The response from the Oval Office was to call Bruce a ‘dried up prune’ and to say his music is ‘boring’. First, he should see a show. Bruce and the E Street Band are not boring. Second, a dried up prune? Should Bru...

Mellencamp has a line in one of his songs that goes like this: “Sometimes life is too ridiculous to live.” At 6:30 I exited the shower to a call from down below: “We got some water downstairs.” Five words that no one wants to hear. “Is it bad?” “Not too bad, but I didn’t open the front room.” I heard the door open. “Oh shit.” The sump pump that I hadn’t thought about in months decided to not do its freaking job anymore. Six inches of standing water. Where we keep our shoes. “I can shop vac it,” Kathy’s friend said.  “You can’t empty it full of water.” So, I bought a pump, set it up, and headed to work. An hour later, a text from Kathy: “The pump quit working.” Not what you like to hear. Just pushed it out of my mind… …got home to a packed house, pushing water around. A new sump pump. A new smaller Shop Vac. And the pump I bought. Cost me around $300. Ridiculous.

Holy Week always means something to me because the memories of the Catholic school upbringing are vivid. Altar boy duties were no joke back in the day, and man, we had fun with it.  Hockey and basketball in the gym. Kneeling for what seemed like hours for the stations of the cross.  Being at the church more than we were home. Thought of all this during the soaking rains yesterday as poor Ollie looked at me through sad eyes. He knew WHY we weren’t playing. He just wanted me to put a stop to it. As for time spent in the Holy Week church… …not happening anymore, but we are having a nice Easter dinner, followed by sports of some variety on television. Hoping it stops raining by then. “I think God is pissed,” a coworker said. “He certainly has reasons to be.” Amen.