Thoughts of a Common Man

So Jessica Simpson had a baby girl and she named her Maxwell. Please explain. One of those lonely old days of observation and opinion. I seem to have strung about 47 years of those types of days together. There's a lawyer here in Buffalo who supposedly went to a golf and martini party, drove his impaired ass towards home, decided to answer a tweet, and ran over a young girl on a skateboard throwing her about 170 feet to her death. This is all alleged, of course. He then allegedly hung out for a little while pretending that he allegedly didn't know that he killed the girl, and once he had time to think about it, he decided to atone for his tragic mistake by fighting the charge. Suddenly, he didn't do it. Man...how could you ever live with yourself? Now I'm not to say that drunk-driving doesn't happen. People know better, but they still do it. There's really no excuse. It's a callous act. But you know what's even lower? Yep, using your cl...

On Sunday night I watched a show on Dateline about whether or not children would cheat at their work if they were in a group dynamic and there was a real prize up for grabs. Most of the kids either did the cheating, or just went along with the cheaters. I decided to put a couple of scenarios to my Catholic-educated children. "You're about to take a test and you find the answer key on the teachers desk an hour before, and the teacher isn't around. What are you going to do?" "I'm gonna' get a hundred," Jake said. "Are you kidding me?" I asked. "I'm just being honest," he said. "You told me that honesty is the best policy." I guess the nuns have eased up a bit since I was a kid. Yet the Dateline special also threw in an interesting line towards the end of the show. They said that given the same set of circumstances the parents of the cheating kids would most likely cheat as well. The moral compass has ...

It started with the worst show I've ever seen - One Tree Hill - a bunch of 30 year old people pretending to be seniors in high school for about five seasons. By the time they graduated they were middle-aged. All the drama, all the angst, the I love you's - the you-love-him-and he's a jerk. Two men talking about their feelings. Which never happens in real life. If one of my buddies asked me if my heart was in the right place I'd vomit on his shoes. I accidentally watched a couple of the shows because my beautiful wife found the show and had to watch 272 episodes in a row. When she announced that she was done, and that all moments of angst had found a happy end, I was so relieved. We were going to get back to real life. But no!!! They found Friday Night Lights . All of them. A few days ago I got home from work and found that Minka Kelly (an old girlfriend) was on every single television in my house. "Do you think Brandon is going to be with Julie...

My buddies Eddie and Barb fed into my reading frenzy a little bit over the weekend by delivering me, get this, a bunch of old newspapers regarding North Collins heroes, the Yankees press clippings, and a few very interesting news stories from the late 80's and 90's. As I've stated a lot of times in the last few years, I love reading the newspaper. Usually it is the very first thing on my mind, and I think it's a little unfortunate to think that the newspaper is going away as far as go-to-media is concerned. My sons have never taken the newspaper off the counter as I used to do. They have all their information on the I-pod, but thanks to Eddie and Barb for thinking of me. The old news in paper form is better than the new news on the computer, laptop, I-pad and I-phone. Also had a few stray Saturday thoughts: On our Saturday morning drive, to get the paper, we saw a squirrel in the neighbor's yard. The dogs were going absolutely nuts and I did them a favor, back...

I heard a clip of a woman from Tampa who is the proud mother of 15 freaking kids. A social worker figured out that the kids were living in squalor and their own filth so the state of Florida intervened and put the entire family up at a hotel until they can find a new place for the poor family. The woman doesn't work. The kids don't work. The baby freaking Daddy to ten of the kids doesn't want anything to do with his children. The other five kids all have different daddys. None of them stuck around either. Can you blame them? Any who-ha, this catch of a woman (evidently) was being interviewed on the news. "This hotel ain't big enough," she whined. "We ain't heard nothing from nobody since they took us out of their house. We're waiting. Somebody better come up with something for us soon. Somebody better help me." Doesn't that suck? My stomach turned when she bitched about someone not taking care of her and her 15 kids. There...

Do you know the story of the professional basketball player Ron Artest? He's a multi-millionaire, of course. He's won a championship with the Lakers. He's a pretty good player, actually. Seven years ago he was suspended for 73 games for punching fans, the other players, his own players, a coach and one of the guys selling hot dogs. That was one of 14 total suspensions. He's been to anger management, therapy, group therapy, family therapy and Tibet to get in touch with his inner soul. He even changed his name, no kidding, to Metta World Peace. And still, no one took him off and hauled him away for a nice long stretch in a rubber room. When the Lakers won the championship he thanked his therapist. Seriously. And he looks absolutely ridiculous with World Peace on the back of his uniform. Especially when he's throwing elbows that tear the heads off the guys running up court beside him. Have you seen the film of it? If it happened on the street he...

My therapy sessions are getting longer. To be honest, despite traction, stretching, the freaking treadmill, rolling around on a ball, and a great group of dedicated professionals, I'm not getting much better. More honesty...I'm better when I do all the work that the therapist sets in front of me and I've done it to the best of my ability, but there's always work and truly, I'm better when I rest. Still, in between visits, I've blown it for some reason. And I've really blown it too, evidently. As I've said, my therapist is brilliant. "Let's figure this out," she said a week ago. "Keep a journal for me, of all your activities, when you wake up and how long you work. Tell me where your pain is and what the degree is like." I worked a lot of hours last week. I traveled a thousand miles. I slept rough. I was tired, but I had to work. I was up at 2:30, 3:30 and quarter to four. I honestly did do my exercises and stretches t...