Thoughts of a Common Man

Caught the 48 Hours recap of the JFK shooting of 50 years ago. I have read quite a bit about it, of course, through the years, but I had never seen live footage of the shooting or a documented recap of it all. All of it was sort of horrifying. I suppose that the shooting should take center stage, but just how we lived back then was fascinating to me. There was a shot of men entering the police station at one point and there was a hat on each man's head, and I'm not talking a Yankee hat either. A regular old top hat. Women were all in dresses and high-heels and everyone sort of looked dignified. I didn't see nary one eye piercing. And then the way that the news was reported. They showed concerned Americans gathered around a transistor radio and most of the people they interviewed talked about the loud-speaker announcement that they heard. Everyone alive knew exactly where they were and what they were doing. "Grandma just had Uncle John," I told Sam. ...

1). Boy that Rob Ford is something, isn't he? I read late yesterday that he is going to declare war to try and keep his job. He can't understand why people haven't accepted his apology and just moved on. He gets plastered, smokes crack once in awhile and speaks his mind. What's so wrong with that? Doesn't he get that a lot of people aren't fond of the leaders smoking crack? I know, I know, Pops - he was framed. 2). And what about George Zimmerman? For the second time since he got away with murder he's been in the middle of a domestic dispute and each time there were references to his having the gun at ready. I understand that people who moan about the gun deaths in this country are wimps who are coming after the guns, but can't there be a rule that if you're thrice complained against in a violent situation that we can take your guns away? I am willing to bet that there are people who would still defend Zimmerman's right to own as ma...

I gotta' hand it to my kids. They won't give up. "I have a song you'll like," Jake said to me the other day. "It's an Eminem video that's funny." He sat beside me on the couch and handed me his phone. The song was all set to go. It was funny. The video was well done. The lyrics were understandable. Pee Wee Herman's laugh was featured prominently, and that made me laugh. "I got another one," Jake said. This one was a bit more serious. It was about a stalker fan who didn't hear from Eminem and became violent and was killed while in pursuit. Again. It was thoughtful. "He's good, isn't he?" Jake asked. And I'm in a weird position here because I am not a fan of hip-hop. I kind of like the music in music. You know...piano...guitar...drums. The music behind this particular genre is usually produced on a computer. The words are also really fast, and there's a lot of anger behind all of...

So, went through the pre-op for my upcoming hip surgery. There were a couple of surprises. "Will I be out by Thanksgiving dinner?" I asked the helpful nurse. "Depends on what he sees. If he wants to go ahead and replace the hip, probably not." "Replace it? I thought I was just fixing a muscle," I said. "Maybe. He'll know when he sees the damage. You got a good tear." I thought about that for a moment. "Who's making that decision?" I asked. "You have a proxy form filled out?" She asked. I shrugged. "Is that something my wife is in charge of?" She laughed. "Most likely." "I'm not allowed to rent a movie without permission," I said. "So, I'd imagine." I got another laugh. So, there it is. My old hip is in the hands of a woman that I hadn't even met 25 years ago. Weird. Right? Yet the even bigger conversation was coming. "So, if some...

We were watching The Big Bang Theory the other night and Leonard and Sheldon were talking about a task that Leonard had left undone. The failure to complete the task caused Sheldon angst. "You don't understand. When something is left hanging it causes an itch on my brain and makes me feel uncomfortable." That right there has been all of the angst in my married life. It scares me to think, but they make fun of poor Shelly for being weird on the show. I certainly see myself in some of his actions, and of course, we are both geniuses. Yet it got me thinking. Why am I that way? "Just leave it, I'll do it," my beautiful wife will say. Yet it can't be left. It'll make my brain itch. "We'd help him if we didn't have to do everything according to the sick clock in his twisted mind," Sam once famously said. The above photo shows a shot of Albert Einstein's desk on the morning of his death. Absolutely cluttered. ...

Twitter is a great social media network. It's sort of taken information gathering and current events reading to a whole new level. On Friday afternoon I read two stories back-to-back. First, the story of embattled Toronto Mayor Rob Ford who was in the process of being stripped of his powers. (Makes him sound like a bad superhero). Ford is the crack-smoking-stupor-inducing-pu##y-eating-Chris-Farley-looking dude who has captured the nation of Canada. He's basically embarrassed everyone who says 'Eh' seven hundred times a day. And I don't know what to make of the guy. I really don't know what makes him tick. How can you become mayor of the 4th largest city of North America and then just literally piss it all the way in a drunken haze of crack smoke? My worst fears were realized as well as I listened to talk radio about the guy. There were people calling in to say that he was a great leader because 'he's just a normal guy.' I'm a ...

There's that pathetic, sad moment when you're sitting on the airplane with the seat open next to you, just praying that somehow, someway the person who is supposed to sit beside you was in a fiery crash on the way to the airport. Okay...so maybe not that bad, but you want the empty seat. The place where you're resting your ass is so cramped. Please, just give me a little room! But you know it won't work that way so you start watching the door and hoping that you get a 'good' person next to you...and by 'good', you're thinking small, or pretty. I spotted my mark as soon as she set foot on the plane. She was about 23 years old, long dark hair. Jeans, boots, red blouse and small, and lastly, very pretty. Like model pretty. And lo and behold, she stopped. At row 5. She put her bag away and sat down beside me. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead. "Hi," I said. And she didn't answer! Like I wasn't even there!! Not a single ...