I am back. We are coming to the end of January and the beginning of the Year of the Ox. All pretty cool, I guess. Well, Sunday is the Super Bowl. I have to say this.....GO STEELERS!!
It is pretty cool that Pittsburgh is back in the big game. I just remember them as a great team when I was a kid. I like how it has come full circle. I find it very comforting.
We have the basketball playoffs this weekend. If we, like I am playing, win we get to immediately play another game. It will a tough road to the finals. We well do our very best.
With that have a great weekend, bitches! Ciao!
Friday, January 30, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
ADD Induced Ramblings
I am back.
"I got it bad, you don't know how bad I got it, you got it easy, you don't know when you got it good." - Nik Kershaw Wouldn't It Be Good
Just thought I would open from the beginning lyrics of the song. It does say it all right now, doesn't it? I do not know what I am talking about. I was just listening to the song, an acoustic version, and the sad, desperate tone of the song really stick out. It is kind of cool to be touched by words.
Has Obama fixed the world yet? I am getting impatient.
Had some great snow around these parts yesterday (it seems our "snow" days appear to be Wednesday and Saturday/Sunday lately). It seems I am shoveling on Wednesdays and I was doing it in 2008, too. Not sure that I like it that way, makes garbage pick up on Thursdays a bitch from all perspectives.
I was struck by something today. You can have many shared experiences with people and they all have different meaning to the different people as they are coming to it from different perspectives or contexts. It is kind of interesting to look at the world "outside" and see it contains many different stories or narratives of the same events. Freaky.
Think about that one for a bit.
Ciao!
"I got it bad, you don't know how bad I got it, you got it easy, you don't know when you got it good." - Nik Kershaw Wouldn't It Be Good
Just thought I would open from the beginning lyrics of the song. It does say it all right now, doesn't it? I do not know what I am talking about. I was just listening to the song, an acoustic version, and the sad, desperate tone of the song really stick out. It is kind of cool to be touched by words.
Has Obama fixed the world yet? I am getting impatient.
Had some great snow around these parts yesterday (it seems our "snow" days appear to be Wednesday and Saturday/Sunday lately). It seems I am shoveling on Wednesdays and I was doing it in 2008, too. Not sure that I like it that way, makes garbage pick up on Thursdays a bitch from all perspectives.
I was struck by something today. You can have many shared experiences with people and they all have different meaning to the different people as they are coming to it from different perspectives or contexts. It is kind of interesting to look at the world "outside" and see it contains many different stories or narratives of the same events. Freaky.
Think about that one for a bit.
Ciao!
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
I have a question and eventually I will get around to asking it.
I am back. You did not think I had forgotten about y'all now, did you? I do have to mention that it was on this day and date in 2004, 5 years ago, that I began my odyssey, my George S May odyssey. It began with a very snowy Monday, where I had come home and taken the Lad to Staples with me after dinner to buy a portable printer. I still have the printer but as an inkjet, it is expensive to run, especially in color, and has become a pain in the ass to use.
I woke up on the Tuesday, shovelled, took the Lad to school, the Wife to work and set up the printer. I had some software installed at my local computer shop and in the snow, after lunch, picked up the Wife from work and the Lad from school. I was then whisked to the airport while I awaited my flight to Chicago.
I got my luggage, called for the shuttle and headed to the beautiful La Quinta Inn. I got settled and had a restless night of excitement and anticipation. It was an early Wednesday (it would be an early every day, as even the day off, Super Bowl Sunday, I woke up at about 6:00 am and could not fall back asleep) start and the adventure began. I just find it interesting that the days and dates align for this part of the year. It goes astray at the end of February as 2004 was a leap year and 2009 is not.
In fact, if you had to compare years, then 2009 falls like 1981. We again come off a leap year (1980) where my birthday fell on a Thursday and falls on a Friday just like in 1981. That is some calendar trivia for you.
Anybody know where I can find some low sodium table salt? Just asking.
Ciao!
I woke up on the Tuesday, shovelled, took the Lad to school, the Wife to work and set up the printer. I had some software installed at my local computer shop and in the snow, after lunch, picked up the Wife from work and the Lad from school. I was then whisked to the airport while I awaited my flight to Chicago.
I got my luggage, called for the shuttle and headed to the beautiful La Quinta Inn. I got settled and had a restless night of excitement and anticipation. It was an early Wednesday (it would be an early every day, as even the day off, Super Bowl Sunday, I woke up at about 6:00 am and could not fall back asleep) start and the adventure began. I just find it interesting that the days and dates align for this part of the year. It goes astray at the end of February as 2004 was a leap year and 2009 is not.
In fact, if you had to compare years, then 2009 falls like 1981. We again come off a leap year (1980) where my birthday fell on a Thursday and falls on a Friday just like in 1981. That is some calendar trivia for you.
Anybody know where I can find some low sodium table salt? Just asking.
Ciao!
Monday, January 26, 2009
A Police Takedown Right in Front of My Home
I am back. It is a strange day. It would have been my aunt's 83rd birthday today and I just returned from a funeral, what fun, for the husband of a woman who worked for my family for many years. She looked the same, though I do not think that she saw me.
Apparently, her husband, whom I do recall as a very interesting and engaging man, had been ill for about 6 months. He was a pathologist, which I thought was really cool when I found out in the mid to late 1970s (that was prime Quincy time....Quincy with Jack Klugman who was the medical examiner/coroner who solved all sorts of crimes using forensic pathology....it was the forerunner of the whole CSI series).
It was their daughter that I saw but could not place at another post funeral visit in May. Now, I may have to visit at her home, just so that I can chat with her mother, whom I had not seen since we sold the business in 1995. I know that my mother and she had chatted as they called when grandchildren were born, though I do not know if they had spoken in a long while.
Now, more to the point. I forgot to mention the early excitement of Friday morning. I was sleeping when I heard a police siren and saw flashing lights at about 1 am on Friday morning. I then hear a bit of crash and then you can hear a voice telling the driver to "get down". I turn to the Wife and tell her there is a takedown going on.
We go to the window and see it all. There is a cop car with lights going in front of our neighbours house, an SUV turned the wrong way at the curve and then a number of cop cars (backup) with a tow truck in their midst for good measure. It is not until later that I realize that there used to be a concrete light standard with street light where the SUV is. That also explains why the five or so lights by our house are all dark presently (even at night).
Anyway, we watch the action unfold as the backup cops get out of their cars and run to the scene with guns drawn. They arrest some dude and some girl. The women keeps moaning "why do are my arms behind my back?". She was obviously the passenger and has no clue as to what has gone done and why. My only guess, given how "confused" she sounded is that this was a case of drunken driving, with both vehicle occupants drunk, but I could be wrong.
No shots were fired, but it was eventful. The Wife could not back to sleep so she watched the cops measuring things (like skid marks). I fell right back to sleep, nothing to see here, move along. I just moved along.
Come to think of it, a shooting could have been cool. Of course, I say that with the expectation that nobody I know would become collateral damage.
How is that to start a start of the weekend? Unfortunately, the rest of the weekend did not live up to that excitement.
Ciao!
Apparently, her husband, whom I do recall as a very interesting and engaging man, had been ill for about 6 months. He was a pathologist, which I thought was really cool when I found out in the mid to late 1970s (that was prime Quincy time....Quincy with Jack Klugman who was the medical examiner/coroner who solved all sorts of crimes using forensic pathology....it was the forerunner of the whole CSI series).
It was their daughter that I saw but could not place at another post funeral visit in May. Now, I may have to visit at her home, just so that I can chat with her mother, whom I had not seen since we sold the business in 1995. I know that my mother and she had chatted as they called when grandchildren were born, though I do not know if they had spoken in a long while.
Now, more to the point. I forgot to mention the early excitement of Friday morning. I was sleeping when I heard a police siren and saw flashing lights at about 1 am on Friday morning. I then hear a bit of crash and then you can hear a voice telling the driver to "get down". I turn to the Wife and tell her there is a takedown going on.
We go to the window and see it all. There is a cop car with lights going in front of our neighbours house, an SUV turned the wrong way at the curve and then a number of cop cars (backup) with a tow truck in their midst for good measure. It is not until later that I realize that there used to be a concrete light standard with street light where the SUV is. That also explains why the five or so lights by our house are all dark presently (even at night).
Anyway, we watch the action unfold as the backup cops get out of their cars and run to the scene with guns drawn. They arrest some dude and some girl. The women keeps moaning "why do are my arms behind my back?". She was obviously the passenger and has no clue as to what has gone done and why. My only guess, given how "confused" she sounded is that this was a case of drunken driving, with both vehicle occupants drunk, but I could be wrong.
No shots were fired, but it was eventful. The Wife could not back to sleep so she watched the cops measuring things (like skid marks). I fell right back to sleep, nothing to see here, move along. I just moved along.
Come to think of it, a shooting could have been cool. Of course, I say that with the expectation that nobody I know would become collateral damage.
How is that to start a start of the weekend? Unfortunately, the rest of the weekend did not live up to that excitement.
Ciao!
Friday, January 23, 2009
A little inspiration from an unlikely source
I am back. On the 21st, I forgot to give a happy birthday shout out to the good doctor, so consider it now done. I was hit with a spark of inspiration last night. A television commercial, of all things, set off a spark in my brain and I actually remembered what I found so funny.
I was watching something, last night around 10, maybe FoodTV, and there is this commercial with a mother and daughter and the mother has had her malady relieved by Canesten Cream. Now, here is where it gets rather profane and I may lose my female audience, which I would think is virtually non-existent and that is no matter. I thought that it is wonderful to get to view a commercial for cunt cream. Yup, that is what it is.....cunt cream.
See, it reminded of me of the family business. My family business was retail pharmacy. We owned a pharmacy and both of parents are/were pharmacists. Anyway, at our store all the vaginal creams were kept in a cupboard in the back. The cunt cream was stored in the cunt cupboard. I love the alliteration "the cunt cream was kept in the cunt cupboard". Say that a few times, it just rolls off the tongue.
Anyway, in our store it was referred to as the cunt cupboard by all, or at least those I remember. My mother even called it the cunt cupboard. She would tell me "get a tube of <insert your desired cunt cream brand name here> out of the cunt cupboard". Come to think of it she did not have to tell me where to find the cunt cream, I knew what and where it was. I think she wanted to try and shock me or disturb me by having to hear my mother use the word "cunt". That was not disturbing or shocking. She was talking in the third person...it was some disembodied cunt to which she referred, not one attached to somebody.
It would have been disturbing to hear her screaming (or moaning) to my father "pound/fuck my wet cunt with your cock! Harder, pound my cunt harder!" That would have been disturbing.
There you have it, an inoccuous Canesten Cream ad, has me imaging my own mother really getting into my father pounding away at her cunt. I must be sick. The poor folks at Canesten (it was Miles/Bayer at at least one point in time) were just trying to help women out with their itchy pussy issues and biotic balance and my father is somehow fucking my mother silly. What kind of world does my mind inhabit?
By the way, am I the prime demographic that the Canesten folks are trying to reach with their cunt cream ad? After that last paragraph, I would think not
Things to ponder over the weekend. Ciao!
I was watching something, last night around 10, maybe FoodTV, and there is this commercial with a mother and daughter and the mother has had her malady relieved by Canesten Cream. Now, here is where it gets rather profane and I may lose my female audience, which I would think is virtually non-existent and that is no matter. I thought that it is wonderful to get to view a commercial for cunt cream. Yup, that is what it is.....cunt cream.
See, it reminded of me of the family business. My family business was retail pharmacy. We owned a pharmacy and both of parents are/were pharmacists. Anyway, at our store all the vaginal creams were kept in a cupboard in the back. The cunt cream was stored in the cunt cupboard. I love the alliteration "the cunt cream was kept in the cunt cupboard". Say that a few times, it just rolls off the tongue.
Anyway, in our store it was referred to as the cunt cupboard by all, or at least those I remember. My mother even called it the cunt cupboard. She would tell me "get a tube of <insert your desired cunt cream brand name here> out of the cunt cupboard". Come to think of it she did not have to tell me where to find the cunt cream, I knew what and where it was. I think she wanted to try and shock me or disturb me by having to hear my mother use the word "cunt". That was not disturbing or shocking. She was talking in the third person...it was some disembodied cunt to which she referred, not one attached to somebody.
It would have been disturbing to hear her screaming (or moaning) to my father "pound/fuck my wet cunt with your cock! Harder, pound my cunt harder!" That would have been disturbing.
There you have it, an inoccuous Canesten Cream ad, has me imaging my own mother really getting into my father pounding away at her cunt. I must be sick. The poor folks at Canesten (it was Miles/Bayer at at least one point in time) were just trying to help women out with their itchy pussy issues and biotic balance and my father is somehow fucking my mother silly. What kind of world does my mind inhabit?
By the way, am I the prime demographic that the Canesten folks are trying to reach with their cunt cream ad? After that last paragraph, I would think not
Things to ponder over the weekend. Ciao!
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Victory? What the fuck!
I am back. I am going to get a political on your collective asses today. Given the "hostilities" in the Gaza between Israel and Hamas (Palestinians), after emerging from their rat holes, Hamas is claiming victory.
I do not know about you but if you define victory as surviving while 1000 of your countrymen, most of whom would like to live their lives (that one can be debated and I am not about to go there......yet) are killed because you thought you could send rockets, indiscriminately into towns in Southern Israel (trying to hit civilian targets...well, really just lobbing them into Israel with no regard for what or whom they may hit to be exact) without a response, then enjoy your "victory".
I am just unclear as to what "they" were victorious at? I would say the Israeli's should bomb them back to the stone age....but they are not that far from it. They seem to enjoy living in squalor because for 60 years that is what they have done. I have NEVER heard of being refugees for 60 years. Five years after World War II, all refugees were settled. Why not now? How can you "reward" people for doing little for 60 years to better their lives and move forward?
Perhaps, they should be given a DeLorean and a flux capacitor so they can actually go back in time. Give Doc Brown a call. Then again, on second thought, they would only squander that opportunity and strip the car down for the stainless steel and other metal parts. Of course, they could always go back in time and fuck up the space-time continuum, which would be the most likely outcome after the stripping of the car and technology for little of future use.
You have to hand it to them....never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity.
Again, still having trouble with the claim of "victory" as I am not sure what was won....more time in greater squalor, time to rebuild the squalor so that they can start the cycle all over again. Plus ca change.
My time is up now. Ciao!
I do not know about you but if you define victory as surviving while 1000 of your countrymen, most of whom would like to live their lives (that one can be debated and I am not about to go there......yet) are killed because you thought you could send rockets, indiscriminately into towns in Southern Israel (trying to hit civilian targets...well, really just lobbing them into Israel with no regard for what or whom they may hit to be exact) without a response, then enjoy your "victory".
I am just unclear as to what "they" were victorious at? I would say the Israeli's should bomb them back to the stone age....but they are not that far from it. They seem to enjoy living in squalor because for 60 years that is what they have done. I have NEVER heard of being refugees for 60 years. Five years after World War II, all refugees were settled. Why not now? How can you "reward" people for doing little for 60 years to better their lives and move forward?
Perhaps, they should be given a DeLorean and a flux capacitor so they can actually go back in time. Give Doc Brown a call. Then again, on second thought, they would only squander that opportunity and strip the car down for the stainless steel and other metal parts. Of course, they could always go back in time and fuck up the space-time continuum, which would be the most likely outcome after the stripping of the car and technology for little of future use.
You have to hand it to them....never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity.
Again, still having trouble with the claim of "victory" as I am not sure what was won....more time in greater squalor, time to rebuild the squalor so that they can start the cycle all over again. Plus ca change.
My time is up now. Ciao!
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Weekend wrap
I am back. President Obama....sounds cool. Anyway, I got sidetracked yesterday with more heady and important stuff that needed to be printed/said. Today, it is a little lighter fare. It is all about my weekend. I am sending out a belated "Happy Birthday" to the Lad, who turned 12 on Sunday. I will not go into a blow by blow account of his birth (complete with "Tales of the Placenta" or "My Life....After Birth, er Afterbirth"), it is enough to acknowledge the day.
More to the point, we have a house guest as my wife's cousin has moved here from Israel. He is staying here until he finds a place (which he has and is currently being painted) and then he will move, set himself up and get his girlfriend over from Israel. He joined us for the Lad's birthday dinner with the Wife's brother, his girlfriend, the Wife's aunt and uncle (I take NO ownership of them, believe me) and us. It was an okay time with normal chatter that I find banal and a waste of time (I will never get back those three or so hours of my life......I would rather be whacking off, of course, I could say that about most things, even when I am whacking off).
Saturday, we had....basketball. It was another short-handed game, but we won big. The Lad had a couple of amazing baskets. One, he dribbled around the corner but instead of going for a lay-up, he unfurls his long, ape-like arms (like his father) in a rainbow hook shot that hit nothing but net. The second, he should have gone in for the lay-up, and I was going to scream at him, but he hit his five foot shot with rainbow arc. It was good.
A friend of the Lad's parents, who we are also friends with, invited us for dinner to celebrate the Lad's birthday. Before going, as the snow really started up, the Lad and I hit Best Buy and my nephew's birthday party (he was born five years after, but two days before the Lad--actually they cut my sister open like a sturgeon and plucked him out). Nothing like quiet 7 year olds (quiet, lol) running around. It was kind of okay as the Lad enjoyed watching his cousin and little friends playing hockey. Then we hit our friend's house.
This is where the tenor of my weekend changed.....for the worse. We get set for dinner, wine at the ready, and our host makes a point of telling us all that her new dining room set (chairs) had just been Scotchguarded. We should not spill. We sit down and believe me when I say I was minding my own business when her son, the Lad's friend, reaches for something, pushes a plate into my half-full wine glass, sending it and its contents spilling on my jeans, shirt, plate and placemat. There were splashes on the chairs, but they came out rather easily. Thankfully, no broken glass. It was red wine but I was wearing a dark gray shirt and dark denim, so no stain issues for me.
There was a tense moment there regarding the spilling. Thankfully, it was not one of my family that did the spilling. It was her child so we did not have to feel guilty about causing the first stain of the new furniture. Other than that, and that was minor, it was a lovely night out. We came home and I did a shovel before coming in.
Sunday begins with me shoveling. As it was the Lad's birthday, we took him to the Raptors game. It was an entertaining game. Sunday night dinner at my mother's found me sitting beside my 2 year old nephew. He was drinking his soda (Diet Coke) and proceeded to spill it on my leg. Somehow, this was my weekend to be the Schlemazel (a schlemiel spills his soup, a schlemazel is the one the schlemiel spills his soup on). So it goes.
I spent the better part of the weekend sopping up other people's spills. We had fun and that is all that matters.
That does it for today. Ciao!
More to the point, we have a house guest as my wife's cousin has moved here from Israel. He is staying here until he finds a place (which he has and is currently being painted) and then he will move, set himself up and get his girlfriend over from Israel. He joined us for the Lad's birthday dinner with the Wife's brother, his girlfriend, the Wife's aunt and uncle (I take NO ownership of them, believe me) and us. It was an okay time with normal chatter that I find banal and a waste of time (I will never get back those three or so hours of my life......I would rather be whacking off, of course, I could say that about most things, even when I am whacking off).
Saturday, we had....basketball. It was another short-handed game, but we won big. The Lad had a couple of amazing baskets. One, he dribbled around the corner but instead of going for a lay-up, he unfurls his long, ape-like arms (like his father) in a rainbow hook shot that hit nothing but net. The second, he should have gone in for the lay-up, and I was going to scream at him, but he hit his five foot shot with rainbow arc. It was good.
A friend of the Lad's parents, who we are also friends with, invited us for dinner to celebrate the Lad's birthday. Before going, as the snow really started up, the Lad and I hit Best Buy and my nephew's birthday party (he was born five years after, but two days before the Lad--actually they cut my sister open like a sturgeon and plucked him out). Nothing like quiet 7 year olds (quiet, lol) running around. It was kind of okay as the Lad enjoyed watching his cousin and little friends playing hockey. Then we hit our friend's house.
This is where the tenor of my weekend changed.....for the worse. We get set for dinner, wine at the ready, and our host makes a point of telling us all that her new dining room set (chairs) had just been Scotchguarded. We should not spill. We sit down and believe me when I say I was minding my own business when her son, the Lad's friend, reaches for something, pushes a plate into my half-full wine glass, sending it and its contents spilling on my jeans, shirt, plate and placemat. There were splashes on the chairs, but they came out rather easily. Thankfully, no broken glass. It was red wine but I was wearing a dark gray shirt and dark denim, so no stain issues for me.
There was a tense moment there regarding the spilling. Thankfully, it was not one of my family that did the spilling. It was her child so we did not have to feel guilty about causing the first stain of the new furniture. Other than that, and that was minor, it was a lovely night out. We came home and I did a shovel before coming in.
Sunday begins with me shoveling. As it was the Lad's birthday, we took him to the Raptors game. It was an entertaining game. Sunday night dinner at my mother's found me sitting beside my 2 year old nephew. He was drinking his soda (Diet Coke) and proceeded to spill it on my leg. Somehow, this was my weekend to be the Schlemazel (a schlemiel spills his soup, a schlemazel is the one the schlemiel spills his soup on). So it goes.
I spent the better part of the weekend sopping up other people's spills. We had fun and that is all that matters.
That does it for today. Ciao!
Monday, January 19, 2009
Seriously speaking, a day for hope and then the HARD work begins
I am back. We are on the cusp of an "historic" occasion as tomorrow a new president, who happens to be black (or at least half black) takes office as the 44th President of the United States. In honor of Martin Luther King Day (it is in the US), this inauguration does hold some special meaning.
Now, let us all get real. I think it is great. The color of Barack Obama's skin does not matter. His intelligence and character do. That is where he won this election. He campaigned on a message of hope and inclusion. In contrast to how the country has/had been run under President Bush. That was the winning strategy. I do not think of John McCain as a dishonorable sort (he fucking served his country in the Hanoi Hilton during the Vietnam War, so has demonstrated his character), he had the misfortune of trying to follow a Republican who spent all his political capital (for some "magic" beans, I presume). He did not stand a chance as the people wanted a change.
He, Obama, is now the poster child for the "revolution" that has occurred. The age of the Aquisitor is over. This age is characterized by both Bill Clinton and George W. Bush's presidencies. It is the age of the CEO as rock star. Intense greed at the top while those on the lower rungs could not get "theirs". This notion is best epitomized by the former CEO of Circuit City firing all his workers who earned $16/hr and then re-hiring them at $8/hr. He saved the company lots of money and "earned" his bonuses. Of course, his employees could no longer afford to buy at Circuit City. The best part is that Circuit City has gone tits up, so the strategy was great for the CEO's short term interest and ruinous for both the long term, the employees, shareholders, landlords, suppliers, and everyone else (it lessens competition in the retail consumer electronics space as one competitor is going the way of the dodo).
This is contrasted with Henry Ford of Ford Motor Car Company (a funny company to bring up now given their troubles). He paid his workers enough and got the cost of his cars down enough, so that his workers could afford to buy the very products they helped manufacture. It does go to show you that if you make/sell a product that your own employees cannot afford, then you will probably not remain in business very long.
As younger people have found their education made exorbitantly expensive and the nature of employment so grossly underpaid, a twenty year cycle comes crashing down (as it must). A new generation is going to have to fix the problems created by the previous generation. Barack Obama is the poster child/man for this movement.
He is young and in touch with a younger generation, who has been screwed by an older generation. Bush and Clinton turned a blind eye to the excesses and inequities created by their generation. Given McCain's age and the general economic conditions in place around the time of the election, he did not stand a chance. He represented the status quo and the status quo was no longer working. In fact, the cost of this mess will borne by future generations just as it was so when the budgetary deficits of the 80s were being run up.
The biggest problem is how to "fix" the economy. My leanings are to let the weak fail. Here is why. Here is an article that reminded of how perverse the whole situation is when you start to condemn the strong and those who ran their businesses well by letting the weak gain government favor and money with no apparent view to what that future, you helped create, will look like.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB123146363567166677.html
It is not long. If you have not read "Atlas Shrugged" by Ayn Rand, I suggest you do it and if you have read it, I suggest re-reading it.
I am done for today. Ciao!
Now, let us all get real. I think it is great. The color of Barack Obama's skin does not matter. His intelligence and character do. That is where he won this election. He campaigned on a message of hope and inclusion. In contrast to how the country has/had been run under President Bush. That was the winning strategy. I do not think of John McCain as a dishonorable sort (he fucking served his country in the Hanoi Hilton during the Vietnam War, so has demonstrated his character), he had the misfortune of trying to follow a Republican who spent all his political capital (for some "magic" beans, I presume). He did not stand a chance as the people wanted a change.
He, Obama, is now the poster child for the "revolution" that has occurred. The age of the Aquisitor is over. This age is characterized by both Bill Clinton and George W. Bush's presidencies. It is the age of the CEO as rock star. Intense greed at the top while those on the lower rungs could not get "theirs". This notion is best epitomized by the former CEO of Circuit City firing all his workers who earned $16/hr and then re-hiring them at $8/hr. He saved the company lots of money and "earned" his bonuses. Of course, his employees could no longer afford to buy at Circuit City. The best part is that Circuit City has gone tits up, so the strategy was great for the CEO's short term interest and ruinous for both the long term, the employees, shareholders, landlords, suppliers, and everyone else (it lessens competition in the retail consumer electronics space as one competitor is going the way of the dodo).
This is contrasted with Henry Ford of Ford Motor Car Company (a funny company to bring up now given their troubles). He paid his workers enough and got the cost of his cars down enough, so that his workers could afford to buy the very products they helped manufacture. It does go to show you that if you make/sell a product that your own employees cannot afford, then you will probably not remain in business very long.
As younger people have found their education made exorbitantly expensive and the nature of employment so grossly underpaid, a twenty year cycle comes crashing down (as it must). A new generation is going to have to fix the problems created by the previous generation. Barack Obama is the poster child/man for this movement.
He is young and in touch with a younger generation, who has been screwed by an older generation. Bush and Clinton turned a blind eye to the excesses and inequities created by their generation. Given McCain's age and the general economic conditions in place around the time of the election, he did not stand a chance. He represented the status quo and the status quo was no longer working. In fact, the cost of this mess will borne by future generations just as it was so when the budgetary deficits of the 80s were being run up.
The biggest problem is how to "fix" the economy. My leanings are to let the weak fail. Here is why. Here is an article that reminded of how perverse the whole situation is when you start to condemn the strong and those who ran their businesses well by letting the weak gain government favor and money with no apparent view to what that future, you helped create, will look like.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB123146363567166677.html
It is not long. If you have not read "Atlas Shrugged" by Ayn Rand, I suggest you do it and if you have read it, I suggest re-reading it.
I am done for today. Ciao!
Friday, January 16, 2009
Boy George is Back and going to the slammer!
I am back. Boy George, when was he ever relevant, was just sentenced to 15 months in jail for the "unlawful confinement" of a male escort. Locking up Boy George for 15 months with a bunch of other men? Is that really punishment for him? Just had to ask and comment.
I am quite sure he is happy with that sentencing....gets to live out his prison fantasies. Anal raper or anal rapee, what is the difference? For Boy George, it does not matter...top or bottom, it is all good to him or in him.
There, now try not to spend your weekend with the mental image of Boy George taking it up the ass from Bubba, his new cellmate. Ciao!
I am quite sure he is happy with that sentencing....gets to live out his prison fantasies. Anal raper or anal rapee, what is the difference? For Boy George, it does not matter...top or bottom, it is all good to him or in him.
There, now try not to spend your weekend with the mental image of Boy George taking it up the ass from Bubba, his new cellmate. Ciao!
Thursday, January 15, 2009
A Momma's Boys Post
I am back. I will also be brief. "Momma's Boys" was deliciously bad on Monday. The best is yet to come. One of the mother's kept her favorite girl around and got her son to "ditch" the bleach blond (she is hot!) who poses in Playboy seems happy. She ragged this poor girl out about posing in Playboy. The girl she really likes (and can see her as HER daughter) is Erica Ellyson, the 2008 Penthouse Pet of the Year. Monday's finale will provide that gut punch to her. I can hardly wait.
All the mothers had to be chosen for their narcissism. They all show signs of it. One, the Iranian mother of Jojo, who was so blatant about her racism, has twice not elected to choose any girl. She cannot bear to allow her son to follow his own way and share his life with another woman. It is so sickeningly incestuous, like a reverse Oedipus complex.
The Jewish mother keeps pushing the Jewish girl on her son. The excuse is that it is not right to choose a woman who would have to "learn" the culture and history. What a load of crap! She does not like the fact that her son has "jungle fever" and there is nothing wrong with that.
The Lad got tested for lice yesterday. He was clean, but complains of an itchy head. The power of persuasion or the Placebo Effect in action. Always cool.
Well, my keyboard is acting up so it must be time to go. Ciao!
All the mothers had to be chosen for their narcissism. They all show signs of it. One, the Iranian mother of Jojo, who was so blatant about her racism, has twice not elected to choose any girl. She cannot bear to allow her son to follow his own way and share his life with another woman. It is so sickeningly incestuous, like a reverse Oedipus complex.
The Jewish mother keeps pushing the Jewish girl on her son. The excuse is that it is not right to choose a woman who would have to "learn" the culture and history. What a load of crap! She does not like the fact that her son has "jungle fever" and there is nothing wrong with that.
The Lad got tested for lice yesterday. He was clean, but complains of an itchy head. The power of persuasion or the Placebo Effect in action. Always cool.
Well, my keyboard is acting up so it must be time to go. Ciao!
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
January
I am back. I should comb the dark, very dark, recesses of mind for another game of "what happened on this date in MY life". I should and I will not do that. If only for the fact that this date, and other similar ones, have little meaning to me. I can say that a good friend's sister got married 26 years ago tomorrow, that much I remember.
January has always been a bit of a blur to me. The first month of the year and it tends to move quickly. I am not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing. I guess it is just a thing. It used to be I could get excited about the Super Bowl but the NFL has extended the season to the point that the Super Bowl is played in February (Feb 1, this year).
Other than the Lad's birthday, my nephew and niece's birthdays and the birthday of a friend or two or three, this January has little meaning for me. It is like September was, while I was in school. It took me a good month to realize that I was in school. It takes a January for me to realize that it is a new year.
It is a strange way to look at things, but it is my way.
Well, what do have in the news...Nortel seeks bankruptcy protection (become a technoligical also-ran and buy other also-rans, cook your books, stuff your sales channel...all great strategies to increase sales and profits and sustain such success. Actually, pricing goods without factoring in the cost of capital, as if it is free, is another fabulous Nortel business strategy. Good luck with that.)...Co-ed is auctioning her virginity to pay for a masters degree in Marriage and Family Therapy (she is 22, has a cute face, claims to be "extra tight" [I added that, it is the salesman in me--now that sounds really gay] and the bidding is up to $3.75 Million. Apparently, she got the idea from her 23 year old sister who successfully raised money for her own degree by working as a prostitute for a few weeks, kind of like a vacation, except instead of lying in the sun and fucking, you fuck and take money from your partner directly, per act (their parents in San Diego must be proud).
Do I need to go on? Well, enjoy your day and evening. Ciao!
January has always been a bit of a blur to me. The first month of the year and it tends to move quickly. I am not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing. I guess it is just a thing. It used to be I could get excited about the Super Bowl but the NFL has extended the season to the point that the Super Bowl is played in February (Feb 1, this year).
Other than the Lad's birthday, my nephew and niece's birthdays and the birthday of a friend or two or three, this January has little meaning for me. It is like September was, while I was in school. It took me a good month to realize that I was in school. It takes a January for me to realize that it is a new year.
It is a strange way to look at things, but it is my way.
Well, what do have in the news...Nortel seeks bankruptcy protection (become a technoligical also-ran and buy other also-rans, cook your books, stuff your sales channel...all great strategies to increase sales and profits and sustain such success. Actually, pricing goods without factoring in the cost of capital, as if it is free, is another fabulous Nortel business strategy. Good luck with that.)...Co-ed is auctioning her virginity to pay for a masters degree in Marriage and Family Therapy (she is 22, has a cute face, claims to be "extra tight" [I added that, it is the salesman in me--now that sounds really gay] and the bidding is up to $3.75 Million. Apparently, she got the idea from her 23 year old sister who successfully raised money for her own degree by working as a prostitute for a few weeks, kind of like a vacation, except instead of lying in the sun and fucking, you fuck and take money from your partner directly, per act (their parents in San Diego must be proud).
Do I need to go on? Well, enjoy your day and evening. Ciao!
Monday, January 12, 2009
I am actually back again
I am back. I was just uninspired by the end of last week. This week I begin with a sad post. What the hell has this tome become as I dump my "sadness" on y'all? Then again, it is sad AND it is life, so there is no separating the two.
Our neighbour, former neighbour, (she did move down the street) passed away on Friday. It was not unexpected. She was only 54 (but looked a lot and seemed a lot older) but was riddled with cancer. She was a smoker, which did not help, with a number of health, both physical and mental, issues. She was very nice though.
She lived the life of a bit of a shlepper. She was divorced and had a daughter, an unruly daughter, that was NEVER disciplined and with her issues had her father help her out financially. When he died, he left everything to her, so she inherited enough to move out of her rental house, buy one down the street, renovate it and move in.
She had not been feeling well, but though it was bursitis. She had a scan done and was riddled with bone cancer. Even in palliative care, she seemed to think that she would be going home. The daughter was in complete denial (and acting like her wild and crazy self, so her father had to come and remove her mother's car so she would not drive it) and refused to visit. She was dragged down later last week to say goodbye to her mother. Who knows what will become of her or how her mother left her the money as she is not responsible enough to deal with it.
It is a sad situation. It is also life.
On a happier note, the Lad had a banner day on the basketball court on Saturday. Of course, his team was twice the size of their opponents. It was a rout and the Lad scored a good quarter of his teams points during the game. He had some easy shots and hit them. Always makes me proud.
We had Indian food at a friend's home that night. The next day the Wife was complaining about Rupinder's revenge. She paid a price for her okra (damn slimy pod vegetable--it is what makes gumbo so gummy). It was good, though.
Tonight, I have "Momma's Boys" to look forward to. Reality television at its best and worst all in one neat little package.
Ciao!
Our neighbour, former neighbour, (she did move down the street) passed away on Friday. It was not unexpected. She was only 54 (but looked a lot and seemed a lot older) but was riddled with cancer. She was a smoker, which did not help, with a number of health, both physical and mental, issues. She was very nice though.
She lived the life of a bit of a shlepper. She was divorced and had a daughter, an unruly daughter, that was NEVER disciplined and with her issues had her father help her out financially. When he died, he left everything to her, so she inherited enough to move out of her rental house, buy one down the street, renovate it and move in.
She had not been feeling well, but though it was bursitis. She had a scan done and was riddled with bone cancer. Even in palliative care, she seemed to think that she would be going home. The daughter was in complete denial (and acting like her wild and crazy self, so her father had to come and remove her mother's car so she would not drive it) and refused to visit. She was dragged down later last week to say goodbye to her mother. Who knows what will become of her or how her mother left her the money as she is not responsible enough to deal with it.
It is a sad situation. It is also life.
On a happier note, the Lad had a banner day on the basketball court on Saturday. Of course, his team was twice the size of their opponents. It was a rout and the Lad scored a good quarter of his teams points during the game. He had some easy shots and hit them. Always makes me proud.
We had Indian food at a friend's home that night. The next day the Wife was complaining about Rupinder's revenge. She paid a price for her okra (damn slimy pod vegetable--it is what makes gumbo so gummy). It was good, though.
Tonight, I have "Momma's Boys" to look forward to. Reality television at its best and worst all in one neat little package.
Ciao!
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Bad Mothers Make for Great Bad Television
I am back. I seem to have a love, a secret love that will no longer be secret, of bad television. This really means BAD "reality" shows. I am constantly amazed by the rush to the bottom, or what people, read American people, will do for their shot at fame, or even money.
I really enjoyed "Average Joes" on NBC about 5 years ago, where a bunch of "average" dudes living in a house were all trying to woo one hot chick. Midway through the event, they "airlift" a bunch of good looking dudes into the house and fun really begins. I mean does the chick choose substance (Average Joe) or appearance (the new-dudes, who tend to jock-type assholes who do need a bit of a life humbling). In both the cases, I think that the chick did not choose the Average dudes.
In fact, one of them, a day trader in New York got his own show and I do not recall if he chose a hottie or an average chick. I did he was engaged, though and I think his name was Adam, but I could be wrong.
NBC has done it again for me. Mama's Boys is the perfect show for me. It is so bad but seeing near psychotic mothers try to intervene in their sons' lives regarding their dating choices is too much for me not to watch. In this show, 3 guys and dating what started out as a house with 32 girls. Oh yeah, the guys' mothers were living in the house, too, and were not afraid to share their opinions.
One of the mothers came right out and said that she does not want her son dating a black woman. Well, the sistahs were livid. It became a challenge for them. This mother went apeshit when her son dated a black girl. They let her spy on them (making out in a hot tub) via helicopter. She went ballistic. It was quite funny.
Funnier still is the mother, whose son is a firefighter who likes enhanced blondes, keeps intervening in her son's choice because the girl could become HER daughter. You hear everything she says and it is all about her. It has nothing to do with her son, his life and choices. They, the mothers, keep using the manipulative tool that if you date some one she does not approve of, then you are disrespecting your mother. Where is the respect to her son? Say your fucking piece and let the boy make is own choice/mistake and learn!
This second mother talking of enhanced blondes has real dilemma. The chick she is "pushing" on her son is fucking hot. She was also Penthouse Pet of the Year for 2008, which she has not revealed to the son or mother. She does tell the son next week. That should be fun.
Of course, you have the obligatory Jewish dude with his stereotypical Jewish mother (both set of his grandparents were apparently Holocaust survivors). She is pushing the one Jewish girl, but the dude has some "jungle fever". A black chick (she is hot and give her credit) seems to have done some of the little things. It was a bit of a holiday show yesterday so there was Christmas and Hannukah related stuff. This black chick took the initiative to learn about Hannukah traditions. She out "jewed" the Jewess, which I thought was interesting.
Watching this mother/son psycodrama got me thinking about some other "mothers" that I know. These are mothers, divorcing (divorced) from the father of their children, who use the children to try to punish their ex-spouses because they cannot grow up and move on. In all the cases, it is always a matter of "if you love me, you will do "X"". That is manipulative but far worse is what it really implies. The unsaid truth underlying that statement is that "if you do not do "X", I will not love you". A mother's love is suddenly CONDITIONAL in making a child CHOOSE between his parents.
What the fuck is wrong in the world? You need a license to drive, hunt, fish or get married but any mentally or emotionally deficient person can become a parent. Now, of course, I am not advocating the State sanctioning birth or who can become parents (they have done such a fine job with drivers, LOL). It is just food for thought. Ponder that one as I must go. Ciao!
I really enjoyed "Average Joes" on NBC about 5 years ago, where a bunch of "average" dudes living in a house were all trying to woo one hot chick. Midway through the event, they "airlift" a bunch of good looking dudes into the house and fun really begins. I mean does the chick choose substance (Average Joe) or appearance (the new-dudes, who tend to jock-type assholes who do need a bit of a life humbling). In both the cases, I think that the chick did not choose the Average dudes.
In fact, one of them, a day trader in New York got his own show and I do not recall if he chose a hottie or an average chick. I did he was engaged, though and I think his name was Adam, but I could be wrong.
NBC has done it again for me. Mama's Boys is the perfect show for me. It is so bad but seeing near psychotic mothers try to intervene in their sons' lives regarding their dating choices is too much for me not to watch. In this show, 3 guys and dating what started out as a house with 32 girls. Oh yeah, the guys' mothers were living in the house, too, and were not afraid to share their opinions.
One of the mothers came right out and said that she does not want her son dating a black woman. Well, the sistahs were livid. It became a challenge for them. This mother went apeshit when her son dated a black girl. They let her spy on them (making out in a hot tub) via helicopter. She went ballistic. It was quite funny.
Funnier still is the mother, whose son is a firefighter who likes enhanced blondes, keeps intervening in her son's choice because the girl could become HER daughter. You hear everything she says and it is all about her. It has nothing to do with her son, his life and choices. They, the mothers, keep using the manipulative tool that if you date some one she does not approve of, then you are disrespecting your mother. Where is the respect to her son? Say your fucking piece and let the boy make is own choice/mistake and learn!
This second mother talking of enhanced blondes has real dilemma. The chick she is "pushing" on her son is fucking hot. She was also Penthouse Pet of the Year for 2008, which she has not revealed to the son or mother. She does tell the son next week. That should be fun.
Of course, you have the obligatory Jewish dude with his stereotypical Jewish mother (both set of his grandparents were apparently Holocaust survivors). She is pushing the one Jewish girl, but the dude has some "jungle fever". A black chick (she is hot and give her credit) seems to have done some of the little things. It was a bit of a holiday show yesterday so there was Christmas and Hannukah related stuff. This black chick took the initiative to learn about Hannukah traditions. She out "jewed" the Jewess, which I thought was interesting.
Watching this mother/son psycodrama got me thinking about some other "mothers" that I know. These are mothers, divorcing (divorced) from the father of their children, who use the children to try to punish their ex-spouses because they cannot grow up and move on. In all the cases, it is always a matter of "if you love me, you will do "X"". That is manipulative but far worse is what it really implies. The unsaid truth underlying that statement is that "if you do not do "X", I will not love you". A mother's love is suddenly CONDITIONAL in making a child CHOOSE between his parents.
What the fuck is wrong in the world? You need a license to drive, hunt, fish or get married but any mentally or emotionally deficient person can become a parent. Now, of course, I am not advocating the State sanctioning birth or who can become parents (they have done such a fine job with drivers, LOL). It is just food for thought. Ponder that one as I must go. Ciao!
Monday, January 05, 2009
The thing about winter that I do not like is....
I am back. Yesterday, I remembered what pisses me off about winter. I can deal with the snow and incessant shoveling. I accept that snow, shoveling and winter go hand in hand. I can handle that. What pisses me off is that winter really is three or four months of wet socks, cold, fucking, wet socks.
It does not matter where you are, you go inside, be it your own home or somebody elses, and there is snow on your boots. You take off your boots and clumps of snow hit the floor, only to melt. You take off your boots and BLAMMO, you step in it.....a cold puddle of water created by the melted snow. There is not getting around that. That is just not comfortable.
I was reminded of it yesterday. We were at my mother's for dinner and my brother in law arrived. He takes off his boots and starts walking into the house when he gets that look upon his face. It is the look on gets when the cold liquid hits the bottom of your foot after soaking through the sock. It is unmistakeably a Canadian winter look. It is a mixture of shock (it is cold and wet), anger (who wants to feel that and continue to feel it throughout an evening) and resignation (fuck, winter got me again).
I had been thinking about that for a couple of weeks as our house is the worst. The front hall (if you can call it that) connects our upstairs (bedrooms) from the rest of the house. You have to try to avoid the boots and the wet spots to get upstairs, often having forgot what is just sitting there waiting for my semi-warm feet to step in. There is no dancing around it.
That my friends is why I dislike winters. I do not enjoy cold, wet socks and leaving foot prints on the cold granite floor.
Ciao!
It does not matter where you are, you go inside, be it your own home or somebody elses, and there is snow on your boots. You take off your boots and clumps of snow hit the floor, only to melt. You take off your boots and BLAMMO, you step in it.....a cold puddle of water created by the melted snow. There is not getting around that. That is just not comfortable.
I was reminded of it yesterday. We were at my mother's for dinner and my brother in law arrived. He takes off his boots and starts walking into the house when he gets that look upon his face. It is the look on gets when the cold liquid hits the bottom of your foot after soaking through the sock. It is unmistakeably a Canadian winter look. It is a mixture of shock (it is cold and wet), anger (who wants to feel that and continue to feel it throughout an evening) and resignation (fuck, winter got me again).
I had been thinking about that for a couple of weeks as our house is the worst. The front hall (if you can call it that) connects our upstairs (bedrooms) from the rest of the house. You have to try to avoid the boots and the wet spots to get upstairs, often having forgot what is just sitting there waiting for my semi-warm feet to step in. There is no dancing around it.
That my friends is why I dislike winters. I do not enjoy cold, wet socks and leaving foot prints on the cold granite floor.
Ciao!
Friday, January 02, 2009
Happy 2009 To One and All and you can be too old
I am back. Happy New Year to one and all, not really all, but you get the gist of it. I neglected to pass on the sad news that oldest man in the US died before the year end. Now, I see the oldest person on earth, a woman in Portugal, died. It is sad.
Then again, I think that once you wear that crown, you know you are "on deck" to use a baseball term. I think the connection is pretty clear...become the oldest person in the world (or any combination of location and gender, but the oldest) and your days "on top" are numbered ("on top" as opposed to pushing up the daisies or six feet under).
I mean it is great, I think, to have that kind of longevity. It is just that once you reach the "top", the King as it were, you have to know your "reign" will be short lived (probably not a great choice of words there).
There it is, 2009 type wisdom from the Madman, if you make to over 100 years of age (and I do you wish you luck with that) realize that should you make it to "oldest" anything, then YOU ARE NEXT!
Pleasant thoughts to begin the year! Ciao!
Then again, I think that once you wear that crown, you know you are "on deck" to use a baseball term. I think the connection is pretty clear...become the oldest person in the world (or any combination of location and gender, but the oldest) and your days "on top" are numbered ("on top" as opposed to pushing up the daisies or six feet under).
I mean it is great, I think, to have that kind of longevity. It is just that once you reach the "top", the King as it were, you have to know your "reign" will be short lived (probably not a great choice of words there).
There it is, 2009 type wisdom from the Madman, if you make to over 100 years of age (and I do you wish you luck with that) realize that should you make it to "oldest" anything, then YOU ARE NEXT!
Pleasant thoughts to begin the year! Ciao!
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