I Held Off For as Long as I Could

…But, ultimately, we all knew it was inevitable. I am going to write a blog post completely dedicated to poker. I know, roll your eyes at me, but in all actuality, no one is forcing you to read this, so you can stop right now.


For those of you still with me, here is what I’d like to say. Poker is a game of skill, with luck and chance mixed in with the variance of the changing cards. However, the element of luck and chance are so miniscule to the overall big picture that if the best poker player sits down at a table and plays against complete donkeys (a term for a really bad poker player), the best poker player will ultimately get most of the money at the table. Maybe a donkey can beat him on a given night, maybe even have a good week, but let’s say this same group of players played eight hours a day, every day, for an entire year, the “luck” would even out, and we’d see the best player at the table with the most chips. It isn’t hard to understand, I promise, when thinking of poker, not many people think about statistics and probability. A player will be dealt pocket aces 1 in every 220 hands. So, a lucky player will not get those aces any more frequently. Conversely, an unlucky player, will not get those aces any more rarely. It’s all in how the specific player plays those aces. Level with me here, luck is when preparation meets opportunity.
Now, there is one concession I will make, Texas Hold ‘Em, the most popular form of poker played today, is also the one where luck has the biggest factor. However, that is not to say it can greatly affect a career of a good poker professional. Let’s face it, Phil Hellmuth is pretty good when it comes to Texas Hold ‘Em, sure, he’s a jackass, but that doesn’t make him any less good. He has 11 World Series of Poker (WSOP) Championship Bracelets (the most all-time), and trust me, he has no lucky rabbit’s foot, no golden horseshoe, he just knows how to play the game. Having said that, there are plenty of other forms of poker where luck plays a much smaller role. Omaha hi/low split, Razz, Seven Card Stud and Five Card Draw are all examples of these. It’s really just a matter of, and excuse the cliché, how you play the cards you’re dealt. Poker is a game of skill, it’s a game of people, it’s a game of knowing how to get the most money when you have the best of it, and knowing how to lose the least when you don’t.
So please, when golf tournaments are legal in this state, where the variance of the winner changes as much as in poker, shouldn’t poker tournaments be legal as well? I mean sure, you get a long-shot WSOP winner every now and then, but we see the same thing happen in golf. Every so often some guy wins a major tournament that a week ago no one had ever heard of. Sure, eventually Tiger or Phil ultimately earn the most money, but you do get those stories. It’s no more rare in golf than it is in poker. Which is why I’m glad the poker world has strayed from saying “tournament winnings” and started calling them “tournament earnings,” because that’s really what they are. The person who works the hardest will be the best, over the long run.
Now, I’m not saying I’m thinking of going pro at poker, or even that I think I could. Hell, I’m not even saying I think I’m any good at the game at all. All I’m saying is we should give credit where credit is due, and stop pretending this is a game of outlaws, criminals and boozehounds, just trying to get “lucky.”
‘Nuff Said.

My Journey to Becoming a Full-Fledged Degenerate

This blog really needs to come with a disclaimer. Proceed with caution and take my words with a grain of salt. Is it with a grain of salt, or as a grain of salt? I’m not sure. But, recently I’ve been getting asked the same question, over and over. It always puts me in an awkward situation and I never know how to answer it right on the spot, so I figured I’d think about it and get back to the people who ask me this question, in the moment, they’ll have to do with my run-of-the-mill answer. I think I have the answer now, but I don’t think any of them will read this to find out the deep (real) answer. The question is: “why aren’t you active in the (LDS(LDS will refer to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and will from this point in the blog forth be referred to as LDS)) church anymore?” Usually, it’s preceded with some kind of question about the LDS faith, like: “what temple were you married in?” or “Where did you serve a mission?” When they get my inevitable answer, the next question comes out. I’m going to proceed with this blog as humbly, and respectfully as I possibly can, because I know how many strong feelings there are connected to the LDS faith, especially in my own family. So, if you don’t think you want to hear my answer to the question, I would advise that you quit reading after this paragraph. I’m not trying to tear anyone’s faith down, and I’m certainly not trying to spark a debate in anyway. I’m merely relating my experience, and I can’t be anything but honest when it comes to that. I do not want to hurt any feelings, or insult anyone in anyway, and the words swirling in my head are, at least to my tact, not offensive at all. They’re just…sensitive. I think that word is perfect for this scenario. So, if you’d like to continue, proceed with caution. Certain names have been changed to protect the innocent. The reason why I say this is because there are certain people who will read these words and feel as though they did something wrong to formulate my opinion. I know some people who will blame themselves for my choices. This couldn’t be further from the truth. Those people, and you know who you are, did everything they could to present their facts to me, and they showed me by example. This was not a do as I say, not as I do circumstance. They really lived the way they believed was right, and the way they truly felt was best for me to live. There really was nothing more you could do. So, don’t beat yourself up. I know that some things are better left unsaid, and maybe this is one of those things, but I really feel like I need this cathartic moment. Maybe I’m wrong and this will have unforeseen ramifications that could potentially be extremely negative. But, it’s the truth, and if I’m hated for telling the truth, I would rather be that, than loved for telling the untruth, or lying, or something like that.
For as long as I could remember I did not like church. I dreaded Saturday night, and I was excited when church was over because I had almost a full week before I had to be back in church. I was told that this was because I was young and I would grow into it. Honestly, I don’t blame my parents for “dragging” me there, if they had left me at home, they almost certainly would have been arrested for child neglect. Yes, until a child reaches a certain age, they must go to church with their parents, so all you bleeding-hearts screaming foul, in the offense of, “illegal brainwashing” there’s nothing the parent can do short of leaving their child home alone at the age of three. So, quite honestly I have no problem with this practice. As I got older I did begin to look forward to church. However, it wasn’t for the right reasons. I was going there to see my friends. I never really listened to what was being taught, I would socialize, and when asked a question, I came up with a “church appropriate” answer. (i.e. read the scriptures, pray, talk to your bishop) As soon as the attention of the instructor was reverted to another student I would go back to socializing. Then I turned 12.
I became a deacon. I remember the day I graduated into the older boys’ class. There was a certain division in the room. The younger kids were, in a way, psychologically, hazed and separated from the group. I was the oldest, and therefore the first of my friends to enter this class. So, for a while, I had to go it alone. This soured my feelings toward this new class, which was supposed to make me feel close to Jesus Christ. Over the next few months I dreaded attending this class and felt further from Christ than I ever had in my life. I had more responsibilities, but I felt like I got the short end of a shorter deal. Soon, my friends began joining this new class and the older boys moved out and up to the other classes. I enjoyed going to church again, but only to see my friends. This cycle would repeat once I turned 14 with similar results. Only this time I subconsciously had been growing a rift with the youth of my faith. I was stuck in the middle, too young for the older boys, and too far from the boys my age. I found myself gaining friends at school who were not of my faith. Sure, I was cordial with the boys I went to church with, but my best friends were at least inactive, and if not, not members at all. Obviously, we participated in activities, that, while not eternally condemning, they weren’t what the boys of my faith were participating in. (i.e. gambling, sneaking into movies) But, these were my friends. We grew extremely close. We had each others’ backs, and would do anything for each other. Then I turned 16.
At age 16 I gained a driver license. This brought with it new freedom and a liberated mind. Yes, while I could have sluffed church before I turned 16, I hadn’t realized it until I got a driver license. Rather than suffering a new transition into the older age group, I skipped. I had two female friends who were my age that didn’t necessarily want to be at church either. We would leave after the first meeting of the day and go to my house to eat. We had the most amazing conversations and would even discuss principles of the LDS church from time to time. I feel I gained two best friends out of this, as time passed we grew apart, and never talk anymore, but I wouldn’t trade those days for anything. In fact, my summers were spent with these two girls and the friends from school, mentioned in the previous paragraph. We were a tight-knit group, but we wanted it that way, until I ruined it by getting a girlfriend. We were kind of the outcasts, but not like the glue-eaters, just the kids that weren’t bad enough to fit in with the gangstas and the druggies, but not good enough to fit with the church-goers. Where do those kids go? What happens to them? They take one of three paths, they become bad enough, they become good enough, or they stay smack dab in the middle. That’s what happened to me. Then I turned 18.
Above all the friends I had, I considered my best friend to be my brother. We were always together on family vacations and would always play together when he came over. Even though he was a lot older than me, I felt like we were the same age, and I formed a special bond with him. Well, he went on a mission, then he came home and got married. He was not the same person. He was going through that weird, but inevitable transition from being my best friend to being married. We did find common ground. We began to play poker with each other on a regular basis. His wife would even play, as would my girlfriend, who was quickly becoming a long-term thing. My dad would play, so would my niece (though she didn’t play as regularly.) We grew even closer playing for pennies and nickels, sometimes a dime would get thrown in there, then everyone’s eyes would get huge! Man! He must really have something! As far as I know, no fortunes were lost, no addicts were manufactured and no degenerates were made. Well, except for one. Little did I know I would soon lose my best friend again. During the Spring session of the LDS General Conference, there was a talk given at the priesthood session about the dangers of gambling, specifically poker. How could something that brought my family together be evil? There’s certainly no way! I wrote it off as absurd and went about my life. Then I found out that people took it to heart. A lot of my friends who would play poker with me, didn’t want to play poker with me anymore. That’s fine. As long as I have my best friend to play poker with. But I didn’t. He had taken the words to heart too. It was explained to me in a million different ways, but I never saw eye-to-eye with the principle. A poker game is really nothing more than a miniature stock market. There are good investments and bad. It’s not a gamble if you put your money (otherwise known as fake plastic chips) on a good investment. The deception? Okay, you’ve got me there. Until, recently when I began playing a game with my family that has more deception and bluffing in it than any game of cards I have ever sat in. And in reality isn’t that all poker is? A game? It’s supposed to be fun. And it was. And it made me closer with my brother. And it made me closer with my father. And it helped me to get to know my brother’s wife. It took years before we got that close again, and isn’t it funny that it took a game of deception and lying to bring us back together? I’m just saying, maybe it’s the kind of people we are. Let’s get back to my girlfriend.
I started dating my girlfriend, now wife, at the tender age of 16. She was not a member of the LDS faith and every single person in the world was cautioning me against dating a non-member. Well, not really, but that’s how it felt. I had pursued members. Most of the time, I was never given the time of day, maybe it was all the poker I was playing. Regardless, she took me for face value, after some other plans fell through. And after a two long weeks of dating we knew everything there was to know about each other and were madly in love, well almost. We grew closer and closer throughout high school, at the displeasure of most of my church leaders. As high school neared its close, I felt as though I wanted to give church another try. My girlfriend was not on the same page as me. So, I took that leap of faith and broke up with her to pursue my faith. I dated, a variety of girls, but all of them were members. Every time I got the same result, no, no, no, no, no. Maybe it was because I was still playing poker, remember? The eighth deadly sin? I was told that I needn’t worry about dating now, I should go on a mission and then worry about it. So I got my papers, yada yada yada, had a chance meeting with my ex-girlfriend, yada yada yada, gained more degenerate friends, yada yada yada, played more poker, yada yada yada, left for a mission, yada yada yada, returned from my mission 132 hours after leaving, yada yada yada got a stable job and lived in my mom’s basement for a few years. Let’s rewind all that and just hit the highlights.
Why did I go on a mission? Well, there were a few reasons. The number one reason was the pressure. I know many members of the LDS faith are shaking their heads saying there is no pressure, but when you don’t want to go, it feels like your head’s in a vice. For those of you who do want to go, there probably isn’t pressure. Let me clear a few things up, while the least amount of pressure probably came from my mother, she actually did a very good job keeping her fingers crossed in the shadows. It was still there. The most pressure came from my youth leaders and church-going friends. The other reason I went was because there were countless times that I was told I would not be financially successful unless I went on a mission. I’m not kidding. I was told there was a direct correlation. I truly believed this. So, when I returned home I was scared out of my mind. I thought I would never be able to provide for a family. Poker took center stage. I know many of you hate it when I talk about poker, and would just as soon stick your hand in a blender and turn it on, so you have to go to the emergency room, rather than sit through me even remotely talking about the game. But, it is a big part of my life and you can stop reading or skip a few lines if you’d like. In my fear of never being able to be financially stable I began pursuing alternative ways of earning an honest living. Yes, I do consider poker as an honest living, and until the government outlaws stocks, bonds, lobbyists, insurance companies and a myriad of other less noble careers, I will continue to view it as an outlet to earn an honest income. So, I started to play, more seriously. I read every book I could get my hands on. I was a member of the Chris Moneymaker poker boom of 2003, that was before the LDS took a hard stand against the game. I was rediscovering the game, and I was getting pretty good. I had pipe dreams of going pro, yes pipe dreams. I gained some degenerate friends and roughly 80 lbs. I took a few trips to Wendover to play and I began to notice something. Hey, these overweight degenerates aren’t so bad. They’re just a group of guys and a few girls who want to have fun. Since their home games all collapsed after the LDS church released their comments on poker, they have to play here. Many of them were commuters from Salt Lake, and many of them said that was the reason they were there. Some would even tell me the stakes there were too high. So, we had a bright idea, “hey, let’s move this game 90 minutes east and play there.” So, we did. I met some nice people. Got close to my sister, she left on a mission, and went through the same things that my brother did. We used to play all the time. We had a lot of fun. She was pretty good. When she came back, she had no interest in the game. We haven’t played a single hand of poker for years. When you flush the good people out of something that isn’t evil at its core, by instituting a silly policy, you drive the degenerates toward it. Yes, it is a silly policy. Then, the middle kids, the ones that I mentioned earlier, still participate in the, now forbidden practice, out of rebellion, associate with these degenerates and GASP! Realize they’re not degenerates at all, they’re people, people who most of the time try to do the right thing. Just like members of the LDS faith. Until the LDS faith forbids; Magic, Dungeons and Dragons, Pokemon, Baseball Card Collecting, The Werewolves of Miller’s Hollow, Monopoly, Golf, and again a myriad of other games and hobbies as “damaging” to the soul as poker, I will continue to play poker. You’re telling me the overweight, every Sunday Mormon who spends his Saturdays golfing, wasting, who knows how much money on clubs and course fees? spending, who knows how much time away from his family? chasing his pipe dream is more worthy than a man who takes an occasional trip to Wendover, or drops $5 here or there on a home game of poker? That my friend is an absurd claim!
So, my girlfriend, remember, the heathen who would certainly drag me down to the bowels of the seventh circle of Hell? I married her. She truly is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And she deals with my degenerate gambling habits. And she participates in these same habits. And she takes an added interest in my interests. And she loves me. And I love her.
I forgot where I was going with this. In all actuality this probably should have been like three blogs. I apologize for the length. If you’re still reading, I would like to say, I totally agree with 95% of the teachings of the LDS church. It’s never been about the teachings or the doctrine, it’s always been the people. They make the 5% seem like Mt. Everest to get over, so it’s easier to not try. It’s the people who take a beautiful religion and run it into the ground. It’s the people who drive the fence sitters to the other side, or worse, to stay in the middle. While yes, I made my own bed in a lot of aspects. There were times I could have been the bigger man and turned the other cheek, so to speak. I could have taken more things with a grain of salt, it is with isn’t it? But, every time I’ve tried recently, some Deutsche Bank has done something that just makes me say, no! I can’t be that. I can’t even be remotely close to that. You may not have agreed with everything I’ve said in this blog, but it’s my words, and they’re honest and from the heart. And isn’t that the point? That we don’t agree on everything? I’m a poker playing, swear word saying, homosexual tolerating, democratic voting, irreverent joke telling, irreverent joke laugher-atting, degenerate, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
‘Nuff said.

Eighteen years ago, my flight instructor reported for duty...

If my dad could see me now, I know he would be proud of me. It seems like there’s something deep down inside of me that isn’t me at all. It’s him. It’s the personification of him. It makes me believe in myself, but it’s more like it’s him believing in me. This is very refreshing for me, because until now, I had such low self-esteem that it didn’t seem like I could accomplish anything worth-while. Now, I feel like I could take on anything and be successful. It feels like nothing can throw me now. It feels like I’m top of the world. I know I can do things that will leave jaws on the floor, and I will, I will for sure. At first it seemed like I was travelling this lonely road alone. That isn’t the case, the piece deep inside me that is a part of him, is him. He’s walking with me, and that’s all I’ll ever need. It’s strange but it feels like no one will ever know me the way he does, and I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand what he meant to me.
I want to do incredible things for my dad. I want to live up to my full potential for him. The best thing I could do right now for my dad is to be the best I can be in everything I do. He’s going to help me take it to a new height, together we’re going to put the pedal to the medal. The way I feel tonight is a good feeling, like I can’t do anything wrong. I feel better physically and mentally than I ever have before. This mental and physical strength is a new world for me, but it’s a good world. One that will never slip through my grasp. For a while I felt like I had been left behind. Now, not only have I caught up, I’ve passed everyone up, and they’re never going to catch me. This new energy is awesome and as far as I can tell, cannot be answered.
I’m not sure if I ever grieved properly for the death of my father, but I think I’m experiencing that now. So God, please help me through this fight. The process of this grief has been exhausting, but in a strange way refreshing. The dark feelings and depression of my past life are no longer going to keep me down, I’ve broken through those binds. My dad never lost faith in me, he knew I would rise from those ashes and set the new pace. He knew I was in a slump, but most importantly he knew I would come out of it.
I know I’ll never be the same person I would have been had my life been the picture perfect life that everyone longs for. But if it wasn’t for my dad, I would have never had the opportunity to have an imperfect life. I’ll never be as sane as I could be if I had a father, but if it wasn’t for him, it wouldn’t be a question of sanity but mere existence. There was a time when I thought I would do anything to be able to see him again. Recently he reminded me that I will see him in due time. In fact, I had a dream about him the other night. He took me by the hand and he taught me how to fly. It’s just a matter of patience. If there’s one thing I’ve learned through all of this, it’s how to bide time. After that dream I knew I was going to make it, I was going to be okay. But, not only just okay, I’m going to soar. The lessons have begun.
I just want to say how grateful I am to have my dad as my guardian angel. So Lord, please don’t think I’m not grateful, I truly am. Just give me the strength I need to fly. And dad, it’s long overdue, but here is the blog dedicated to everything you did and everything you do.
I love you dad.

The Day I Learn to Fly...

…I’m Never Coming Down
That day is coming soon, I can feel it. It’s not like one of those things that you think is going to happen, or that you hope will. This is different. I know it’s going to happen. I look around at most everyone I know, especially people I work with, and I see the same kinds of things, the same stories, the same results. The day lates. The dollar shorts. The also rans. They’re all telling themselves they’re happy. Well, I’ll be the first to say, I’m not. Not yet. But, I’m not just going to keep telling myself I am, longingly hoping that one day it will happen. Hoping that if I tell myself I am happy enough times, I’ll convince myself that it’s true. I’ve never been that kind of person. There’s something out there, I know there is. It’s said that as a man thinketh, so is he. I never understood this statement, never bought it. Dreamers get nothing, but more sleep than the rest of us. So, let me change that statement, as a man doeth, so is he. There. Fixed it. No, it still isn’t right. How about this, what a man worketh for, so gets he. Better? Yes. But still not complete. How about this? As a man toileth over, cryeth for, sweateth about, bleedeth due to, obsesseth over, exhausteth means in order to achieve, giveth up his life, limb and liberty for, and devoteth every ounce of energy to, so he will not be denied. Still dreaming? Well, wake up and smell the roses, cause that’s the second place bouquet. Now look up. That’s me on the first place platform, get it?
‘Nuff Said.

Is it so Wrong?

I’m taking 13 credit hours this semester, I’m trying to stay in shape by doing P90X every morning, I have countless hours of homework, that there is no way I will ever get caught up on, (or so it seems) on top of all that I work 35 hours a week, and we BARELY scrape by. Is it so wrong of me to want something better? Honestly, is it totally immoral to wish for a more comfortable, worry-free life? Truth be told I’d settle for a life that’s not as terrifying, filled with, “are we going to be able to pay all the bills this month?” It’s true, I know, money can’t buy happiness, but it sure can pay the rent. I make $9.00 an hour and my place of employment, which I have been currently working extremely hard at, is not giving raises. I’ve been there a year and a half, and there is no raise in sight. I’m exhausted at night, and have even resorted to taking one day off a week so that I can be at 4:30 am, only to get some exercise, do eight hours of homework and then rush out the door to be in class for several hours.
I have friends getting grants left and right, scholarships, inheritances, and the kicker is, they don’t need the money. I do. When I go for a grant or a scholarship, it’s, “oh, I’m sorry, you make too much.” Yeah, I have to make this much, my wife and I don’t live an extravagant lifestyle, but we also don’t want to be homeless. We barely fit in this tiny one-bedroom apartment. This can really put a strain on people we love with all the help they give us, and that eats away at me every day.
With all this in mind, I was at the book store a few weeks ago, when I came across a book called, “Hold ‘Em Wisdom For All Players,” by Daniel Negreanu, and I rediscovered poker. I read his book and have currently read another book on poker and started a third. I’ve so far played eight hours and made more than what I would normally make at my job in the same span of time. So, is this wrong? It was fun, and it was easy. The money helped out a lot! We NEED that. I’m not looking to make so much money that I can buy a mansion, or some kind of expensive car. Truthfully, I just want to have some kind of income that doesn’t make me physically exhausted, leaves me energy to do some homework every night, gives me TIME to actually do that homework, and doesn’t have me living on pins and needles about bills. So, far only one pathway has presented itself. Is there another? There isn’t that I have seen. I don’t want to hear the old clichés about rolling the sleeves up and putting in an honest hard day’s work, being frugal, and all that bull s@#%, ‘cause I’ve tried it. It doesn’t work, it leaves me mentally and physically spent. Is it that something has to give? Do I need to sacrifice my health to get an education? Sacrifice my education to stay healthy? Or sacrifice my wife and my financial stability for the two? This isn’t how it should be. Is it possible for me to make this new hope work? I’m not looking for fame or fortune, just something to put me through school and put less strain on my wife, who is currently working over 40 hours every week, and put a lot less strain and worry on my loved one, especially my poor mother. Is it wrong for me to try? Is it wrong for me to want this? Until I see a better way, this is the best I have come up with. I guess I’m looking for some support here. So, with all this in mind I’m asking, is it wrong?
I can’t think of why it would be.
‘Nuff Said.

Flogging a Dead Horse

So far, in the past two months baseball has out-sportmanshipped the NBA on two HUGE occasions. The LeBron James "Decision" was classless, and the fact that he didn't tell the franchise that brought him up, made him who he was today, and paid him millions upon millions of dollars, of his intentions was just a big middle finger to the fans, players and front office of that organization. Let’s stop saying he didn’t go to Miami for the money, he went there to win. He only took $15M less there, than he would have got had he stayed in Cleveland, and with no state income tax in Florida, that more than makes up for the lost money. So it wasn’t a sacrifice, what money he left on the table is made up for lack of income tax. Also, can we please stop portraying someone who just signed a six year $110M contract as someone who made a “sacrifice?” Maybe he could play for how much I make a year and then talk to me about sacrifice. So, how did baseball out-sportsmanship the NBA? Let’s take a look at the Galarraga perfect game. One out left to go in the bottom of the ninth inning and Galarraga beats the base-runner to first base, he’s out, perfect game, right? Wrong. Jim Joyce, the first base umpire called the runner safe, it was counted as an infield hit, and this kid loses probably his only chance at getting a perfect game. Showing an incalculable amount of class, Jim Joyce watches the replay after the game, admits he was at fault, apologizes publicly, and even goes as far as to petition MLB to change the call. Instead of being a prima-donna, Galarraga accepts Joyce’s apology and the next night delivers the line-up card to him, shakes his hand and the two share a moment. That’s something that never happens in the NBA. Example two, speaking as a Red Sox fan, let me just say, the passing of George Steinbrenner, is not a glorious moment for anyone, sure, the devil might now have company in Hell, but that’s beside the point. I’m kidding. Honestly kidding when I say that. He was a great philanthropist, wonderful leader, an all-around good human being, quite possibly the best owner in sports history, and the world is a little bit emptier with his passing. How did baseball out-class the NBA with his passing? The Boston Red Sox held a moment of silence in his honor. In the honor of a Yankee great! That shows true sportsmanship and class. They put the game above themselves and honored someone who truly did more than he had to do to help the game. I don’t even know if NBA players know how to put the game above themselves, they somehow lose that knowledge in the transition from the college to the professional levels. Could you imagine the Boston Celtics holding a moment of silence for Jerry Buss when he passes? It would never happen.
I know I’ve beaten this subject to death, my specialty is flogging dead horses, but it pains me that the NBA is so much more popular than the MLB. The class and sportsmanship I see in baseball are unrivaled, okay, maybe Golf has a leg up on us. However, I think this speaks volumes about our society. We’re turning in to a bunch of impatient, classless, blood-thirsty cretins, who can’t stand to sit and watch a great chess-match between a hall-of-fame pitcher and a hall-of-fame batter, because it takes too long. Give us no rules, cage match fighting and 400 pound men in pants that are too tight playing a game for eight seconds at a time, cause that’s all the attention span we can muster, it makes me sick.
‘Nuff Said.

My Daily (Whatever the Antonymn of Affirmation is)

I recently watched a video on Youtube called “Jessica’s Daily Affirmation”. The positiveness of it made me want to vomit. So, I decided to do something similar, just with my own spin on it. I’m going to be honest, I got this idea from comedian Daniel Tosh on his show Tosh.0. So, without further adieu, here is my first ever “I Hate” blog.
• I hate the Yankees
• I hate my job
• I hate the tea party
• I hate Verizon
• I hate when someone does bunny ears in a picture
• I hate when someone takes a surprise photograph of you
• I hate when people take too many pictures
• I hate it when I’m driving on the freeway and someone starts drifting in my lane
• I hate it when you’re driving in the fast lane going 75 on a two-lane highway and the diesel in the right lane decides he’s going to pass the diesel in front of him because the guy in front of him can only go 43 miles per hour, while he is cruising at 47, so he gets over right in front of me to pass the other guy. (This is particularly annoying when there isn’t anyone behind me for miles.)
• I hate waiting for people to get ready
• I hate Geico and Progressive commercials, the googly eye stack of money isn’t funny, it never was
• I hate that freecreditreport.com decided they needed to change their band, they were fine the way they were, don’t fix what isn’t broken
• I hate soccer
• I hate that I need a degree to achieve my career goals and it keeps getting harder to become a teacher in the state of Utah, meanwhile every pedophile and creep can somehow get jobs as teachers and then everyone is surprised when they get busted having an inappropriate relationship with one of their students or child pornography on their computer
• I hate Mad TV
• I hate Scrubs
• I hate Larry the Cable Guy
• I hate Jeff Dunham
• I hate Jeff Foxworthy
• I hate Bill Engvall
• I hate people who love these comedians, yet they haven’t ever heard of comedians like Mike Birbiglia or Demetri Martin, the Blue Collar Comedy Tour isn’t funny, neither is Akhmed, “I keel you,” isn’t funny, if you haven’t heard anything by Mike Birbiglia, I don’t respect your comedic opinion, if you think any of the afore mentioned “comedians” are funny, I don’t respect your opinion period
• I hate Creed
• I hate Christian rock
• I hate Daughtery
• I hate American Idol
• I hate Dave Matthews Band
• I hate that stupid Owl City song about fireflies that plays on the radio every 17 seconds
• I hate country music
• I hate Toby Keith
• I hate Edward
• I hate Jacob
• I hate Twilight, let’s face it, this is just the new dime novel, wish Van Hellsing would do us all a favor and put an arrow from his cross bow through that fagot vampire's heart
• I hate touching moments interfering with my sporting events
• I hate the UFC
• I hate MMA
• I hate the WNBA, if I want to see a group of basketball players missing shots at point blank range, I’ll go to my local Gold’s Gym, it’s free-er
• I hate Gold’s Gym
• I hate the World Cup, I’m glad it’s over, finally ESPN can start reporting on real sports
• I hate NASCAR
• I hate Lady Gaga
• I hate fat chicks that dress skanky and then say things like, “I’m just proud of what God gave me.” Pretty sure it wasn’t God, think Dave Thomas had more to do with it, God rest his soul
• I hate parents that have kids, that they have no intention of ever being responsible for. We go through boot camp to get a driver license, yet the opportunity to destroy a human being from birth is completely free, sounds like it’s time for the government to step in
• I hate blogs
• I hate bloggers
• I hate blogging
Okay, I’m pretty sure I’ve offended everyone, if you feel left out, take solace in this, there’s a pretty good chance that deep down, I hate something about you. If you’re still reading, it’s your turn, tell me what you hate. I look forward to hearing from you, even those cyber stalkers that I know read my blog because I see the stats piling up, yet none of you are leaving comments. I hate that the most.
‘Nuff Said.

R.I.P. 1891-2010

I was watching the Miami celebration last night for the acquisition of LeBron James, Chris Bosh and the re-signing of Dwayne Wade. They haven’t even won a game together and they are acting like they broke the record for most consecutive NBA championships. I’m speaking as a fan of the game, not a fan of that league. I do have my favorite NBA team, the Boston Celtics, but I rarely sit down to watch, and I’m not a fan to the point of using terms like us, we or them. So, I think I’m writing this from a pretty level-headed perspective. I’m trying to be as objective as I can and as unbiased as possible. What I saw last night was really more of a sound that I heard. It was the last strand of credibility the NBA has breaking. For those of you that read my last blog about the NBA you know the set-up which has led to this fall. Sure, the NBA will still be popular, but after last night, it really shouldn’t be. It’s turned into a reality T.V. show, professional wrestling. Come autumn, they may as well just give the players foldable chairs to beat each other up with during games. I don’t want to go into any detail about the celebration, but go look it up, you will be appalled, if you have any sense in you at all. The NBA lost all credibility it had left with the shenanigans of the LeBron James signing. It has proven this is not a team sport at the NBA level, and is becoming more reminiscent of professional wrestling than it is of Michael Jordan’s NBA.
Kobe Bryant. There’s a man who can now sleep a little better at night. The debate has been settled. Who’s the best player in the NBA? Kobe Bryant. There’s not a debate anymore. He stuck it out when times got tough, he didn’t have the best front office either. He demanded a trade, but come on people, Los Angeles is a destination, like New York in baseball, or New England in Football. You don’t demand to be traded if you’re the best player in the league playing for the best team in the league. This demand was really just to get his front office people moving on getting some players around him. In other words, he worked with what he had. He loves Los Angeles, you can tell. When all is said and done he did not, nor did he ever want to, leave Los Angeles. The true ‘King’ builds his kingdom. He does not move in with another ‘King’ and hope that things will work out. King Bryant, to me, sounds much better than King James, cause after all, what did he give us, historically? A version of the bible written by Shakespeare. Yeah, a Hollywood adaptation, (I realize Hollywood was not around at the time, but if it were that’s where Shakespeare would have been) of the bible. Literally, taking it from its purest form and destroying it, corrupting it. King James wanted it to be more poetic, that’s why he commissioned Shakespeare. You have to take the good with the bad. The bible was written rough, because it was supposed to be. It takes a bit of piss to make victory taste as sweet as it does. The 2007 Boston Celtics and the current Miami Heat are the culmination of what our society has become. They don’t want to build for anything. They don’t think patience is important, they want it all, and they want it now.
This was the first time in the history of sports that a player has held, not only his league, but the entire sports world hostage. Sure, there was Brett Favre, but that wasn’t nearly as bad. There was Tiger Woods, but he really just held golf hostage. Golf isn’t a team sport anyway, it is all about one man (or woman, cool it bleeding hearts). So, it’s okay for one person to hold golf hostage. Has this ever happened in the NHL? Gretzky? I don’t think so, he traded teams, but no one really cared. Hockey is a team sport, it isn’t about one man. In the MLB you had Reggie Jackson moving from Oakland to New York, that was a big deal, but not nearly this big. Because these are team sports. These last few weeks have shown us that the NBA cares more about individuals rather than teams, making this not a team sport. So let’s all stop being hypocrites, shall we? My favorite team is the Boston Paul Pierces. Who’s your favorite team? Do you like the Los Angeles Kobe Bryants? Or how about the Oklahoma City Kevin Durants? Perhaps you’re a fan of the Orlando Dwight Howards? Or maybe even the Miami LeBron Jamesesesssss? Can’t do that in any other sport can you? The New York Derek Jeters? No, that’s a team, they’re the Yankees. The Pittsburgh Sidney Crosbys? No, they’re the Penguins. Okay, here’s one, the Indianapolis Peyton Mannings? NO! You see, even the most obvious one in the NFL, the one who has the biggest impact on his franchise is not above the game. They are the Colts. No one in any other sport is above the game, it happens all the time in the NBA. Basketball, your credibility is dwindling.
I don’t think I could have made a blog entry about the NBA without mentioning Michael Jordan. Fans of the game say his name with reverence. He is quite possibly the most famous athlete that has ever lived. Sure, he left Chicago, twice. I don’t feel this damages his legacy. Once was because his father died, and he wanted to honor him by trying his hand at his father’s favorite sport. When that didn’t work out he went right back to Chicago. He left again, and he came back again. This time for the Wizards. He didn’t go to a powerhouse, he came back because he loved the game of basketball. He wanted to play. In Chicago, he didn’t jump ship when things looked rough. They added small pieces every year. He got beat up by Detroit three years in a row. He wanted to be the guy everyone looked to. Everyone knew he was getting the last shot, and he still made it. He put a mediocre franchise on his back and carried it to six NBA championships. James couldn’t do that. Wade? Nope. Jordan was a winner, but he didn’t forsake teamwork to become it.
Sleep tight Mike. Rest easy Kobe. Though the league you both have in common is turning into a freak show, a 30 ring circus, you truly are kings of the court. Your legacies, for now, are intact and safe. Russell’s 11 will not be matched for some time. I’m calling for a boycott of the NBA. Please join me. I’m going to bridge the gap between the football and baseball seasons with hockey. It really is only the fans who can let the league know how we feel. Stop watching the games, stop attending them, don’t visit the websites. We need to let them know how we feel, cheated and treated like children. The only sad thing about this is the death in the family. He was young and so full of life, hope and optimism. He grew into a strong young adult and had his hay day in the 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s and most of the 90s. In the late 90s he began to slip, toward the end it was looking pretty bleak. We’ll always have the memories of him to keep us going. Let’s try to look back on the better days, and not remember these last few years where he was a bitter, forgetful old man. Do us a favor now, and rest in peace. Here lies the integrity of the game of basketball; 1891-2010.

It's Precisely My Sense of Humor That Keeps Me From Laughing at That, When Someone Provides Humor, I Will Sense It

I noticed that my sense of humor is not an easy one to grasp. It can be dry, satirical, sarcastic, crass, rude, crude, vulgar, offensive, racist, sacrilegious, irreverent, goofy, dumb, obvious, haughty, immature, facetious, deceitful, nerdy, geeky, sexist, honest, blasphemous, heretical, mean, hurtful and a variety of other things. However, I never do or say anything, with humor in mind, with any amount of malice in my heart, or the intention to hurt anyone on my mind. Now, having said that, I can’t stand spending time with people who don’t get my sense of humor. Maybe the problem is me, maybe I don’t have anything funny to say. Everyone thinks they’re funny, most of them are not. However, I have found people that have senses of humor that mesh well with my own, this is something special that only we can share. We work well off of each other and the chaos that ensues is glorious and beautiful. There are four people in this world who have senses of humor that I feel mix with mine the best, I call them the four horsemen, okay I don’t, but I do now. They know who they are, so I don’t have to go into any detail, but when I’m with one of these people, I cherish every moment of it. I have never been with all four of them at the same time. If that were to happen, I’m pretty sure the world would stop spinning on its axis and go into a coma due to comedic delirium. Now that I think about it, their senses of humor wouldn’t mesh well together, maybe it would just be me going into the coma.
No matter who you are, you have a sense of humor. Some people have dull or bland senses of humor. These people are often accused of having no sense of humor. They still do, it just isn’t a very good sense of humor. I was recently in a situation where I was with said people, or perhaps just a group of people who didn’t get my sense of humor. I’m going to go over two situations with this group and I will let you be the judge. The first situation is a two part situation; in the first part, I was at a gathering and decided to use a line that, one of the four horsemen mentioned earlier uses on a frequent basis. We’ve all seen “The Princess Bride,” you know that famous line where Wallace Shawn proclaims, “stop rhyming I mean it!” And Andre the Giant famously retorts, “anybody want a peanut?” Well, this particular horseman changes the wording to say, “stop rhyming I mean this.” Where automatically the person retorting begins with, anybody want a, but stops dead in mid-sentence, because what naturally comes next is the word penis. I don’t know if this is funny, but I think it is. I delivered the line and was greeted with a roomful of crickets. Nothing. The next day, around similar but somewhat different company, I thought I would give the line one last try. This time it was greeted with silence for about three seconds that seemed like minutes until someone finally says, “don’t you mean, stop rhyming I mean it?” I found humor in their lack of grasping this humor. So, am I right in this situation? You be the judge. The next situation is with the same gathering of people, as the night was spiraling into a hopeless chasm of humorless despair, I dug deep and pulled out a line that I feel is comedic gold, another line from one of my four horsemen. If quizzes are quizzical, what are tests? I got courtesy laughs. It was at this point that I decided to stop trying my sense of humor on this particular group of individuals. I’m not blaming them for not understanding my sense of humor, different people laugh at different things. Two of my four horsemen like Napoleon Dynamite for crying out loud, NAPOLEON DYNAMITE!!! Yes, one of, if not, the worst movie of all time.
So, maybe I’m not very funny, but laughter and humor is one of the most important things in my life. I’m not saying people are awful for not getting my sense of humor, I’m not even saying I don’t like being around these people. I’m just saying when I am, I’m a duck out of water. I would rather surround myself with people who have senses of humor that mesh well with mine. When I’m there, I’m a circular peg going into an oblong hole (that’s what she said). I’m more comfortable when I’m fitting in seamlessly, I fit in seamlessly with the misfits. You know? The people who haven’t been able to fit in seamlessly anywhere else. That’s home, and where my home is, we’re currently not accepting applications, there aren’t any openings, and when we do bring on a new person, it never works out. I’m not saying I won’t be able to someday give someone a chance, but I’m good for right now. I’m happy where I fit in, and with the people I fit in with. Is that so wrong of me? In the end, isn’t that what everyone wants? A place to feel at home? I’m going to end this entry with quite possibly the funniest knock-knock joke you’ve ever heard in your entire life.
Are you ready for it?
Okay.
You Start. (Thanks for that Cody, you see my humor comes from a vast variety of senses of humor, so though I’ll always miss more than I hit, I know of a few people that think I’m pretty funny.)
Until next time, ‘Nuff Said.

Screw The Perfect People

All the perfect people, shallow and deceitful,
Staring back at me on T.V. in magazines.
Look so good like a box of fresh wrapped Twinkies,
What the hell happened to me?
So, I took a drive to a rich and wealthy country,
Saw everything I wanted and everything I need.
Went right up and I tried to join their party
You oughta seen the look when they saw me.

!@#$%& up eyes, stupid grin.
Perfect people won’t let me in.
Who’s who list, where’s my name?
They won’t let me join their game.
I bet they think that I’m insane.
There’s no one left for me to blame.
Screw the perfect people,
@#$%, they all look the same.

We ain’t much to look at, too short, dumb and so fat.
Never gonna win a beauty pageant, it’s a curse.
Always gonna be a better doorman at the best clubs.
How could things be any worse?

!@#$%& up eyes, stupid grin.
Perfect people won’t let me in.
Who’s who list, where’s my name?
They won’t let me join their game.
I bet they think that I’m insane.
There’s no one left for me to blame.
Screw the perfect people,
@#$%, they all look the same.

Don’t have much to go on, don’t want your opinion.
Don’t have much to gain and I ain’t got much to lose.
It looks like you’ve got it all and I’d really like to get some.
You’ve got something I could use.

!@#$%& up eyes, stupid grin.
Perfect people won’t let me in.
Who’s who list, where’s my name?
They won’t let me join their game.
I bet they think that I’m insane.
There’s no one left for me to blame.
Screw the perfect people,
@#$%, they all look the same.

This is a perfect song for how I am feeling right now. It’s by a punk rock band named Pennywise. I am off on a family vacation with these “perfect people.” It’s going to be interesting to say the least. Two of them are goddesses, two Adonises, one shedding pounds by using HCG and the other lost a lot of weight using illegal drugs. Now, the last one is just circumstantial evidence, she’d never be convicted in a court of law, but it’s still pretty damning. This is also a perfect song for my family whom I love dearly. We are, most of us, too short, dumb and so fat. But, that’s okay over on that side of the fence. My wife and I are by no means perfect, but we are working on it. She’s having some set-backs due to hypo-thyroid, so she isn’t dropping weight by the pounds, but she’s making modest losses, and working her ass off. It gets frustrating and aggravating, but there’s nothing we can do about it other than keep eating right and exercising, thank Tony Horton for P90X, that really is helping a lot. Having said that, we don’t need to hear about our extra weight every five minutes. We’re not completely obese, but yes, we do have some extra baggage. My wife’s mom has to make sure we know that by asking my wife if she’s pregnant every 15 minutes. That shit would never happen with my mom. There’s something called tact, use it. Especially when someone is working that hard to try to lose the weight. So, we’re trying to make it fun. We have a bet going. It sits at 25. Twenty-five times someone will make reference to my wife’s stomach while we’re on the trip. She has the under, I have the over. Easiest bet I’ll ever win. Screw the perfect people, @#$% they all look the same.
‘Nuff Said.

I Do My Own Stunts

Let's be honest. These t-shirts are not funny. You know the ones. They have those clever little sayings on them, like, for example; "I do my own stunts," or "Here I am, now what are your other two wishes?" These sayings would be funny, if you heard them ONCE in a setting where you're just talking with some friends. Why would anyone want to read this every single day. You see, there's a deeper humor here, these shirts say something about the individual wearing them. Basically it's; "I'm not a very funny individual, but the guy who thought up this saying on my shirt is pretty funny. See what he said there; "I can only please one person a day, today isn't your day, tomorrow isn't looking good either." Hilarious, right? That means if he's funny, and I'm wearing the shirt he made, I'm funny by association. Maybe girls will like me now." I've only seen one shirt like this that made me laugh out loud, it said; "Rehab's for quitters." That's pretty funny, but I still wouldn't want to wear it everyday.
'Nuff Said

Even Though I Don't Agree With His Parenting Skills

I am grateful for the person my step-dad is and how he raised me. I’m sure when Craig was growing up he didn’t have dreams of raising eight children, he probably didn’t have dreams of raising any. He was a die-hard Green Bay Packers fan and most likely thought about playing in big games as their starting quarterback; gaining thousands of fans, having pretty girls with the Farah Fawcett swoop following him around, and even gaining countless “people he knows”. Cause you see, Craig doesn’t have friends, he has; neighbors, co-workers, family members and people he knows. But, it is this kind of mentality that makes us love Craig. His goofy antics make him the kind of person that’s fun to be around and would make anyone proud to be a person he knows.
I had a wonderful opportunity in this life. I’ve had the two most amazing dads anyone could ask for. When it was time for one to step aside, he did. My biological father left this world when I was just six years old. It was like he was waiting to make sure we were in good hands before he could leave. I know he’s still there, still making sure we have what we need. However, his work is cut in half because of everything Craig does for us. So, Happy Fathers Day Dad! Even though I don’t agree with you leaving this world when I just six, I still love you.
My fondest memories with my step-dad are riddled with watching sports games and playing sports with him. He would always come to every football, basketball and baseball game of mine, that didn’t interfere with his work schedule, and I know he felt bad when he couldn’t make it. He’s the most supportive person I know. My favorite sports teams are his, and even when my favorite teams play his, I can’t help but smile when he cheers the BoSox on over his Angels. However, it’s the one-on-one moments we shared that were so precious to me, and I’m not even sure he realizes how much of an impact they had on me. Probably the memory I look back on the most was arriving home from school and sitting down with some Hot Pockets to watch Jeopardy! with him. We would clap along with the audience whenever a player would choose a Daily Double clue, even if the contestant was the person we were rooting for to lose. I clap to this day when the Daily Doubles are chosen.
He would give the shirt off his back to anyone in his family. He goes to every soccer game he can, sometimes several a day, no matter how sick he is of seeing little kids attempt to kick a ball. He’s always willing to drop everything to help a member of his family. His cynicism is unrivaled. He has opened his arms to Kai, and treats him as though he is his grandson, though they share no relation at all. He is my step-dad.
So once again, even though I don’t agree with many of your life choices, I love you and want to wish you a Happy Fathers Day. That’s right, nothing’s sacred in this family. That’s what we call tongue-in-cheek. But seriously, Happy Fathers Day!

It's Official...

My brother, while totally insane, has hit the nail right on the head. The NBA is fixed. Not to the extent that he says it is, but to a certain degree it is. This is seen in the very recent history of the league. Now, being that this is my first sports entry, please do not stop reading. I know that most of my readers are not people who are into sports, but this will hopefully be interesting and enjoyable for all to read. Let’s rewind to the offseason just before the 2007-2008 NBA season. The Boston Celtics were coming off their worst season in franchise history, winning something like 16 games or some dismal number like that. Kevin Garnett of the Minnesota Timberwolves is on the market, he’s not a free agent, but the T-Wolves are interested in shopping him around, Boston is first in line. Kevin McHale, a long-time Boston Celtic great has been conveniently put in as Minnesota’s general manager. Garnett makes it very publicly known that he does not want to go to Boston, why would he play for such a terrible team? If he wanted to do that, he could just stay with Minnesota. Miraculously, just a few days later, the Boston Celtics secure perennial all-star Ray Allen, suddenly Boston doesn’t look too bad. Not only have they secured two super-stars for several years, they have young players they are willing to deal. They are ready to make a move for Garnett, a big three is more enticing than just little old Paul Pierce. They make Garnett an offer, Minnesota accepts. Normally, this deal would surely have gotten rejected. Not only did the Timberwolves get completely ripped off, the NBA, under normal circumstances, would have watched this deal like a hawk. With Kevin McHale over in Minnesota, making no bones about saying he still has loyalties to the Celtics, this deal would not have been brokered, it would have been stopped dead as a conflict of interest. The Celtics secure Garnett for almost nothing. Okay, so that’s only three players, you can’t win a championship on that. Not long after this deal, the Celtics are able to sign two lock-down defenders; point guard Eddie House, and Forward James Posey. Suddenly the Celtics are looking like a championship contender. You see, the NBA needs a good basketball team is Boston, it’s too big of a market to have them as a financial liability. Not to mention the history surrounding this franchise.
So, you’ve got your powerhouse in the Eastern Conference, a rejuvenated Boston team ready to hit the ground running. Now all the NBA needed was Kobe to stay in Los Angeles. At around this same time, the Lakers had been struggling through their own seasons. With the departure of Shaq and most of the city wanting Kobe’s head on a platter, the basketball culture in Los Angeles was ready to collapse. Enter Pao Gasol. A guy the Lakers were able to get from Memphis for less than Boston had to give up for Garnett. With the return of Derek Fisher and the acquisition of Lamar Odom, the Lakers were ready to roll. The rivalry the NBA so desperately wanted to see rekindled was a lock. They could not let one of the best Celtics of all time (Paul Pierce) and one of the best Lakers of all time (Kobe Bryant) never square off for a championship. It had to happen. These teams inevitably met in the finals in June of 2008 and the Celtics got the better of the Lakers. Here’s the kicker, it didn’t matter who won that one, the other was going to win the next time these teams met up. They couldn’t let one Laker great get the better of the other Celtic great and vice versa. It just wasn’t right. Had Los Angeles won that series in 2008, this year’s NBA Finals would have had a very different outcome.
What about Orlando, you say? Yeah, what about Orlando? After all, if the NBA was fixed wouldn’t it have been Lebron vs. Kobe last year, or even a Boston vs. Los Angeles rematch? This is where the script writers for the NBA gain their genius status. That series was a perfect distraction to keep the fans from seeing the ultimate picture. They needed to toss in a throw-away series. One that Los Angeles could cake-walk through, pulling them just two titles away from tying Boston for the all-time lead. With them a lock to win the title over Boston this year, they are now just within one. You see, the NFL has a near monopoly when it comes to ratings. When the seasons overlap, football games are always taking precedent over basketball games. The viewers make the choice, and these companies have to adapt. Yes, these are companies, business and money are their bottom line. Do you think the NBA would draw as much money if this finals had been Cleveland vs. Utah? Or Orlando vs. Phoenix? Absolutely not. They need the money and the ratings to be able to compete with the NFL. Now, I’m not saying the NBA is entirely fixed. I think it would be impossible to choreograph it so that Kobe can miss and make a basket on cue. But, is it so hard to believe that perhaps the big-wigs of the NBA hold closed doors meeting with important team officials and the heads of the referee union? Perhaps it is scripted a little bit. Big games always garner blown calls, bad calls and often times silenced whistles. The star power speaks for itself. The NBA consistently uses the referees as their crutch, throwing them under the bus and giving out bogus penalties when they really screw the pooch. However, their ultimate enemy is the NFL. This is their ultimate competition, it’s a fight for ratings and for revenue. What better way to combat this than with a titles race between Los Angeles and Boston? Boston and Los Angeles will be powerhouses in the NBA for several years to come, with the occasional downward swings to keep the heat off the NBA’s back. New York is too big of a market to be this dry for this many years, something WILL happen there. I’m not saying it will be anything drastic like Lebron James going to either New Jersey or New York, it might be very subtle. However, before long, one of those teams will rise from the ashes and be a contender again. So, here are my predictions; Boston and Los Angeles keep trading title blows, and a New York makes a comeback and becomes relevant again within three years. Of course teams like Denver, Utah and Atlanta will keep getting their participant ribbons, talk about markets being victims of the system. If I’m wrong, I guess it’s not fixed, but if I’m right, oh if I’m right.
On a happier note, congratulations to the University of Utah. Inking the deal with the Pac-10 conference. This is quite impressive. I hold no loyalty to either team of the Holy War, as it’s come to be known, so let me speak as an objective observer. Come on people, it’s over. It was a good run while it lasted, and I think BYU holds the record for more wins, so that’s something you can take away from it. This will never be as heated on the Utah sidelines as it will on the BYU sidelines, never again. Utah will look at this as more of a practice exam for the big SAT that’s coming up. Sure, BYU will put up a fight, and, if this rivalry even continues, they might get a win here or there. But, let’s be honest, Utah will be making more money, a lot more. They now have a chance at a national title, which means better recruits, and that in turn puts more NFL scouts in the seats, gives more television exposure which leads to more national exposure. If a player is torn between BYU and Utah, he’s going to go to Utah 99 out of 100 times. Within five years Utah will be a much different team. They will be head and shoulders above BYU. Unfortunately, I think this may be an end to the Holy War. No disrespect to BYU, they have a wonderful program down south, but it seems as though this “war” as become more of a last chance crusade for the Mormons. Yes, I’m sure Utah will struggle through their first few years in this powerful conference, there’s always a learning curve. In the end, they’ll find their stride, bring in better players, equipment, facilities, and then it’s all over. Kind of bitter sweet. Finally, some national recognition for a Utah college football program. You have to take the good with the bad, this state’s greatest rivalry is now, vanquished.
‘Nuff Said.

Under 20 to go!!!

So, I started this p90x thing about a month ago. I had some expectations, but I did not think it would do everything that it has. Eighteen months ago I weighed 241 lbs, I was disgusting. I was watching this show on television and it said, to lose weight you have to diet and exercise. This is the only healthy way to lose weight. Did you hear that HCG users? What about Atkins supporters? You need a balanced diet and exercise to lose weight and be healthy. The guy on the show flat out said, dieting is hard, it’s supposed to be. The things in life that are easy to attain are never the things that are the most prized. Is no one suspicious of HCG? There is no miracle drug to make you lose weight. We've seen them before, Phen-Phen, Hydroxycut, many others, they either do not do what they say they are going to do, or they end up harming your body in very serious ways. People have died on Hydroxycut, died. For those of you taking HCG, 500 calories a day is not a healthy way to lose weight. It just isn't. I was talking to a woman on HCG and she said, you're not really only using 500 calories per day, your body is burning the fat deposits it has stored up, and thus, it gets calories from those deposits. Oh really? So like, when you're starving to death? Yeah, that's what happens when you're starving to death, your body starts to eat at your fat deposits, your stored energy. HCG is a starvation diet, no, I'm going to take it one step further, it's anorexia! So, I was ready to take on the dieting challenge, the guy on the show said the easiest way is to start small. Make sure you have at least one serving of fruits and one serving of vegetables a day. Try to cut out as much sugar as you can, don't eat too late at night, the last thing you eat should be about three hours before you go to bed, eat breakfast, and, get this do not be afraid to eat a moderate amount of carbohydrates. They are good for you, people. He also said to buy a calorie counting book and keep track of everything you ingest, food, ounces of water, everything. I had made up my mind. I was going to do it, I was going to start a diet. I did some research and found that the absolute lowest amount of calories a man my age and height could take in a day and still be healthy was 1500. Yeah, three times as many as the HCG diet allows. So, I decided to stick to 1500 calories a day. The diet was the hard part. The physical exercise I needed actually came easy. This guy, who I later found out was a nutritionist, wish I knew his name, went on to say, you need to get exercise, it's crucial, at least five hours a week. Great! I thought to myself, I hate going to the gym and struggling in front of all those meat heads. Then, the guy said something that really stuck with me. "You don't have to go to the gym and struggle in front of strangers." Ha! That was almost exactly what I was thinking. He said I needed to think back to what I would do as a kid for physical exercise, since kids are much more physically active than adults, and do that. Basketball! It was so simple. I put myself out there, I got myself invited to every game I heard about. It was fun, and it was easy. In five short months I had lost around 55 lbs. I was down to 185, the lowest I had been in four years. I didn't use drugs, I didn't go on any miracle diets or take any kind of miracle pill, I did it, me! I understand there are people out there that need chemicals to help them lose weight because they have imbalances. I also know this number is not consistent with as many people using chemicals to help them lose weight. I had achieved my goal, and surpassed it, to get under 200 lbs for my wedding. The honeymoon, seven day/seven night cruise kind of put the kibosh on the diet. I rocketed back up to 195 lbs and I was getting as much physical exercise as I was since I started playing basketball. See! Diet and exercise go hand in hand! I had hit a wall. I was stuck at 195 lbs, wasn't going up, wasn't going down. I had heard countless times about an extreme fitness program called p90x. I had been wanting to try it, but never really whole-heartedly. Suddenly, it was everywhere, billboards, buses, web site banners, even my favorite radio talk show host was peddling it. I figured I'd give it a try. It's a 90 day program of which I am right now 27 days into. Let me just give you some statistics, 21 lbs down, drops in both cholesterol and blood pressure, less stress, higher self-esteem, more positive outlook on life and oh yeah, one more thing, increased activity in the bedroom. Ha ha ha! Seriously, there's only one way to be healthy people; diet and exercise. No two ways about it. You're not too busy, you're not too lazy, just get started, you'll get addicted and end up loving it. I'm not saying you have to take the same route I did, you don't have to do p90x, find what works for you. I owe Tony Horton a lot, and I'm really looking forward to the next 63 days. I take my 30 day pictures tomorrow, if I'm brave enough I'll post them on here. As Tony Horton would say, do your best and forget the rest.

You Can't Claim Christianity...

...and support the death penalty.
"Judge not lest ye be judged."
"Turn the other cheek."
It really doesn't work that way. Christ taught forgiveness and said he would be the one to do the judging. As a people it is not our responsibility to say who will live and who will die. If you support the death penalty, that's fine with me, as long as you don't claim Christianity as well. It's a double standard and it does not work that way.
'Nuff Said.

Settling Son

So, about two years ago I had a dream. It was a dream about my dad, who has been dead for nearly 20 years. I don't remember the dream, or what it was about, or what happened in it, or what I said, or what he said. However, I had this dream in my small basement room of the Logan house I was living in while attending Utah State University. When I awoke the next morning I had one line from one Less Than Jake song stuck in my head. I had only heard the song a couple of times, so it was the only part I knew, "Mouthfuls of rotting dynamite." I had long since forgotten about this dream until one month ago when I was listening to my XM Radio driving home from Tooele where I now attend Utah State University. I was trying to find the Red Sox game when traffic grew a bit heavy. I took my finger off the scanner and was surprised to hear those words again, "Mouthfuls of rotting dynamite." Immediately the memory of the dream came back into my consciousness, as though it had been waiting to spring into action for two years. When the song was over the dj announced it was Settling Son by Less Than Jake off of their GNV,FLA album. I had that album and decided to listen to the whole song, to see what the song was about. These are the the lyrics:

Settling Son
by Less Than Jake

Son take it from me, it's in the little victories
That keep you shaking hands with defeat, yeah.
Son, I'll tell you reality isn't all it's cracked up to be.
But the years go lightening fast, and I just can't help but see

We believe it's okay to leave the words caught in your throat
But you know, that you're growing old.
You always do what you're told
Going up in smoke
And you're a ghost you know in the end
You'll be walking the tight rope, walking the tight rope.

Son take it from me,
Life's more than the floors of this factory
And working 40 hours every single week.
Son, I'll tell you reality, isn't living down on your knees.
But my life's gone in a flash and I just can't help but see

We believe it's okay to leave the words caught in your throat
But you know, that you're growing old.
You always do what you're told
Going up in smoke
And you're a ghost you've known in the end
You'll be walking the tight rope, walking the tight rope.

Mouthfuls of rotting dynamite.
Mouthfuls of rotting dynamite.
You call this living a normal life?
We're not living a normal life.

We still believe it's okay to leave the words caught in your throat
But you know, that you're growing old.
You always do what you're told
Going up in smoke
And you're a ghost you knew in the end
You'd be walking the tight rope, walking the tight rope.

I was shocked when I read these lyrics, and even though I'm not sure fully how they fit in to the dream, since I am now unaware of what the dream was about, this whole thing seems like a strange coincidence. Maybe one day I'll know what this is all about.
'Nuff Said.

For My Mother on Mothers' Day

My mother is not the richest mother in the world. She isn’t the smartest, the bravest or the wisest. She’s not the most enthusiastic, the slimmest or the best cooker. One thing that my mother does have over every other mom in the world is her resiliency. She, like most mothers will stop at nothing to achieve what’s best for her children. She never stops loving, never stops sharing, never stops caring, or helping her children. Though her children may not be where she wants them to be at this point in their lives, she does not stop loving them for that, or accepting or understanding them. She constantly tries to get involved in what her children are involved in. When approached for help, advice or guidance, she merely smiles and offers an unbiased, objective view of all the options for her children to take, while never nudging her children in the way she wants them to go. This means her children have true independence and agency. However, she does not let the consequences of bad choices go unnoticed. She understands that a little bit of suffering does a world of good. She does not swoop in and rescue her children from their own mistakes, she lets them learn, lets them climb out of their own holes, offering the occasional safety line, but never completely bailing them out.
My mother’s silence can say any number of things. She can tell you exactly how she is feeling while never uttering a single sound. Her personality radiates an entire room and her hope and unbridled optimism can be felt, heart-to-heart. She’s been through good times and bad. She’s buried a child, a husband, brothers, both of her parents and the occasional pet, never losing her happiness, never losing her stability. She truly is a lighthouse in the storm, constantly guiding others to the safety of the shore. She stands firmly to her political ideology, often times in the faces of many sneering members of the opposite party, family members, and the very religion she loves. She accepts children not part of this family (Kai) with open arms, to all family parties and activities and treats them like her own. She braves the elements to give love to my own little one, Fenway, whom she is deathly allergic to. My mother never pushes her children, she knows that in their own good time they will do what is needed. This understanding of her children is beyond words, beyond comparison.
There is so much more I could say about her, but this will have to do. This is merely a fraction of what could be said about her. I hope this will do. So, Happy Mothers’ Day, mom. May the next year be filled with as much, if not, more joy than the last year. May you be granted everything your heart desires, and may you continue to fill the hearts of the children of the world with the same hope and optimism you have filled every one of your children with. I love you.

Just a Quick Update

So, here's what's gone down since I last wrote. I am taking the week off from work to concentrate on my finals. Just started p90x yesterday, I'm sore as hell today, wonder how my wife feels, she had to go to work, poor girl. It's okay though, I got up early and cooked breakfast for her and I'm planning on cleaning the apartment by the time she gets home, but don't tell her. The Red Sox suck, but I'm still a fan. This is going to be a LONG year. In fact, we should just concede this season and start building toward the next, a lot needs to change before we're back on top. Seriously, I think our average age is like 63 or something. I had an inner, personal struggle, trying to decide whether or not I wanted to get a kitten that could barely walk, with a heavy heart I decided not to get it, just don't have the time. I know that sounds extremely petty, but there's nothing I can do about it. I'm really looking forward to two vacations this year, one in June and one in October, yes I'm going on vacation during the baseball playoffs, but as mentioned before, the Red Sox players will probably be on vacation as well, ha ha ha. Or some of them might be in old folks' homes, ha ha ha. Anyway, until next time 'Nuff Said.

A Letter of Apology

For my first order of business, I would like to apologize. I’m sorry for that last blog entry. Got on the soap box a little too much, so I figure I’ll lighten the mood a little bit. This is going to be a shout-out blog. Don’t worry mom, yours is coming soon. But today I have to focus on three women in my life. Three women that mean the world to me and without them, I would not be the person I am today. Their senses of humor clash so magnificently it makes a potent potpourri that is out of this world. I am of course referring to my three sisters. Together, they form the perfect snack, a chocolate covered pretzel. I’ll explain…
Starting from oldest to youngest, Melissa. Melissa is the kind of person who can brighten the mood of a room just by walking into it. She never has an unkind thing to say, blah blah blah. These are the types of things I would be writing if I were a weiner, but I’m not a weiner, so here’s the truth. Melissa says bad things about people, but what is so hilarious about it, is her personality casts her as the kind of person who would never udder an unkind word about anyone, get it? Udder? I threw in a Melissa joke. So, when Melissa does start making fun of other people, you really have to pay attention. Her snide, rude, simple, yet clever remarks are said without the least bit of animosity, thus making them innocent. However, she could tell you that you are fat, bald and ugly and you would leave the conversation thinking, that Melissa lady sure is nice. Yeah, that’s what we liberals call, “doublethink”. Or maybe that isn’t the definition of that, I don’t know. The fact that she can get away with saying just about anything to anybody is not lost on her, and she exploits this. That’s what makes her so great. My family would be pedestrian at best, without her. And the fact that she pretends to be conservative is a hoot. Ha ha ha. So full of satire. Just kidding Melis, this family would be nothing without you. Your sweet sense of humor is the chocolate of this tasty medley of flavors.
Amber. What can we say about Amber? Her dry, sarcastic, irreverent humor is the saltiness of the pretzel. What two ingredients clash? Salt and sweet. Right? On their own one would never think they would taste good together. Put them together and there is an explosion of flavor that starts out soothing and BAM! I’m here MOFO! That’s Amber’s sense of humor mixed with Melissa’s sense of humor. Often times Amber says the things that no one else dares to say. Should she say some of these things? Probably not. Their entertainment value for those of us not being directly attacked? Through the roof. Some people take offense to this style of humor, I say, grow up. Without Amber I could not imagine family parties. I mean sure, we’d still have people chucking bowls of ranch dressing at one another, maybe a gun fight or two, but we wouldn’t have the criticism afterward. I’m really going out on a limb here saying these things about Amber. Hope she doesn’t get mad, she feeds me twice a week which I’m grateful for. Without Amber, I would go slightly hungry for a few extra hours every Monday and Tuesday. Thanks Amber, for pointing out all of the negative in us.
Chelsea. My retarded, fat, Asian, communist, closet-conservative sister. We all know you hate the gays, and the abortion doctors, and anyone without legitimate health care. Okay? We get it. But seriously, Chelsea is the crunchiness of the chocolate covered pretzel. And while I haven’t figured out why yet, we’ll pretend what I’m about to say fits in fine with my crunchy pretzel metaphor. You see, ever since the day she slammed my head into the van door (which she later broke because I “cheated” at Phase 10) I knew we would be brother and sister for as long as I felt like it. (Which turned out to be a lot longer than I intended, who the hell knew this shit was for eternity?) But seriously, from our conversations in the strange whooping language we invented, to the urgent phone calls to Janelle asking her which one of our animal noises was best, we have had our fun. One thing I really want her to know, probably the most important thing I will ever say to her…oh damn. You know what just happened to me? I got one of those calls on my cell phone that was from an area code I didn’t recognize. While I have given my number out to various literary agencies, I answered it thinking it may have been one of these agencies wanting to talk about my book. I heard a female voice, which I now know was automated, saying, “please hold.” I held. For 17 minutes, I held. Finally, this guy answers saying he could lower the interest rate on my credit card. I DON’T EVEN HAVE A CREDIT CARD. So, I just wasted 17 minutes of my life on hold for some sneaky telemarketer. Anyway, where was I? Umm…. I can’t remember. Oh yeah. Maybe that’s why Chelsea is the crunchiness in our chocolate covered pretzel. She tried to crunch my head in the van door. Sure beats drinking gasoline though, eh?
Alone, my sisters are overbearing, ornery and finicky, respectively. Together, they’re the best sisters a guy could have. So, thanks you guys, for…umm…well…I guess for being born. Come to think of it, you guys really haven’t done anything to warrant any thanks at all. This is really a thank you letter to mom. So, thanks mom, for raising three daughters, who alone are very mediocre, but together make up an above average group of girls with a sense of humor slightly better than a charter member of the NRA, KKK and the new, ever popular Tea Party. It could be worse, I could be related to Marie Osmond. Dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn.
‘Nuff said.

Depleted Uranium is a War Crime!

The Hidden Wars in the Middle East to me are the ones we as Americans never hear of because the government doesn’t want us to hear of them. Not only are these combat, or conventional wars, they are also wars being carried out against innocent civilians of the Middle Eastern population. Much of this lies in the use of depleted uranium, which I will address later in this essay. The Hidden Wars can also be a reference to the Gulf War. Though the American public had knowledge that a war was occurring in the area surrounding Iraq, they had no idea to what extent it was occurring, who the major players were and for why this war was being fought in the first place. Since the media was kept out, there wasn’t much information being spread to the American people about the war. The only information getting to the public was government released statements, which were unreliable at best.
These statements released by the government were riddled with lies. The government lied to get into the war, they lied during the war, and they’re still lying to this day. Most of the lies the U.S. government told were not flat out lies, they were exaggerations of the truth, and the most damaging examples of U.S. deceit is the information they withheld from the public. The exaggerations as to the extent of the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait is suspect. The untold amount of forces said to be occupying Kuwait was a myth. Evidence is leant to this conclusion with the satellite photos taken of the region at the time of the invasion. There are no tank tracks in the sand, no military equipment at the borders, but perhaps the most glaring void in this is the absence of Iraqi soldiers. The U.S. government tried to cover this up by saying the tank tracks would have been covered up within a matter of days by winds and other natural elements, this is another lie. There are still tank tracks in northern Africa left over from World War II, northern Africa has extremely high winds at times and unforgiving natural elements. These tank tracks have lasted over sixty years. The exaggeration to get a coalition together to get into Iraq was entirely uncalled for.
The coalition was, unfortunately put together, through diplomatic bullying and lobbying and the air strikes over Iraq commenced. While it was said this was to be a bombing of surgical precision, it was nothing of that sort. The government told its citizens they were targeting and destroying Iraqi military targets and the population of Iraq would be largely unharmed, this could not be further from the truth. The bombing was more reminiscent of the blanket bombing of Berlin in World War II and estimates have risen to over 100,000 dead Iraqi civilians, not terrorists, innocent people. Then came the marines, marching through Kuwait with virtually no opposition. One soldier stated the flies and mosquitoes gave up a better fight than the Iraqi “military” that was largely plain-clothes civilians protecting their own country. The U.S. marines took Kuwait in a day. On their way to Baghdad they were met with a greater opposition, one that they could not defeat, their own government. The U.S. marines had taken control of southern Iraq within 24 hours and were marching to Baghdad when the Bush administration called the war off. What they didn’t let the American public know was why. With the arrival of U.S. forces, the people of Iraq risen up against Saddam Hussein and started demonstrating in the streets of Iraq, they were poised to overthrow him. The U.S. needed Saddam in the Middle East. He was someone they could bully, not to mention he retained his power with CIA support, the Hussein regime was not toppled as it should have been, that was never the U.S.’s goal, they needed him around to secure the oil fields and remove the embargos. Simple as that. It was all about oil. Henry Kissinger put the United State’s priorities best when he stated, “oil is too important to be left to the Arabs.” They needed Saddam in power to hammer out the treaties that would give the U.S. control of the Iraqi oil fields.
The soldiers were met with a hero’s welcome and they went on to live happily ever after. Or did they? Within months of returning home, several soldiers began complaining of medical effects, anything from rashes to fatigue to constantly being sick. When looked upon more closely the answers became clear. In making the shells to fire during the Iraqi war the U.S. wanted to be frugal in its budget. They set their sights on different types of metal they could use to make the shells out of. There was a type of metal that had just been lying around, and the U.S. had literally tons of the stuff, uranium. They began recycling this uranium and using it to build military ammunition. What was unknown at the time were the effects this would have on the unfortunate souls who came in contact with it. Depleted uranium can burst through any armor with relative ease, whether it be a tank or a bunker, it doesn’t matter. These structures and vehicles were annihilated after taking a hit from a shell made of depleted uranium. This was an efficient way for the U.S. to build its shells, what was kept from the public was the fact that uranium stays radioactive for millions of years after it’s created. Not only were U.S. soldiers feeling the effects of this substance, the Iraqi civilians are still suffering the effects today. Numbers have risen upward of two babies born per day, per hospital in Iraq with birth defects as a direct result of depleted uranium. Many do not survive. In fact, when a child is born, more likely the question is not asked is it a boy or a girl? The more common question is; is it normal? Depleted uranium is a war crime!
This casts the U.S. government in a very negative light throughout the world. It’s no wonder that public opinion of this country is a negative one. It makes me feel sad, research had been done prior to the use of the depleted uranium, it was common knowledge among officials of the government that the radioactive waste was deadly. There is hatred for the United States in the Middle East and it is not unwarranted. These are the kinds of things that have to come to light. It is essential for the American people to know of these atrocities. We have to make sure this never happens again. Funny, we’ve heard that before haven’t we? World War II, the atrocities carried out by the Nazis, Never Again, wonder if we can take a page out of our own playbook.

You Look Like I Need a Drink

I don't know what this is. I sat down one night, late at night, and this just came out. I'm not even sure who this is about, but the person it is about will know it's about them as soon as they read it. I don't know if that means anything. I mean, how could I not know who this is about, yet they would know it's about them? It makes sense in my mind. Written down it looks ridiculous. Anyway, without further ado, here it is, the poem that means nothing and yet everything.

A blank page………
It stares at me………
It mocks me………
But what am I to do? I am just a man.
Am I not?
Of course I am.
Then, why?
Why am I?
Is it fate that makes me?
No.
Is it religion?
No.
Is it God, or a god?
Or life?
Or time?
No.
No.
No.
No.
Do I make me?
No.
Then what is it?
I don’t know.
I’m not sure.
I never will be.
Life marches on.
It marches on around me.
And I am alone.
Why am I alone?
I know not.
All I can say, is this is a matter of life.
It makes me be.
It is me.
It is my life.
It’s who I am.
So who is she?
I don’t know, nor will I.
Do I care?
Aye!
So much that it hurts.
Deep within me.
An abyss.
Labeled as her.
Written as she is written.
And yet, I am me.
And she is her.
So, what does this mean?
Anything.
Anything I want it to mean.
And yet,
nothing.
And yet,
everything.
And so I am.
So much that she is her.
And only will be
within me.
For she cannot live up to what she is within me.
She never will.
Never could.
So why do I?
I don’t know.
It makes no sense.
It matters not.
But it’s who I am.
It’s who’s with me.
It’s everything I am and everything she could never be.
And so is hope.
So then, is she.
But only within me.
Without, she is her.
The person she became.
An enemy.
It saddens me.
It empties me.
But, it is me.

You Have No Right

Yankee’s Fan (after noticing I was wearing a Red Sox hat): How do you like them Yankees?
Me: Not at all.
Yankee’s Fan: We’re the world champs.
Me: Uh-huh.
Yankee’s Fan: Red Sox suck.
Me: Okay.
Yankee’s Fan: I’m just messing with you. When does the season start?
Me: A week ago.
If you claim to be a fan of something that’s one thing. If you’re a Yankee’s fan and you want to give me shit, fine, I understand. I would give you shit too had the Red Sox won the World Series. But, if you claim to be a fan, then bust my balls about it, but you don’t even know that the season has started, let alone that the Red Sox and Yankees have already played a three game series, you have no right.
‘Nuff Said.

We Threw Gasoline on the Fire, Now We Have Stumps For Arms and No Eyebrows

I've been tagged. Let me make this very clear to everyone. This is the only one of these I will EVER participate in. So, if any of you ever tag me again, there will be serious repercussions.
Having said that, let's get to it.
Seven things about me;
1. I am completely obsessed with the Boston Red Sox. When they win, my day is made. When they lose my day is ruined. When they lose to the Yankees, I cry myself to sleep. That's not true. But...well...let's move on.
2. I LOVE doing my History homework. I read 100 pages of Philip Caputo’s A Rumor of War today, watched four hours of historical footage on the Vietnam War and the Watergate scandal, and loved every minute of it.
3. If it weren’t for Monday looming, Sunday would be my favorite day of the week because it combines all of my favorite activities. Doing History homework, eating good food, watching baseball (if the season is on), and spending time with my family.
4. If you give me a chance, I will not disappoint, I am by FAR one of the most interesting people you will have ever met. I’m an enigma, “a riddle wrapped in a mystery. Yeah, more like a riddle wrapped in a Twinkie.” Bonus points for anyone who can tell me what that’s from.
5. I wrote a book and have several more ideas for more books. I have already turned in my first novel to literary agents to see if anyone is interested in picking me up. If no one is, I’ll write another one, if that doesn’t get picked up none of my other ideas will be put down on paper.
Five things that make me smile;
1. My cat
2. My wife
3. My irreverent family
4. Winslow
5. Thinking about the 2004 ALCS
So, my turn to do the tagging, I tag; Janelle (who never reads my blog), Chelsie Casper (who very probably never reads my blog), Winslow (who doesn’t know I have a blog), Tom (who very probably doesn’t know I have a blog) and my cat Fenway (who most likely will be the first one to reply to this). Just put your responses in my comment area, or on your own blog if you have them. But let me know when you do, I’d like to read them.

The Wendover Five

They’re a strange group of guys, the Wendover five,
And they have the same story as mine.
There’s a guy who builds fences, one who tracks expenses,
A bottler, a dealer, and I.
How did we get here? It’s not hard to tell.
But that’s a story you’re about to hear.
We jumped on the band wagon when the poker craze hit,
We’re the left-overs, cast outs, remnants.
We all have great memories they all seem so close,
But a memory is a memory, far off.
If it happened yesterday, it mattereth not,
May as well be Greek history, it’s forgot.
We used to have home games, we all loved to play.
It wasn’t for glory or fame.
It wasn’t for money, that’s just how we kept score,
It was for the good times, a loss, still a gain.
But now deemed immoral, the bonds they were broken,
You could almost see them crash to the ground.
We all got so close, so mended, so bound,
Yet it came crashing down without sound.
But oh the good times, sitting at that round table,
Trying to pass off fable after fable.
No one really cared if he folded or called,
It was on being together we thrived.
No one really cared for a buy-in or not,
A close tight-knit family we got.
But the ones deep within you
Are those who run with you,
These men who sit right by my side.
They’re my demons, my angels,
They all once were strangers,
But now we’re familiar and live.
We all make up stories about our past glories.
In a way, it’s how those memories survive.
But when it’s all over, at least we’ll have each other.
The sinners, the strange Wendover five.

This is Not a Test of the Emergency Broadcast Association

This is kind of a test. It is a test of our endurance. Life as we know it in America has changed. It’s changed without any of us really realizing it, but it changed all the same. It’s time we recognize the shift and stop with this elitist attitude toward everyone. We’re sinking into third-world-nation status; when a country has an upper and lower class but no middle class. We are losing our middle class, it shrinks every year. The fiber our nation was built on is tearing, why this denial that we can still go on while throwing out our foundation with the bath water? We need to accept this, our time to step down has come. Our fall is imminent. This doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Look at Britain, they’re not the top dog anymore and yet, they are still successful. We can be another Britain, but let’s face it, we’re no longer Rome. America has changed forever. We have been surpassed in every major category; economy, military and education. We need to do the prudent thing and sink quietly into the shadows, or the repercussions may be more than any of us can bear.
Our economy, or at least what’s left of it, is shrunken and broken. Instead of hiring full-time employees, employers are hiring temps. The unpredictable market forecast is terrifying for these employers, they don’t want to hire full-time employees because they never know what tomorrow is going to look like. This puts the rest of us, at least a lot of us, with the constant fear of being laid off. The question; “will I still have a job tomorrow?” Is one I’m beginning to hear with alarming regularity, I myself fear this every single day. We’ve been passed by many as economic king of the hill, and fingers are being pointed everywhere. I got caught up in the “blame the Bush regime” party, and had actually convinced myself it was the previous administration’s fault. But, you know what? It’s not the Bush administration’s fault, it isn’t Obama’s fault. There are 300 million of us. We greatly outnumber our government officials. They answer to us. It isn’t the other way around. We let this happen. We destroyed our economy. We let gas prices grow out of control, we allowed the pharmaceutical companies to jack their prices up way too high, and we let the housing market destroy itself from the inside out. It’s because we did nothing. We didn’t care enough to, and unfortunately, it seems we still don’t. So what 300 million are we? That 300 million of angry, stupid, scared, pathetic populace, that helped to complete the destruction of our once-great economy? Or are we activists and progressives willing to do something about it? I fear we are the former, let’s change that.
We are spending a ridiculous amount of money on a people thousands of miles away, our boys are dying for something that we as Americans cannot define. Countless people died to stop the communists from spreading, many soldiers felt as though they were fighting phantoms over in the jungles of Vietnam. We’re fighting different phantoms now, but they’re still phantoms all the same. We created this hatred. The creation of Israel, the never-ending foreign interventions of the early 1900s up through today. There will never be peace in the Middle East, and it certainly won’t come at the point of a rifle. So, why fight? Diplomacy has worked there before. Look at the peace talks between then Israel Prime Minister Rabin and Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat, Clinton magnificently conducted these talks. The two bitterest rivals shook hands on the lawns of the White House. Things were moving. Then came the Camp David Accords, this was a landmark show of cooperation between Israeli and Egyptian leaders, Sadat and Begin. Real progress had been made, until Sadat was assassinated by one of his own. I know this piece of history seems bleak, but it should be a beacon of hope. Reason helped them to see the blood of their own people was not worth it. Okay, so maybe it just wasn’t the time for peace, but that doesn’t mean we don’t try diplomacy again. Many of the hatred for America coming out of that region stems from our support of Israel. We have to show that we support the world. Peace before pillaging. Love before lechery. We can do this. This never-ending battle is putting a strain on young men and women signing up. How does our government get by this? By sick promises of free higher-education and free health care for anyone signing up to be in the military. That’s disgusting. I’m not saying the men and women of our armed forces don’t deserve these luxuries, they do, I wholeheartedly believe they do. But when recruiters advertise this as a reason to join, it makes me sick. This is exploitation of the poor and underprivileged of our nation. Yes, the poor and underprivileged. Wars are not fight by the wealthy, they’re fought by the poor.
It has become apparent where America’s priorities are. We spend an immense amount more on our military than we do on our education system. This sends a clear message to the rest of the world. What you spend your money on shows what you feel is the most important thing in life. The alcoholic spends his or her money on alcohol, the drug addict’s money goes to drugs, and the country who feels conquest is more important than education spends their money on their military. No wonder our youth don’t take their education seriously. Their government doesn’t either. I don’t know how much clearer I can be in this regard. There is a silver-lining in all of this, however.
It may be too late to get back to what we were 50, 25 or even 10 years ago. However, our sense of community can help pull this nation up and become great again. It’s time to circle the wagons. Neutrality, though not ultimate neutrality, it would be impossible to return to an ultimate neutrality policy, is what we need to get back to. We have to fix our own problems first. We need to redefine our communities. We have to trust each other, and in return, can we be more trustworthy? Let’s not try to screw one another out of anything. These frivolous lawsuits have to go. Stealing, lying, judging, this harms everyone. Rape, murder, hatred, this has got to stop now. We all need to look in the mirror, this is a you problem, it’s a me problem, it’s not his fault or her fault, it’s not Bush’s fault or Obama’s fault, it’s our fault. Maybe this has to start with trust, maybe it has to start with us being more trustworthy, let’s work on both at the same time. How can we love one another when our minds and eyes have been closed and latched so tightly? To love someone, you have to accept them, to accept them, you have to accept all of them. This means the differences have to be put aside. Atheists, stop hating the religious. Religious, stop hating the gays. Conservatives, stop hating the liberals. Liberals, stop hating the conservatives. It really is not as hard as it seems. Our country is not what it used to be, and it never will be again. We have to recognize this change and redefine ourselves. Community is what’s important. Let’s build a strong national community before we try to build a strong world one.