Twas 5 days before Christmas,
And I couldn't care less
About Operations Management.
That class was a mess.
With boring material
The professor, a dope
Is this really my undergraduate career
At the end of its rope?
I'd much rather spend the day
Hanging out with my masses
That I won't see much next semester
Because miles apart will be our classes
I want to get drunk,
Put this annoyance behind me
But I must answer questions
Like "How should a supply chain be?"
I must grin and bear it,
For it will soon be done
But now I want to take my notebook
And shoot it with a gun.
If I stop studying now
And just watch TV
Will my career 3.9 suffer
For a grade less than a B?
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Awesomeness on a Stick Endorses Barack H. Obama for the Democratic Presidential Nomination, Rudolph W. Giuliani for the Republicans
I will address the latter gentleman first. While he was the mayor of my city, I loved the job he was doing during his first 92 months in office; I just about worshiped him in the final four. For examples of how New York City existed just prior to his mayoralty, see the examples he presents in the introduction to his book Leadership. A majority of New Yorkers, according to polls, would have moved out if they could. There were more than 2000+ murders per year, you could find few places that were completely safe after dark, and the city economy was stagnant at best. On the day prior to the worst day in our city's history, the overhaul of the city's crime, economy, and its agencies overall could not be any clearer. It was the mark of a municipal government that saw what had to be done and did it very well. In retrospect, you could very accurately state that we all took this for granted. In two months we would elect a new mayor, look at what the current mayor did as more favorable than not, yet have some reservations about calling him great because of his recent infidelities and iffy race relations.
The next day everything changed, and in our darkest moment, we held on to his every word for the truth, hope, and any possible shred of consolation we could find. However, this "we" grew from eight million to a quarter of a billion. America's Mayor showed tremendous strength, perseverance, and sensitivity - in a nutshell: leadership. Before and after 9/11, Rudolph W. Giuliani owned and displayed this adjective in great measure. Here's hoping that he can clean up some of the mess in the Federal government the way he restructured our city's.
Other acceptable candidates: John McCain, Ron Paul. Unacceptable for reasons I won't get into unless one of them wins the nomination: Mike Huckabee and Mitt Romney.
As for Senator Obama, I could not do his history the same justice I've done Giuliani's. What I do know is that he is highly intelligent, both in the intellectual sense and in that he seems to really "get it." He also disdains the roadblocks of the establishment. I heard him on the radio today saying that he would put Republicans in his cabinet. This is something that our current president has failed to do (cross party lines, of course - he has plenty of Republicans in his cabinet), and party relations are the worse for it. Did anyone see the series finale of The West Wing, when Jimmy Smits' Democratic character was being inaugurated? He chose his opponent, Alan Alda's Republican Senator Vinick, as his Secretary of State. Democrats might decry the "audacity" of a President Obama inserting members of the opposing party in his Cabinet, but I "hope" he would ignore them.
The other day, Bill Clinton told Charlie Rose that electing Mr. Obama might be "a roll of the dice." This is incorrect, and Clinton assumes that the type of experience his wife holds is eminently important. Her experience as senator of New York has produced blunders such as riding the tide of sentiment of Governor Spitzer and his opinions about issuing illegal aliens drivers' licenses. Her experience has led to others basically owning her stances. Senator Obama can successfully fill the role of president by selecting advisors and officials with experience in relevant fields, and he seems to possess the intelligence to place trust in the right people and in the right decisions. We would also recoup some of our global influence by electing a president who listens.
Unfortunately the only other candidate I like in the Democratic Party is Senator Joe Biden, and he has basically no chance. A Giuliani (or even McCain) versus Obama election would be an exciting race that would wipe the horrible taste of Bush/Kerry out of America's mouth.
OK, back to studying for my last final exam. Then I start graduate school two weeks from tonight. Excited beyond belief. Merry Christmas, everyone.
The next day everything changed, and in our darkest moment, we held on to his every word for the truth, hope, and any possible shred of consolation we could find. However, this "we" grew from eight million to a quarter of a billion. America's Mayor showed tremendous strength, perseverance, and sensitivity - in a nutshell: leadership. Before and after 9/11, Rudolph W. Giuliani owned and displayed this adjective in great measure. Here's hoping that he can clean up some of the mess in the Federal government the way he restructured our city's.
Other acceptable candidates: John McCain, Ron Paul. Unacceptable for reasons I won't get into unless one of them wins the nomination: Mike Huckabee and Mitt Romney.
As for Senator Obama, I could not do his history the same justice I've done Giuliani's. What I do know is that he is highly intelligent, both in the intellectual sense and in that he seems to really "get it." He also disdains the roadblocks of the establishment. I heard him on the radio today saying that he would put Republicans in his cabinet. This is something that our current president has failed to do (cross party lines, of course - he has plenty of Republicans in his cabinet), and party relations are the worse for it. Did anyone see the series finale of The West Wing, when Jimmy Smits' Democratic character was being inaugurated? He chose his opponent, Alan Alda's Republican Senator Vinick, as his Secretary of State. Democrats might decry the "audacity" of a President Obama inserting members of the opposing party in his Cabinet, but I "hope" he would ignore them.
The other day, Bill Clinton told Charlie Rose that electing Mr. Obama might be "a roll of the dice." This is incorrect, and Clinton assumes that the type of experience his wife holds is eminently important. Her experience as senator of New York has produced blunders such as riding the tide of sentiment of Governor Spitzer and his opinions about issuing illegal aliens drivers' licenses. Her experience has led to others basically owning her stances. Senator Obama can successfully fill the role of president by selecting advisors and officials with experience in relevant fields, and he seems to possess the intelligence to place trust in the right people and in the right decisions. We would also recoup some of our global influence by electing a president who listens.
Unfortunately the only other candidate I like in the Democratic Party is Senator Joe Biden, and he has basically no chance. A Giuliani (or even McCain) versus Obama election would be an exciting race that would wipe the horrible taste of Bush/Kerry out of America's mouth.
OK, back to studying for my last final exam. Then I start graduate school two weeks from tonight. Excited beyond belief. Merry Christmas, everyone.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Tom Cruise Isn't, But I Heard His Agent Is
First off, Happy Chanukah to all my Jewish compadres. I hope you get a harmonica on this lovely, lovely Chanukah.
For the third time since Sunday, it snowed here in New York. Since it hasn't done anything crazy to piss me off yet, like create the need to unfreeze my car doors or to dig my car out of a plowed-in snowbank, we cool for now, that snow and I.
Imus is back! And even though I'm rarely awake early enough to hear him, the magic of technology allows me to hear American's favorite cowboy whenever I want. Bear with me as I explain this, because I have the technical abilities of a ninety year-old Siberian grandmother. I have this program called Total Recorder that records any sound an application on your computer makes. It also has a scheduling function! So all I have to do every night before I go to bed is open the streaming audio portion of 77 WABC-AM's website, and set the scheduler on the program to record from 6-10am. When I'm getting ready to leave the house, I transfer the file and boom! I'm hearing the I-Man on my iPod in my iCar on the way to the iBronx. It's like a Tivo for your iPod.
I just realized the last time I updated was November 5th. I really should stay more on top of this site. I wouldn't want Ms. Jessica Liconti (there's your shoutout!) to be bored for too long.
Bought a hat on eBay the other day. It's one of those flat hats. Driving caps they're called. I won it for a whopping $2.47, so who could pass up a steal like that for the winter months.
Spring break: Cozumel! I really could not be any more excited. Maybe if they put in a casino, but I'm fine with the beach, heat, and the bikinis that naturally come with the package. That's why they call it all-inclusive. Screw the unlimited Mojitos. Well, no, I'll still take the Mojito as well.
I'll be back again on the other side of finals week. Or, more likely, when I want to procrastinate while studying. Good luck everyone! Hope you're not too far from a bar or a bed when it's all over. The bar I'll buy in my retirement years will have huge reclining chairs with cupholders. By then, it'll probably be cheap enough to put a plasma in front of each TV. Screw the trendiness of house music and no TVs at bars. How the hell else are you going to know what any of your nine New York sports teams are doing? If it's April or May, you could have seven of thm playing in the same night! Some of the best conversations can happen over sports anyway. A guy I know met his long-time girlfriend while watching a Red Sox game at a pub. Now THAT'S romance. No fake people in my bar.
For the third time since Sunday, it snowed here in New York. Since it hasn't done anything crazy to piss me off yet, like create the need to unfreeze my car doors or to dig my car out of a plowed-in snowbank, we cool for now, that snow and I.
Imus is back! And even though I'm rarely awake early enough to hear him, the magic of technology allows me to hear American's favorite cowboy whenever I want. Bear with me as I explain this, because I have the technical abilities of a ninety year-old Siberian grandmother. I have this program called Total Recorder that records any sound an application on your computer makes. It also has a scheduling function! So all I have to do every night before I go to bed is open the streaming audio portion of 77 WABC-AM's website, and set the scheduler on the program to record from 6-10am. When I'm getting ready to leave the house, I transfer the file and boom! I'm hearing the I-Man on my iPod in my iCar on the way to the iBronx. It's like a Tivo for your iPod.
I just realized the last time I updated was November 5th. I really should stay more on top of this site. I wouldn't want Ms. Jessica Liconti (there's your shoutout!) to be bored for too long.
Bought a hat on eBay the other day. It's one of those flat hats. Driving caps they're called. I won it for a whopping $2.47, so who could pass up a steal like that for the winter months.
Spring break: Cozumel! I really could not be any more excited. Maybe if they put in a casino, but I'm fine with the beach, heat, and the bikinis that naturally come with the package. That's why they call it all-inclusive. Screw the unlimited Mojitos. Well, no, I'll still take the Mojito as well.
I'll be back again on the other side of finals week. Or, more likely, when I want to procrastinate while studying. Good luck everyone! Hope you're not too far from a bar or a bed when it's all over. The bar I'll buy in my retirement years will have huge reclining chairs with cupholders. By then, it'll probably be cheap enough to put a plasma in front of each TV. Screw the trendiness of house music and no TVs at bars. How the hell else are you going to know what any of your nine New York sports teams are doing? If it's April or May, you could have seven of thm playing in the same night! Some of the best conversations can happen over sports anyway. A guy I know met his long-time girlfriend while watching a Red Sox game at a pub. Now THAT'S romance. No fake people in my bar.
Monday, November 5, 2007
I am the Regional Manager of this Orifice
I've rediscovered the fun of breakaway pants. They're truly the best thing to wear around the house when wearing pajamas makes you feel like too much of a useless bum.
As of today, I'm opening up the search for where I'm going to live next year and with whom (if anyone). It occurred to me that I should start doing this soon, as I was waiting for the Q10 bus at 4am Sunday. Being drunk just isn't as fun when an hour and a half separate last carbomb from merciful pillow.
Things are pretty pleasant right now. The whole GMAT thing is over, and senioritis is really starting to take root. Plus I'm saving $12 a month in haircuts by just avoiding the whole dreaded process altogether. The part I tend to dislike the most is pretending to make small talk with Gabe. He cuts a good hair or two, but once you get past weather (too hot/really nice/cold man, cold) and work (how's work? I don't work. You in school? Yeah, it's OK.), there's not much to go on. The guy doesn't even watch sports or care about politics, things with which the biggest bore could fill a half hour of the awkwardness of one man touching another's head.
My Christmas list:
David Wright authentic home jersey
Seinfeld seasons 8 and 9
Membership to the New York Road Runners' Club
This was the first year of the last three that I haven't included satellite radio. This is due totally to the rapidly approaching December 3rd return of J. Donald Imus to the airwaves. I had always taken the I-man for granted, but his seven month nappygate exodus will have me glued to every Hillary Clinton, Dick Cheney, Britney Spears = Satan comment, overexaggerated Tassimo commercial, and dying wheeze that I've been woefully deprived of since April 12th.
I wonder just what the hell people do in Omaha all day anyway. Or if they have streets like we do.
As of today, I'm opening up the search for where I'm going to live next year and with whom (if anyone). It occurred to me that I should start doing this soon, as I was waiting for the Q10 bus at 4am Sunday. Being drunk just isn't as fun when an hour and a half separate last carbomb from merciful pillow.
Things are pretty pleasant right now. The whole GMAT thing is over, and senioritis is really starting to take root. Plus I'm saving $12 a month in haircuts by just avoiding the whole dreaded process altogether. The part I tend to dislike the most is pretending to make small talk with Gabe. He cuts a good hair or two, but once you get past weather (too hot/really nice/cold man, cold) and work (how's work? I don't work. You in school? Yeah, it's OK.), there's not much to go on. The guy doesn't even watch sports or care about politics, things with which the biggest bore could fill a half hour of the awkwardness of one man touching another's head.
My Christmas list:
David Wright authentic home jersey
Seinfeld seasons 8 and 9
Membership to the New York Road Runners' Club
This was the first year of the last three that I haven't included satellite radio. This is due totally to the rapidly approaching December 3rd return of J. Donald Imus to the airwaves. I had always taken the I-man for granted, but his seven month nappygate exodus will have me glued to every Hillary Clinton, Dick Cheney, Britney Spears = Satan comment, overexaggerated Tassimo commercial, and dying wheeze that I've been woefully deprived of since April 12th.
I wonder just what the hell people do in Omaha all day anyway. Or if they have streets like we do.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Today's Grammar Lesson, Courtesy of Our Friends in Scranton, PA
Ryan: ...so that you can communicate it to the people here, to your clients, to whomever
Michael: It's whoever, not whomever. Whomever is never actually right
Jim: Well, sometimes it's right
Creed: Michael is right, it's a made up word used to trick students
Andy: No, actually, whomever is the formal version of whoever
Oscar: Well, obviously it's a real word, but I don't know when to use it correctly
Michael: Not a native speaker
Kevin: I know what's right, but I'm not gonna say, because you're all jerks who didn't come see my band last night
Ryan: Do you really know which one's correct?
Kevin: I don't know
Pam: It's whom when it's the object of the sentence, and who when it is the subject
Phyllis: That sounds right
Michael: It sounds right, but is it right?
Stanley: How did Ryan use it, as an object?
Ryan: As an object
Kelly: Ryan used me as an object
Stanley: Is he right about that?
Pam: How did he use it again?
Toby: It was Ryan wanted Michael, the subject, to explain the computer system, the object -
Michael: Thank you!
Toby: ...to whomever, meaning us, the indirect object. Which is the correct usage of the word.
Michael: No one asked you anything, ever, so whomever's name is Toby. Why don't you take a letter opener and stick it in your skull?
Michael: It's whoever, not whomever. Whomever is never actually right
Jim: Well, sometimes it's right
Creed: Michael is right, it's a made up word used to trick students
Andy: No, actually, whomever is the formal version of whoever
Oscar: Well, obviously it's a real word, but I don't know when to use it correctly
Michael: Not a native speaker
Kevin: I know what's right, but I'm not gonna say, because you're all jerks who didn't come see my band last night
Ryan: Do you really know which one's correct?
Kevin: I don't know
Pam: It's whom when it's the object of the sentence, and who when it is the subject
Phyllis: That sounds right
Michael: It sounds right, but is it right?
Stanley: How did Ryan use it, as an object?
Ryan: As an object
Kelly: Ryan used me as an object
Stanley: Is he right about that?
Pam: How did he use it again?
Toby: It was Ryan wanted Michael, the subject, to explain the computer system, the object -
Michael: Thank you!
Toby: ...to whomever, meaning us, the indirect object. Which is the correct usage of the word.
Michael: No one asked you anything, ever, so whomever's name is Toby. Why don't you take a letter opener and stick it in your skull?
Monday, October 15, 2007
I'm(us) coming back!
Many uncomfirmed reports have gotten more and more detailed lately about the return of the wildly popular and tragically cut short "Imus in the Morning" program. One in the Daily News this morning that I can't seem to find online said that some I-People were in WABC's studios last week to check on logistics.
As many of you know, I spent every morning drive until this past April chuckling at the political and social musings of J. Donald Imus and his crew. I'm sure if you were to survey most young people on the street, the only thing they've ever heard about him is Nappygate. While I agree with the notion that he deserved some sort of punishment for that (the original two-week suspension that CBS handed down, for example), he doesn't get enough attention for the autism awareness he's raised in Congress - bet you didn't know that one in 167 newborns is diagnosed with it, huh? Or his charity ranch for kids with cancer. Or even his endorsement of Harold Ford, Jr. (a black man) for the U.S. Senate just last November. When the advertisers ran, CBS and NBC didn't take into consideration the full thirty-year body of work before they wussed out. Now they'll get their comeuppance in December when ABC kicks their behinds in ad revenue. The new and improved Imus in the Morning radio program will once again be a must-listen.
::pushes the soapbox back under his bed::
Friday, October 5, 2007
Friday Hodge Podge
One of my female readers asked me the other if this was now exclusively a baseball blog. (You could have expressed that in a comment, I mean that's what comment boxes are for, geez). It is not, nor will it be, it just so happens that I write about what I know and where my passions lie. That'll probably be my last Mets post until March, unless Omar Minaya pulls off the insane and trades Lastings Milledge for Johan Santana. Actually, I'll be too busy to write because I'll be gone for a week or so volunteering to drive Lastings to Minnesota and pick up Johan. And Lastings, don't get any ideas. I control the radio.
Fordham held its first "Senior Night" of the year. Twenty-one year old seniors are allowed to come, drink for two bucks a beer or glass of wine, and dance the night away with fellow seniors. What I enjoyed so much is that for once Fordham was selling something under 125% of market rate. Maybe it's because Jesuits are such fans of brewskies. Anyway, I was please to find that I recognized about 90% of the people there. Of this group, a third of them I know well enough to chat with, another third I see sporadically on campus or in class, and the rest I thought died or worse transferred because I haven't seen them since freshman year in my random liberal arts core classes. I believe a good time was had by all; it was by me at least, and I look forward to next month's 80s theme.
For those of you who watch The Office, last night was so much better than the season premiere. I like the direction they're going in with Ryan, once-temp-now-boss, being villain-istic. I mean it was set up nicely the past two seasons with exposing him as a heartless corporate type more suited for Lehman than a failing regional paper company in Scranton, PA. I know I've been whining lately about devoting too much time to the romances of Jam, Relly, Janchael, and Dwangela, but they did an awesome job with all of those last night. That's in spite of the fact that two of those four (I won't say who so that you can watch the episode online and by clicking on the video link NBC knows that millions across the country actually watch the show and it can stay on for four hundred more years) didn't survive the night. My gut tells me both couples will be back together soon, and we'll be all the better for it.
Ahh, five day weekends. I'm gonna go spend mine now studying for the GMAT. It's a comfort to me knowing that tonight while all of you are getting loaded and participating in marvelous random hookups, you'll simultaneously envy me while I'm on my fourth cup of coffee taking online diagnostics.
Out.
Fordham held its first "Senior Night" of the year. Twenty-one year old seniors are allowed to come, drink for two bucks a beer or glass of wine, and dance the night away with fellow seniors. What I enjoyed so much is that for once Fordham was selling something under 125% of market rate. Maybe it's because Jesuits are such fans of brewskies. Anyway, I was please to find that I recognized about 90% of the people there. Of this group, a third of them I know well enough to chat with, another third I see sporadically on campus or in class, and the rest I thought died or worse transferred because I haven't seen them since freshman year in my random liberal arts core classes. I believe a good time was had by all; it was by me at least, and I look forward to next month's 80s theme.
For those of you who watch The Office, last night was so much better than the season premiere. I like the direction they're going in with Ryan, once-temp-now-boss, being villain-istic. I mean it was set up nicely the past two seasons with exposing him as a heartless corporate type more suited for Lehman than a failing regional paper company in Scranton, PA. I know I've been whining lately about devoting too much time to the romances of Jam, Relly, Janchael, and Dwangela, but they did an awesome job with all of those last night. That's in spite of the fact that two of those four (I won't say who so that you can watch the episode online and by clicking on the video link NBC knows that millions across the country actually watch the show and it can stay on for four hundred more years) didn't survive the night. My gut tells me both couples will be back together soon, and we'll be all the better for it.
Ahh, five day weekends. I'm gonna go spend mine now studying for the GMAT. It's a comfort to me knowing that tonight while all of you are getting loaded and participating in marvelous random hookups, you'll simultaneously envy me while I'm on my fourth cup of coffee taking online diagnostics.
Out.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Your (Off-)Season Has Come
I came home this evening to the following e-mail for the Collapsins':
Dear Mets Fan:
All of us at the Mets are bitterly disappointed in failing to achieve our collective goal of building upon last year's success. We did not meet our organization's expectations -- or yours. Everyone at Shea feels the same range of emotions as you -- our loyal fans -- and we know we have let you down. We wanted to thank you for your record-breaking support of our team this year.
Equally important, Ownership will continue its commitment in providing the resources necessary to field a championship team. Omar will be meeting with Ownership shortly to present his plan on addressing our shortcomings so that we can achieve our goal of winning championships in 2008 and beyond.
You deserve better results.
Many thanks again for your record-breaking support.
I'm not sure what this e-mail means to me. Is it better than nothing? Yes. But I also feel they mean the final line to mean: "Many thanks again for your record-breaking support. We can expect the same from you next year, right? Eh? Eh?"
I may have appreciated this message more if all twenty-five (I don't care about the additional September call-ups) players lined the field after the final out to read this statement to the 30,000+ who stayed to go down with the ship.
I hereby provide my analysis of The Team, The Time, The Collapse:
If Mets fans can find a single rallying cry of anger, a single quote to point to as why we're so pissed-off at these bums, it was when Carlos Delgado waved the then-budding collapse off with: "I think at times we can get a little careless. We’ve got so much talent I think sometimes we get bored."
Reyes, Castillo, Wright, Beltran, Alou, Delgado, LoDuca, Green. What pitcher would ever think of wanting to face that row? Well, in September, he wouldn't while his team was behind anyway. But once his team inevitably came back from its five run deficit, he could go out to the mound with confidence that the Mutts would not score another run.
Pitching? HA. A man with 303 career wins couldn't get past 1/27th of a game. More on him later. But as the season wore on and a five inning effort from the starters was inevitable, the porous bullpen coughed up everything.
Now let's talk about the members of the most infamous New York sports failure ever individually - and whoever thought anyone could top the Yankees' choke against Boston in '04?
David Wright: It's easy to start here, because the kid deserves no blame. After a horrible April, he posted a season anyone would sign up for: .325 batting average, 30 homers, 107 RBIs. An leader on the field and off at the tender age of 24, he didn't get bored or mail it in, ever.
Carlos Beltran: Again, almost nothing bad to say here. Had some rough patches, but he was on fire in August and September. Team leader in homers and RBIs. I'll be very depressed if he gets traded this winter, which has already been rumored possibly for Johan Santana.
Moises Alou: Omar, Moises, and all of us knew going into the season that 'lou would miss a significant amount of time. My only regret is that we didn't have a twenty-year younger version of the man.
Shawn Green: Not a bad tail-end of a career. Shalom, Shawnie.
Paul LoDuca: I sincerely hope that my last memory of the Duke is not limping to the plate with two out and the bases loaded, then grounding out to the pitcher. Not a terrific season, but better than most catchers our there. But we need his fire. If you cut the man, he would bleed orange and blue.
Pedro Martinez: What he could have done for us in the post-season, we can only wonder now. At least a full year of St. Pedro Days is something to look forward to next year.
John Maine, Ollie Perez: Gutsy, gutsy, gutsy. They may not have had Cy Young years, but the heart they showed during each and every start spare them any blame or criticism from Mets Nation.
Carlos Delgado: I was never big on the guy. When we got him I said I would have been perfectly fine keeping a young Mike Jacobs. And his aforementioned comment burns me up. Notably, Jacobs was on the winning side of that field yesterday. Delgado left the game with a broken hand.
The bench (Endy Chavez, Carlos Gomez, Marlon Anderson, Ruben Gotay, Ramon Castro): Many days towards the end I would've preferred some of you out there starting. Great job pinch hitting and Alou-subbing, guys.
Lastings Milledge: Gone. Bye. Just go. Omar, trade this immature punk who you've given more than enough chances to for a bullpen arm. We need that a lot more.
Tom Glavine: What a thief. He comes in to fill out a 300-win career in a major media market with a lot of money because Atlanta was done with him. We proceed to give him five years. Besides his 300th win, what highlights has he given us? He bombed in his first Mets start in 2003, and he bombed his last three. And while Mets fans were jumping off the Whitestone Bridge in droves, he says, "It's not devastating, but it's disappointing." GET OUT OF NEW YORK IF YOU THINK OUR FANS DON'T CARE. The next time I see him at Shea, it better in a Braves uniform during a 10-0 Mets' rout.
Bullpen: Wow. I hope some of you thought to ask Tom Glavine for a ride out of Shea permanently. You stay, Joe Smith - Rick Peterson burned you out. Actually, give Heilman a chance in the rotation. And Wagner, I hope your back spasms turn into mouth spasms so you save 35 games next year without saying a damn word.
Jose Reyes: I saved my remaining disappointment for you. (Wow, notice how I've slipped into the second-person as I've gotten more upset). You wanna be a top-line shortstop? I think you have what it takes. I wouldn't put it past you to eclipse Derek Jeter as the greatest New York shortstop by the time you enter the Hall. But Derek's got something you haven't developed yet: maturity. Man has four rings. He deserves to show a little flair. Once you broke the franchise stolen bases record, you became Mo Vaughn. Not running out ground balls? Swinging at the first pitch and popping out all the time? DANCING with Lastings Milledge after you're already up 10-0? You were a huge part of the reason why the rest of the National League hated your team this year, buddy. Hanley Ramirez would've come out in a wheelchair yesterday to see you lose. I don't know if Rickey Henderson gave you this uncalled for arrogance. If he did, listening to him is a mistake and I don't think you have to worry about him as one of your coaches next year anyway. Wake up, kid. Grow up and be who we all thought you would be and who you've shown you're capable of being.
As for Omar and Willie, they have to be back next year. I remember dancing in my room the night in Winter 2004 when I heard on WFAN that Omar Minaya would be named GM. Firing Omar and Willie would send us back to the Jim Duquette/Art (Whowhatwhenwherewhy)Howe era. No one wants to remember that.
Omar: Pull off some crazy stuff like you did in 2005 and 2006. Figure out a way to trade Aaron Sele for Todd Lincecum. Get us a bullpen, and don't give up Wright, Reyes, or Beltran in the process. I assure you, people will piss on your house if you do.
Willie: Man, I can't fault you for not charging an ump Billy Martin style. I know you're Cool Hand Willie and the bite in your words are conveyed to your players in private and not in media tirades. That's how it should be. I don't want antics, I want wins. But you gotta lay into Reyes more. Don't let Omar make your decisions for you, either. Be your own man in your clubhouse and dugout. As mad as we are and as irrational as many are being in calling for your head, Mets fans would love to see you on a World Series parade float. Bottom line is, we love you. Now show us some love back.
Garykeithandron: According to the Sports Pope, the Mets booth is the greatest in baseball. I knew that long before he had that revelation today. Keith Hernandez would be the only man I'd replace Willie Randolph with in a heartbeat. However, he's said that he loves going to the stadium every day, in a suit and not a uniform. Whether it was a seventeen inning nailbiter or a 7-0 pounding by a west coast team at 1am, these three made SNY must-see TV. These three make a strong case for team MVP.
Wait till next year, right?
Dear Mets Fan:
All of us at the Mets are bitterly disappointed in failing to achieve our collective goal of building upon last year's success. We did not meet our organization's expectations -- or yours. Everyone at Shea feels the same range of emotions as you -- our loyal fans -- and we know we have let you down. We wanted to thank you for your record-breaking support of our team this year.
Equally important, Ownership will continue its commitment in providing the resources necessary to field a championship team. Omar will be meeting with Ownership shortly to present his plan on addressing our shortcomings so that we can achieve our goal of winning championships in 2008 and beyond.
You deserve better results.
Many thanks again for your record-breaking support.
I'm not sure what this e-mail means to me. Is it better than nothing? Yes. But I also feel they mean the final line to mean: "Many thanks again for your record-breaking support. We can expect the same from you next year, right? Eh? Eh?"
I may have appreciated this message more if all twenty-five (I don't care about the additional September call-ups) players lined the field after the final out to read this statement to the 30,000+ who stayed to go down with the ship.
I hereby provide my analysis of The Team, The Time, The Collapse:
If Mets fans can find a single rallying cry of anger, a single quote to point to as why we're so pissed-off at these bums, it was when Carlos Delgado waved the then-budding collapse off with: "I think at times we can get a little careless. We’ve got so much talent I think sometimes we get bored."
Reyes, Castillo, Wright, Beltran, Alou, Delgado, LoDuca, Green. What pitcher would ever think of wanting to face that row? Well, in September, he wouldn't while his team was behind anyway. But once his team inevitably came back from its five run deficit, he could go out to the mound with confidence that the Mutts would not score another run.
Pitching? HA. A man with 303 career wins couldn't get past 1/27th of a game. More on him later. But as the season wore on and a five inning effort from the starters was inevitable, the porous bullpen coughed up everything.
Now let's talk about the members of the most infamous New York sports failure ever individually - and whoever thought anyone could top the Yankees' choke against Boston in '04?
David Wright: It's easy to start here, because the kid deserves no blame. After a horrible April, he posted a season anyone would sign up for: .325 batting average, 30 homers, 107 RBIs. An leader on the field and off at the tender age of 24, he didn't get bored or mail it in, ever.
Carlos Beltran: Again, almost nothing bad to say here. Had some rough patches, but he was on fire in August and September. Team leader in homers and RBIs. I'll be very depressed if he gets traded this winter, which has already been rumored possibly for Johan Santana.
Moises Alou: Omar, Moises, and all of us knew going into the season that 'lou would miss a significant amount of time. My only regret is that we didn't have a twenty-year younger version of the man.
Shawn Green: Not a bad tail-end of a career. Shalom, Shawnie.
Paul LoDuca: I sincerely hope that my last memory of the Duke is not limping to the plate with two out and the bases loaded, then grounding out to the pitcher. Not a terrific season, but better than most catchers our there. But we need his fire. If you cut the man, he would bleed orange and blue.
Pedro Martinez: What he could have done for us in the post-season, we can only wonder now. At least a full year of St. Pedro Days is something to look forward to next year.
John Maine, Ollie Perez: Gutsy, gutsy, gutsy. They may not have had Cy Young years, but the heart they showed during each and every start spare them any blame or criticism from Mets Nation.
Carlos Delgado: I was never big on the guy. When we got him I said I would have been perfectly fine keeping a young Mike Jacobs. And his aforementioned comment burns me up. Notably, Jacobs was on the winning side of that field yesterday. Delgado left the game with a broken hand.
The bench (Endy Chavez, Carlos Gomez, Marlon Anderson, Ruben Gotay, Ramon Castro): Many days towards the end I would've preferred some of you out there starting. Great job pinch hitting and Alou-subbing, guys.
Lastings Milledge: Gone. Bye. Just go. Omar, trade this immature punk who you've given more than enough chances to for a bullpen arm. We need that a lot more.
Tom Glavine: What a thief. He comes in to fill out a 300-win career in a major media market with a lot of money because Atlanta was done with him. We proceed to give him five years. Besides his 300th win, what highlights has he given us? He bombed in his first Mets start in 2003, and he bombed his last three. And while Mets fans were jumping off the Whitestone Bridge in droves, he says, "It's not devastating, but it's disappointing." GET OUT OF NEW YORK IF YOU THINK OUR FANS DON'T CARE. The next time I see him at Shea, it better in a Braves uniform during a 10-0 Mets' rout.
Bullpen: Wow. I hope some of you thought to ask Tom Glavine for a ride out of Shea permanently. You stay, Joe Smith - Rick Peterson burned you out. Actually, give Heilman a chance in the rotation. And Wagner, I hope your back spasms turn into mouth spasms so you save 35 games next year without saying a damn word.
Jose Reyes: I saved my remaining disappointment for you. (Wow, notice how I've slipped into the second-person as I've gotten more upset). You wanna be a top-line shortstop? I think you have what it takes. I wouldn't put it past you to eclipse Derek Jeter as the greatest New York shortstop by the time you enter the Hall. But Derek's got something you haven't developed yet: maturity. Man has four rings. He deserves to show a little flair. Once you broke the franchise stolen bases record, you became Mo Vaughn. Not running out ground balls? Swinging at the first pitch and popping out all the time? DANCING with Lastings Milledge after you're already up 10-0? You were a huge part of the reason why the rest of the National League hated your team this year, buddy. Hanley Ramirez would've come out in a wheelchair yesterday to see you lose. I don't know if Rickey Henderson gave you this uncalled for arrogance. If he did, listening to him is a mistake and I don't think you have to worry about him as one of your coaches next year anyway. Wake up, kid. Grow up and be who we all thought you would be and who you've shown you're capable of being.
As for Omar and Willie, they have to be back next year. I remember dancing in my room the night in Winter 2004 when I heard on WFAN that Omar Minaya would be named GM. Firing Omar and Willie would send us back to the Jim Duquette/Art (Whowhatwhenwherewhy)Howe era. No one wants to remember that.
Omar: Pull off some crazy stuff like you did in 2005 and 2006. Figure out a way to trade Aaron Sele for Todd Lincecum. Get us a bullpen, and don't give up Wright, Reyes, or Beltran in the process. I assure you, people will piss on your house if you do.
Willie: Man, I can't fault you for not charging an ump Billy Martin style. I know you're Cool Hand Willie and the bite in your words are conveyed to your players in private and not in media tirades. That's how it should be. I don't want antics, I want wins. But you gotta lay into Reyes more. Don't let Omar make your decisions for you, either. Be your own man in your clubhouse and dugout. As mad as we are and as irrational as many are being in calling for your head, Mets fans would love to see you on a World Series parade float. Bottom line is, we love you. Now show us some love back.
Garykeithandron: According to the Sports Pope, the Mets booth is the greatest in baseball. I knew that long before he had that revelation today. Keith Hernandez would be the only man I'd replace Willie Randolph with in a heartbeat. However, he's said that he loves going to the stadium every day, in a suit and not a uniform. Whether it was a seventeen inning nailbiter or a 7-0 pounding by a west coast team at 1am, these three made SNY must-see TV. These three make a strong case for team MVP.
Wait till next year, right?
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Getting to Know Me, Getting to Know All About Me
What has two thumbs and is insane enough to take a class on Labor Day weekend? This guy!
This class, however, had nothing to do with theory or learning content about your traditional subjects. If it were as such, I likely would have turned down the opportunity. Heading into my senior year I don't much worry about the accounting topics I haven't learned. Working this summer made me realize that the hands-on stuff is so much more important anyway. The most essential thing I want to glean out of the next few months is how to transition out of being coddled in academia into being open to the uncertainty that comes with real adulthood. Luckily this course fell squarely into that niche.
"Self Leadership and Life After Fordham" guided me on a journey from startling confusion to utter frustration, and finally to optimistic uncertainty. The professor challenged us to identify our strengths. This had nothing to do with using our talents to make us financially satisfied, but everything to do with matching those strengths to discover our "sweet spot" which will allow us to live the good life. This good life, according to the author Seligman, means happiness and success.
After completing a 240-question self-assessment, I discovered my top strengths were identified as gratitude, kindness/generosity, spirituality, zest and enthusiasm, and the capacity to love and be loved. Enter the aforementioned startling confusion and utter frustration. Am I a future accountant or an aspiring priest? I can't say I disagree with this strength assessment. These are all major pieces of who I am. But they always struck me as my general personality, not something that would necessarily form my career. Yet through further work in something called Hogan Personality Inventory, I discovered that my primary motivators were recognition, affiliation, and altruism. Money ranked fifth out of ten. I'm not sure I know a lot of accountants like that.
Upon revealing my strengths and motivators to the class, my professor told me these were all marks of a teacher. Funny thing is, I occasionally imagined myself working in the field during my twenties and thirties and then transferring careers once my family started to grow (read: get needy). I would love to teach either accounting or finance as I always find myself thinking of how I'd explain certain concepts to a group of college kids.
None of this has changed my decision to start in public accounting and then see what's out there after I become a CPA. What comes after is up to what I think at that point.
This class, however, had nothing to do with theory or learning content about your traditional subjects. If it were as such, I likely would have turned down the opportunity. Heading into my senior year I don't much worry about the accounting topics I haven't learned. Working this summer made me realize that the hands-on stuff is so much more important anyway. The most essential thing I want to glean out of the next few months is how to transition out of being coddled in academia into being open to the uncertainty that comes with real adulthood. Luckily this course fell squarely into that niche.
"Self Leadership and Life After Fordham" guided me on a journey from startling confusion to utter frustration, and finally to optimistic uncertainty. The professor challenged us to identify our strengths. This had nothing to do with using our talents to make us financially satisfied, but everything to do with matching those strengths to discover our "sweet spot" which will allow us to live the good life. This good life, according to the author Seligman, means happiness and success.
After completing a 240-question self-assessment, I discovered my top strengths were identified as gratitude, kindness/generosity, spirituality, zest and enthusiasm, and the capacity to love and be loved. Enter the aforementioned startling confusion and utter frustration. Am I a future accountant or an aspiring priest? I can't say I disagree with this strength assessment. These are all major pieces of who I am. But they always struck me as my general personality, not something that would necessarily form my career. Yet through further work in something called Hogan Personality Inventory, I discovered that my primary motivators were recognition, affiliation, and altruism. Money ranked fifth out of ten. I'm not sure I know a lot of accountants like that.
Upon revealing my strengths and motivators to the class, my professor told me these were all marks of a teacher. Funny thing is, I occasionally imagined myself working in the field during my twenties and thirties and then transferring careers once my family started to grow (read: get needy). I would love to teach either accounting or finance as I always find myself thinking of how I'd explain certain concepts to a group of college kids.
None of this has changed my decision to start in public accounting and then see what's out there after I become a CPA. What comes after is up to what I think at that point.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Flushing 2032
"Good afternoon, New York Mets? Yes, yes, just a moment." Roberta pressed the intercom button. "Mike, it's Bob Remsen. Shall I put him through?"
"Tell him I'll talk to him tomorrow. Citigroup can wait a day on the team's 401(k). I don't plan on retiring this weekend anyway."
"But what if I do?"
"Then this whole organization might as well fold. I still tell Omar that if it weren't for your pound cake the day Johan Santana brought his kids to see how he felt about the team's atmosphere, then the Phillies would've won the pennant in 2015."
"Oh, yeah right. Mr. Minaya wouldn't have any of that talk."
"I'm gonna head down to the stands, 'Bert. I've been waiting twenty-eight years to see the team retire numbers five and seven. I guess this officially means Jose's done swiping bags. Just when we could use a good shortstop, too."
"Michael, Michael, Michael. Don't worry! I'll get the boys we need, you just make sure we got the dough to pay 'em." The longest reigning general manager in the sport had just walked in, and even at seventy-four, he was still not one to have his baseball acumen questioned.
"I'm not sure if we could ever have enough cash to keep buying out Paul. But you da GM!"
I was one of the few who could get away with teasing Omar about our manager situation. For the past seven years, we'd gone through five managers. Paul LoDuca. Tony Gwynn, Jr. Paul LoDuca. Ed Travers. Paul LoDuca. Paul and Omar have always had a colorful relationship. Ever since the days of Paul saying and doing things to make the front office cringe in 2006 and 2007, it had been a rough road for the two. Everyone agrees that the only unbreakable bond between them is their common obsession with the New York Mets since birth.
"I'm tellin' ya, Mikey. If that little punk pushes down one more umpire over a questionable called strike in the ninth inning of a 12-3 rout, I'll make sure he doesn't manage so much as an ant farm!"
"That little punk's won ya four division titles and a World Series -
"Ay! Shut up already, you coming downstairs or what?"
"To party like it's 2007? Yeah, five minutes. My wife's bringing my David Wright jersey."
"Ay dios mio, Michael, you're our CFO, not our head cheerleader. It's bad enough you can't type with those four World Series rings on all the time. Like Fred always said, if we gave Mr. Met a checkbook and sat him at your desk, no one would ever know the difference. See you behind the plate."
I sat in my office a few more minutes, waiting for Julia to get to the stadium with my jersey and the kids. Being married to the New York City Schools' Chancellor always meant having to be patient while some principal whined to her about class sizes. My cell phone rang and I headed downstairs.
"Daddy! Did Mr. Wright ever hit a home run?" My youngest daughter was just starting to learn the terminology of our family's favorite pasttime.
"Yes, pumpkin. Mr. Wright hit lots of home runs. C'mon, I think he and Uncle Keith wanted to show you something before the game."
I led my wife and our three kids up to the Ralph Kiner Television Booth. The room has carried the same name since I was a teenager, and probably will until Gary Cohen and Keith Hernandez finally decide to hang up their microphones. They each only do a few innings a piece these days, but remain just as incredible as ever. Wright was beginning his second year in the booth, and SNY's ratings were at an all time high. My suspicion is that the population of female Mets fans exploded when they were able to stare at New York's favorite pretty boy every night on TV. I happened to think David was doing a good job, but the critics weren't being as kind. They did have a point though. Few people want to hear a play-by-play man gush about how Mets fans are the greatest fans in the world when the middle reliever has just been booed off the field after giving up yet another home run.
"Hey, Emily! You know what this is?" Keith was already in the booth.
"A babblehead!"
"Nope, Keith's a babblehead," David Wright said as he walked into the room. "This is a bobblehead. A Willie Randolph bobblehead. Has Daddy ever told you about him?"
"He was Daddy's favorite manager!"
"Mr. Wright's favorite manager too, Emily," Keith proclaimed. "I brought it for you."
"Thank you, Uncle Babblehead!"
Keith chuckled. "Stop corrupting Mike's girl, Dave!"
It was a beautiful night at Shea. It felt so liberating to say Shea again. One of my proudest accomplishments was negotiating with Citi to drop their name from the stadium five years ago. Omar wanted to kill me since buying out that contract put a strain on payroll, but Jeff Wilpon backed me all the way.
Nothing could top the gorgeous May evening. I had been working for my number one obsession for the past twenty years. We were in the midst of three straight years of sitting atop the NL East. My two favorite ballplayers of all time, Mets for life until they retired after the 2027 World Series, were about to have their numbers hung from the Jackie Robinson rotunda. With my beautiful family at my side, we took our seats behind the dugout.
"No one will ever touch this man's career record of 1,804 stolen bases!" bellowed Master of Ceremonies Tom Glavine from the field. "With a lifetime .310 average, he helped lead the Mets to six World series titles dating back to 2007. He'll tell you with his trademark smile that it was Pedro Martinez' Game 1 perfect game that did the trick, but that doesn't excuse our shortstop's .512 batting average during the Series. Ladies and gentlemen, as we take his number out of use for the New York Mets, please give it up for the shortstop, number seven, JO-SAYYYYY REYES!"
At the chorus of 45,000 people chanting his old familiar theme, Reyes came running as hard as ever onto the field. Lo Duca could be seen bellowing his name from the field as well.
I leaned over my GM's shoulder. "Omar, I don't care if he goes after the entire opposing team with a bat tonight, you can't fire him now."
"I'll do what I can, but if he lets Vegas win tonight, I might just lose it. Ever since they moved, he can't seem to get it through his fat little head that they're still the Marlins!"
The ceremonies continued. The love for Reyes was omnipotent. The same went for Wright a few minutes later. The old left side of the infield tandem raised each other's arms, reminiscent of all the times they strode down the ticker tape parades together. What a night to be a Mets fan.
"Tell him I'll talk to him tomorrow. Citigroup can wait a day on the team's 401(k). I don't plan on retiring this weekend anyway."
"But what if I do?"
"Then this whole organization might as well fold. I still tell Omar that if it weren't for your pound cake the day Johan Santana brought his kids to see how he felt about the team's atmosphere, then the Phillies would've won the pennant in 2015."
"Oh, yeah right. Mr. Minaya wouldn't have any of that talk."
"I'm gonna head down to the stands, 'Bert. I've been waiting twenty-eight years to see the team retire numbers five and seven. I guess this officially means Jose's done swiping bags. Just when we could use a good shortstop, too."
"Michael, Michael, Michael. Don't worry! I'll get the boys we need, you just make sure we got the dough to pay 'em." The longest reigning general manager in the sport had just walked in, and even at seventy-four, he was still not one to have his baseball acumen questioned.
"I'm not sure if we could ever have enough cash to keep buying out Paul. But you da GM!"
I was one of the few who could get away with teasing Omar about our manager situation. For the past seven years, we'd gone through five managers. Paul LoDuca. Tony Gwynn, Jr. Paul LoDuca. Ed Travers. Paul LoDuca. Paul and Omar have always had a colorful relationship. Ever since the days of Paul saying and doing things to make the front office cringe in 2006 and 2007, it had been a rough road for the two. Everyone agrees that the only unbreakable bond between them is their common obsession with the New York Mets since birth.
"I'm tellin' ya, Mikey. If that little punk pushes down one more umpire over a questionable called strike in the ninth inning of a 12-3 rout, I'll make sure he doesn't manage so much as an ant farm!"
"That little punk's won ya four division titles and a World Series -
"Ay! Shut up already, you coming downstairs or what?"
"To party like it's 2007? Yeah, five minutes. My wife's bringing my David Wright jersey."
"Ay dios mio, Michael, you're our CFO, not our head cheerleader. It's bad enough you can't type with those four World Series rings on all the time. Like Fred always said, if we gave Mr. Met a checkbook and sat him at your desk, no one would ever know the difference. See you behind the plate."
I sat in my office a few more minutes, waiting for Julia to get to the stadium with my jersey and the kids. Being married to the New York City Schools' Chancellor always meant having to be patient while some principal whined to her about class sizes. My cell phone rang and I headed downstairs.
"Daddy! Did Mr. Wright ever hit a home run?" My youngest daughter was just starting to learn the terminology of our family's favorite pasttime.
"Yes, pumpkin. Mr. Wright hit lots of home runs. C'mon, I think he and Uncle Keith wanted to show you something before the game."
I led my wife and our three kids up to the Ralph Kiner Television Booth. The room has carried the same name since I was a teenager, and probably will until Gary Cohen and Keith Hernandez finally decide to hang up their microphones. They each only do a few innings a piece these days, but remain just as incredible as ever. Wright was beginning his second year in the booth, and SNY's ratings were at an all time high. My suspicion is that the population of female Mets fans exploded when they were able to stare at New York's favorite pretty boy every night on TV. I happened to think David was doing a good job, but the critics weren't being as kind. They did have a point though. Few people want to hear a play-by-play man gush about how Mets fans are the greatest fans in the world when the middle reliever has just been booed off the field after giving up yet another home run.
"Hey, Emily! You know what this is?" Keith was already in the booth.
"A babblehead!"
"Nope, Keith's a babblehead," David Wright said as he walked into the room. "This is a bobblehead. A Willie Randolph bobblehead. Has Daddy ever told you about him?"
"He was Daddy's favorite manager!"
"Mr. Wright's favorite manager too, Emily," Keith proclaimed. "I brought it for you."
"Thank you, Uncle Babblehead!"
Keith chuckled. "Stop corrupting Mike's girl, Dave!"
It was a beautiful night at Shea. It felt so liberating to say Shea again. One of my proudest accomplishments was negotiating with Citi to drop their name from the stadium five years ago. Omar wanted to kill me since buying out that contract put a strain on payroll, but Jeff Wilpon backed me all the way.
Nothing could top the gorgeous May evening. I had been working for my number one obsession for the past twenty years. We were in the midst of three straight years of sitting atop the NL East. My two favorite ballplayers of all time, Mets for life until they retired after the 2027 World Series, were about to have their numbers hung from the Jackie Robinson rotunda. With my beautiful family at my side, we took our seats behind the dugout.
"No one will ever touch this man's career record of 1,804 stolen bases!" bellowed Master of Ceremonies Tom Glavine from the field. "With a lifetime .310 average, he helped lead the Mets to six World series titles dating back to 2007. He'll tell you with his trademark smile that it was Pedro Martinez' Game 1 perfect game that did the trick, but that doesn't excuse our shortstop's .512 batting average during the Series. Ladies and gentlemen, as we take his number out of use for the New York Mets, please give it up for the shortstop, number seven, JO-SAYYYYY REYES!"
At the chorus of 45,000 people chanting his old familiar theme, Reyes came running as hard as ever onto the field. Lo Duca could be seen bellowing his name from the field as well.
I leaned over my GM's shoulder. "Omar, I don't care if he goes after the entire opposing team with a bat tonight, you can't fire him now."
"I'll do what I can, but if he lets Vegas win tonight, I might just lose it. Ever since they moved, he can't seem to get it through his fat little head that they're still the Marlins!"
The ceremonies continued. The love for Reyes was omnipotent. The same went for Wright a few minutes later. The old left side of the infield tandem raised each other's arms, reminiscent of all the times they strode down the ticker tape parades together. What a night to be a Mets fan.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Later, P-Dubs
Posting here is my last official action on my PwC-owned laptop. This is my last day as an intern, and I will now take a one-year hiatus from the firm to finish my undergrad degree as well as start (and hopefully finish) my Masters of Business Administration in Finance. I've already been asked back to be an Associate in Fall 2008. At this moment, I'd say I am almost definitely going to accept the offer.
I'll probably post more frequently going forward. After my return from the Internship Development Program in Disney, that is. A paid trip to Disney? Man, these guys expect way too much from me.
Talk to you all on the other side of the Mouse.
I'll probably post more frequently going forward. After my return from the Internship Development Program in Disney, that is. A paid trip to Disney? Man, these guys expect way too much from me.
Talk to you all on the other side of the Mouse.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
It Gets Late Early Around Here
Good evening! Good morning! Aw, hell, what's in a time of day anyway?
I've yet to go to sleep. Well, that's not completely true. I napped between the hours of 11:30PM and 1:20AM. This between my double feature of New York Mets Baseball at 7:10PM and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (in IMAX!!) at 3:20AM.
The internship is going pretty well. Manhattan living is, of course, going along famously. Sadly there hasn't been much to write about, but I'm not exactly tired. I just wanted to make an appearance. Cowabunga, dudes.
I've yet to go to sleep. Well, that's not completely true. I napped between the hours of 11:30PM and 1:20AM. This between my double feature of New York Mets Baseball at 7:10PM and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (in IMAX!!) at 3:20AM.
The internship is going pretty well. Manhattan living is, of course, going along famously. Sadly there hasn't been much to write about, but I'm not exactly tired. I just wanted to make an appearance. Cowabunga, dudes.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Two Months on the Upper West Side
At about 9:30 this evening, I finished my frozen chicken pot pie from D'Agostino and was sitting on my couch watching some Jazz/Spurs action. Then the thought struck me: Why am I watching a game that not even members of the Jazz or Spurs care about, especially on this pristine Manhattan night?
Two minutes later I was strolling down Columbus. I figured I'd walk until I was either bored or tired and then start to head back. By about 50th Street (I live on 60th) I was wondering if I'd run into someone I know. Coming to the corner of 47th Street, my self-absorbed thinking was interrupted (and reinforced?) by the yell of "Mike!" I turned around to see my semi-buzzed Kansas friend Bailey running towards me. She was in a wine bar with a friend. She insisted I come inside for a little while, to which I obliged, and I tasted a few sips of various vinos. She and her friend came down with a car they were borrowing in order to move Bailey into my building. Long story short, I ended up driving the friend back to her place on 82nd and Amsterdam, and took Bailey back to good ole' McMahon Hall. Thus an uneventful night can be converted in a New York minute.
I know I'll enjoy living here this summer. I'll enjoy it more in a few weeks when I start collecting a regular paycheck. If you ever find yourself on 60th between Amsterdam and Columbus give me a yell.
Two minutes later I was strolling down Columbus. I figured I'd walk until I was either bored or tired and then start to head back. By about 50th Street (I live on 60th) I was wondering if I'd run into someone I know. Coming to the corner of 47th Street, my self-absorbed thinking was interrupted (and reinforced?) by the yell of "Mike!" I turned around to see my semi-buzzed Kansas friend Bailey running towards me. She was in a wine bar with a friend. She insisted I come inside for a little while, to which I obliged, and I tasted a few sips of various vinos. She and her friend came down with a car they were borrowing in order to move Bailey into my building. Long story short, I ended up driving the friend back to her place on 82nd and Amsterdam, and took Bailey back to good ole' McMahon Hall. Thus an uneventful night can be converted in a New York minute.
I know I'll enjoy living here this summer. I'll enjoy it more in a few weeks when I start collecting a regular paycheck. If you ever find yourself on 60th between Amsterdam and Columbus give me a yell.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Yanks and Cano KAY-oed
If the Yankee secondbaseman's errors from this afternoon played last night's Yankee runs, the defensive gaffes would have it by a score of 3-2. FOX named Endy Chavez as the Mets' player of the game. WFAN gave the honor to David Wright. They both had it wrong. Robinson Cano was the MVP of the day.
Good teams get the breaks. Bad teams' pitchers have their index fingers broken. Now I don't wish injuries upon any player, unless your name is Barry Bonds and you're about to break a hallowed record. But the first of Endy's four hits on the day proved to be the hardest as it felled the Yanks' starter. Mike Myers was not shown mercy by the Kings of Queens and all of New York as David Wright served up a two-run bomb out of Shea and into Citi Field. The rest of the game was a dandy, with some repeat Wright Stuff later on.
The only bit of agida came after Thomas Michael Glavine left the game - love the middle name, Tom. I predicted to my Dad when Schoeneweis came on in relief that an 8-2 Mets' laugher wouldn't stay very funny. I was right as he gave up three runs in the seventh and the start of the eighth, and I sensed a revived Yankee team as their lineup reverted back to the top. For the second straight night though, Captain Jeter went down to end the eighth. Thank you, the better blatantly German-named Mets' pitcher. By the by, his middle name is Michael, too.
To the bottom of the eighth, Cano made it a little more comfortable for us again when he thought his shoe was Josh Phelps' glove. Important to note here was that before Cano's botched throw, Wright and Beltran reached second and third on a double steal after Willie Randolph signaled for it. If Willie doesn't make that call, Cano puts the ball in his back pocket after Julio Franco's infield hit and only one run scores. Dr. Randolph again showed he deserves his new title.
On May 20, 2006, Billy Wagner came into the middle game of a Subway Series and attempted to close out a four run Mets lead to win the Shea half of the Series. This afternoon, Billy Wagner came into the middle game of a Subway Series and attempted to close out a four run Mets lead to win the Shea half of the Series. On May 20, 2006, giddiness turned to worry as Wagner proved shaky. This afternoon, giddiness turned to worry as Wagner proved shaky. On May 20, 2006, worry turned to horror as the Yankees tied the game and went on to beat Jorge Julio in the tenth. This afternoon, worry turned back into giddiness as Wagner baffled Phelps and put that bitch in the books, 10-7.
Tomorrow night I'll be at Shea with my broom to sweep the Yankees into the waiting hot bats of the Boston Red Sox. We then go to Atlanta and attempt to give ourselves some divisional breathing room. It's good to be king.
Good teams get the breaks. Bad teams' pitchers have their index fingers broken. Now I don't wish injuries upon any player, unless your name is Barry Bonds and you're about to break a hallowed record. But the first of Endy's four hits on the day proved to be the hardest as it felled the Yanks' starter. Mike Myers was not shown mercy by the Kings of Queens and all of New York as David Wright served up a two-run bomb out of Shea and into Citi Field. The rest of the game was a dandy, with some repeat Wright Stuff later on.
The only bit of agida came after Thomas Michael Glavine left the game - love the middle name, Tom. I predicted to my Dad when Schoeneweis came on in relief that an 8-2 Mets' laugher wouldn't stay very funny. I was right as he gave up three runs in the seventh and the start of the eighth, and I sensed a revived Yankee team as their lineup reverted back to the top. For the second straight night though, Captain Jeter went down to end the eighth. Thank you, the better blatantly German-named Mets' pitcher. By the by, his middle name is Michael, too.
To the bottom of the eighth, Cano made it a little more comfortable for us again when he thought his shoe was Josh Phelps' glove. Important to note here was that before Cano's botched throw, Wright and Beltran reached second and third on a double steal after Willie Randolph signaled for it. If Willie doesn't make that call, Cano puts the ball in his back pocket after Julio Franco's infield hit and only one run scores. Dr. Randolph again showed he deserves his new title.
On May 20, 2006, Billy Wagner came into the middle game of a Subway Series and attempted to close out a four run Mets lead to win the Shea half of the Series. This afternoon, Billy Wagner came into the middle game of a Subway Series and attempted to close out a four run Mets lead to win the Shea half of the Series. On May 20, 2006, giddiness turned to worry as Wagner proved shaky. This afternoon, giddiness turned to worry as Wagner proved shaky. On May 20, 2006, worry turned to horror as the Yankees tied the game and went on to beat Jorge Julio in the tenth. This afternoon, worry turned back into giddiness as Wagner baffled Phelps and put that bitch in the books, 10-7.
Tomorrow night I'll be at Shea with my broom to sweep the Yankees into the waiting hot bats of the Boston Red Sox. We then go to Atlanta and attempt to give ourselves some divisional breathing room. It's good to be king.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Subway Series, BABY
Awesomeness On A Stick readers, be prepared for a weekend full of New York vs. New York coverage. Upon recommendation from one of my readers, I decided to ramp up the bloggage during what is always one of my favorite weekends of the year.
It all started this morning. The SNY Subway Series Kickoff at 51st Street and 6th Avenue. While I did not win tickets for this weekend (which is OK, because I'm going Sunday night), I fulfilled a long-time dream of mine in meeting the Voice of the Mets. The finest first baseman and most debonair pitcher in team history, now both voices of awesomeness as well, were also in attendance. I chatted with the guys for a good minute, took a picture with them, and got all three to sign my baseball. When I have a desk one day, that ball is gonna sit on it forever.
An abbreviated play-by-play of the game follows:
Top 1:
7:12 - Oh, Endy. Oh, Endy, Endy, Endy. Throwin' the Damon out at second.
7:17 - Perez walks Posada. SETTLE DOWN OLLIE.
7:19 - Easley grabs one out of the air that could've been bad.
Bottom 1:
7:22 - Andy Pettitte, meet Jose Reyes. You do NOT want to let him get on base. Aaaand ya just did.
7:24 - Pettitte just tried to pick off Jose for at least the third time. And we have our first Yankees Suck chant of the night.
7:26 - After Easley walks, El Esta Aqui in the form of Carlos B.
7:28 - One to nothing Mets as Carlos D. sacrifices Legs home. Told ya, Andy.
Top 2:
7:35 - Not much to report as Ollie gets through on eight pitches. Two of them were fly balls to Endy.
Bottom 2:
7:41 - It was a pitcher's second inning.
Top 3:
7:44 - We have our first strikeout of the night as Ollie gets Andy looking.
7:48 - Another 1-2-3 inning despite an error by Carlos G. It was only a missed foul, so no need to get cranky.
Bottom 3:
7:50 - Don't you love it when a pitcher produces as many hits as he's given up?
7:51 - Voice just did a Jeter/Legs stats comparison. Keith said he'd take either. Ron said something about Jeet having more bling bling on his fingers. Best broadcast team ever.
7:53 - Booo 6-4-3 double play grounded into by Easley.
Top 4:
7:55 - Coming back from commercial, Voice did a Jets Nation promo. Keith has a Chad Pennington bobblehead on the desk. Ron asks the bobblehead if he likes the Patriots. Keith makes mini-Chad shake its head.
7:56 - Cut to the booth again. As Voice and Ron have a serious conversation about Subway Series hype, Keith's looking at the camera laughing.
8:00 - Still never a fan of a Matsui in Shea as Hideki launches a two-run bomb. Two to one Yanks.
Bottom 4:
8:10 - Beltran, Delgado, Wright. Strikeout, groundout, groundout.
Top 5:
8:16 - White men can jump if they are from Virginia and named David Wright. Side retired.
Bottom 5:
8:19 - LoDuca doubles down the third base line. Let's get some runs here.
8:20 - And it's outta here! Endy proves once again that he's the Prince of Shea. Mets back on top, 3-2.
8:24 - JOSE JOSE JOSE JOSE, JOSE, JOSE. Mets fans just have more fun.
Top 6:
8:28 - Perez has thrown just seventy-seven pitches and we're in the sixth already. And the game's not even an hour and a half old. Wow.
8:33 - Legs just blatantly tried to drop a fly ball to induce a double play. Hey, where's the ump's wallet?
Bottom 6:
8:42 - Los Mets va uno, dos, tres.
Top 7:
8:45 - Ollie's looking amazing. Some action in the bullpen, though.
8:47 - Some DP action involving Wright, Easley, and Delgado. Shecond Shtanzaaa.
Bottom 7:
8:52 - Harold "I'm ashamed of my real name so I call myself John Sterling" Moskowitz probably would have just proclaimed a DOOKIE DOUBLE if LoDuca played for the Yankees. But he doesn't. Very important.
Top 8:
8:55 - Seriously? We're only an hour and 45 minutes into the game and seven innings are in the books. At this rate, we'll be two games up and they'll be ten games out at 9:18.
8:58 - Bobby Abreu strikes out.
9:08 - After Ollie leaves with two outs in the eighth, Joe Smith comes in and strikes out the ALMIGHTY Captain Jeter. Feelin' good things, good things.
Bottom 8:
9:17 - Scott Proctor gets the Mets out in order. Enter Sandman.
Top 9:
9:19 - A-Rod grounds to Reyes, on to first. In time! Two more to go.
9:22 - STRUCK OUT POSADA. And then there was one.
9:24 - Matsui infield hit. What the hell?
9:25 - Fat Giambi is up.
9:28 - He struck him out swinging. PUT IT IN THE BOOKS!
The Angry Puppy predicted a 9-3 Yankee win. I wish he would predict sudden doom for the human race now as well.
Oliver Perez answered the question of "Which Oliver Perez will the Mets see tonight?" after the fifth and sixth innings, over which stretch he faced only seven batters after temporarily giving up the lead in the fourth. The Oliver Perez the Mets saw tonight was the one who kicks ass and takes names. After hurling a gem over seven and two-thirds, Joe Smith came in to strike out Derek Jeter. Billy Wagner then converted his tenth save out of ten opportunities, lowering his ERA to a nearly flawless 0.50. The New York Mets are now two games ahead of the Atlanta Braves in the National League Eastern Division. It's good to be king.
See you all tomorrow night. Sans the exhaustive play-by-play.
It all started this morning. The SNY Subway Series Kickoff at 51st Street and 6th Avenue. While I did not win tickets for this weekend (which is OK, because I'm going Sunday night), I fulfilled a long-time dream of mine in meeting the Voice of the Mets. The finest first baseman and most debonair pitcher in team history, now both voices of awesomeness as well, were also in attendance. I chatted with the guys for a good minute, took a picture with them, and got all three to sign my baseball. When I have a desk one day, that ball is gonna sit on it forever.
An abbreviated play-by-play of the game follows:
Top 1:
7:12 - Oh, Endy. Oh, Endy, Endy, Endy. Throwin' the Damon out at second.
7:17 - Perez walks Posada. SETTLE DOWN OLLIE.
7:19 - Easley grabs one out of the air that could've been bad.
Bottom 1:
7:22 - Andy Pettitte, meet Jose Reyes. You do NOT want to let him get on base. Aaaand ya just did.
7:24 - Pettitte just tried to pick off Jose for at least the third time. And we have our first Yankees Suck chant of the night.
7:26 - After Easley walks, El Esta Aqui in the form of Carlos B.
7:28 - One to nothing Mets as Carlos D. sacrifices Legs home. Told ya, Andy.
Top 2:
7:35 - Not much to report as Ollie gets through on eight pitches. Two of them were fly balls to Endy.
Bottom 2:
7:41 - It was a pitcher's second inning.
Top 3:
7:44 - We have our first strikeout of the night as Ollie gets Andy looking.
7:48 - Another 1-2-3 inning despite an error by Carlos G. It was only a missed foul, so no need to get cranky.
Bottom 3:
7:50 - Don't you love it when a pitcher produces as many hits as he's given up?
7:51 - Voice just did a Jeter/Legs stats comparison. Keith said he'd take either. Ron said something about Jeet having more bling bling on his fingers. Best broadcast team ever.
7:53 - Booo 6-4-3 double play grounded into by Easley.
Top 4:
7:55 - Coming back from commercial, Voice did a Jets Nation promo. Keith has a Chad Pennington bobblehead on the desk. Ron asks the bobblehead if he likes the Patriots. Keith makes mini-Chad shake its head.
7:56 - Cut to the booth again. As Voice and Ron have a serious conversation about Subway Series hype, Keith's looking at the camera laughing.
8:00 - Still never a fan of a Matsui in Shea as Hideki launches a two-run bomb. Two to one Yanks.
Bottom 4:
8:10 - Beltran, Delgado, Wright. Strikeout, groundout, groundout.
Top 5:
8:16 - White men can jump if they are from Virginia and named David Wright. Side retired.
Bottom 5:
8:19 - LoDuca doubles down the third base line. Let's get some runs here.
8:20 - And it's outta here! Endy proves once again that he's the Prince of Shea. Mets back on top, 3-2.
8:24 - JOSE JOSE JOSE JOSE, JOSE, JOSE. Mets fans just have more fun.
Top 6:
8:28 - Perez has thrown just seventy-seven pitches and we're in the sixth already. And the game's not even an hour and a half old. Wow.
8:33 - Legs just blatantly tried to drop a fly ball to induce a double play. Hey, where's the ump's wallet?
Bottom 6:
8:42 - Los Mets va uno, dos, tres.
Top 7:
8:45 - Ollie's looking amazing. Some action in the bullpen, though.
8:47 - Some DP action involving Wright, Easley, and Delgado. Shecond Shtanzaaa.
Bottom 7:
8:52 - Harold "I'm ashamed of my real name so I call myself John Sterling" Moskowitz probably would have just proclaimed a DOOKIE DOUBLE if LoDuca played for the Yankees. But he doesn't. Very important.
Top 8:
8:55 - Seriously? We're only an hour and 45 minutes into the game and seven innings are in the books. At this rate, we'll be two games up and they'll be ten games out at 9:18.
8:58 - Bobby Abreu strikes out.
9:08 - After Ollie leaves with two outs in the eighth, Joe Smith comes in and strikes out the ALMIGHTY Captain Jeter. Feelin' good things, good things.
Bottom 8:
9:17 - Scott Proctor gets the Mets out in order. Enter Sandman.
Top 9:
9:19 - A-Rod grounds to Reyes, on to first. In time! Two more to go.
9:22 - STRUCK OUT POSADA. And then there was one.
9:24 - Matsui infield hit. What the hell?
9:25 - Fat Giambi is up.
9:28 - He struck him out swinging. PUT IT IN THE BOOKS!
The Angry Puppy predicted a 9-3 Yankee win. I wish he would predict sudden doom for the human race now as well.
Oliver Perez answered the question of "Which Oliver Perez will the Mets see tonight?" after the fifth and sixth innings, over which stretch he faced only seven batters after temporarily giving up the lead in the fourth. The Oliver Perez the Mets saw tonight was the one who kicks ass and takes names. After hurling a gem over seven and two-thirds, Joe Smith came in to strike out Derek Jeter. Billy Wagner then converted his tenth save out of ten opportunities, lowering his ERA to a nearly flawless 0.50. The New York Mets are now two games ahead of the Atlanta Braves in the National League Eastern Division. It's good to be king.
See you all tomorrow night. Sans the exhaustive play-by-play.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Which of the following is an umbrella term for psychological disorders NOT considered part of an entity's internal control structure?
That basically sums up my 9:30-2 today.
I now have four finals under my belt. Two on Tuesday and two today. Any energy remaining in my system has been channelled into catching up on Runner's World and writing a little. I just need to get through the Mets game tomorrow night. A warm, late-spring night at Shea ain't nothing to complain about, but because of the energy I usually exert rooting for my favorite baldplayers, I should probably take a nap tomorrow.
Speaking of my favorite leisure time (um, what's that?) activity, I spend the vast majority of my drive time between February and October listening to WFAN-NY 660AM. Aside from the black hole left by nappygate, the station is entirely sports talk. If you've ever encountered a New York sports fan, you probably noticed that, while very knowledgeable of the subject, his speech was filled with mania coupled with the occasional droning. WFAN hosts do not disappoint. Their personalities and styles are what make the station among the most listened to by men 18-54 years of age. Credit to Toastedjoe for creating a game in response to the loveable talking heads that involves everyone's favorite activity - drinking:
"The rules are simple. During any WFAN broadcast, take a drink whenever any of the following events take place:
1. Every time Joe Beningo says "ohhh, the pain!"
2. Every time Steve Sommers uses a Yiddish word.
3. Every time Mike Francesa repeats himself over the course of a show (warning: may result in alcohol poisoning)
4. Every time a Yankee fan caller says the word "Jee-tuh."
5. Every time you laugh at the mental image of Mike and Dog "goin' at it as hard as they can!" (actual line from their theme song)
6. Every time Beningo says "...when of COUUUURSE..."
7. Every time you hear the words "first time, long time."
8. Every time Doggie says "If that happens....I'll live wit' it. I'll live wit' it."
9. Every time Francesa cuts off a stupid caller by saying "You're gone...goodbye. Goodbye."
10. Every time Doggie cackles.
11. Every time Beningo says "...and you just KNOW" something bad will happen to the Mets, Jets, Rangers, or Knicks.
12. Every time Richard Neer asks himself a question and gives a wishy-washy answer ("Will Pedro's injury hurt the Mets in the long run? I don't know.")
13. Every time Doggie says "waaaaaaaaw!!"
14. Every time Mike and Dog read a Steinbrenner "missive."
15. Every time Sweeney Murti calls in and kisses some Yankee ass.
16. Every time Mike and/or Dog bash Mets management.
17. Every time Doggie's basis for an argument is "that's all there is to it." (e.g., "Coughlin's gotta kick the field goal there, that's all there is to it.")
18. Every time Beningo mentions Scott Kazmir.
Happy drinkin'!"
Each morning I lend an ear to whomever is replacing the nationally syndicated Imus spot for the day. This morning's attempt to give a chance to the garden-variety talker yielded the following brief exchange between the radio and myself, followed by an immediate changing of the dial:
Radio announcer: You're listening to Geraldo Rivera on SportsRadio66 WFAN New York.
Me: Noo I'm not. Don Imus must be rolling in his grave.
The studios are in Astoria, Queens. I should get there at six each morning, do a four hour show, and head to school. I've got to be less maddening than Geraldo and I definitely would command a smaller salary. Get at me, (station manager) Chernoff.
End FAN talk.
I don't know what I want to do when I grew up. I had it figured out so much better when I looked like this. Kudos to Cousin Dylan for being awesome and now cancer-free.
I now have four finals under my belt. Two on Tuesday and two today. Any energy remaining in my system has been channelled into catching up on Runner's World and writing a little. I just need to get through the Mets game tomorrow night. A warm, late-spring night at Shea ain't nothing to complain about, but because of the energy I usually exert rooting for my favorite baldplayers, I should probably take a nap tomorrow.
Speaking of my favorite leisure time (um, what's that?) activity, I spend the vast majority of my drive time between February and October listening to WFAN-NY 660AM. Aside from the black hole left by nappygate, the station is entirely sports talk. If you've ever encountered a New York sports fan, you probably noticed that, while very knowledgeable of the subject, his speech was filled with mania coupled with the occasional droning. WFAN hosts do not disappoint. Their personalities and styles are what make the station among the most listened to by men 18-54 years of age. Credit to Toastedjoe for creating a game in response to the loveable talking heads that involves everyone's favorite activity - drinking:
"The rules are simple. During any WFAN broadcast, take a drink whenever any of the following events take place:
1. Every time Joe Beningo says "ohhh, the pain!"
2. Every time Steve Sommers uses a Yiddish word.
3. Every time Mike Francesa repeats himself over the course of a show (warning: may result in alcohol poisoning)
4. Every time a Yankee fan caller says the word "Jee-tuh."
5. Every time you laugh at the mental image of Mike and Dog "goin' at it as hard as they can!" (actual line from their theme song)
6. Every time Beningo says "...when of COUUUURSE..."
7. Every time you hear the words "first time, long time."
8. Every time Doggie says "If that happens....I'll live wit' it. I'll live wit' it."
9. Every time Francesa cuts off a stupid caller by saying "You're gone...goodbye. Goodbye."
10. Every time Doggie cackles.
11. Every time Beningo says "...and you just KNOW" something bad will happen to the Mets, Jets, Rangers, or Knicks.
12. Every time Richard Neer asks himself a question and gives a wishy-washy answer ("Will Pedro's injury hurt the Mets in the long run? I don't know.")
13. Every time Doggie says "waaaaaaaaw!!"
14. Every time Mike and Dog read a Steinbrenner "missive."
15. Every time Sweeney Murti calls in and kisses some Yankee ass.
16. Every time Mike and/or Dog bash Mets management.
17. Every time Doggie's basis for an argument is "that's all there is to it." (e.g., "Coughlin's gotta kick the field goal there, that's all there is to it.")
18. Every time Beningo mentions Scott Kazmir.
Happy drinkin'!"
Each morning I lend an ear to whomever is replacing the nationally syndicated Imus spot for the day. This morning's attempt to give a chance to the garden-variety talker yielded the following brief exchange between the radio and myself, followed by an immediate changing of the dial:
Radio announcer: You're listening to Geraldo Rivera on SportsRadio66 WFAN New York.
Me: Noo I'm not. Don Imus must be rolling in his grave.
The studios are in Astoria, Queens. I should get there at six each morning, do a four hour show, and head to school. I've got to be less maddening than Geraldo and I definitely would command a smaller salary. Get at me, (station manager) Chernoff.
End FAN talk.
I don't know what I want to do when I grew up. I had it figured out so much better when I looked like this. Kudos to Cousin Dylan for being awesome and now cancer-free.
Friday, May 4, 2007
First off, I'd like to say thanks to all of you who've been reading so far. I'm up to 102 clicks as of this writing, and at least half of those aren't even mine!
Even though most of my posts have been political in nature, that's not what I'm completely about. Just been sorta riled up lately.
I'm working on Sunday. At a funeral home, to be more specific. No, I've never seen Six Feet Under so I don't know if it's the same. The funeral business, like any other business, is a business. I'm not a licensed funeral director (nor will I ever be), so I don't do the especially gruesome stuff. I'm an assistant to the funeral directors, nine men ranging in age from thirty-five to sixty-seven. When I'm not supervising wakes or performing mundane office tasks, I talk baseball, comedy, women, and life with some of the younger guys. I've never had a burning desire to work in a funeral home, I just needed money and a kid I knew from high school mentioned the good pay here.
After three years, I leave the place in a week. I'm interning for a Big 4 accounting firm this summer, a summer which I've been looking forward to more than any other. I'll be living at Fordham's Lincoln Center campus during the internship. Manhattan living has been a desire of mine since I was a boy of six, walking with my Mother in the cool December evenings of the truly magical Christmastime in the City. I always wondered why visit the magic when you can live among it.
Even though most of my posts have been political in nature, that's not what I'm completely about. Just been sorta riled up lately.
I'm working on Sunday. At a funeral home, to be more specific. No, I've never seen Six Feet Under so I don't know if it's the same. The funeral business, like any other business, is a business. I'm not a licensed funeral director (nor will I ever be), so I don't do the especially gruesome stuff. I'm an assistant to the funeral directors, nine men ranging in age from thirty-five to sixty-seven. When I'm not supervising wakes or performing mundane office tasks, I talk baseball, comedy, women, and life with some of the younger guys. I've never had a burning desire to work in a funeral home, I just needed money and a kid I knew from high school mentioned the good pay here.
After three years, I leave the place in a week. I'm interning for a Big 4 accounting firm this summer, a summer which I've been looking forward to more than any other. I'll be living at Fordham's Lincoln Center campus during the internship. Manhattan living has been a desire of mine since I was a boy of six, walking with my Mother in the cool December evenings of the truly magical Christmastime in the City. I always wondered why visit the magic when you can live among it.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
(I Mus)t Be Dreaming
Nappy-headed hos.
Sounds ridiculous, right? An ignorant, insensitive, irresponsible remark uttered by a major media figure whose guests include senators and journalists, and who devotes nearly all of his free time to helping kids with cancer.
Rewind to April 4th. MSNBC hasn't fired Don Imus yet. CBS Radio hasn't suspended him for two weeks yet. No one knows of the eloquence of Coach Vivian Stringer, and the I-Man hasn't been 24-hour news fodder.
OK. Now have the heads of General Motors, Proctor & Gamble, Staples, the president of NBC News, and all of the politicians and authors who have now said they'll never appear on his show again tune into the Imus in the Morning Radio Program that morning. Don Imus and his producer, Bernard McGuirk, are discussing the NCAA Women's Basketball championship matchup. Imus refers to the Rutgers team as a bunch of nappy-headed hos. Now observe how all of these people react to the remark, independently of each other. Does NBC News President Steve Capus fire him on the spot? Does Bigelow Teas pull their ads right away? Are they even going to react with anything more than a shrug and something like, "Oh, it's Imus being Imus"?
If you answered yes to any of those questions, folks, keep in mind that I was born at night. But not last night.
Point is, none of these hyprocrites would do a damn thing about this whole situation if they didn't face the prospects of bad publicity and lost revenue. People accusing Imus of damage control? Please also mention the same about American Express and Cal Ripken, Jr.
This is all happening in the wake of Michael Richards' tirade and George Allen's macacagate. Richards got nostalgiac for days of violence and lynching of blacks. Allen managed to bring up the war on terror immediately after his slur to invent a comparison. Imus got lazy and fell into the trap of his old shock-jock days. His behavior is paltry when juxtaposed with the hatefulness of the other two.
Imus has repeated the word "context" in the past week. The conversational context of his words don't justify them. But take a look at his three-decade career. I've listened to him for a tenth of that period, and during this time he has continued his tremendous philanthropy towards the C.J. Foundation for SIDS, the Tomorrows Children's Fund, and the Imus Ranch. He beat the drums of support for former-Congressman Harold Ford, Jr. who unsuccessfully ran for the Senate in 2006. Harold Ford is a black man, and Imus deplored the racial sentiment which likely caused him to lose a squeaker of a race.
Some of the loudest people in this mess have been two groups who shouldn't even talk. These are those who have listened to his show for years and are somehow surprised that he makes fun of people for just about anything, and those who have never listened to the show and think that he should be fired without question.
This is between Don Imus and the Rutgers team. He dumped on an innocent target, and he's doing the right thing by meeting with them to apologize. They'd have every right to refuse, and they have shown tremendous dignity. Those who are outraged for the sake of being outraged are doing more harm than good. The race movement in this country should be about uniting, not casting someone out of society who made a mistake and has promised to change.
As a final point, MSNBC has acted wrecklessly for announcing this decision tonight. The 18th Annual Telethon for his three causes mentioned above takes place tomorrow and Friday. The telethon has been enormously successful and has raised millions for the charities. If the network really felt they had to do this, they should have waited 48 hours rather than cheating sick children and families who have dealt with Sudden Infant Death Syndrome out of something truly great. MSNBC should be held to the same scrunity for their irresponsibility.
Sounds ridiculous, right? An ignorant, insensitive, irresponsible remark uttered by a major media figure whose guests include senators and journalists, and who devotes nearly all of his free time to helping kids with cancer.
Rewind to April 4th. MSNBC hasn't fired Don Imus yet. CBS Radio hasn't suspended him for two weeks yet. No one knows of the eloquence of Coach Vivian Stringer, and the I-Man hasn't been 24-hour news fodder.
OK. Now have the heads of General Motors, Proctor & Gamble, Staples, the president of NBC News, and all of the politicians and authors who have now said they'll never appear on his show again tune into the Imus in the Morning Radio Program that morning. Don Imus and his producer, Bernard McGuirk, are discussing the NCAA Women's Basketball championship matchup. Imus refers to the Rutgers team as a bunch of nappy-headed hos. Now observe how all of these people react to the remark, independently of each other. Does NBC News President Steve Capus fire him on the spot? Does Bigelow Teas pull their ads right away? Are they even going to react with anything more than a shrug and something like, "Oh, it's Imus being Imus"?
If you answered yes to any of those questions, folks, keep in mind that I was born at night. But not last night.
Point is, none of these hyprocrites would do a damn thing about this whole situation if they didn't face the prospects of bad publicity and lost revenue. People accusing Imus of damage control? Please also mention the same about American Express and Cal Ripken, Jr.
This is all happening in the wake of Michael Richards' tirade and George Allen's macacagate. Richards got nostalgiac for days of violence and lynching of blacks. Allen managed to bring up the war on terror immediately after his slur to invent a comparison. Imus got lazy and fell into the trap of his old shock-jock days. His behavior is paltry when juxtaposed with the hatefulness of the other two.
Imus has repeated the word "context" in the past week. The conversational context of his words don't justify them. But take a look at his three-decade career. I've listened to him for a tenth of that period, and during this time he has continued his tremendous philanthropy towards the C.J. Foundation for SIDS, the Tomorrows Children's Fund, and the Imus Ranch. He beat the drums of support for former-Congressman Harold Ford, Jr. who unsuccessfully ran for the Senate in 2006. Harold Ford is a black man, and Imus deplored the racial sentiment which likely caused him to lose a squeaker of a race.
Some of the loudest people in this mess have been two groups who shouldn't even talk. These are those who have listened to his show for years and are somehow surprised that he makes fun of people for just about anything, and those who have never listened to the show and think that he should be fired without question.
This is between Don Imus and the Rutgers team. He dumped on an innocent target, and he's doing the right thing by meeting with them to apologize. They'd have every right to refuse, and they have shown tremendous dignity. Those who are outraged for the sake of being outraged are doing more harm than good. The race movement in this country should be about uniting, not casting someone out of society who made a mistake and has promised to change.
As a final point, MSNBC has acted wrecklessly for announcing this decision tonight. The 18th Annual Telethon for his three causes mentioned above takes place tomorrow and Friday. The telethon has been enormously successful and has raised millions for the charities. If the network really felt they had to do this, they should have waited 48 hours rather than cheating sick children and families who have dealt with Sudden Infant Death Syndrome out of something truly great. MSNBC should be held to the same scrunity for their irresponsibility.
Monday, April 9, 2007
Spiritual Notebook? WHATTTTT
First, my apologies for the like of blogage. My mind is more active than the frequency of my posts.
I'm writing mainly because I have to extinguish the bad taste in my mouth from a speech I just wrote. I serve on the pastoral council of my parish. Yes, I'm one of the rare young people who practices a somewhat active faith life. Christianity has always served as a good moral compass for me. There was a brilliant op-ed in The Times this weekend which I'd share but I've already thrown it out and couldn't find it on the site. Anywho, it compared the contrasting mantras of President Bush and Jesus Christ. To paraphrase, Bush said, "You're either with us or you're against us," five years ago. His approval rating hovers in the thirties. Jesus said, "Those who are not against us are with us." Two thousand years later, over a billion call themselves Christians.
Back on point, I agreed to serve on this council because the pastor wanted a youth voice and he saw me as a leader. I think I got in a little over my head, however, because we were asked to each prepare a five-minute talk at Mass. My topic is teaching. Not the most brilliant piece I've ever written, and I'm a little ashamed to say I'm speaking on a topic of which I know little. Therefore, I did what's best for a bad speech. I kept it short.
Jimmy Rollins? The Mets are the team to beat. At least your team just earned the first draft pick for next year.
Bad taste extinguished.
I'm writing mainly because I have to extinguish the bad taste in my mouth from a speech I just wrote. I serve on the pastoral council of my parish. Yes, I'm one of the rare young people who practices a somewhat active faith life. Christianity has always served as a good moral compass for me. There was a brilliant op-ed in The Times this weekend which I'd share but I've already thrown it out and couldn't find it on the site. Anywho, it compared the contrasting mantras of President Bush and Jesus Christ. To paraphrase, Bush said, "You're either with us or you're against us," five years ago. His approval rating hovers in the thirties. Jesus said, "Those who are not against us are with us." Two thousand years later, over a billion call themselves Christians.
Back on point, I agreed to serve on this council because the pastor wanted a youth voice and he saw me as a leader. I think I got in a little over my head, however, because we were asked to each prepare a five-minute talk at Mass. My topic is teaching. Not the most brilliant piece I've ever written, and I'm a little ashamed to say I'm speaking on a topic of which I know little. Therefore, I did what's best for a bad speech. I kept it short.
Jimmy Rollins? The Mets are the team to beat. At least your team just earned the first draft pick for next year.
Bad taste extinguished.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Time for AG the AG to be A-Gon(e), Along With The Boss
Oh, seriously. C'mon.
On November 2, 2004, I was one of those people that most of you probably hated. Chanting "FOUR MORE YEARS" until early the next morning, I figured our nation would see a comfortable stretch until 2008. Now, I just hope we can last another twenty-two months without another:
Katrina
Harriet Miers
Walter Reed.
Those are just the first three that come to mind. I won't get into today being the fourth anniversary of a war of whose duration our Secretary of Defense at the time predicted, "Three days, three weeks. I doubt it'll last three months." We all know the toll it's caused on our boys. I've been trying to see the bright side of it all, but this shows no signs of winnability. I don't doubt that many innocent Iraqi citizens probably want us there. The United States military has a long history of being a comfort to the oppressed. But...Well, I said I really wasn't gonna get into the war.
Anyway, if you don't know by now, our Justice Department headed by Attorney General Alberto Gonzales has been accused of firing eight U.S. attorneys for "politically motivated" reasons. There's a trail of e-mails, and one of the big scapegoats is now the aforementioned Ms. Miers. The Pit Bull in Size 6 Shoes recently resigned as White House legal counsel, a job which she inherited from AG the AG when he became the AG. Harriet apparently suggested the removal of the Justice Department attorneys because they weren't in line with the Bush administration enough. House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and Senator Patrick Leahy of Vermont are among those calling for A-Gon's resignation. They want him to testify before Congress. They want Karl Rove to testify (they also want world peace, the ability to fly, and three wishes from a genie). More dramatically, they want Gonzales to resign.
Honestly, I don't know enough to really say what A-Gon has done for our country at the helm of the Justice Department. Not to say he's necessarily done a horrible job, but if he did something that great, I'd probably know about it. He has nothing to gain by staying, people will be raging about this until January 2009. President Bush probably has a lot to lose by keeping him, although with an all-time low 30% approval rating, I'm not really sure what could be left. He did finally show some moxie by having Secretary of Defense Bob Gates roll some heads over Walter Reed, and I think he should do the same here.
Many people hate Mr. Bush. I say two things to this. First I actually think he's a good person. He's tremendously loyal to his friends. His, um, unique style of speaking leaves little room for him to be devious and disingenuine. I don't think he lied to us, knowingly, anyway. The flipside of his loyalty is what makes him a bad president - namely, keeping Cheney, keeping Rumsfeld for as long as he did, telling Brownie he did a heck of a job, and nominating Pitty for the Supreme Court. On a side note, the New York Times mentioned this weekend that "the president's remarks...seemed more like private words to a friend than public praise of an employee." Although a good George W. Bush does not a good Bush 43 make, CLEARLY the man has some redeemable traits.
Second, like it or not, he's our president. Whether you approve of the person holding office has nothing to do with whether you should support him. No one ever has to approve. That's why we vote. But if you choose to live here, that means you think this is the greatest land on the Earth. In order for that to continue, we as citizens must root for the nation's most visible and powerful leader to do a good job.
I really hope this is the last scandal. Frankly, I don't think anything short of finding bin Laden and getting out of Iraq before 2009 will vindicate the administration. Although I'll continue to hope and pray for the best, it is in our best interests to elect a new leader. Luckily, we have to.
On November 2, 2004, I was one of those people that most of you probably hated. Chanting "FOUR MORE YEARS" until early the next morning, I figured our nation would see a comfortable stretch until 2008. Now, I just hope we can last another twenty-two months without another:
Katrina
Harriet Miers
Walter Reed.
Those are just the first three that come to mind. I won't get into today being the fourth anniversary of a war of whose duration our Secretary of Defense at the time predicted, "Three days, three weeks. I doubt it'll last three months." We all know the toll it's caused on our boys. I've been trying to see the bright side of it all, but this shows no signs of winnability. I don't doubt that many innocent Iraqi citizens probably want us there. The United States military has a long history of being a comfort to the oppressed. But...Well, I said I really wasn't gonna get into the war.
Anyway, if you don't know by now, our Justice Department headed by Attorney General Alberto Gonzales has been accused of firing eight U.S. attorneys for "politically motivated" reasons. There's a trail of e-mails, and one of the big scapegoats is now the aforementioned Ms. Miers. The Pit Bull in Size 6 Shoes recently resigned as White House legal counsel, a job which she inherited from AG the AG when he became the AG. Harriet apparently suggested the removal of the Justice Department attorneys because they weren't in line with the Bush administration enough. House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and Senator Patrick Leahy of Vermont are among those calling for A-Gon's resignation. They want him to testify before Congress. They want Karl Rove to testify (they also want world peace, the ability to fly, and three wishes from a genie). More dramatically, they want Gonzales to resign.
Honestly, I don't know enough to really say what A-Gon has done for our country at the helm of the Justice Department. Not to say he's necessarily done a horrible job, but if he did something that great, I'd probably know about it. He has nothing to gain by staying, people will be raging about this until January 2009. President Bush probably has a lot to lose by keeping him, although with an all-time low 30% approval rating, I'm not really sure what could be left. He did finally show some moxie by having Secretary of Defense Bob Gates roll some heads over Walter Reed, and I think he should do the same here.
Many people hate Mr. Bush. I say two things to this. First I actually think he's a good person. He's tremendously loyal to his friends. His, um, unique style of speaking leaves little room for him to be devious and disingenuine. I don't think he lied to us, knowingly, anyway. The flipside of his loyalty is what makes him a bad president - namely, keeping Cheney, keeping Rumsfeld for as long as he did, telling Brownie he did a heck of a job, and nominating Pitty for the Supreme Court. On a side note, the New York Times mentioned this weekend that "the president's remarks...seemed more like private words to a friend than public praise of an employee." Although a good George W. Bush does not a good Bush 43 make, CLEARLY the man has some redeemable traits.
Second, like it or not, he's our president. Whether you approve of the person holding office has nothing to do with whether you should support him. No one ever has to approve. That's why we vote. But if you choose to live here, that means you think this is the greatest land on the Earth. In order for that to continue, we as citizens must root for the nation's most visible and powerful leader to do a good job.
I really hope this is the last scandal. Frankly, I don't think anything short of finding bin Laden and getting out of Iraq before 2009 will vindicate the administration. Although I'll continue to hope and pray for the best, it is in our best interests to elect a new leader. Luckily, we have to.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
On the Count of Serving Jury Duty, We Find the Defendant Innocent. For Now.
During Christmas break, I received a Juror Questionnaire. When I was about thirteen, my Mom received one. She groaned and whined about it, and I proudly announced that I couldn't wait until I was called for jury duty. My, what a difference eight years makes.
I looked upon this piece of mail from Gloria D'Amico, Commissioner of Jurors with annoyed dismay and a tinge of guilt. I've grown to dislike doing things I don't want to do but seem to have to do, anyway. However, the idealist whisper in me served as a reminder of civic duty - that if I really love my country as much as I say I do, I should be honored to be part of the judicial process.
The whisper was quickly overtaken by a series of rhetorical questions. Do they know I'm a full-time student? Do they know that I can't get someone to go to class for me or waste time on campus with my friends for me? In short: Do they know who I am? Not one to cause an unnecessary ruckus, however, I sent the form back immediately and remarked in the special notes section that I'm a full-time student.
About a month ago, I heard from good old Gloria again, this time in the form of a Jury Duty Summons death knell. That was it, I told myself. They were really starting to piss me off. But powerless, I followed the instructions on my summons to attempt an excusion. This being the painfully tedious New York City bureaucracy, I couldn't call or express my condition on-line. My presence was cordially required at Queens County Civil Courthouse itself.
I prepared for my visit with an answer to every question the judge could possibly have for me. I say judge because for some reason I assumed I'd have to go before a judge. I was ready to explain my status at Fordham University, complete with class schedule in hand. I even brought my internship contract with PricewaterhouseCoopers in case he wanted me to serve in the summer. If he did, I would have asked nicely if he'd reconsider because, well, something about how this internship could hinge on my entire future. After those initial formalities, he'd remark his daughter went to Fordham and that his wife is a tax partner at PwC. He'd say, "Who's your team?"
"The Mets," I'd reply.
"We gonna show those Cardinals who's boss this year?"
"I certainly hope so, your honor."
"Get out of my court, kid. We'll see you back here when you can grow some fuzz on your chin."
It eluded me that judges do more important things with their days, like roll their eyes at defendants and put ambitious lawyers in their place, so I'd have to deal with one of the peons.
For those of you who don't have experience with any New York City agency, consider yourself lucky. They all employ under-educated, barely competent, and soulless individuals who stand in your way of getting what you need from them, whether it be a driver's license or a burial permit (I work in a funeral home. Different story for a different day). City clerks must get some sort of pleasure out of their ability to exert control over another's life for a short period of time, because no one could naturally work that slow. Or be so oppressively ignorant with regards to another's situation.
Walking into the building, I was greeted by the requisite metal detectors. I smiled a tacit good morning to the court officer running the scanner, but she waved me along with an annoyed hand. Seriously, what's the harm in returning a smile? I walked up to Room 244, the one for Jurors with Questions. I'm sure if you took a survey of the clerks and asked what kind of questions they get, they hear, "How the hell do I can out of serving," quite a bit more than, "What sort of mental preparation should I do to serve most fairly as a member of such a prestigious body?" But that's all just conjecture.
The only moment of my visit that pleasantly surprised me was that there was no long queue loaded with smelly, unshowered bodies or children with sticky hands touching every wall in sight as their parents ineffectively called after them. In fact, I seemed to be the only juror with a question at the time. A person of indeterminate gender greeted me on the other side of the room. And by greeted, I mean indifferently calling out, "How can I help you, sir."
"I came to get excused from jury duty. I am a full-time student."
"Do you have proof that you're a student?"
"Um, I have school ID and a schedule."
"Your schedule please."
"Umm, so what do I do now?"
"Please write the date you'll be able to serve by on your summons."
"Well, I graduate in a year and a half, so should I put August 2008?"
"No, that's longer than the six month window. You'll simply have to come back if you're called again and prove that you're still in school."
"But. But. But. Won't that be a colossal waste of time since I've already told you that this will be my situation for a while?"
"Sir, that's all I can tell you."
Sir, that's all I can tell you?! If he or she (probably a he, I think that's what I may have decided at the end of our wonderful conversation) said that to a client in the private sector, he or she would find himself or herself on an unemployment line rather quickly. I left the courthouse in a rage, and thought long and hard about what I just went through.
Looking at it from a utilitarian perspective, shouldn't what we do for our society be the best alternative that services the greatest good for the greatest number? How will my city be better served: By me sitting on a tedious case with tedious facts making a tedious decision with eleven other painfully bored citizens, or by me spending this time studying and working towards my degree, which will earn me a good job and allow me to pour money back into the New York economy in which I plan in participating for the rest of my life? THAT should have been a topic of discussion during my trip. If this ridiculous bureaucracy had room for negotiation and logical discussion, my whole situation would have been a non-issue. To solve this from now on, they should first draw a jury pool from the retired and the unemployed. It would give the elderly something to do and much needed self-esteem by feeling needed, and it would give the workless something productive. And don't they pay (slightly) jurors, anyway? Then they can tap into people who have jobs.
"Hey, are you busy at work? Could you take a few days and serve?"
"Sure, the boss has been riding my ass and it'll be good to get out of the office for a few days. Hell, put me on the case of the century if ya got it."
Or maybe:
"Eh, you know, I'm up for partner this year. Really not available right now. But my wife's always complaining she's got nothing to do. Call her up, I'm sure she'll be glad to help."
See? Negotiation. It works if people give it a try. And don't tell me that this doesn't fall into the notion that one should be tried by a jury of his peers. Minors and non-citizen immigrants are part of our society, and they're not expected to serve, either.
I looked upon this piece of mail from Gloria D'Amico, Commissioner of Jurors with annoyed dismay and a tinge of guilt. I've grown to dislike doing things I don't want to do but seem to have to do, anyway. However, the idealist whisper in me served as a reminder of civic duty - that if I really love my country as much as I say I do, I should be honored to be part of the judicial process.
The whisper was quickly overtaken by a series of rhetorical questions. Do they know I'm a full-time student? Do they know that I can't get someone to go to class for me or waste time on campus with my friends for me? In short: Do they know who I am? Not one to cause an unnecessary ruckus, however, I sent the form back immediately and remarked in the special notes section that I'm a full-time student.
About a month ago, I heard from good old Gloria again, this time in the form of a Jury Duty Summons death knell. That was it, I told myself. They were really starting to piss me off. But powerless, I followed the instructions on my summons to attempt an excusion. This being the painfully tedious New York City bureaucracy, I couldn't call or express my condition on-line. My presence was cordially required at Queens County Civil Courthouse itself.
I prepared for my visit with an answer to every question the judge could possibly have for me. I say judge because for some reason I assumed I'd have to go before a judge. I was ready to explain my status at Fordham University, complete with class schedule in hand. I even brought my internship contract with PricewaterhouseCoopers in case he wanted me to serve in the summer. If he did, I would have asked nicely if he'd reconsider because, well, something about how this internship could hinge on my entire future. After those initial formalities, he'd remark his daughter went to Fordham and that his wife is a tax partner at PwC. He'd say, "Who's your team?"
"The Mets," I'd reply.
"We gonna show those Cardinals who's boss this year?"
"I certainly hope so, your honor."
"Get out of my court, kid. We'll see you back here when you can grow some fuzz on your chin."
It eluded me that judges do more important things with their days, like roll their eyes at defendants and put ambitious lawyers in their place, so I'd have to deal with one of the peons.
For those of you who don't have experience with any New York City agency, consider yourself lucky. They all employ under-educated, barely competent, and soulless individuals who stand in your way of getting what you need from them, whether it be a driver's license or a burial permit (I work in a funeral home. Different story for a different day). City clerks must get some sort of pleasure out of their ability to exert control over another's life for a short period of time, because no one could naturally work that slow. Or be so oppressively ignorant with regards to another's situation.
Walking into the building, I was greeted by the requisite metal detectors. I smiled a tacit good morning to the court officer running the scanner, but she waved me along with an annoyed hand. Seriously, what's the harm in returning a smile? I walked up to Room 244, the one for Jurors with Questions. I'm sure if you took a survey of the clerks and asked what kind of questions they get, they hear, "How the hell do I can out of serving," quite a bit more than, "What sort of mental preparation should I do to serve most fairly as a member of such a prestigious body?" But that's all just conjecture.
The only moment of my visit that pleasantly surprised me was that there was no long queue loaded with smelly, unshowered bodies or children with sticky hands touching every wall in sight as their parents ineffectively called after them. In fact, I seemed to be the only juror with a question at the time. A person of indeterminate gender greeted me on the other side of the room. And by greeted, I mean indifferently calling out, "How can I help you, sir."
"I came to get excused from jury duty. I am a full-time student."
"Do you have proof that you're a student?"
"Um, I have school ID and a schedule."
"Your schedule please."
"Umm, so what do I do now?"
"Please write the date you'll be able to serve by on your summons."
"Well, I graduate in a year and a half, so should I put August 2008?"
"No, that's longer than the six month window. You'll simply have to come back if you're called again and prove that you're still in school."
"But. But. But. Won't that be a colossal waste of time since I've already told you that this will be my situation for a while?"
"Sir, that's all I can tell you."
Sir, that's all I can tell you?! If he or she (probably a he, I think that's what I may have decided at the end of our wonderful conversation) said that to a client in the private sector, he or she would find himself or herself on an unemployment line rather quickly. I left the courthouse in a rage, and thought long and hard about what I just went through.
Looking at it from a utilitarian perspective, shouldn't what we do for our society be the best alternative that services the greatest good for the greatest number? How will my city be better served: By me sitting on a tedious case with tedious facts making a tedious decision with eleven other painfully bored citizens, or by me spending this time studying and working towards my degree, which will earn me a good job and allow me to pour money back into the New York economy in which I plan in participating for the rest of my life? THAT should have been a topic of discussion during my trip. If this ridiculous bureaucracy had room for negotiation and logical discussion, my whole situation would have been a non-issue. To solve this from now on, they should first draw a jury pool from the retired and the unemployed. It would give the elderly something to do and much needed self-esteem by feeling needed, and it would give the workless something productive. And don't they pay (slightly) jurors, anyway? Then they can tap into people who have jobs.
"Hey, are you busy at work? Could you take a few days and serve?"
"Sure, the boss has been riding my ass and it'll be good to get out of the office for a few days. Hell, put me on the case of the century if ya got it."
Or maybe:
"Eh, you know, I'm up for partner this year. Really not available right now. But my wife's always complaining she's got nothing to do. Call her up, I'm sure she'll be glad to help."
See? Negotiation. It works if people give it a try. And don't tell me that this doesn't fall into the notion that one should be tried by a jury of his peers. Minors and non-citizen immigrants are part of our society, and they're not expected to serve, either.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Hi
Hey everyone,
To all of you coming over from the old blog, thanks for making the jump. To the new readers, thanks for coming at all.
Something I'm not going to do with this space is providing a rote play-by-play of my life. Well, if that does happen now and then, it'll probably be for a reason. My goal is to both amuse myself and my readers with insights (not necessarily insightful insights) on New York, college, current events, post-teenage angst, and personal observations. None of these exclude other stuff, but I figured I'd give you a rough blueprint of thangs.
For those of you wondering what my blog's title means, let me disclaim any ideas you may have of self-aggrandization. How could this blog be awesome yet? - It's my first post. Late in my high school career, something which I don't remember especially pleased me. I thus exclaimed "Awesomeness on a stick!" It became sort of a personal saying, and since it's the only verbal contribution I've made to even the remotest slice of society, I've been milking that baby ever since.
That's all for now. Stay tuned for more!
To all of you coming over from the old blog, thanks for making the jump. To the new readers, thanks for coming at all.
Something I'm not going to do with this space is providing a rote play-by-play of my life. Well, if that does happen now and then, it'll probably be for a reason. My goal is to both amuse myself and my readers with insights (not necessarily insightful insights) on New York, college, current events, post-teenage angst, and personal observations. None of these exclude other stuff, but I figured I'd give you a rough blueprint of thangs.
For those of you wondering what my blog's title means, let me disclaim any ideas you may have of self-aggrandization. How could this blog be awesome yet? - It's my first post. Late in my high school career, something which I don't remember especially pleased me. I thus exclaimed "Awesomeness on a stick!" It became sort of a personal saying, and since it's the only verbal contribution I've made to even the remotest slice of society, I've been milking that baby ever since.
That's all for now. Stay tuned for more!
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