The answer to most questions you could ask that begin with "How do I..." is almost always quite simple. Now I'm not talking the really hard crap like building an atomic bomb, or its more civil counterpart, making a souffle (pronounced SOO-fuhl, if you'd like). Nah, I'm talking the more important things, the stuff to do with people. It's an instruction list that could fit inside of a fortune cookie. The answer to "How do I..." questions is invariably, happily, and confoundingly:
Step 1. You do it.
More expanded thoughts about life and non-life to follow quite soon. For real, this time.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Reason #44 Why I Love America
In 37 hours and 17 minutes, the person I've known as President of the United States my entire semi-adult life is leaving office forever. I am genuinely excited for this day to come and for his successor to take the oath of office. Keep in mind I voted for the guy I'm happy to see go and did not vote for the guy taking his place. I regret neither vote. John Kerry was a good alternative to George W. Bush in about the same way waterboarding is more desirable than having to watch Gigli on permanent loop. And I'd still prefer that John McCain had won the election, so long as his running mate was Bobby Jindal, Joe Lieberman, or just about anyone else than Caribou Barbie. I'm not going to say that "the stakes have never been higher" except that I just did, and they are, but our condition is such that ideology should be put off the stove until people find work again and we lose this general sense of just hazy doom. As a Republican, I am as ashamed of the Bush administration in the way that most good Germans feel about Adolph Hitler; both are groups forever scarred by the memory of one wreckless period. We're inheriting someone with intellectual curiosity, one with the desire to bring about the greatest good for the greatest number, a person who doesn't make the hard decisions just because he's "not afraid to make them." You look at President-Elect Obama and you see somebody who is hungry, not someone who is blind. And I hope that four years from now I do enter a booth and vote to re-elect him, because that means we'll be better off than we are today.
But my point is more this: Where else in the world will you find a process like we will have this Tuesday? Power will transition from one hand to a diametrically opposed 'nother, without a drop of blood shed or so much as a visible sign of resentment. In some places, people would be dying in the streets on Tuesday and the National Guard would have to keep order. We have pomp and circumstance and Beyonce and Bono and probably the coolest public party to come along since V-E Day.
Some say that the American people have lost their way. That excesses and greed and virtual life have turned us irrevocably into instant gratification whiners. Well I'll give you an example of how far we have come. Seven years and four months ago, we were gruesomely attacked on our own soil. When the names of the perpetrators were released days later, objectively speaking now, would a name like Barack Hussein Obama look terribly out of place on that list? Yet three years later, his name entered our households as somebody who saw something better in us than we had seen in each other. The last time an attack by foreigners happened on our turf was Pearl Harbor. In the years to follow 1941, people with Japanese sounding names were interred in prison camps. In the years to follow 2001, a man with an Arab sounding name was elected president. In 1968, an act of hate fell a great leader. In 2008, a man's rise to leadership was made possible by that martyr. On January 19, we remember history. On January 20, history will happen. This is truly the time to be living in the United States of America.
But my point is more this: Where else in the world will you find a process like we will have this Tuesday? Power will transition from one hand to a diametrically opposed 'nother, without a drop of blood shed or so much as a visible sign of resentment. In some places, people would be dying in the streets on Tuesday and the National Guard would have to keep order. We have pomp and circumstance and Beyonce and Bono and probably the coolest public party to come along since V-E Day.
Some say that the American people have lost their way. That excesses and greed and virtual life have turned us irrevocably into instant gratification whiners. Well I'll give you an example of how far we have come. Seven years and four months ago, we were gruesomely attacked on our own soil. When the names of the perpetrators were released days later, objectively speaking now, would a name like Barack Hussein Obama look terribly out of place on that list? Yet three years later, his name entered our households as somebody who saw something better in us than we had seen in each other. The last time an attack by foreigners happened on our turf was Pearl Harbor. In the years to follow 1941, people with Japanese sounding names were interred in prison camps. In the years to follow 2001, a man with an Arab sounding name was elected president. In 1968, an act of hate fell a great leader. In 2008, a man's rise to leadership was made possible by that martyr. On January 19, we remember history. On January 20, history will happen. This is truly the time to be living in the United States of America.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Ping
This is going up just to let people know that I am still alive and am surviving my first busy season, and my fingers are eager to write some words that aren't "no exceptions noted" once this period is over.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Shade THIS In Yellow, Chuck Todd
The 2008 Presidential Campaign, for most non-junkies, has gone on roughly six months to two years too long. For me, by November 4th, it will have gone on exactly two weeks too long. For today is the day, the first day during this gauntlet, that I am undecided as to who will get my vote.
John McCain is a hero of mine. Heroic for his service to this country in the military and in the Senate. But many people have served both bodies nobly. What makes this great man a role model for me is our shared distinction as Republicans called liberals by our conservative friends and conservatives by our liberal friends. Such is the price to be paid for not acting as a partisan bobblehead.
I have said this many times this year, and I'll say it just once more to make my point clear. I really wish that I could vote for the guy retroactively to 2000 rather than prospectively until 2012. The crisis our country is currently in is not, as the Joe Bidens and Hillary Clintons would have you believe, a result of George W. Bush's Republican policies. Rather, the true father of this mess is the incompetent execution of those policies by a non-intellectually curious president. Under a McCain administration these past eight years, we would have seen a tough foreign policy and pro-business solutions just the same. But based on Senator McCain's history, these likely all would have been carried out with proper precautions and some deference towards the 45-49% of the citizens who would have voted for the other guy.
Sometime in the next two weeks, my fantasy is to see a John McCain rally during which a scream rises up from the back of the room, and an angry old man rushes the stage to attack the speaker. The angry old man looks a lot like the speaker, actually. The lunatic raises his hand to the disturbed speaker's face, tears at his skin, and the audience gasps. That's not John McCain at the podium, that's an imposter! The lunatic is the real John McCain. He's been locked away by his campaign since the summer of last year, as a prisoner of electoral war. He promptly fires his entire staff, dumps Sarah Palin, and barnstorms with Joe Lieberman around the country. The John McCain who ruffles the feathers of Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity. The John McCain who actually inspires college students. The John McCain who lives his campaign slogan Country First. Being locked up once again leads him to greatness as he ekes out a victory on election day.
Up until now, I looked past the dangerous and divisive tactics of the paranoid nutjobs who insist they do not mean anything racist by saying the full name of Barack Hussein Obama. I've insisted that as long as those words aren't coming out of the mouth of the man himself, then that in no way provides a reason for voting against him. Well, I'm pretty sure Bush didn't make those calls in 2000 to South Carolina voters about McCain's "illegitimate black child," but he sure didn't do a lot to stop them. I don't agree with many of Barack Obama's policies, and I was hoping most of the country would agree with me and vote him down on that basis. But I'm not sure I can sit easy with the second personally noble guy of the past eight years to go down because of baseless fear about his character.
I think it silly to accuse John McCain of being a racist or a fearmonger. For him to be so now would be to repeat the same sins lobbed against him eight years ago, and he is obviously a better man than that. But while my love for the man and his policies have allowed me to overlook his surrogates' tactics, I cannot ignore the words of General Colin Powell who was so miffed by the allegations that Barack Obama is a Muslim. He's not, he's a Christian. And if he were a Muslim, so what? The icing on the cake was Limbaugh, who suggested that because he was made a general and a secretary of state by Republicans, his undying loyalty should be towards the party regardless of who he thinks is better for the job. I guess Rush didn't realize that the General was practicing "Country First," and as a necessary corollary, party second.
I also cannot reconcile the pick of the Alaskan governor as the first in line to assume the duties should the absolute worst happen. No, it's not because McCain is "old." But, c'mon, Nixon, Kennedy, FDR, Harding, McKinley, Harrison, Lincoln. That's a good fistful of guys who did not get to make their farewell addresses. And I don't think Ms. Palin is an idiot. Her state seems to love her with the sky-high approval ratings. She's obviously doing something right up there, all while juggling five children. People loved Governor George W. Bush, too. And by most reasonable accounts, of people who actually have known him, he's not an idiot either. But he is not naturally curious. So tell me how someone who just got her passport last year, who does not delve much further into foreign policy discussion than the rote party lines, how will that someone deal on the international stage? Tell me how that person has negotiating leverage with world leaders if she doesn't seem to naturally care about much more than making sure Joe Sixpack can keep his guns? And what this great nation needs to stay powerful is not someone no one on the world stage has heard of until two months ago. And I know Europeans don't get to vote, and I'm quite grateful for that, but fellow world leaders must know and respect that person with whom they are dealing.
Another inane argument put forth is that if we elect Barack Obama, the terrorists win. Sadly, I'm no longer hesitant to say that if we elect John McCain, the terrorists win. Not the kinds of terrorists who fly planes into our buildings, but those who stoke fear in the hearts of downtrodden Americans. Basically: You might have no job, no healthcare, and a foreclosed home, but that guy hates America! And if you don't hate America, vote for John McCain.
Those terrorists were enabled in 2000 and 2004. It might be time for me to set aside by admiration for a guy who I think basically deserves the presidency because of his career and life history, and instead join with my fellow Americans in sending him the message that this hate and division can no longer be tolerated. John McCain has two weeks to snap to it and clean up his campaign, or I might have to, with great pain, vote against him.
Of course, that doesn't mean I would necessarily have to vote for Obama. Mike Bloomberg would be a great write-in candidate, as would (if it were not for that pesky Constitution) Governor Schwarzenegger.
John McCain is a hero of mine. Heroic for his service to this country in the military and in the Senate. But many people have served both bodies nobly. What makes this great man a role model for me is our shared distinction as Republicans called liberals by our conservative friends and conservatives by our liberal friends. Such is the price to be paid for not acting as a partisan bobblehead.
I have said this many times this year, and I'll say it just once more to make my point clear. I really wish that I could vote for the guy retroactively to 2000 rather than prospectively until 2012. The crisis our country is currently in is not, as the Joe Bidens and Hillary Clintons would have you believe, a result of George W. Bush's Republican policies. Rather, the true father of this mess is the incompetent execution of those policies by a non-intellectually curious president. Under a McCain administration these past eight years, we would have seen a tough foreign policy and pro-business solutions just the same. But based on Senator McCain's history, these likely all would have been carried out with proper precautions and some deference towards the 45-49% of the citizens who would have voted for the other guy.
Sometime in the next two weeks, my fantasy is to see a John McCain rally during which a scream rises up from the back of the room, and an angry old man rushes the stage to attack the speaker. The angry old man looks a lot like the speaker, actually. The lunatic raises his hand to the disturbed speaker's face, tears at his skin, and the audience gasps. That's not John McCain at the podium, that's an imposter! The lunatic is the real John McCain. He's been locked away by his campaign since the summer of last year, as a prisoner of electoral war. He promptly fires his entire staff, dumps Sarah Palin, and barnstorms with Joe Lieberman around the country. The John McCain who ruffles the feathers of Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity. The John McCain who actually inspires college students. The John McCain who lives his campaign slogan Country First. Being locked up once again leads him to greatness as he ekes out a victory on election day.
Up until now, I looked past the dangerous and divisive tactics of the paranoid nutjobs who insist they do not mean anything racist by saying the full name of Barack Hussein Obama. I've insisted that as long as those words aren't coming out of the mouth of the man himself, then that in no way provides a reason for voting against him. Well, I'm pretty sure Bush didn't make those calls in 2000 to South Carolina voters about McCain's "illegitimate black child," but he sure didn't do a lot to stop them. I don't agree with many of Barack Obama's policies, and I was hoping most of the country would agree with me and vote him down on that basis. But I'm not sure I can sit easy with the second personally noble guy of the past eight years to go down because of baseless fear about his character.
I think it silly to accuse John McCain of being a racist or a fearmonger. For him to be so now would be to repeat the same sins lobbed against him eight years ago, and he is obviously a better man than that. But while my love for the man and his policies have allowed me to overlook his surrogates' tactics, I cannot ignore the words of General Colin Powell who was so miffed by the allegations that Barack Obama is a Muslim. He's not, he's a Christian. And if he were a Muslim, so what? The icing on the cake was Limbaugh, who suggested that because he was made a general and a secretary of state by Republicans, his undying loyalty should be towards the party regardless of who he thinks is better for the job. I guess Rush didn't realize that the General was practicing "Country First," and as a necessary corollary, party second.
I also cannot reconcile the pick of the Alaskan governor as the first in line to assume the duties should the absolute worst happen. No, it's not because McCain is "old." But, c'mon, Nixon, Kennedy, FDR, Harding, McKinley, Harrison, Lincoln. That's a good fistful of guys who did not get to make their farewell addresses. And I don't think Ms. Palin is an idiot. Her state seems to love her with the sky-high approval ratings. She's obviously doing something right up there, all while juggling five children. People loved Governor George W. Bush, too. And by most reasonable accounts, of people who actually have known him, he's not an idiot either. But he is not naturally curious. So tell me how someone who just got her passport last year, who does not delve much further into foreign policy discussion than the rote party lines, how will that someone deal on the international stage? Tell me how that person has negotiating leverage with world leaders if she doesn't seem to naturally care about much more than making sure Joe Sixpack can keep his guns? And what this great nation needs to stay powerful is not someone no one on the world stage has heard of until two months ago. And I know Europeans don't get to vote, and I'm quite grateful for that, but fellow world leaders must know and respect that person with whom they are dealing.
Another inane argument put forth is that if we elect Barack Obama, the terrorists win. Sadly, I'm no longer hesitant to say that if we elect John McCain, the terrorists win. Not the kinds of terrorists who fly planes into our buildings, but those who stoke fear in the hearts of downtrodden Americans. Basically: You might have no job, no healthcare, and a foreclosed home, but that guy hates America! And if you don't hate America, vote for John McCain.
Those terrorists were enabled in 2000 and 2004. It might be time for me to set aside by admiration for a guy who I think basically deserves the presidency because of his career and life history, and instead join with my fellow Americans in sending him the message that this hate and division can no longer be tolerated. John McCain has two weeks to snap to it and clean up his campaign, or I might have to, with great pain, vote against him.
Of course, that doesn't mean I would necessarily have to vote for Obama. Mike Bloomberg would be a great write-in candidate, as would (if it were not for that pesky Constitution) Governor Schwarzenegger.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Goodbye, Old Friend
Why would a grown man get all emotional about the close of a building, infamously derided as a hokey dump, with a papier mache apple gimmick as one of its most famous features? When that grown man was just a boy, he would go with his Dad to attend this blue/purple monstrosity and see villains like Bobby Bonilla and Bret Saberhagen, and heroes like Eddie Murray and Todd Hundley. John Franco would be one or the other, depending on the day. The most vivid sensory image was the aroma of a Kahn's hot dog. That boy would go with his Dad, roughly ten times or so a year, to see those guys in the blue and orange mostly lose until the late 90s or so.
I stood above my seat in the Upper Reserve, Section 25, Row O, Seat 3 at 5:06pm today, seeing the worst come to fruition. Intense anger flooded my veins as, for the third year straight, the 25 guys to whom I had trusted my heart ripped it up like so much confetti that rained down over an hour later.
This latest failing was soon deemed irrelevant, as the anger became reflective sadness. I needed to see that video of Mr. Met packing up and leaving Shea Stadium while recalling that building's greatest memories like I needed a hole in my head. Thus the first tears welled up.
One summer afternoon in 1998, while the Mets were looking like contenders for the first time in nearly a decade, my Dad came home from work beaming. He told me that it looked like the team might be in the running for some guy whose name sounded like pizza, and that this guy was an incredible baseball player. I was twelve, so still had to rely on him to determine whether something the Mets did was good or bad. When he did actually come to Queens, he struggled a bit and drew the ire of a few pessimists, but my young mind saw something in him that can only be described as heroic. For eight years, there was no equal in my mind to Mike Piazza. As much as everyone knows I love David Wright, he still has quite a bit to go before he takes the crown of my favorite baseball player of all time. And it's a beautiful thing to know that in 2005, one man's last Mets season was the other's first.
So spending the final minutes in my home away from home, while not being able to comprehend a Mets game without a Shea Stadium, the guy whose named adorned my back for nine years was introduced during the park's farewell ceremony. The dam that was holding back those welled up tears instantly burst. For the first time in at least three years, I was openly sobbing uncontrollably. At this point, I was finally facing the fact that this personal mecca to which I've eagerly gone probably about 200 times, during meaningful games in September, already-meaningless games in July, two straight drizzly 40 degree April nights, a 95 degree night which preceded a New York City blackout, days with parents, best friends, girlfriends, and even a few by myself, four playoff games including Flushing's only game won in the 2000 World Series, a concert this July that nearly brought the house down, and the final three contests to ever occur in William A. Shea Municipal Stadium, that this Holy Ground would soon be a parking lot for a place called Citi Field. Too much to bear, and I felt terribly that it didn't see a happier finale. The dimming lights followed by the blue and orange flares shooting from the rafters moments after the greatest Met of my Dad's generation, Tom Seaver, threw the final pitch of the house to the greatest Met of my generation, Mike Piazza, was the only thing that the organization did right all day. And you know what? As I was walking down the ramps, snapping pictures at Mr. Met's various phrases underneath those exit signs I had seen so many times, I announced that no matter what the price, I would be on hand at 7:10PM on April 13th, 2009 to usher in a new era of magic.
But I'm still calling it Shea.
I stood above my seat in the Upper Reserve, Section 25, Row O, Seat 3 at 5:06pm today, seeing the worst come to fruition. Intense anger flooded my veins as, for the third year straight, the 25 guys to whom I had trusted my heart ripped it up like so much confetti that rained down over an hour later.
This latest failing was soon deemed irrelevant, as the anger became reflective sadness. I needed to see that video of Mr. Met packing up and leaving Shea Stadium while recalling that building's greatest memories like I needed a hole in my head. Thus the first tears welled up.
One summer afternoon in 1998, while the Mets were looking like contenders for the first time in nearly a decade, my Dad came home from work beaming. He told me that it looked like the team might be in the running for some guy whose name sounded like pizza, and that this guy was an incredible baseball player. I was twelve, so still had to rely on him to determine whether something the Mets did was good or bad. When he did actually come to Queens, he struggled a bit and drew the ire of a few pessimists, but my young mind saw something in him that can only be described as heroic. For eight years, there was no equal in my mind to Mike Piazza. As much as everyone knows I love David Wright, he still has quite a bit to go before he takes the crown of my favorite baseball player of all time. And it's a beautiful thing to know that in 2005, one man's last Mets season was the other's first.
So spending the final minutes in my home away from home, while not being able to comprehend a Mets game without a Shea Stadium, the guy whose named adorned my back for nine years was introduced during the park's farewell ceremony. The dam that was holding back those welled up tears instantly burst. For the first time in at least three years, I was openly sobbing uncontrollably. At this point, I was finally facing the fact that this personal mecca to which I've eagerly gone probably about 200 times, during meaningful games in September, already-meaningless games in July, two straight drizzly 40 degree April nights, a 95 degree night which preceded a New York City blackout, days with parents, best friends, girlfriends, and even a few by myself, four playoff games including Flushing's only game won in the 2000 World Series, a concert this July that nearly brought the house down, and the final three contests to ever occur in William A. Shea Municipal Stadium, that this Holy Ground would soon be a parking lot for a place called Citi Field. Too much to bear, and I felt terribly that it didn't see a happier finale. The dimming lights followed by the blue and orange flares shooting from the rafters moments after the greatest Met of my Dad's generation, Tom Seaver, threw the final pitch of the house to the greatest Met of my generation, Mike Piazza, was the only thing that the organization did right all day. And you know what? As I was walking down the ramps, snapping pictures at Mr. Met's various phrases underneath those exit signs I had seen so many times, I announced that no matter what the price, I would be on hand at 7:10PM on April 13th, 2009 to usher in a new era of magic.
But I'm still calling it Shea.
Friday, September 26, 2008
A Weekend to Remember
Now that my heart has stopped palpitating, I can write without the jitters. Tomorrow night begins wbat, as a baseball fan, is a wet dream. And as a Mets fan, it's a heart attack on a platter that will turn into either a wet dream or a cold corpse.
Indulge me on the crazy math and possibilities here. The Amazins' are one game behind Philadelphia for the NL East division title. They are tied with the Milwaukee Brewers for the NL Wild Card. The past 159 games do not matter right now. The 2008 season, as far as three teams in the National League are concerned, is three games long. Let's go from worst case to best case, shall we?
I've calculated out each and every scenario, because I'm beyond obsessive. Eight-six scenarios exist, in which the Phillies make it 73 times (84.9% probability), the Brewers make it 45 times (52.3% probability), and the Mets make it 54 times (62.8% probability).
Only two can make it. WHO WILL THEY BE?!
Indulge me on the crazy math and possibilities here. The Amazins' are one game behind Philadelphia for the NL East division title. They are tied with the Milwaukee Brewers for the NL Wild Card. The past 159 games do not matter right now. The 2008 season, as far as three teams in the National League are concerned, is three games long. Let's go from worst case to best case, shall we?
- If the Mets win fewer games than Milwaukee and Philadelphia, they will be playing golf on Monday.
- If the Mets win fewer games than Milwaukee and the same number of games as Philadelphia, I will commit suicide with David Wright's putter on Monday, because this is the best possible outcome we can have without actually getting anything.
- If the Mets win the same number of games as both Milwaukee and Philadelphia, the Phillies are the division champs. Mets and Brewers play at Shea on Monday to decide the wild card.
- If the Mets win the same number of games as Milwaukee, just one more game than Philadelphia, and the Phillies win one fewer game than Milwaukee, we have ESPN's and the media outlets of New York, Philadelphia, and Milwaukee's wet dreams. A three-way tie for two spots. This works as follows:
The Mets and Phillies play in Philadelphia on Monday to duke it out for the division:
4a) If the Mets lose this game, the Phillies are division champs, and the Mets play the Brewers on Tuesday at Shea. Winner is the wild card champ.
4b) If the Mets win this game, they are the division champs and the Phillies play the Brewers in Philadelphia for the Wild Card. - If the Mets win one more game than Milwaukee, they are in the playoffs no matter what. This creates a wild card berth for the Mets if the Phillies win one more game than them.
- If the Mets win one more game than Milwaukee and Philadelphia, the Mets finish tied in the standings for the NL East with Philadelphia. BUT since the Mets have a better head-to-head record against the Phillies this season (10-8), the Mets are the division champs without having to play a tie-breaker.
- If number six above occurs, and the Phillies also win one more game or the same number of games as Milwaukee, the Phillies win the wild card, with the Mets still the division champs.
- If number six above occurs, and the Phillies win one fewer game than Milwaukee, the Phillies play at home against the Brewers on Monday for the wild card, with the Mets still the division champs.
- If number six above occurs, and the Phillies win two or three fewer games than the Brewers, Milwaukee is the wild card champ and the Mets are still the divison champs.
I've calculated out each and every scenario, because I'm beyond obsessive. Eight-six scenarios exist, in which the Phillies make it 73 times (84.9% probability), the Brewers make it 45 times (52.3% probability), and the Mets make it 54 times (62.8% probability).
Only two can make it. WHO WILL THEY BE?!
Friday, August 29, 2008
Best Frenemies Forever!
This week at the Democratic National Convention, we saw tensions between an envious, experienced old-hand and a smug up-and-comer who now rules the roost simmer at the end of a long week. That's right, the respective hosts of MSNBC's Hardball and Countdown put aside their bickering for the sake of unity last night.
The Peacock organization's spunky liberal child has kept me enthralled with its political coverage this year. Why, you ask of this centrist? It's the talent pool, really. When the CBS Evening News and ABC's World News are off the air, no one sees those networks' fine reporters. However, when you own a 24-hour cable station, anything can happen in a big spot. Hey, Tommy B.! Not doin' anything? Here, come on camera, talk about uhh, the 1968 DNC! Bri Wi, charm us with a tale of a run-in with a PUMA. The place hasn't had mandatory watching like this since Seinfeld and Friends were riding high.
Then there's Snarky and Looney. I've now completely gotten over the departure of Chris Russo from WFAN because Keith Olbermann and Chris Matthews are the new Mike and the Mad Dog of politics. Tie these two egomaniacs to a desk in Denver for twenty-six hours over four days and I hope you're not allergic to cats because the fur flies! But when the Anointed One gave his nomination speech, the Democrats weren't the only ones singing Kumbaya. These boys were complimenting each other back and forth on each other's analysis to the point where you thought this was a promo for a Brokeback Mountain Special Edition DVD. Fortunately, evidence of this has been spared from YouTube, so you'll have to take my word for it. I'm pretty sure that more often than not they detest each other, but boys and girls, this Must See TV continues at 5pm Monday in St. Paul. Granted that they both carry Senator Obama's water, however, it will be interesting to see the dynamic next week. But since Olbermann goes into spasms within twenty-five feet of a Republican, his general state of anger might be more directed at his guests than his yellow-haired (no, not blonde, yellow) co-host.
Speaking of the Red Team, America was spared the horror of a full 4% of the Senate running for the executive branch today. Senator McCain going with Sarah Palin gives us something new to look at, satirize, and spit out over the next two months. And to all those who criticize her for her lack of foreign policy ticket, look at the Democratic headliner. Subjected to a blind taste test, I don't think I have to guess whether most Americans would rather a president with no foreign policy experience, or a vice president with none.
I also like Governor Palin because she's mom-like. And moms know how to organize and run things!
My prayers and thoughts go out to the very funny Rob Bartlett this week. If you're familiar with his genius, then YOU CAN ACT LIKE A MAN and send good wishes his way at www.myspace.com/therobio.
The Peacock organization's spunky liberal child has kept me enthralled with its political coverage this year. Why, you ask of this centrist? It's the talent pool, really. When the CBS Evening News and ABC's World News are off the air, no one sees those networks' fine reporters. However, when you own a 24-hour cable station, anything can happen in a big spot. Hey, Tommy B.! Not doin' anything? Here, come on camera, talk about uhh, the 1968 DNC! Bri Wi, charm us with a tale of a run-in with a PUMA. The place hasn't had mandatory watching like this since Seinfeld and Friends were riding high.
Then there's Snarky and Looney. I've now completely gotten over the departure of Chris Russo from WFAN because Keith Olbermann and Chris Matthews are the new Mike and the Mad Dog of politics. Tie these two egomaniacs to a desk in Denver for twenty-six hours over four days and I hope you're not allergic to cats because the fur flies! But when the Anointed One gave his nomination speech, the Democrats weren't the only ones singing Kumbaya. These boys were complimenting each other back and forth on each other's analysis to the point where you thought this was a promo for a Brokeback Mountain Special Edition DVD. Fortunately, evidence of this has been spared from YouTube, so you'll have to take my word for it. I'm pretty sure that more often than not they detest each other, but boys and girls, this Must See TV continues at 5pm Monday in St. Paul. Granted that they both carry Senator Obama's water, however, it will be interesting to see the dynamic next week. But since Olbermann goes into spasms within twenty-five feet of a Republican, his general state of anger might be more directed at his guests than his yellow-haired (no, not blonde, yellow) co-host.
Speaking of the Red Team, America was spared the horror of a full 4% of the Senate running for the executive branch today. Senator McCain going with Sarah Palin gives us something new to look at, satirize, and spit out over the next two months. And to all those who criticize her for her lack of foreign policy ticket, look at the Democratic headliner. Subjected to a blind taste test, I don't think I have to guess whether most Americans would rather a president with no foreign policy experience, or a vice president with none.
I also like Governor Palin because she's mom-like. And moms know how to organize and run things!
My prayers and thoughts go out to the very funny Rob Bartlett this week. If you're familiar with his genius, then YOU CAN ACT LIKE A MAN and send good wishes his way at www.myspace.com/therobio.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Say Somethin' Funny, Mikey
Well, wow. My New York Metropolitans continue to dominate and "run roughshod over the National League" in exciting fashion. Two and a half games up on Philadelphia. But I'll keep my excitement to a dull roar until we actually, God forbid, clinch a postseason spot.
Speaking of my favorite sports team in the entire universe, the station on which their radio broadcasts are carried has suffered another dangerous blow. Sixteen months after Imus in the Morning was pulled from the WFAN airwaves, the also-crucial afternoon drive spot has lost its Mad Dog of Mike and the Mad Dog. Since the age of roughly twelve, the show has been my afternoon soundtrack, either while procrastinating on homework or, in recent years, driving home from school. It also seems that the Mets contract with your flagship station for New York sports is up next year. If the Mets go elsewhere, then Mark Chernoff, turn your transmitter off now.
For the record, Mike Francesa, as the remaining survivor of the team on WFAN, will now have a show known as "Francesa on the FAN." But as anyone who has heard the man speak would know, the correct enunciation of the show's title is: Francesuhh.........onnnnnnn the FAN."
As of the end of next week, I will be living in my big boy apartment in Astoria. While Manhattan was my original goal, both the low price tag of the neighborhood and its eternal charm kept me in my native borough. I don't think I'll be making a move without this guy.
I expect to be roused from a peaceful sleep early tomorrow morning by that magical text message from the Obama campaign stating who his Number Two will be. To paraphrase Dick Morris, if Senator Obama gives the nod to Tim Kaine, it will be a recent state senator picking a recent mayor of a city with a population of 200,000. I basically see tomorrow as Election Day. Ceteris paribus, if Hillary Clinton is his nominee, Obama wins. If not, hello Mr. President-elect McCain.
In watching the Olympics lately, and seeing Brian Williams proclaim during promos, "I'm in Beijing, but I'm from Jersey, and I'm 4 New York!" I've been reminded of this from 1992, with familiar figures Len Berman, a hairier Al Roker, Chuck Scarborough, and Sue "The F*** Are You Doing?!" Simmons.
Speaking of my favorite sports team in the entire universe, the station on which their radio broadcasts are carried has suffered another dangerous blow. Sixteen months after Imus in the Morning was pulled from the WFAN airwaves, the also-crucial afternoon drive spot has lost its Mad Dog of Mike and the Mad Dog. Since the age of roughly twelve, the show has been my afternoon soundtrack, either while procrastinating on homework or, in recent years, driving home from school. It also seems that the Mets contract with your flagship station for New York sports is up next year. If the Mets go elsewhere, then Mark Chernoff, turn your transmitter off now.
For the record, Mike Francesa, as the remaining survivor of the team on WFAN, will now have a show known as "Francesa on the FAN." But as anyone who has heard the man speak would know, the correct enunciation of the show's title is: Francesuhh.........onnnnnnn the FAN."
As of the end of next week, I will be living in my big boy apartment in Astoria. While Manhattan was my original goal, both the low price tag of the neighborhood and its eternal charm kept me in my native borough. I don't think I'll be making a move without this guy.
I expect to be roused from a peaceful sleep early tomorrow morning by that magical text message from the Obama campaign stating who his Number Two will be. To paraphrase Dick Morris, if Senator Obama gives the nod to Tim Kaine, it will be a recent state senator picking a recent mayor of a city with a population of 200,000. I basically see tomorrow as Election Day. Ceteris paribus, if Hillary Clinton is his nominee, Obama wins. If not, hello Mr. President-elect McCain.
In watching the Olympics lately, and seeing Brian Williams proclaim during promos, "I'm in Beijing, but I'm from Jersey, and I'm 4 New York!" I've been reminded of this from 1992, with familiar figures Len Berman, a hairier Al Roker, Chuck Scarborough, and Sue "The F*** Are You Doing?!" Simmons.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Done! Done! Done!
My academic career launched on September 9, 1990, in Mrs. Blaine's pre-kindergarten class. From there, I endured eighteen years of academic rigor until I retired from academia on August 1, 2008 after Dr. Estelami's Marketing of Financial Services MBA class. With a little help from AP classes in high school and a marvelous summer study abroad program in London, I managed to finish my bachelor's in seven semesters and my master's in an additional two. Mind you, I am not gloating at all. But reflecting on the whole journey begs the question, "What the heck kind of masochist am I, anyway?"
I now have fifty-one days of freedom until I begin working full-time. What's a boy to do? Well, first of all, there has been lying on my floor since June an untouched twenty pound box of CPA review materials. I also plan on finishing John McCain's second memoir Worth the Fighting For. Watching MSNBC until I'm blue in the face and can't hear the words "hardball" or "countdown" without turning violently ill is also an aspiration. I also have this little thing called a "gym membership" which has served me well so far, but I figure I should continue the habit of working out regularly before I'm stuck in an audit room for ten hours a day with Three Musketeers bars and Starbucks fat-accinos. Six weeks from tomorrow is the half-marathon in my native borough, at which I plan on finishing in a personal best 1:55.
Then there's this little thing called an "apartment" that has been breathing down my neck. The easy way out of this dilemma would be to stay at home, rent-free, which my parents would fully endorse and would be quite acceptable as they feed me quite full and are very good people to be around. However, the commute from midtown to my house during normal hours averages an hour, and on weekends when I'm carousing the town I can expect to crawl into bed at 4am if I leave a bar at 2. Also, not to invoke the "well if everyone else jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge, would you" maxim, but it would be slightly strange to be the only one among my colleagues who still lives in his or her childhood home.
Let summer begin.
I now have fifty-one days of freedom until I begin working full-time. What's a boy to do? Well, first of all, there has been lying on my floor since June an untouched twenty pound box of CPA review materials. I also plan on finishing John McCain's second memoir Worth the Fighting For. Watching MSNBC until I'm blue in the face and can't hear the words "hardball" or "countdown" without turning violently ill is also an aspiration. I also have this little thing called a "gym membership" which has served me well so far, but I figure I should continue the habit of working out regularly before I'm stuck in an audit room for ten hours a day with Three Musketeers bars and Starbucks fat-accinos. Six weeks from tomorrow is the half-marathon in my native borough, at which I plan on finishing in a personal best 1:55.
Then there's this little thing called an "apartment" that has been breathing down my neck. The easy way out of this dilemma would be to stay at home, rent-free, which my parents would fully endorse and would be quite acceptable as they feed me quite full and are very good people to be around. However, the commute from midtown to my house during normal hours averages an hour, and on weekends when I'm carousing the town I can expect to crawl into bed at 4am if I leave a bar at 2. Also, not to invoke the "well if everyone else jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge, would you" maxim, but it would be slightly strange to be the only one among my colleagues who still lives in his or her childhood home.
Let summer begin.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
On Aspirations
Sometimes, I wish I could lay this blog out like the Drudge Report. That would lead me to post a lot more. At 2pm on a typical day, you might see something like:
Thursday, July 10, 2008
But He Just May Be the Lunatic You're Looking For
Dear Christie Brinkley,
Now that your divorce from that dolt who didn't deserve your beauty and grace is final, give the people what we want and go back to your one true love: Billy Joel. What kind of "steam" were you blowing off with him over 4th of July anyway? The Piano Man deserves your loving back in his life, and no one likes his ditz of a new wife anyway. Methinks that if you're lonely for a man, he'll still say, "Take me as I am."
Now that your divorce from that dolt who didn't deserve your beauty and grace is final, give the people what we want and go back to your one true love: Billy Joel. What kind of "steam" were you blowing off with him over 4th of July anyway? The Piano Man deserves your loving back in his life, and no one likes his ditz of a new wife anyway. Methinks that if you're lonely for a man, he'll still say, "Take me as I am."
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Odds N Ends
So I have a brilliant idea that would pass muster with the vast majority of Americans. However, this means nothing because McCain Inc. and Obama-Mart (since these campaigns are essentially corporations) as well as pundits like those whose names begin with the letter "C" and end in "hris Matthews" would resoundingly reject my idea as though I were to ask them for the skin off their faces.
Simple as this: Obama versus McCain. Not David Axelrod versus Rick Davis. Not Wesley Clark versus Joe Lieberman. One of these men will be President. The next gasoline price milestone or the first global terror threat under a new administration will not send Americans demanding answers from these bloviators and cheerleaders. The American people need to know the guy in charge, not the guys and gals who know the guys that want to be in charge. FIRE THE REST OF THE BUMS.
From an objective standpoint, as someone who admires both candidates, they are both miles apart on policy, but were nominated by their parties for the same flippin' reason. Barack Obama and John McCain were each the most independent thinking, off-the-cuff, likable people from each of their respective parties. While I admire Hillary Clinton and while I think Mitt Romney is probably Senator McCain's best veep option, could you imagine a general election between these two focus-grouped, moldable, say-anything-to-win loonies? They would end up running so far and so fast to the center, because that's what you're supposed to do between June and November, that they'd probably cross paths and you'd hear Romney calling for the repeal of the Bush tax cuts and Clinton demanding an amendment to ban gay marriage.
Free-thinking Democrats and free-thinking Republicans produced the presumptive nominees, and now these voters are being betrayed. Stick a flag pin on Barack, even though he'll look like a sell-out to our base! Tell McCain to stop calling reporters jerks, no matter how affectionately he means it! The only way to let these candidates be who they are, how to act in the way they got to the big stage, is to get rid of all their handlers. So what if Obama's personality doesn't appeal to the Rust Belt Reagan Democrats? So what if McCain makes jokes about attacking other countries to the tune of Beach Boys songs? Fire their whole campaign staffs, save a few in charge of scheduling and travel. Get rid of campaign commercials - all they are is noise to those who don't care and regurgitation to those who already know what's going on. Let them spend money only on essentials and traveling the country to meet voters. Rather than obliquely responding to a campaign's surrogate, the only people who may speak for John McCain and Barack Obama are, yes, John McCain and Barack Obama. You might not get the same volume of minutiae on the cable shows (but, but, but, I wanna hear Lindsay Graham responding to Evan Bayh responding to Joe Lieberman responding to Wes Clark!), but you'll get an intelligent, sane campaign with people knowing about the issues more than they know about the Obama campaign's faux-presidential seal.
My Metsies made it five in a row tonight. I find it interesting and slightly puzzling that the weekend series against the Rockies, usually a pedestrian outing against a team in some other division, is picked up regionally by Fox on Saturday and nationally by ESPN on Sunday.
Brother Jesse: Don't sugar coat it, tell us how you really feel about your candidate. All of us in Hymietown really want to know.
Simple as this: Obama versus McCain. Not David Axelrod versus Rick Davis. Not Wesley Clark versus Joe Lieberman. One of these men will be President. The next gasoline price milestone or the first global terror threat under a new administration will not send Americans demanding answers from these bloviators and cheerleaders. The American people need to know the guy in charge, not the guys and gals who know the guys that want to be in charge. FIRE THE REST OF THE BUMS.
From an objective standpoint, as someone who admires both candidates, they are both miles apart on policy, but were nominated by their parties for the same flippin' reason. Barack Obama and John McCain were each the most independent thinking, off-the-cuff, likable people from each of their respective parties. While I admire Hillary Clinton and while I think Mitt Romney is probably Senator McCain's best veep option, could you imagine a general election between these two focus-grouped, moldable, say-anything-to-win loonies? They would end up running so far and so fast to the center, because that's what you're supposed to do between June and November, that they'd probably cross paths and you'd hear Romney calling for the repeal of the Bush tax cuts and Clinton demanding an amendment to ban gay marriage.
Free-thinking Democrats and free-thinking Republicans produced the presumptive nominees, and now these voters are being betrayed. Stick a flag pin on Barack, even though he'll look like a sell-out to our base! Tell McCain to stop calling reporters jerks, no matter how affectionately he means it! The only way to let these candidates be who they are, how to act in the way they got to the big stage, is to get rid of all their handlers. So what if Obama's personality doesn't appeal to the Rust Belt Reagan Democrats? So what if McCain makes jokes about attacking other countries to the tune of Beach Boys songs? Fire their whole campaign staffs, save a few in charge of scheduling and travel. Get rid of campaign commercials - all they are is noise to those who don't care and regurgitation to those who already know what's going on. Let them spend money only on essentials and traveling the country to meet voters. Rather than obliquely responding to a campaign's surrogate, the only people who may speak for John McCain and Barack Obama are, yes, John McCain and Barack Obama. You might not get the same volume of minutiae on the cable shows (but, but, but, I wanna hear Lindsay Graham responding to Evan Bayh responding to Joe Lieberman responding to Wes Clark!), but you'll get an intelligent, sane campaign with people knowing about the issues more than they know about the Obama campaign's faux-presidential seal.
My Metsies made it five in a row tonight. I find it interesting and slightly puzzling that the weekend series against the Rockies, usually a pedestrian outing against a team in some other division, is picked up regionally by Fox on Saturday and nationally by ESPN on Sunday.
Brother Jesse: Don't sugar coat it, tell us how you really feel about your candidate. All of us in Hymietown really want to know.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
And Stay Out
For those of you select few mouthbreeding morons who followed through on your promise to leave this great country in 2004 and are now threatening to return if Senator Obama is elected, just do the rest of us a favor and stay put.
This land doesn't need fair-weather citizens. Fair enough if you were one of the tens of millions of people that were outraged by the occurrence of Double Dubya, but that doesn't nearly constitute grounds for betraying your country. Your move was the maturity equivalent of storming out on your parents after years of love and care because they fell on hard times for a little while. How do you think they would feel if you returned once times were good again? Stay in Canada, England or Zimbabwe.
You see, one of the countless great things we have in this country is the frequent election. Although Bush was given a second chance, it quickly drowned in the floods of Katrina, got buried in the fallout from Harriet Miers and was bombed by the failings of the war in Iraq. Enter the midterm elections of November 2006, and the American people rightfully took the Congress away from him. He hasn't gotten what he's wanted as often since. See? If you waited two years, you would have watched a lame duck fall further into irrelevance right before your very eyes. Bottom line: You woulda lived.
I mentioned Zimbabwe earlier in this post with sarcasm. However, their sad truth of running an opposition candidate who the populace clearly wanted, then threatening voters to vote for Mugabe or die is something we have never seen in this country. THOSE could be considered grounds for abandoning ship.
This land doesn't need fair-weather citizens. Fair enough if you were one of the tens of millions of people that were outraged by the occurrence of Double Dubya, but that doesn't nearly constitute grounds for betraying your country. Your move was the maturity equivalent of storming out on your parents after years of love and care because they fell on hard times for a little while. How do you think they would feel if you returned once times were good again? Stay in Canada, England or Zimbabwe.
You see, one of the countless great things we have in this country is the frequent election. Although Bush was given a second chance, it quickly drowned in the floods of Katrina, got buried in the fallout from Harriet Miers and was bombed by the failings of the war in Iraq. Enter the midterm elections of November 2006, and the American people rightfully took the Congress away from him. He hasn't gotten what he's wanted as often since. See? If you waited two years, you would have watched a lame duck fall further into irrelevance right before your very eyes. Bottom line: You woulda lived.
I mentioned Zimbabwe earlier in this post with sarcasm. However, their sad truth of running an opposition candidate who the populace clearly wanted, then threatening voters to vote for Mugabe or die is something we have never seen in this country. THOSE could be considered grounds for abandoning ship.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Life at 5,280
I am currently broadcasting from Room 423 of the Oxford Hotel in downtown Denver. My cousin got hitched out here yesterday, which explains the whole two-time-zone-away thing. Figured I would take a few minutes while I'm waiting for my cousins to make a decision on dinner to do a quick post.
One of the first things that my Dad's friend noticed Thursday was the utter rarity of obesity in this city. I am told that this is one of the five healthiest cities in our nation, and the abundance of bike riders and granola might have something to do with that.
Coors Field, the thirteen year old home of the Colorado Rockies, is a five minute walk from my hotel. If you are even a smidgen of a baseball fan and find yourself out here, the tour of the stadium is great! At $7, the tour is a third of the cost of Fenway Park's, and you basically get to go everywhere except the home locker room and fair territory on the field. The table in the visiting locker room still contains a David Ortiz cleat mark from last season's World Series celebration, and the picture my dad took of me on the top step of the Rockies' dugout will toolishly preside as my Facebook pic for a while. Other fun things to do are stroll down the 16th Street Mall and drink one (or twenty) of the city's four jabbabillion microbrews.
Last night's events made up one of those nights that you do not forget for a long time. The wedding was great, and my cousin and her betrothed are two genuinely solid people. The "mobbed out" New Yorkers, my family and all of their 50-something rowdy friends really set the tone for an unabashed fun celebration, and I'm pretty sure I taught the Electric Slide to a cute girl or two. As someone who has tremendous admiration for the institution of marriage, it made me think a little about my own wedding somewhere down the road of this life.
One of the first things that my Dad's friend noticed Thursday was the utter rarity of obesity in this city. I am told that this is one of the five healthiest cities in our nation, and the abundance of bike riders and granola might have something to do with that.
Coors Field, the thirteen year old home of the Colorado Rockies, is a five minute walk from my hotel. If you are even a smidgen of a baseball fan and find yourself out here, the tour of the stadium is great! At $7, the tour is a third of the cost of Fenway Park's, and you basically get to go everywhere except the home locker room and fair territory on the field. The table in the visiting locker room still contains a David Ortiz cleat mark from last season's World Series celebration, and the picture my dad took of me on the top step of the Rockies' dugout will toolishly preside as my Facebook pic for a while. Other fun things to do are stroll down the 16th Street Mall and drink one (or twenty) of the city's four jabbabillion microbrews.
Last night's events made up one of those nights that you do not forget for a long time. The wedding was great, and my cousin and her betrothed are two genuinely solid people. The "mobbed out" New Yorkers, my family and all of their 50-something rowdy friends really set the tone for an unabashed fun celebration, and I'm pretty sure I taught the Electric Slide to a cute girl or two. As someone who has tremendous admiration for the institution of marriage, it made me think a little about my own wedding somewhere down the road of this life.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
I Just Hope He Doesn't Have to Buy Them Corn
In case you're feeling stressed by the current state of the economy, or just dread the upcoming dog days of summer, take heart that today is June 25th. That's right, tomorrow we'll be closer to next Christmas than we are the last. And the Big Guy don't never cancel Christmas. Four and a half per gallon does not affect the sleigh pulled by reindeer.
Speaking of summer, Awesomeness On A Stick officially endorses that type of woman's blouse that kind of looks like a drawstring backpack at the top. I'm not sure what they are called, but there were plenty of them on the streets of New York today. As Springsteen said: the girls in their summer clothes. Well done, ladies.
Speaking of summer, Awesomeness On A Stick officially endorses that type of woman's blouse that kind of looks like a drawstring backpack at the top. I'm not sure what they are called, but there were plenty of them on the streets of New York today. As Springsteen said: the girls in their summer clothes. Well done, ladies.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
The Man to Right the Ship
Sunday, June 15, 2008
If It's Sunday, It's Meet the Press. If It's Sunday, It's Tim
So were the words of journalist and Tim Russert friend, Sally Quinn.
In a better world, I would have woken up this morning, given my Dad a Father's Day hug, and eaten a bacon and egg sandwich with him from the corner deli. Around 10:32 or 3, since I was always just a tad late, I would have casually made my way out of the kitchen and into the living room to watch a senator supporting Obama and a senator supporting McCain debate the issues with Tim Russert moderating and making sure neither of them got out of hand touting his respective candidate.
Today, there was a Father's Day hug, just a little tighter because at times like these you don't take things for granted as much. There was the same breakfast. But at 10:27 I was on the couch, simultaneously dreading and hoping for the next three minutes to pass by quickly. Seeing that empty chair on the set as Tom Brokaw noblely anchored the best tribute of this weekend was tough, to say the least.
I know the show must go on - as big as Tim is, we can't lose two national institutions at the same time. I will not stop watching either, because I know that NBC will not let their finest program fall apart. However, I'm a little scared to know who will take the helm. Probably the only person I could accept in that chair right now is Tom Brokaw, because the man has always been nothing but the epitome of classy, and because he is the best qualified to take over - like when ABC finally wised up and installed Charles Gibson after it initially fumbled finding a suitable replacement for Peter Jennings. I'm not sure I'd be able to handle Keith Olbermann or David Gregory, because their preening and self-importance are the total opposite of what Tim was.
In a perfect world, for me and probably many others, Mr. Brokaw would hold down the fort for a few years, until Luke Russert would be ready and capable to moderate the show. The again, in a perfect world, Tim would still be here. According to Mike Barnicle this morning, Luke said yesterday that Meet the Press was Tim's other son. Wouldn't it be fitting then for these "brothers" to come together and do their Dad proud for years to come?
In a better world, I would have woken up this morning, given my Dad a Father's Day hug, and eaten a bacon and egg sandwich with him from the corner deli. Around 10:32 or 3, since I was always just a tad late, I would have casually made my way out of the kitchen and into the living room to watch a senator supporting Obama and a senator supporting McCain debate the issues with Tim Russert moderating and making sure neither of them got out of hand touting his respective candidate.
Today, there was a Father's Day hug, just a little tighter because at times like these you don't take things for granted as much. There was the same breakfast. But at 10:27 I was on the couch, simultaneously dreading and hoping for the next three minutes to pass by quickly. Seeing that empty chair on the set as Tom Brokaw noblely anchored the best tribute of this weekend was tough, to say the least.
I know the show must go on - as big as Tim is, we can't lose two national institutions at the same time. I will not stop watching either, because I know that NBC will not let their finest program fall apart. However, I'm a little scared to know who will take the helm. Probably the only person I could accept in that chair right now is Tom Brokaw, because the man has always been nothing but the epitome of classy, and because he is the best qualified to take over - like when ABC finally wised up and installed Charles Gibson after it initially fumbled finding a suitable replacement for Peter Jennings. I'm not sure I'd be able to handle Keith Olbermann or David Gregory, because their preening and self-importance are the total opposite of what Tim was.
In a perfect world, for me and probably many others, Mr. Brokaw would hold down the fort for a few years, until Luke Russert would be ready and capable to moderate the show. The again, in a perfect world, Tim would still be here. According to Mike Barnicle this morning, Luke said yesterday that Meet the Press was Tim's other son. Wouldn't it be fitting then for these "brothers" to come together and do their Dad proud for years to come?
Friday, June 13, 2008
Tell Me A Lie And Say That You Won't Go
Tim Russert, the NBC News Washington Bureau Chief and moderator of Meet the Press died today at the age of 58 from a heart attack.
I was driving when I got the news in a text from a good friend who knows about my borderline obsession with Mr. Russert.
I'm watching MSNBC right now, which obviously has been covering this story since Tom Brokaw broke it after 3PM. Mr. Brokaw, Brian Williams, Andrea Mitchell, Keith Olbermann and so many others have been focusing minimally on his professional and public accomplishments and almost entirely on the work ethic and demeanor of a true gentleman.
A horribly ironic part of this tragedy is that Father's Day is just two days from now, and his utter devotion to his son as well as to his father Big Russ was a fundamental part of his character.
This obviously puts a huge damper on this year's biggest news story, one to which he was all over constantly. The "Tim Russert Primary" even before Iowa was genius as he interviewed each and every presidential candidate and even tripped up a few of them. Sunday mornings and Tuesday nights since January were his times to shine. Each primary night I would come home from school and wait to fully form my opinions of what happened until Mr. Russert invariably dropped a bomb of wisdom.
I don't think I can do my feelings about him any more justice by writing right now, so I'll go back to zoning out in front of MSNBC. Barbara Walters just said that while this is a big loss for the journalism world who knew him personally, Americans across the country would be saddened as well.
A few months ago, as I was struggling with selecting a "political view" on Facebook because I've grown dissatisfied with the Republican Party and I don't think I could ever be a Democrat, I just typed in "Tim Russert." That name conveys patriotism, trustworthiness, and dedication. The perfect political view for anyone.
To a Catholic raised in the Jesuit tradition: Rest well in Heaven, sir.
P.S. I just realized in my shocked state that this is now the second huge loss in television journalism since the last presidential election cycle. On November 4th, I'll need whatever satelitte carries the Heaven News Channel, to watch Peter Jennings and Tim Russert cover election night.
I was driving when I got the news in a text from a good friend who knows about my borderline obsession with Mr. Russert.
I'm watching MSNBC right now, which obviously has been covering this story since Tom Brokaw broke it after 3PM. Mr. Brokaw, Brian Williams, Andrea Mitchell, Keith Olbermann and so many others have been focusing minimally on his professional and public accomplishments and almost entirely on the work ethic and demeanor of a true gentleman.
A horribly ironic part of this tragedy is that Father's Day is just two days from now, and his utter devotion to his son as well as to his father Big Russ was a fundamental part of his character.
This obviously puts a huge damper on this year's biggest news story, one to which he was all over constantly. The "Tim Russert Primary" even before Iowa was genius as he interviewed each and every presidential candidate and even tripped up a few of them. Sunday mornings and Tuesday nights since January were his times to shine. Each primary night I would come home from school and wait to fully form my opinions of what happened until Mr. Russert invariably dropped a bomb of wisdom.
I don't think I can do my feelings about him any more justice by writing right now, so I'll go back to zoning out in front of MSNBC. Barbara Walters just said that while this is a big loss for the journalism world who knew him personally, Americans across the country would be saddened as well.
A few months ago, as I was struggling with selecting a "political view" on Facebook because I've grown dissatisfied with the Republican Party and I don't think I could ever be a Democrat, I just typed in "Tim Russert." That name conveys patriotism, trustworthiness, and dedication. The perfect political view for anyone.
To a Catholic raised in the Jesuit tradition: Rest well in Heaven, sir.
P.S. I just realized in my shocked state that this is now the second huge loss in television journalism since the last presidential election cycle. On November 4th, I'll need whatever satelitte carries the Heaven News Channel, to watch Peter Jennings and Tim Russert cover election night.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Cockfighting, Dogfighting and...
We have a pool of six billion humans from which to choose athletes, so WHY is horse racing even still considered a sport? The owners of Big Brown should be fined and banned from the sport for attempting to race that poor, obviously injured animal.
Let the Dog Days Begin
This is generally the time of year when I become most irritable, most grouchy and most laconic. There is something psychological about the ninety degree barrier that both angers and depresses me. Add in our good friend Mr. Humidity, and the thought of walking to the corner deli for a sandwich defeats me. My mother makes fun of me for this, since I'm such an avid runner and I often come home from my long exercises dripping all over the carpet. That, however, is a product of much cooler temperatures. I don't mind working myself into a self-made sauna when the mercury reads a much more benign seventy, but this weather? Well, pitooey.
The nice thing about living in south Queens, minutes from Jamaica Bay, is the ocean factor. Right now, the temperature in Central Park? Ninety-three. South Ozone Park, NY? A chilly eighty-two.
The only thing more brutal than a New York winter is a New York summer.
The nice thing about living in south Queens, minutes from Jamaica Bay, is the ocean factor. Right now, the temperature in Central Park? Ninety-three. South Ozone Park, NY? A chilly eighty-two.
The only thing more brutal than a New York winter is a New York summer.
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