Gravity: You don't miss it until there isn't any.

I was off on Monday for MLK day, so I took myself out to the movies.  I went to see "Gravity" before it left all the theaters.  As it was, it was only showing at one of the places in my area.  From everything I heard about it, I figured I needed to see it on a big screen, in 3D.

And after having seen it now, everything I heard was right.  The 3D effects were amazing.  I mean, honest to God, when the shit started blowing up and flying around, it felt like I was right in the middle of it.  Seeing this movie on TV, no matter how large or clear the screen is, just won’t be the same. 

(Source)

For a movie without monsters or psycho killers, it was still pretty terrifying.  I mean, how scary is it to be torn away from your ship and left alone to drift out into space and die?  It’s one thing to hear about it in a David Bowie song; it’s another to feel like you’re along for the ride.  The fact that you’re riding along with the Hollywood coolness of Sandy and George only helps so much.

The only gripe I have doesn't really involve the movie, just the theater.  I mean, if you’re going to show a totally immersive 3D movie, and warn everyone to turn off their phones, the least you can do is turn off the fucking house lights when the movie starts!  Nothing kills the isolation of space like a bunch of spotlights shining down on the audience.

Finally, after about 3-4 minutes, someone got up and told them about it, and they killed the lights.  (Someone should have bought that dude an overpriced Coke.)

They showed the film in one of the smaller, fancier theaters.  The seats were like a series of easy chairs, paired off by twos, with foot-wide tables between the seats and in front of every other row.  Kinda sucks if you’re there with an odd-numbered group, but regardless, I definitely approve.

I still don’t have the answer to my 3D question, though.  As I mentioned in my post about the history of my vision correction, I have contact lenses that work around my need for bifocals.  The lens in my right eye is prescribed for distances, and my left, for close up.  Now, the 3D effect plays on the perceptions of both eyes, so I figure if I wear my usual contacts, I’ll get a blurry image, because anything viewed from my left eye will always appear blurry.

I asked the people at my eyeglass place about it, but they couldn't give me an answer.  (The doctor was out.)  They told me no one had ever asked about that before.  In fact, they told me to report back to them if I find anything out.

Well, I didn't find anything out because, for this trip, I replaced my left contact lens with one of my old lenses that were prescribed for a longer distance.  If they want to pay for my ticket, I’ll be glad to give my current prescription a try and report back.  But I’m not paying $12.50 (for a matinee!) to watch a movie with blurry 3D.

Anyway, if you haven’t already seen it, and are at all interested, I give Gravity a hearty recommendation.  Go see it before it disappears to the DVD bins.

Update from January 2020
I saw the new Star Wars film a couple weeks ago and I accidentally bought a ticket for a 3D showing. I hadn't worn my all-distance contacts; I was in my usual left eye for close-up/right eye for distance lenses. It wasn't until the previews started and looked all blurry that I realized that I was in a 3D theater. But after going back to the lobby to grab some 3D glasses, I learned that I shouldn't have worried about any of that stuff in the first place. I could see the 3D effects just fine with the mismatched lenses. Classic case of over-thinking it.

Buffering...

The Supreme Court heard a case this week where people are trying to remove Massachusetts’ law providing a 35’ buffer zone around clinics that provide abortions.

I haven’t really written about my stance on freedom of choice and abortion rights since I laid it all out in 2010.  (There was some great conversation in Comments after that one.) 

But long story short, I am vehemently pro-choice, because nothing offends me more than one group of people forcing their sense of values on others.  In this case, a bunch of predominantly male, “small-government” lawmakers (and the social conservative who elect them) presume to know what’s best for a woman’s health and life circumstance, and have spent the last 40 years setting up hoops, roadblocks and unnecessary and invasive medical testing, in hopes of making abortions too inconvenient for those that seek them.

I feel abortions are a tragedy, and should be avoided by having unfettered access to birth control, sex education and family planning services.  When those don’t work, it’s up to the one or two people directly involved in the situation, and not a Greek chorus of holier-than-thou types who presume to know what’s best. 

In reading about the case, it bothers me that the justices don’t seem to have a grasp of what’s really going on outside these clinics.  They seem far more interested in upholding the First Amendment rights of nut-jobs over the right of scared and troubled women not to be stalked, crowded, pawed at, screamed at and lied to by said nut-jobs.  Even the liberal justices seem to be missing the point. 

One of the witnesses was an elderly lady, who very calmly and politely explained how she’s talked over 80 women out of having abortions.  It left the impression that these conversations are civil, like the participants are enjoying light conversation.   

“Excuse me, I’m sorry to bother you but could you not have an abortion please?  They’re very bad.  Thank you.”

If only these “protesters” were sweet little old ladies offering sage advice, with butter cookies and tea...  But that’s not what’s happening. 

Last night I read a link from NARAL’s Facebook page, for an article written for Cosmo by a guy who volunteers to escort women past the angry mobs, into Planned Parenthood facilities.  This is the guy who should be testifying in front of the Supreme Court.

He volunteers in Pennsylvania, where they don’t have a buffer law, but they do put up police ropes, which the protesters routinely ignore.  He documents how these people harass anyone who walks by.  (That’s how he became involved: they harassed him and his 6-month pregnant girlfriend, who happened to be passing by a Planned Parenthood office.)  They surround these troubled, terrified women, try to push flyers into their hands, call them names, shout horrible untruths about what happens during and after an abortion, and essentially function as a bullying mob.

I found a similar story by a female clinic escort, who wrote of how she came to the aid of one young woman who was being similarly accosted.  Multiple doctors had told this woman that having another baby would likely kill her, as well as the baby.  But these vultures didn’t know anything about that, nor would they care. 

That’s another thing: where are these do-gooders AFTER they browbeat a woman out of ending her pregnancy?  Campaigning for food stamps, day care, after-care, or school lunch programs?  Hell no.  Those are for the lousy slackers and “takers.” 

To quote the great George Carlin, with these people, “If you’re pre-born, you’re fine, if you’re pre-school, you’re fucked!”

I’ve seen this crowd before.  Remember when I went to the Super Bowl in Detroit?  These clowns were standing in the street, yelling at everyone in line.

Notice how they’re all men.  Also notice that they stayed back across the street.  Obviously, they’re more eager to physically intimidate women than a line full of football fans.

Sometimes I think that I should go out and do more in the community, and doing something to aid Planned Parenthood is always the first thing that comes to mind.  I’ve given serious thought to volunteering as an escort.  But boy, would that ever be a mistake.

The guy-escort’s column basically told me all I needed to know, to determine that I’m the wrong personality type for such work.  The escort needs to be extremely non-confrontational with the protesters, because there’s nothing they would like better than to press an assault charge on a Planned Parenthood volunteer.  I don’t know that I could do that.

I’m as chill as anyone could be, and I have the protective nature required, but I completely lack the trait needed to sit back and take shit from people.  (Going to Ratbird games in a Steeler jersey tells me all I need to know about that.) 

In a situation where emotions are running high, I never met a fire I don’t first try to put out with gasoline.  If they were to start yelling at me, or my charge, someone would get told to fuck off.  And if they were to get close enough to jostle us, someone would get shoved back.  Or cold-cocked.  And off I’d go to jail.

I suppose I’ll have to settle for supporting organizations like NARAL and Planned Parenthood financially, like I’ve been doing.  (Do you know you can donate to PP via the United Way?  You can even pick the state.  I pick the ones that are cutting funding to PP or enacting crippling legislation.)

I’d really hate to see the few states that do something about women’s health have their efforts erased.  As far as I can see, the right to free speech does not trump the right to be left alone.  In other words, “speak all you want, just get the fuck out of my face.”

There are a number of limitations to free speech already, like the proverbial yelling “fire” in a crowded theater, or anything limited by libel and slander laws.  Eliminating the buffer zone on account of free speech is akin to sanctioning bullying and harassment.

How long will it be before some parent sues for the right of their kid to bully, mock, tease or harass another kid?  That would be free speech too, wouldn’t it?  I wonder if anyone thought about opening THAT can of worms… 

Raising the Minimum Wage

I’m an old guy now, and while I don’t remember everything, I remember a lot.  For example, I remember how I started working at a grocery store when I was 16, for which I received the minimum wage of $2.65 per hour.  I remember how when it went up to $2.90 and then $3.10 the next year, I felt like I was rolling in dough.  (OK, that may have been from helping out the ladies in the bakery.) 

But hey, I was a teenager with low overhead.  I’d bank three-quarters of my check for college tuition and still have plenty of money left over for gas, (which was $1.20 a gallon) beer ($3.49 a 6-pack) and pizza (Little Caesars pizza-pizza for $10.00).

I remember that the minimum wage has gone up incrementally ever since.  And what’s germane to this post is that I remember how every single time a raise in minimum wage was proposed, the business community loudly protested about how such a raise would make them fire staff, decrease service and eventually put them out of business.

Then the minimum wage raise would pass, and none of that would happen. 

Every. Single. Time.

It’s happening again, both at the federal level and here in Maryland.  People are talking about raising the minimum wage from the federal mandate of at least $7.25, by phasing in increases to about $10.00 an hour. 

How will the “job providers” ever manage to survive if we raise the minimum wage? [/sarcasm]

Naturally, anything that helps the poor, the young or women (read: “Democrats”), will be opposed by Republicans whose constituency runs far more affluent, middle-aged, white and male.  They’re trotting out the same arguments that raising the minimum wage will actually harm the poor because employers will be more hesitant to hire people for whom they have to pay more.  It’s almost as if they’re counting on us to forget that this effect was negligible after past wage hikes.

Now, I’m certainly no economist, but there’s a certain logic at work here.  People who make minimum wage are not usually people who are socking that money into their mattresses, or the stock market.  They’re spending that money on food, gas, clothes and other necessities.  The money is going right back into the market.

I also think that the threats of business services being curtailed are over-blown.  What happens if a restaurant cuts staff?  People don’t get served quickly.  If people aren’t getting served quickly, they’ll go somewhere else.  If people go somewhere else, that first business dies.  (Geez, this sounds like that Direct TV commercial.)

So, are the people who run these establishments going to intentionally sabotage their own businesses just to make a point?  I don’t think so.  They’re going to do what they have to do to stay in business.   Perhaps their profits get pinched.  They’ll probably raise prices to offset it.  So what else is new?  Prices go up eternally.  But, as more money gets spent in the market, the economy rises, and more people go out to eat.  The business is sustained.

Plus, as people are pulled out of poverty, there is less of a demand for food stamps, welfare and other public assistance.  You’d think that would make conservatives very happy.

But conservatives are never happy when it comes to profit margin.  Why else did they run for office featuring campaigns to lower taxes, after enjoying a long run of the lowest taxes in the history of the country?  Because the only thing better than lower taxes are taxes lowered even further.

Granted, the minimum wage issue isn’t a tax, but it’s the same principle: outgoing money that lowers profit margin.  Next thing you know, someone’s calling it a “handout,” regardless of the fact that people work their ass off for it.

When I worked for minimum wage, those dollars had a lot more buying power.  It’s a different story now.  The cost of living has far outpaced the past increases in the minimum wage.  Raising it now would bring the two back into better balance.

My $2.90 went a hell of a lot further in 1978.

I hate it when rich people go on TV and talk about how poor people just need to work harder and stretch their dollars.  What nerve.  Anyone that thinks minimum wage is high enough should try living on it for a week. 

But that would require empathy, and the only people for whom conservatives have empathy are those fighting financial regulations, environmental laws, higher business taxes and reverse discrimination.

Why It's Still Governor Christie's Fault

I've always been on the fence about New Jersey Governor Chris Christie.  That he’s Republican obviously rubs me the wrong way, but it never bothered me that he shot from the hip in answering dumb or insulting questions.  I don’t mind people not suffering fools gracefully.

And I appreciate that he seems to be a pragmatist.  He worked with the Anti-Christ, I mean, the Democratic President, in order to obtain aid for his storm-stricken state, and then had the audacity to thank him for his help and appear appreciative.  That took courage, in this age of hyper-partisanship, but he thought it was the right (and obvious) thing to do.  He’s been at odds with the rest of the Republicans ever since.  In my book, that means he’s been doing something right.

But as far as I’m concerned, this latest controversy changes all of that.  If you haven’t heard, emails have surfaced that show that his top-level staff approved shutting down three of four lanes on a bridge leading out of Fort Lee, NJ.  It was an action meant to punish the Democratic Mayor of Fort Lee, who had refused to back Christie’s re-election, and as follows, the voters who backed the Mayor.

The resulting traffic jam tied up the bridge for hours and delayed emergency service crews as well.  It was a total four-alarm clusterfuck.  When the Mayor called in to pursue a solution to the tie-up, he was intentionally ignored, and then mocked through emails.

The email trail shows that this absolutely happened as is being reported.  There is no backing down or spinning it.  There are too many emails, and they don’t lie.

This activity confirms worst our fears about politicians; that We the People are nothing but faceless blobs to be manipulated in pursuit of consolidating power and punishing rivals.  It’s telling that no one cared about the thousands of people being clock-blocked and delayed.  It was more important to send a message to the Mayor of Fort Lee.  It makes you long for the days when they just sent a dead fish wrapped in newspaper.

Christie apologized on Thursday, and fired the staffers involved, but his apologies ring false.  A staff operates under the culture of the office.  If they knew the Governor would be shocked and appalled by their actions, they wouldn't take those actions.  If the purveying sentiment were that we never stoop to political payback, there wouldn't be any.  Being shocked and appalled after the information leaked is not the same.

Even if the idea was originated by the Chief of Staff, and the Governor truly didn't know what was going on, you still have to blame the Governor.  It’s His Guy, and His Guy knows what the Governor would want done.  In fact, it would be his job to ensure it stays away from the Governor.  If he thought his boss truly didn't want his opponent screwed with, he wouldn't have done it.  It wouldn't be in his personal or professional interest to do something contrary to his boss’s wishes. 

The office culture is set from the top down.  If the boss is a choirboy, you’re going to have a staff of people who act like he does, because they risk their job if they don’t.  If the boss is down with ratfucking his enemies, they won’t think twice about doing the same.

Therefore, this scandal is 100% Chris Christie’s fault and he should bear the brunt of the political (or legal) consequences. 

Perhaps the Mayor of Fort Lee should tie up the line in the State House cafeteria.

Dennis Rodman and North Korea Explained

Really, there’s a logical explanation for Dennis Rodman’s BFF relationship with North Korean President, Kim Jong-Un.  (Dennis Rodman is a former basketball player and noted freak, who played his best ball for Detroit and Chicago.)

Here’s what I think happened:

It started when Kim Jong-Un assumed control of the North Korean government, after the death of his father, Kim Jong-Il, (who was assumed to have succumbed to extreme roneriness.)

The US Intelligence Community had minimal information on the doughy new Dear Leader, and were badly in need of intel.  In an Oval Office meeting with the President, they discussed a variety of ways to get ears on what was going on.  Playing on the reported North Korean fascination with American sports and popular culture, one of the NSA guys suggested recruiting a famous athlete to do their bidding.

NSA Guy: We need a crazy brother who won’t raise any eyebrows by going over there.

President Obama: Are you sure we need an athlete? I can always send Biden… Nah, he’ll probably accidentally sign a treaty or something.   No wait… I’m from Chicago… I’ll just call Dennis!

NSA Guy: That’s just stupid enough to work!  But what if he gives it away?  He’s not the most focused dude…

CIA Guy: We won’t tell him!  Mr. President, you contact his “people,” and get them to invite themselves to North Korea.  They’ll bite… they’re crazy for ballers.  Then we tell Dennis to get himself a new piercing for the occasion.  But we’ll send one of our people in the shop to plant a bug in the stud.  He won’t even know we’re listening.

Obama: Right!  Then we just send him off to go have a good time, and we’ll get a flavor for what that crazy fuck is up to.  No one will ever suspect our role, because it just looks like Dennis being Dennis, acting all…

Everyone in the room: Batshit crazy!

[Fist bumps all around.]

See?  It all fits.  And you know that Uncle who Kim Jong-Un had executed?  He probably disparaged Dennis’s tattoos.  And the rumors that he was fed to the dogs were probably started by Dennis, due to a translation error.

Rodman: Hey Un, your uncle been bustin’ my grill, dissing my tats.  But what do you expect from a muthafucka when y’all feed him dog?

Director’s DVD Commentary: When I came in to work today, two of my cube-mates were discussing what the hell Rodman was doing over there, and while I was pouring my morning cup of water, I came up with this hypothesis and whipped it on them.

For what it’s worth, they thought it was totally plausible.

You know, after this post runs, I better keep an eye out for NSA guys on my tail.  And re-watch The Pelican Brief.

Weird Bits

Greetings from the “New Frozen Tundra,” the eastern half of America!  Today was colder here in Baltimore than it’s been in ages.  It was 8 degrees at my place, and we got off easy compared to the Midwest and North.  I’m just glad I didn’t have to be outside for very long.

But it was even cold inside today.  All of our cubicles at work face windows, as does my boss’s office.  Her walls make the office like one of those interior sections of your refrigerator, that channels the cold.  You should have seen us in her office staff meeting today… One woman had a crocheted blanked over her lap, my boss wore a heavy scarf, another guy and I had ski-caps on, and one more woman simply nursed some hot tea.  We looked like we were the management team for a call center in Siberia.

Anyway, we all know it’s cold.  But in my case, it also extends to my luck with picking winners this year.  I just finished up with the annual college bowl picks and I got whipped every which way. 

In one online program, I just had to pick the winners, even up.  I won 15 and lost 20, easily the worst I’ve ever done since I started keeping track in 2005.  My winning percentage was .428.  I’d never been below .531 before.

In our program from work, where you have to pick against the spread, I placed 69^th out of 70. 

To make matters worse, I paid my entry fee late… so late, in fact, that I was already mathematically eliminated.  It’s one thing to pay up when it’s early and you think you have a shot at winning.  It’s another when you know the money is going straight to someone much smarter than you… who, in my case, are everyone else in the pool.

My problem is that I actually did some research before making the picks.  I found a site that ran computer simulations and stuff, and made game projections.  I’m pretty sure I would have done better if I’d just flipped a coin.  Next time, I’m just going with my gut.  My gut is bound to do better than 68^th place.

Question for You

I had some weird stuff happen on the blog right before Christmas.  On December 22^nd, I started getting hits on old posts from all over world.  They came from Europe, Asia, the Pacific Islands and South America, and none of them had referral source.  There would be hits in clusters around a handful of old posts, each one from a different country.  Then a bunch of different places would hit a handful of different posts.  None left comments, obviously, or navigated any further than the landing page.  Then the onslaught stopped on Christmas Day.

It would be different if I thought I was getting readers from all of these places.  But I’m pretty sure that people all over the world didn’t suddenly become fascinated with Game Jersey Mojo.  It seemed to me like it was some kind of hacker’s Denial of Service attack on the Blogger system, like PCs across the world were activated with a zombie computer virus.  But I can’t see that the hits actually did anything besides spin my Stat Meter numbers.

What I want to know is if you noticed anything of the sort?  It couldn’t have been just me.  What’s going on out there?

Odd Bits - The Family Christmas Edition

The main reason I haven’t been writing much, this holiday season, is that nothing much happened, at least not all at once.  But I think I have enough scraps collected now that I can share a little bit of my Christmas season.

For the first time in ages, I spent Christmas morning alone.  But that was fine… I was able to compensate nicely, with a stellar Christmas breakfast.

I didn't put up a tree this year, but then, I have a couple strings of lights up year round.  I put those on, turned on the Yule Log Channel on TV, and put on my home made Christmas music CD.  (It’s chocked full of Bluz’ favorite non-traditional yuletide tunes… YuleTunz, I guess.)  After my nutritious breakfast, I wrapped up the last of the presents for distribution.

That afternoon, I went to my brother Ed’s house for dinner and gift exchange.  Mostly, there was a lot of this…

Nephew Sam, in action.

After dinner, though, I got Sammy out for a little garage hockey, with his new stick and goal net.  I probably should have just let him play with his video game, because he shot about 8 or 9 pucks off the same spot on my lower right shin.  Maybe I should start letting him win.  I knew I shouldn't have tossed my hockey pads!

The day after Christmas, I set sail for The Burgh.  Everyone was comin’ ta tahn… Ed and the family went, my sister and her husband came in from Cincinnati, and my parents had come up from Florida earlier in the week.  We haven’t all been together for Christmas since I can’t remember when.  This isn't a picture we get to take very often:

The Bluz Siblings

And of course, we got to visit with my about-to-be-98-year-old Grandpa.

Grandpa’s first granddaughter still gets a special seat with him.

We stayed in Pittsburgh until Saturday, and mostly hung out with my Aunt Grace Ann and Uncle Ange, which meant we had two major dinners.  I was in heaven!  On Thursday, we had wedding soup, sausage and peppers, ravioli, a chicken thing, and other assorted goodies.

Please tell me: is there anyone else that’s ever heard of doughballs in wedding soup?  We've always done that in my family, but I've never met anyone else that’s heard of it.

Friday night, we combined Aunt Mary’s manicotti with Segnari’s fish sandwiches for an incredible culinary combination. 

Do not let the trick of “perspective” fool you.  Those sandwiches were massive.  That’s a full-sized dinner plate there.

I couldn't believe we actually had a couple of leftover fish sandwiches.  In the days of my youth, I would never have allowed that to happen.  But I was done… I had already eaten until I couldn't move any more.  Luckily, there’s always room for wine, and Uncle Ange never gets tired of pouring.

I almost wasn't allowed to take part in Thursday’s dinner, due to a team mojo controversy.  Normally, I am loath to root against the University of Pittsburgh.  But as it happened, they were playing my alma mater, Bowling Green, in the Little Caesar’s Pizza Bowl.  The Fighting Falcons don’t get to many bowl games, under the circumstances, I had to “represent,” for my guys, so I sported my “traffic-cone orange” Bowling Green attire.  But my Aunt and Uncle are kind-hearted people, so they let me eat anyway, if I promised not to cheer too loudly or do any obnoxious dances. 

We were all on the same side Friday night, when the Penguins played.  I brought one of my game jerseys for the occasion.  Mojo counts, no matter where you are.  I have to do my part.  (We won, too, so it obviously worked.  That’s science.)

I headed back to Baltimore on Saturday morning, and along the way, I had a startling realization.  It dawned on me as I drove through the Breezewood toll plaza, wearing a Pens hat and hoodie and a Steelers shirt, with two leftover fish sandwiches, two pounds of Isaly’s chipped ham and two loaves of fresh Mancini’s Italian bread, and Donny Iris playing on the stereo, I had just become a “Yinzer.”  At least an honorary Yinzer, for sure.  I wonder if there’s a secret handshake…

On Sunday, it was off to my local sports bar for the last regular season games of the year.  The Steelers needed to win, and then see losses by the Ratbirds, Dolphins and Chargers.  My brother and his son Daniel joined me for the game.  I was glad I could share my Sunday “second home,” and prove to some of the local barflies that I do, in fact, have a family of my own.

Sitcom Kelly and her former foster-care girl came out for a short time too.  The little one (who’s 5 now) hopped up on my lap and nested there until it was time to leave.  I tell you, the little girls just love me.

Well, the Steelers won and two of the other teams lost, so all looked good, right up until the Kansas City kicker missed a field goal as time ran out and then the Chargers won in overtime.  Eh… I wasn't really expecting the playoffs this year, not after they played like crap all season.  The important part is that the Ratbirds didn't make it either.  That means I can breathe until next season.

I had Monday and Tuesday off too, so I got to ease back into reality.  Well, I should use that term loosely… mostly what I did was tear through season 3 of True Blood and eat chipped ham sandwiches.

New Years was non-eventful… spend the Eve and the Day at home.  Maybe something fun will pop up next year.  But after watching some of the NYC coverage on New Years Eve, I think they should show a lot less Miley Cyrus and a lot more Debby Harry.  Blondie’s in her 60s now, and still looks smokin’ hot.

So, I’m back to work now, and I’m glad I start with a 2-day week.  That’s a nice way to dip your toe back into your job.  But next week… that’ll be my first 5-day week in quite a while.

If only I could find a way to get paid for laying on the couch, watching sports and DVDs, eating giant sandwiches and drinking wine.  I’d never have to retire.

The Year in Bluz - 2013

I always know what I’m going to do on 12/31… Even though I could easily have this in the can by now, I always wait for the very last possible day to do my annual end-of-year recap of all the madcap goings on here on D-fish.

While it’s fun sifting through all the crap I wrote over the year, the one part that always bothers me is the repeated use of “I”.  Seriously, I hate making it sound like the year was all about me, but because it’s MY blog and it’s ME writing about stuff I think, I can’t really avoid all the “I’s.”  So just bear with me, OK?

January:  The year began in grand fashion as Ratbird mouthpiece Ray Lewis announced his retirement.  Unfortunately, that meant I had to endure a solid month of local media hype.  My Grandpa turned 97 and we all produced a memory book for him.  This was my entry. (Note: I just saw him last week, and he’s still awesome!)  I noticed I've had a whole bunch of redheads in my life, much more than the national average, so I wrote about it.  Then I posted about a couple of kids… first, about the time my buddy Rik’s daughter came out to visit me, when she was 10, and then about my amazing nephew Daniel, on the occasion of his 14^th birthday.  I’d never addressed the issue of gun violence before, but corrected that in the wake of the Newtown tragedy.  And then before closing out the month with some reruns, I talked about how it’s totally possible to have a relationship with someone you've never met, face to face.  You’re welcome, Manti.

February:  The worst thing imaginable happened… the Ratbirds won the Super Bowl.  Rather than hibernate for the rest of the month, like I wanted to, I wrote about how I defy conventional health wisdom on a daily basis, and still live to tell the tale.  When I cleaned out my closet and unearthed some ungodly horrendous fashion items, there was no way I couldn't share them with you.  Then in going through some old notebooks, I found this thing I wrote for a friend’s going away party, where because her pregnancy was supposed to be a secret, (that everyone knew anyway) my message to her contained every side-reference to pregnancy I could think of.  Then I told a light, fun little story about the time I almost derailed a passenger train, when I was in 3^rd grade.  Take THAT, Dick and Jane!  After that, things got serious.  I sought your help about the quandary I was having about what to do when your partner is breaking your things.  And to end the month, I celebrated the 4^th anniversary of this very blog; the day I opened the doors and said, “Come on in!”

March:  Taylor Swift was in the news and I finally said what needed to be said: “Honey, maybe it’s you.”  Sadly, the Pittsburgh Steelers release one of my all time favorite players.  Here, I posted my farewell, to a Naughty Man.  (That’s my nephew Sammy’s term for Harrison.)  In a bit of inadvertent foreshadowing, I decided to pen my own obituary, after reading about some other dude writing his own hilarious obit.  “Son of Obituary” was my favorite post title this year.  Then to break nostalgic, I posted a series of shots of my buddies and I, posing in the same pose throughout the years.  And speaking of passing years, I noted that I have now lived in this Baltimore apartment, longer than I have anywhere else.  Scary!  And because I have practically no material on Easter, I ran some old pics from the Easters of my youth.

April:  This month was a disaster.  It started all fun and games, with a post about playing backyard wiffleball and the huge man-eating dog that lived over the fence.  But then it got painfully serious as I developed a kidney stone, went to the hospital for treatment, was discharged and felt well enough to go to an Orioles game, wherein a cold beer knocked my heart out of rhythm, and then going to another hospital to have it shocked back into rhythm.  That’s what I get for mocking obituaries.  Once my health had taken a beating, it was time for my mental and financial health to suffer, when the Penguins game we were going to see in Pittsburgh got moved (due to the Boston Marathon bombing) and I had to eat $300 worth of tickets.  We still made the trip, though, and took in a Buccos game.  With the kidney stone done with, there was a national milestone, where the first gay athlete in a major team sport came out of the closet.  People said the right things, but I thought only time would reveal the full picture.  (And I was right… the guy has not as yet signed with another team.)

May:  We spent the first week in May visiting my folks in Gulf Breeze, Florida.  Fun times abounded, and naturally gave way to a discussion of fart etiquette.  (We’re that kind of family.)  I hadn’t written much on politics this year, but I finally had enough of all the faux-scandals to finally chip in and call out the bullshit.  Tornadoes that ripped open the Midwest also ripped open my ongoing fear of them, which I explored here.

June:  I began the month musing on the uncles I have versus the one I've become.  In a walk through the truly bizarre, we visited Baltimore’s HonFest, to hobnob with the beehive (hairdo) crowd.  To break nostalgic again, I wrote about the very first concert(s) I went to as a teenager, and the very different circumstances.  Then just to revel in the nonsense, I ran one of my favorite bits of absurd writing, involving the difficulty one has when his eye rolls under the desk.  I also wrote about how I used to chew tobacco, back in the days of my rural youth.  (Bleah!)  The month ended with my annual trip to revisit my rural youth in the farmlands outside Toledo, with my buddies Rik and John.

July:  Because Rik’s daughter was about to become a college freshman, I felt duty-bound to pen a few thoughts on surviving that first year away from home.  And if my advice was good, the comments that came from YOU were even better!  Between Paula Deen and Big Brother, racist comments were in the news and I chipped in on the controversy and even copped to a little past ignorance myself.  Since I had college on the brain, I accessed my “vault” of old writings, and remembered my days as a gossip columnist for my high school newspaper.  And because you have to see it to believe it, I wrote about how Baltimore hosted a convention for fans of My Little Pony, and how they’re all DUDES!  Seriously!  We never did that kind of lame shit when I was in college.

August: I continued with tales of my college experience here and here, ending with the party stories here.  (It’s a wonder I lived to tell the tales.)  Going back to those days reminded me of a great prank we pulled on a friend of my Dad’s, using a kazoo.  Then I went back even further to write the story of my prom night.  Because I’m getting older and crankier, I first wrote about how I see myself becoming more impatient with random idiots, which blossomed into a post on all the people I hate on the subway.

September:  If I got to be the guy who made up car names, these are the ones I’d go with.  Car and Driver, eat your heart out.  Because nothing had been done about gun violence so far, and the mass killings were still piling up, I wrote my angriest post of the year.  No, it didn't accomplish anything either, except making me feel a little better.  In other news, there really are alligators under the bed.  And then after seeing yet another ridiculous, cement-headed meme posted on Facebook, I deconstructed the argument piece by piece. 

October: Sure, you know I’m the Bluzdude, but in this post, you no longer had to take my word for it, when I ran my very own blues song, the Full Belly Blues.  We went back to Pittsburgh to catch the hockey game we missed in April, and also got to visit the famous River Ducky.  Remember the time the Republicans shut down the entire government and then tried to blame the Democrats? That was funny.  By the way, I took a political test and I came out “Liberal.”  Go figure.  Since it was Halloween season, I ran down my Top 20 Scary Movies of All Time.  Because of some kids football games in the news, I took the opportunity to again complain about how I’ve never gotten a trophy for anything, ever.  Also, in the Abuses of the Past Department, I always hated getting splinters taken out. 

November:  This month was tough, and I had to scrape for material.  I had a film clip of the Ohio State Band, and then did another run through old print ads of the 50s.  But I soon turned inward, wondering if I should continue my blog, in The Malaise Post.  I thank you for your encouragement and support.  Then in the biggest Bluz Newz of the year, I dropped the bomb about how Pinky and I are splitting up, and signifying big changes for 2014.  But right after that, I got to hang out with bloggers Misty and Val, which is bound to put a smile on anyone’s face.

December:  Ratbirds coach John Harbaugh defended his idiot fans who were throwing ice balls at the opposing team, demonstrating yet again why I hate this team so much.  I also shined some light on the Republican dirty tricks that are hampering the efforts to get Obamacare off the ground.  They should really just stick to fighting among themselves.  I told some dirty jokes at work, and then in my last relevant post of the year, called out the national and political media for making incorrect usage of “Freedom of Speech.” 

So that’s the news for 2013.  As always, I appreciate your time and attention in visiting with me, and seeing what I have to say.  I hope to have some quality material for you here as I journey into my 6^th year of Darwinfish.  Life soldiers on… all I have to do is write it down.

Have a great New Years, and I’ll see you on the other side.

Remembering the Traveling Christmas Show

It’s been a while since I've spent this much time at home, alone.  Friday was my last day until January, so I've just been knocking around here by myself.  It’s weird, but I embrace the positive side, and make do.  I’m adaptable that way.

...only I had a bigger block of cheese.

Had a good time over at the sports bar on Sunday.  Because the Steelers were playing the 4:30 game, and I wanted to make sure I got my favorite spot at the bar, I was there at noon, and because the games ran long, spent nearly 8 hours on that bar stool.  I swear, the things I won’t do to support my team.  I wore my Steelers Santa hat too, which was all lit up (just like me).  Seemed to go over well.  But it was fun… any time the Steelers win and the Ratbirds lose, is a good day by default.

Tomorrow, I’ll head over to my brother’s for presents and Christmas dinner, then on Thursday, we all will go to Pittsburgh.  My brother and his family, my sister and her husband, and my parents are all making the trip to visit with our large, Burgh-based family.  I can’t wait.  This will be the first time in ages we've all been together for the holidays.  I’m sure it will make my Grandpa happy.  (He’ll be 98 in February!)

Meanwhile, I’m keeping myself occupied during “TV rerun season” by watching old True Blood seasons that I missed the first time.  So I can’t possibly find the time to write a brand new post for you.  But again, I’m unearthing something from Christmas of 2009, which you probably never saw.  I figure, if I give you a nice, substantial post today, which ought to hold you until I get back this weekend.

Until then, I hope you have a wonderful Christmas and charge into 2014 with a song in your heart and a smile on your face.  And lacking that, a giant block of cheese.

The Traveling Christmas Show

Christmas was always such a busy time, growing up. When we were real little and still living in Pittsburgh, it was such a flurry of activity having our own Christmas, and then heading off to both grandparents’ place. I know it was all pretty hard on my parents but as kids, we loved it! Three Christmas extravaganzas of cookies, good food, presents and cookies! Lots of cousins to play with! And did I mention the cookies?

My dad’s dad, Grandpa N, always took movies… the old 8mm silent kind and he always used a light… a big, brilliant, blinding light. It was so bright we could barely open our eyes wide enough to see what we were opening. Then when it was over, he’d turn it off and the room would seem positively cave-like and we’d spend the next 10 minutes walking into things until our eyes adjusted. Too bad the camera was off by then… it would have been much more entertaining.

In later years, my aunt had those movies knocked off onto VHS. It was funny then to see essentially the same movie over and over again but with the characters aging 1 year each time.

Hey, there’s a bunch of blinded kids opening presents...

Oh, look at the baby...

Now it’s dinner time… there’s the table. Look at all the food.

Everybody wave… Now...CUT!

Now it’s the next Christmas… look at the same blinded kids, eww, what are they wearing?

There’s another baby…

And on it goes…

It was agonizing to see myself going through each of the horrid styles of the 1970’s.

Several years of plaid pants… Auuuugh!

The "Saturday Night Fever" year of silk shirt and necklace… Gack!

The "Urban Cowboy" year with a freakin’ cowboy hat with a wrap-around feather the size of a vulture’s ass!  Who the hell did I think I was, Charlie Daniels?

Nevertheless, it was cool seeing my cousins growing up right before my eyes. In fact, we only got to see the cousins in yearly increments anyway, once we left The Burgh. (I was 6.) As the first-born of 2 first-borns, I was the alpha cousin, and in later years, it was pretty much up to me to maintain order among the chilluns. This is where my high school class ring came in very handy. I learned from my dad just how powerful a good flick of the ring was. In fact, I think I still have an ornate, backwards “D” on the top of my skull from his Duquesne ring.

Once we moved away from Pittsburgh, my siblings and I got to enjoy a new Christmas perk… Christmas a week early! The weekend before Christmas, we’d have our own celebration and do the stockings, presents and the whole sha-bang. Then we’d travel to Pittsburgh for the actual holiday and make the Grandparental rounds.

The trip was always hell, especially when we were coming from Chicago… 3 bored, punchy little kids, fighting their seat belts and each other, trying to listen to a scratchy AM radio. Mom still smoked back then so we had those regular noxious gas intervals. She’d crack the window, thinking the smoke would go out. Unfortunately, it was mostly the freezing air rushing in.

But it was all worth it when we got to my grandparents’ place for the best meal of the year… The Christmas Eve Feast of the 7 Fishes. It’s an Italian thing. There would be fried smelts and shrimp, fish fillets, heaps of pasta, plus chicken, wedding soup, and Lord knows how much other savory stuff. I’d eat until I couldn't move any more.

Later in the evening, after the dishes were cleared and the olives, celery and cookies were put out, Grandma would break out the bingo game. They used to play Bingo in the old days to kill time before midnight mass, but by this time they weren't going to the late mass any more. But Grandma would save up change all year for us to use for Bingo and we’d have the big family Bingo showdown.

I always liked it because it was something that the kids and grownups played together. Although every so often that led to some not-very-kid-friendly terminology getting thrown out after a long, tension-filled game:

Cousin: BINGO!!!

My mom: Oh HORSESHIT!!

God Rest Ye Merry Merchantmen
Years later when I was all grown up and managing a record store in Cleveland, the holidays were just brutal. From the beginning of November through the middle of January, to paraphrase Al Bundy, it was like “one long month… Helluary.”

As manager, I’d be working pretty regular 12-16 hour days. The place would be mobbed… just accounting for all the money was practically a full-time job. (I do admit that there’s nothing like the sight of more than $13,000 in cash sitting on your desk). But we would be so busy, I’d go home and collapse in bed and have dreams that I was at work, tending the register and clearing customers. I’d wake up and be like, “Fuuuuck! I can’t even escape with sleep…)

I didn’t have any family in Cleveland. The closest kin I had were, you guessed it, in Pittsburgh. So when we’d finally get permission to close up on Christmas Eve, usually around 5:30 or 6:00, I’d shut’er all down, bolt for the car and bust ass down the turnpike for Pittsburgh.

I’d get to Grandma and Grandpa’s house about 9 or so and Grandma would have soup on the stove and sandwich fixin’s at the ready. Grandpa would appear with an IC Light. After the meal, Grandma would tell me that when she heard I was coming, she went and got some Klondikes for me, which at the time, could only be obtained in Pittsburgh.  They were always my favorite treat as a kid. 

I hope she knew how much those Christmas Eves meant to me. It was like an oasis of comfort in a sea of aggravation. To be able to settle into a big easy chair and chat with my grandparents and just… breathe…

It was home, sweet home.

What Freedom of Speech Actually Means

I really need to stop scanning through Facebook posts; it never fails to make me sorry I looked.  I hate seeing people I like and respect expressing support for ridiculous memes and graphics.  I lament the loss of critical thinking on a daily basis.

The latest offense to common sense is this whole “Duck Dynasty/Phil the Patriarch” commotion, wherein the aforementioned dipshit threw out a bunch of ignorant and offensive statements in an interview with GQ, denigrating gays and African-Americans.

My first thought was, “Seriously?  This guy is in GQ???”

Shouldn't he really be interviewed by Field and Stream?

In recent times, whenever someone says something irretrievably stupid, the people that generally support the speaker immediately begin trumpeting about free speech and the speaker’s right to express himself.

This brings me to my newest passage in the Book of Bluz: “Whenever people can’t defend the content of a statement, they enthusiastically espouse the right to state it.”  So when you hear the Freedom of Speech argument trotted out, just remember that it’s all they have.  If they could defend the content and win, they would.

That’s also a featured part of the modern media playbook… if you can’t win the argument at hand, change the argument.

Freedom of speech is not at issue.  The guy made his statement, and was free to do so.  Freedom of speech does NOT, however, guarantee that he gets a TV show to speak on.  TV shows are market-driven.  Once a commodity begins costing a network money, all bets are off.

Networks are interested in two things: eyeballs and dollars, wherein the former begets the latter.  If someone threatens either one, changes get made right quick.  So Phil gets put in the penalty box until the heat dies down.  That’s the thing with the freedom to speak; you are also responsible for what you say.  If you say something asinine, there will be consequences, especially if you’re in the public eye.

Actually, he’s probably getting off light.  If an unknown like me ever said what he said in a national magazine, I would be fired from my job before the ink was even dry.  Phil gets to lay low and count the money in his mattress for a few weeks.  He’s golden.

It’s just funny because the conservative rap is always for people to take responsibility for their actions.  Apparently that’s only for “other” people, like criminals or unwed mothers.

Naturally, conservative politicians are falling all over themselves to defend this guy, with the usual suspects/media whores Ted Cruz, Sarah Palin and Bobby Jindal leading the charge.  As usual, they don’t make any more sense than Phil did, as they trot out the same old logical bait and switch.

Take Ted Cruz’s statement for example…

“If you believe in free speech or religious liberty, you should be deeply dismayed over the treatment of Phil Robertson. Phil expressed his personal views and his own religious faith; for that, he was suspended from his job. In a free society, anyone is free to disagree with him - but the mainstream media should not behave as the thought police censoring the views with which they disagree.”

Note to Senator Ted: Phil was not sanctioned for his religious beliefs.  What part of religion indicates that African-Americans were happier under Jim Crow laws?  No, he was sanctioned for making ugly, racist, homophobic statements that don’t belong in civilized society.  He was not censored in any way (Dude, look up the word “censored”). He made the statement and now he is obligated to take the blowback.  That’s how free speech actually works.

Also, obnoxious, factually and historically inaccurate statements under the guise of “religion” are still just as wrong.  Talking nonsense and calling it religion is not a Get Out of Jail Free card.

Bobby Jindal expressed dismay that Phil was sanctioned while MTV took no action against Miley Cyrus.

I thought Republicans were supposed to know something about how business works.  Hey Gov, MTV didn't lose diddley-squat over Miley Cyrus and her tongue and her sad little hiney.  They gained eyeballs and attention.  They have no reason to punish Miley Cyrus, as she paid off in spades.  Or at least in dancing bears. 

Not to mention, how is any form of dancing as offensive as suggesting an entire race of people was better off living in filthy, inferior conditions?  Or risking getting beaten or hung, just by walking down the wrong street?

In a logical flaw the size of the Grand Canyon, old Phil suggested that because the black people he worked with seemed happy, then they all must have been better off without all those pesky civil rights.

OK.  Then it follows that because when I went to England in the mid-70s, I didn't see any IRA bombs explode, so they must not have been very dangerous.  And because I didn't see the Challenger explode or Neil Armstrong walk on the moon, neither one of those happened either.

Idiot.  Perhaps Phil should have gotten out more.  Then maybe he could have seen a lynching, or fire hoses and billy clubs turned on people who just wanted to go to school.  Maybe then it might have sunk in that some people weren't having a very good time of it.

So now we have another conservative “martyr,” pilloried by the evil left-wing mainstream media and egg-headed liberals.  And we have politicians who boil the controversy down to “Simple Man Punished for Being Religious,” and get people to post their support on Facebook. 

And you wonder why I have such low regard for the American public…