As a reminder of some of the old days. This is for Matt

Someone must have stolen a conversation that occurred in a long comment string.

It seems like all our group has gone into hiding.

Friends

Life is simple.   And yet complicated.

Life is logical.  And yet irrational.

Life follows patterns.  And yet it will sneak up on you and bite you in the ass when you least expect it.

Life is beautiful.  And sometimes ugly.

I've made many friends in life.  Some, are shadows.  

Some are distant memories and other leave indelible imprints.

And some friends...  no matter where they are, will always be close.

It's comforting.  And yet fucking painful.

Goodbye Dad - Part 1

I'm impatient.

Shocking.  Yes.  I know.

I want to write something longer.  But, in the time it's taken for me to even get my thoughts together, 2 days have passed since...

My dad passed away.

I'll be honest.  I was angry when he landed in the hospital in June.  He refused to participate is his own health the last 20 years...   At 73, he was too young to be dying of kidney failure.

He turned 74 in July.   He died peacefully on Wednesday, a mere 3 weeks before his 48th anniversary.    

He was an honorable man who was known for his integrity and the ability to spin a yarn, whether having a quiet conversation or amongst a group of friend.  

I'll post more in part 2.   Who knows when that will be.

Goodbye Dad.

The Kardashian Apocalypse

I didn't waste my time watching them, but when I read the news that Beck won a Grammy, I thought "Wow, actual taste! Maybe things are turning around!"  Then I realized they weren't talking about Jeff Beck.

A Story for Jin

Jin wanted to know what I was having for dinner because he cares deeply about me an my welfare.  I figured I would post all about my dinner.  When I was young, chicken was generally a Sunday meal.  My grandmother made one hell of a meal of chicken and rice.  All this in spite of the fact that my grandfather hated chicken.  He also hated spaghetti, but that is another story and another supper that I likely will write about. Now, I know that tonight is a Friday and that the patterns of the universe will likely be disrupted by eating chicken on Friday rather than Sunday, but it sounded good.

Yes, actual chicken.  Chicken that I actually butchered myself.  Only because I was out of cats.  Well, technically not out, because there is still one cat in the barn, but he has a job to do and earns his keep.  But I digress.  I like to use chicken thighs for my chicken and rice.  My grandmother was not particular and used all pieces, but I am partial to dark meat.  You can read into that statement anything you like.

I boil the rice in broth from the chicken carcasses that I make on the woodstove.  Sometimes I simply make soup from the chicken carcasses, but I also like to can the broth just for situations such as this one.  I boil the broth and dump the dry rice in it and turn off the heat.  Once the rice is done, I put it in a stoneware pot.  I brown the chicken in a frying pan and then place the pieces on top of the rice and pour the drippings on top of the chicken so that it drizzles down into the rice.  I cover the pot and cook it at 350 deg F for about 45 minutes.  I then remove the cover and cook for an additional 20 minutes so that the skin gets crispy.

It is unbelievably delicious, mostly because all the unhealthy chicken fat soaks into the rice making it very tasty.  I know that Jin will be worried about my cholesterol from eating such a meal, but he should not, because I had a nice glass of bourbon before I ate.  It is a well known fact that bourbon, especially good bourbon, over ice, counteracts all unhealthy aspects of any meal.

Here is the meal before I ate it:

 

 

It was delicious. 

 

My wife is making homemade ice cream for desert, which will also be delicious.

 

And now, I must leave you all dear readers (that is you Jin) because I must go to the most important chair in the house and think about friends.  I do indeed give a shit.  Especially after a good meal. 

 

Oh....and that myth...you know the one, about how there is always room for ice cream?  It's not true.  Sometimes after a good meal like this, one must MAKE room.

SUPERBOWL!!!

The reason I am happy?  Because I know I can watch all the advertisements on the internet.  Most of them today already, but certainly all of them tomorrow.

Is it wrong for me to root for both teams to lose?

The Child Inside

I was born in New England.

Outside of 5 years shortly after I got married, I've lived here all my life.

And I'll die here.

There's something particularly unique about this corner of the world.   I've been to many places in the US and others in North America and Europe.   Based on what I've experienced and based on what I've read, Boston may be the greatest city in the world.

People talk about the hospitals, the schools, the sports, the history, the people.   To me?   It's all about the weather.

I admit it.   I love the snow.

But, as I was walking down the street last night in temps that were, in the local vernacular, wicked cold, it occurred to me that only 5 months prior, I was roasting my ass off in the blazing sun on a 95+ degree day (we didn't get many of those in 2014.)   So, I enjoy the hot weather too.

There's something about cold weather, and particularly snow that just makes me happy.

The dogs love it too.   But, when the snow can be measured in multiples of height of the little one, the snow can be hard to manage.

During the height of the recent blizzard, they refused to pee on the pads we had laid out in the living room, so I had to take them out.   Out the front door, the little one disappeared into a snow drift, so I scooped them up to carry them to the barely plowed street.

Step one... up to my calf.
Step two... up to my knee...
Step three....   lose my balance and I'm sitting in a pile of snow up to my waist.

The dogs were ok... tucked away in daddy's grip.   So, I sat there a moment... transported back a few decades to when I was a kid.

I loved it.

Thoughts

Things happen.
People change.
Perspectives get distorted.
Mistakes are made.
Assumptions are avoided, and yet often inevitable.
Feelings.
Routines get altered.
Emptiness.
Filling the void isn't all that easy.  Maybe even impossible.
Imagination.
Fantasy.
Gone.
Cuban sandwiches never shared.
Was anything ever real?
Done?
Wanting what can't be had is a waste.
Or, maybe the here and now can include something more...

Integrity in the NFL

Peterson gets suspended for beating his kid while Ray Rice got reinstated.

Apparently, the league draws the line at beating your kids.  Beating your partner is completely ok, so long as she gets her money.  And let's not kid ourselves.  If Ray Rice weren't a football player who's earning potential was in the millions, his wife would be out of there....   Or some goodie two shoes women's rights people would be in her ear to "not go back to that unhealthy relationship"

For God's sake, many of us have stressful jobs.  The so-called violence in football is, at least, an outlet.  Since when do we excuse people for bad behavior that harms someone else?

I was asked recently for my opinion on how coach Belichick should be punished if he was found to have intentionally deflating footballs.  Because, ya know, he's a proven cheater.  I deflected, for a good reason.  I have major problems with the NFL right now.  It's not been a league based solely on competition for quite some time.  Belichick is an arrogant asshole.  Yes.  And, he's my arrogant asshole because I live in New England .  So, there's little point in asking me for my opinion because I'm biased.

But the bigger issue is all the rules put in place for "player safety".  It's horseshit.  The rules in place are meant to make it easier for the offenses to score.  And where did some of those rules come from?  Bill Polian: former President of the Colts, all to make it easier for Manning and other QBs.  It's all about ratings.

Calling Belichick a cheater is like calling a habitual speeder a criminal.  Everyone speeds.  When you get caught, you pay the fine.  But that doesn't take away your presumption of innocence when accused of theft.

Belichick has been caught cheating in ways that most, if not all, other coaches have also cheated.  The NFL looks the other way to unless someone blows a whistle.

Does that make it ok?  Maybe not.  But, if everyone around you is cheating and getting away with it, at what point are your principles more important than the players that you coach?

The real reason that Belichick acts with such disdain for NFL leadership is that it is weak, and inconsistent, not to mention ineffective.

So, if Belichick is found "guilty" of masterminding a way to deflate balls after they were inspected?   Then fine him and get the fuck on with it.

Period.

You want integrity?   Don't look to NFL leadership.

Jihad and Turning Your Cheek

Jihad means holy war.  Correct?
Turning your cheek means fighting is bad.  Correct?

Both of these statements is inaccurate.

Jihad means "struggle" and most Islamic scholars today interpret Jihad as the internal struggle that we all have to lead a disciplined life.

References to violence in the Quran are specific to defending sacred real estate.  It is no different than the castle doctrine maintained on the books in many US states.

Similarly, Jesus' teachings about turning the other cheek and offering your tunic to the man that robs you has also been misinterpreted.   Effectively, Jesus said to never let someone insult you with a backhanded slap.   Turn your cheek so that your aggressor must confront you on equal terms.

The notion that Muslims are inherently violent and that Christians are inherently passive based on their religious teaching is just silly.   There is no evidence to support it.

Did an Egyptian cleric celebrate the murders in Paris?   Yes.   But a Christian minister also burned the Quran.  (He's now a fry cook somewhere....   I call that Karma)

It's time we start holding individuals accountable for their actions instead of allowing people who label themselves a certain way to taint others with that same label.

Just because I love the Patriots, that doesn't mean I support spying on the opposition.

2015: Reason for Optimism

I can't get over this feeling that it's going to be a good year.

Despite my tendency to be cranky and maybe a bit old before my time, I do believe good things are coming.

Honestly, it's not something I can effectively describe or defend.

As you read this, I hope you can share my optimism and I hope that 2015 brings you health, happiness and peace.

Something Is Very Wrong

So, trending on Twitter tonight is #ShootThePolice.

I kid you not.  Two NYPD officers were killed while sitting in their squad car today by some wonderful vigilante.  Yup.  There are people in Twitter calling him a hero.

Hero?   He killed his girlfriend in Baltimore a few days ago.  He was already a fugitive from justice.   And then the coward shot himself when cornered by police on the subway.

Something is very wrong.   The police are no longer members of the community.  And members of the community believe the best way to respond is to block traffic...   or loot....  or kill other police.

It's all wrong.  Militarization of the police will not make our neighborhoods safer.  But meaningless protests won't either.

I have no solutions.   At least not right now.  I'm sick over this.

Passion Play

Four years ago at a Sotheby's auction, a painting by Amedeo Modigliani sold for $68.9 million. At the time it was one of the most expensive prices ever obtained for a painting through auction. It was sold to an anonymous Russian middleman via phone representing an anonymous Russian buyer. A billionaire oligarch? A wheeler-wheeler dealer mobster? Putin? Who knows except that the painting, "Nu Assis Sur un Divan" (If my high school French holds up), "Nude Sitting on a Divan," completed in 1917 will probably never be seen by the public.

Last month my girlfriend and I trekked over to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, sitting on the eastern edge of Central Park in Manhattan, a giant and regal home for history and art, perhaps the finest in the U.S. and one of the world's great museums, to see a display of Cubists, a show of the collection of Ronald Lauder, he the scion of the Lauder beauty products empire. We also found the gallery (there are dozens and dozens of them, a veritable maze of discovery in the great facility), which houses the great facility's only Modigliani (well, the only one on display). The gallery was empty, almost forgotten among so many other galleries with 10 centuries of masterpieces. Same model. Another nude.

The woman, Jeanne Hebuterne, was Modigliani's lover and mother of his child. She is the subject of much of Modigliani's work, his inspiration and passion. Getting within arm's length of the lithe figure of "Recumbent Nude," I easily transported back to their post-WW1 Paris studio.... the beginnings of modern art.... and, as a voyeur, could see and smell and hear the intimacy which inspired Modigliani. It is love of course.... sensuous, on fire and deep rooted with nothing else in the universe other than each other, a canvas and a brush painting with broad, maddening and determined speed, and in the end.... a sweaty clench and just desserts. For people with nothing there is great wealth, potential .... everything.... in love.

As it is sometimes with genius and focused determination, tragedy accompanies. Modigliani, an outcast from his well to do Italian family (as was Hebuterne with her family for taking up with the artist), remained poor, his art at the time never accepted. The great nudes, dripping with energy, passion and furnace heat, were traded for a month's lodgings, art supplies and weeks' worth of meals.

Hygiene and health were ignored and in 1920, three years after "Nude Sitting on a Divan" was finished, he died suddenly in a squalid room with only Jeanne at his bedside after contracting Tubercular Meningitis. He was 34. On the following day, his great love, heavily pregnant, inconsolable, broke free from the arms of her father and threw herself to her death from a fifth floor window.

Merry Christmas. Yes. I mean you.

Merry Christmas.   I mean that sincerely.

I think it's perfectly ok that people say Happy Holidays.    But I think it's sad that people are now afraid to say Merry Christmas for fear of being exclusionary.  

Was Kramer right?    Do we, in fact, need a Festivus?   For the rest of us?

When someone says to me "Happy Holidays", all I want to say is ,"have a great Chrismakwaanzukkah"

Ever wonder if people in the Southern Hemisphere complain that all these holidays that are based on lights because it's so dark in the north have to suffer through songs like "Let It Snow" when it's smack in the middle of the summer?

So, if you're not a Christian (I'm not), instead of taking offense when someone wishes you a Merry Christmas, instead, smile and wish them a happy whatever you are celebrating.   Or, just say "thank you.  You too"

Happy Festivus everyone.   Enjoy the snow.  Or the sun.   Or whatever you have going on.

Dick Measuring

I think life is simpler when it's based on objective evidence.   When two guys swagger around, each claiming to be packing the biggest package, the resolution is simple: whip it out and measure.

But life is rarely that simple, or entertaining.

Although, strictly for entertainment purposes, I would not object to being present at a breast measurement contest, for everyone knows that the best tool for measuring is a pair of hands, namely mine.

But I digress.

Nope.  Life is generally far more complicated, mundane and anything but entertaining.

It seems that everyone is busier than everyone else.   How is that possible?    And everyone is offended.  The people who complain about not being invited to a meeting (FOMO), are the same ones who complain about too many meetings with too many people. (Chronic complainers)

But mostly, people complain about others not doing their jobs.   It's ironic, because the ones who complain the most don't do their own jobs because they spend time complaining about the others....  or worse, trying to do the other person's job, which they aren't qualified to do in the first place.

So here is my simple solution.

Do your fucking job.  If someone else fucks their job up...  let them.  It's just a job. Get the fuck over yourself.

As for dick measuring, I don't care how big yours is, I probably know how to use mine better.

And if you need a breast inspection, line starts at my desk.  Step up ladies.  Don't be shy.

Keep life simple and give yourself a reason to smile.  Life is too short otherwise.

Choices

Life is funny when you think about it.  Simple funny.  Everything we are and everything we will be is a direct result of choices.  Some of those are not choices that we make for ourselves.  There is really no luck, just the path that our choices have put us on.

I am traveling for association meetings for the next couple days.  The meetings for our little group are  in locations chosen by the chairman, which I will be the year after next.  It was my choice to take my turn in the barrel.  I am secretary this year, VP next year and Kahuna who gets to make everyone travel to locations close to MY home for a change.

Again, attending these meetings is my choice.  I could beg off instead of driving the nearly 7 hours to this one.  But, the relationships developed and the help and cooperation we give each other at other times of the year is worth the effort.

But, as I am apt to do it seems, I digress.  This story is not about my choice to attend the meetings.  At least not directly it isn't.

It is about the route I took to get here.

I have driven the first part of this route hundreds, if not thousands, of times.  Since I was in college I have made choices as to the route and the choice boils down to a simple one that at some point all men make.  Much like that Robert Frost poem, I have driven past this sign every time and chuckled and wondered at the choice it represents.  Why did I Need to chose?  Why can't I have it all?  Questions we all ask ourselves.

Decisions, decisions! 

Today it was time.  Time to finally chose.  Time to stop waffling!  Which will it be?  I am partial to both choices, being the well rounded fellow that I am.

On impulse, call it a mental coin toss, I made my choice.  I took the road to the left.  I am not sure that it was a road less travelled.  I am not sure that in the end it will make all the difference, but, the choice was made!

Where did it lead?

Would you like to know?

Ok.  Now what?