RAYS, RED SOX, AND CUBS--YUCK

As Major League baseball enters its playoff run to the World Series, I'm wondering if there's ever been an uglier bunch of teams vying for the top prize. It's not going to hold a lot of interest for this lifelong fan.

I mean the Rays? Until this year they were known as the Devil Rays. While I approve of their dropping Devil, I can never forgive them for playing in the ugliest baseball stadium ever. I'm not just referring to the Majors either. You'll see. Their fans? Are there fans? I once played golf with a guy wearing a Devil Rays cap. He got it free.

The Red Sox? Not again. Just another reason to hate the Wild Card. While they have an excellent ballpark, their fans almost equal Cub fans in their annoying way. Almost. They, like the Cubs spend, spend, spend, and then cry about the Yankees payroll and call them The Evil Empire. A typical Red Sox fan--Stephen King. Or how about Rob and Amber from The Amazing Race? 'nuff said.

The Cubs? Yeah, Cubbies. Let's celebrate 100 yars of futility. Look up loser in any dictionary and there they are. Their ballpark, well I've said it on different occasions: it's terrible. It's in a great neighborhood that has a lot of charm. But the park itself, well, I say blow it up and start over. Current Cub Jim Edmonds once called the dressing rooms Class A, as in the lowest minor league. Their bathrooms don't even meet most codes for indoor plumbing. Add their fans to the mix and you'll find everything that's wrong with athletics in the country. They simply act smugly superior. To what, for what, I've yet to discern.

Man, I feel better. Venting may not be good for the soul, but it's good for the intellect. I'm hoping the Twins make it this season, so we can see another truly terrible baseball stadium. How many days till Opening Day 2009?

JUST WONDERING

What would a dorm room of the 1920's look like? I mean, of course, there's be this poster of beauty queens, but what else?

Al Gore hadn't invented the Internet yet, so no need for a plug in or laptop. Joe Biden hadn't invented the tv yet; no that's wrong--he just thought there was tv then when FDR was President when the stock market crashed in 1929. Hoover was the Prez? Yes, I know. But Senator Biden didn't.

Cell phones and cases, Ipods, blackberrys--nope. If you had a phone, you'd have a party line and a crank. And you'd probably have to go down to the first floor to use it. Who would you call anyway? I don't think pizza was invented in the US anyhow.

I'm not even sure when you left your male dorm and went panty raiding that you'd get anything except bloomers thrown down.

Man, what else was there to do but study?

I'M ANGRY TODAY

If I were God and had His power, I'd misuse it so bad. Today, I'd cause lightning to strike the entertainment industry. The people who bring us terrible tv shows and movies.

I'm most upset about the language I hear or the language bleeped out when it's obviously apparent what the person said. I mean we've all heard those words. We know that many people use them in everyday life. So let's get over it. It doesn't make it any less real not to use the "seven words you can't say on tv" from George Carlin days. I'd guess there may be fewer now. If you count the bleeps but don't cut away, then there are zero words today.

Language is important. Words are important. Biden yesterday confused FDR with Herbert Hoover in an interview. He should be taken to task for it. Obama said in an earlier interview that he had campaigned in 56 or 57 states not counting Hawaii or Alaska. He, too, should have been held responsible. Poor Danny Quayle was for his potato mistake. But that's media bias. Not the subject of my ranting today.

Last night I watched a baseball player cuss when he didn't know the camera was on him. Yes, I lip read, but it was obvious. I lost respect for him. But it wasn't scripted. It wasn't studied, rehearsed, taked (as in "take one/ take two"), so I don't find that as offensive. But if I were an actor and was told to say those words, well, I'd be a struggling actor looking for work because I wouldn't do it.

Now I'm not bucking for sainthood here. Yesterday I uttered a few choice words when I hit a ridiculously bad shot into a sand trap. But it wasn't very audible, none of my three playing partners heard, I didn't use the Lord's name, it wasn't scripted, I'm certainly not perfect. AND there wasn't a camera around.

I regained my composure. And left the ball just barely out of the trap before hitting it onto the green for a double bogey.

Now others, including my wife would say that if I just thought the words that was as bad as saying them. Man, she's tough.

But let's try to do something to clean up the language on tv and in the movies. Because I'm getting mad as he## and I can't take it any longer.

PIGEON OR PARROT

I don't know why I love words more than money. At least more than numbers.

I blame Molly at the Zoo. A Little Golden Book I memorized as a three year old, I think. When my parents would have friends over to the house, I was to perform and memorize the book I loved so much turning the pages at just the right time. Family friend Vernon Foster commented, "He'll grow up to be President." Well, he missed it on both counts.

"What kind of language are you speaking?" our 8 year-old granddaughter asked me when I pronounced book as butch. And a whole lot more. One day I decided to pronounce the silent l in talk and walk. I mean whoever heard of a silent l? That's when my wife announced that I had my own pigeon language.

Others examples-- breadtime for bed time; biblical for Bible; sammies for sandwiches; Sundry for Sunday; cart for car; ad infinitum.

I know: they're silly. They're annoying. And how about this idiocrity? When my wife asks what I want for supper, sometimes I'll respond, "Your dog!"

No wonder I'm not allowed much out in prublic.

IT WAS JUST ONE DAY

Nothing significant. Mundane. I remember it, but not well. I couldn't tell the exact day, month or even year. All I can remember, it happened during the Clinton years.

The world seemed to turn upside down. Most things I had believed all my life were suddenly turned upside down.

Common decency, respect, values, morals--all thrown out. I was reminded of Ray Bradbury and something he might have written. How one day, for whatever reason, wrong was right and right was frowned upon. Sneered at. I suddenly knew what effete snobs were.

Truth was no longer a priori, but there were levels of truth, shades of truth, interpretations of truth. "It all depends on what your definition of is is," an impeached President told a committee and a world looking on.

And the country must have bought it. In a recent movie a young actress after having the same kind of relationship that called the "is/is" into question, tells the girlfriend of the young man she'd been with, "he never even kissed me".

So. I'm waiting. For the time when what's right is right and what's wrong is wrong. They're parallel lines, and if Mrs. Richardson was right in Plane Geometry, they never cross. Or even get close.

THE STAMP GOT IN RIGHT

Well, almost. You see that's me carrying the big heart. For my bride. Of 40 years, today. Not 42 USA.

But I think they knew. Because there's a slash mark through the 42.

So what do I say about 40 years of marriage? I am so blessed. And my wife is such a saint.

I mean there are numerous times that I can't even stand to be around me. And no, I'm not joking.

So thanks, CQ, for the times of our lives as they sang in a Kodak song. Thanks for the living, loving, laughing days with you.

Thanks also for sharing the valleys as well as the mountain tops. And thanks for helping me to grow and allowing me to be me and us to be we.

Love,

TQ