Danger, Moron at Work

No offense intended to the actual morons out there....and they are indeed "out there."

I'd like to begin this entry with a complete discussion of the 2010 NFL Draft.

It sucked.

Because I'm a homeowner, my Sundays are typically spent working on the damned home. Yesterday, here on the lovely East Coast, it rained all day.

There have been a number of "projects" that have been crying out for attention here at home. They range from brake jobs for the truck to faucet repair jobs, or simply vacuuming up the house. On Friday, my wife dumped some olive pits into the sink's disposal and they bashed a hole in the unit - it was shooting water out all over the floor, thus necessitating a repair. Dammit.

There are a few ways to address this. First, I could call a plumber. That's easier for me but pricey. Like the aforementioned brake job, I can do the work but it's a pain in the rear. Second, I could do it myself. Yeah, I know how to accomplish many of the repairs, but like I said, it's a pain. Finally, there's the "ass veto."

Some of you may know I'm a history fan. The quick version of the "pocket veto" is that President Lincoln would take a bill he didn't like and pocket it, but not actually issue a veto. This is a familiar tactic in my extended family, where passive-aggression is de rigeur. Examples? Oh, lots but here's just one: X asks Y to do something - or not to do something - Y does it anyway and pretends that Y didn't hear it. Or, Y might feign surprise and issue a lame "apology." More often than not, this occurs when there are large gatherings thus assuring the cowardly passive-aggressive party (which varies) that there will be no actual direct confrontation. Simply smashing!

President Lincoln used the tactic at the highest executive office in the land.

We have the "ass veto," which loosely translated means "I'm too busy sitting on my ass to do anything today." It can be used by either myself or my wife, and is extreme passive-aggression. In fact, it's so passive that the vetoer sometimes falls asleep in his/her refusal to move.

Well, yesterday I'd used up all my vetoes and tried to fix a faucet and the garbage disposal.

The faucet in our master bath was leaky, I guess it was a bad fixture (when we had the house re-modeled, Carol wanted fancy fixtures.....) so we shelled out the cash for a replacement. Having replaced a few of these I knew what to expect. There's no easy way to do the job, though, as bathroom vanities are cramped, wet, somewhat smelly places. I must've hit my head a dozen times. But, thanks to the American Standard Neo faucet (which required no plumber's putty or caulking), I replaced it in about an hour and there were no drips, leaks, or smeared substances in the bathroom.

[I did, however, note how nasty the old drain was and the old fixtures were very poorly made, naturally I will now lie and claim I had nothing to do with picking such a worthless piece of crap]

Flushed with triumph, I strode into my kitchen ready to do battle with the broken garbage disposal. It was more cramped under the kitchen sink (weird, huh?) and even smellier and.....damper than the bathroom.

I thought it'd be a good idea to disconnect the electrical connections prior to dismantling the whole unit. And, yeah, I flicked the switch firmly to the "OFF" position. As I was loosening the screws to the ground wire my screwdriver slipped, and POW! Whoopsies. This was an exciting moment for the kids, who were watching with some interest as Daddy nearly transformed himself into charcoal. You almost hit it big, kids...all the money life insurance can give and no Dad to deal with. Nope - the Devil doesn't want me, yet!

A shower of sparks later, my screwdriver was blackened and so were my fingers. Thank God it was insulated.

Guess I should cut all the power off, huh? Great idea. Nah -too much of a hassle. Somehow it shorted out again and tripped the breaker - another shower of sparks and the ubiquitous "whiff of ozone" later, I decided to quit being lazy and just cut the power.

Sheesh, I can hear my wife thinking, if it's gonna be this hard to do then why not hire someone....

Reply: grrrrrrrrr

It's a great thing she does, where she encourages a project to begin and then - AS SOON AS ONE LITTLE THING GOES WRONG - she starts backing off and suggesting professional help.

No, it mostly blows when she does that.

It was pretty easy to remove after that, and I dragged the old, stinky, leaking disposal to the store to find its' replacement. They had an impressive selection (one brand was called "The Insinkerator," get it?) of stuff, I settled on a mid-range thingie called "The Badger" (all these things kinda sound like adult toys, no?) and brought it home for about $100.

Installation went smoothly, with Carol reading off the directions.... a few clamps here and some wiring there (with the power OFF), and we were done. Had fun dropping bits of vegetable matter into it to test it. Then we ran the dishwasher.

Sometime into its' cycle the dishwasher tried to rinse. The water usually is intended to drain normally, which is to say that you do not see it. Instead, ours was gushing all over the place. It was nearly 8 pm. Jesus.

So I find the instructions and realize that, on Step 23 or something, I was supposed to knock out the dishwasher rinse cap which would then permit the dishwasher to drain through the disposal. In large letters it says "TO BE REMOVED ONLY IF YOU HAVE A DISHWASHER."

We are not the Clampetts. We do indeed have a dishwasher. Guess she missed that one.

A few ......modifications later and it was completed. I think I paced around until 9:15 or so just to make sure I'd done it properly. Yipp-friggin'-eee. Celebration time! I slept like the dead - it felt like work.

Today, I got word that my truck needs brakes on both ends and I'm expected to come up with alot of money I'd been planning on using to buy something else. Crap. Crap. Crap.

By the way, I have a rocket arm, I'm 6 feet 2 inches tall and about 200 pounds. I can block, tackle, skate, shoot, pitch, catch, post-up, rebound....... I'd love to get paid to play a game. No such luck.

Douchebag, the Quarterback

Oh, him again. Didn't I slam him enough?

Nope.

A far more famous and humorous fellow listened to Ben Roethlisberger's legally-prepared statement that he read last week to his adoring public and called him "dufus, the QB." With all due respect to Mr. Don Geronimo (who was and is one of my heroes), the guy's a douche.

No Steeler hate, here. I loved .... LOVED ... Terry Bradshaw and could not stop nodding my head when the Blonde Bomber's quote to the press was played on ESPN (if you missed it, Bradshaw said the two Steeler QBs didn't care much for each other and that Ben was an idiot and needed to straighten his life out). Not a Steeler lover, either.

Leave the football out of it for a moment. The accusations surrounding this guy are nothing new in similar situations. You go to bars, college parties, whatever, these types of things happen. And I guess most of us just look the other way and blame alcohol. Put the NFL back into it, and we all say that the gal's a gold-digger or was lucky for his attentions; OR that he should've known better than to have put himself in that position, that he had too much at stake to risk being so stupid.

What happened on that night in Georgia? Only he knows. She was apparently blacking out and unable to recall the facts in enough detail to assuage the Georgia prosecutor's "gut." All of which says to me that this NFL quarterback - this famous son of Ohio - is a douchebag.

There are plenty of guys who'd have escorted a seriously drunk woman back to her friends and not even consider sexual contact. Plenty more might've considered it and thought the better of it. More still might wrestle with the ethical and moral dilemmas and still do the right thing. There's a scene in "Austin Powers" where Elizabeth Hurley is coming on to him when she's drunk and Austin refuses her saying "you're drunk, darling, it's just not right."

Then there's this guy. He helped a drunk gal get more drunk and then did what he wanted. The worst sort of guy, the little prick who isn't handsome or personable enough to get the gals when sober - nope - he needs 'em drunk and disoriented. He's the bottom-feeder, the lowest form of life. The opportunist.

Why?

Famous guy, probably could have a girlfriend any night of the week. But instead, does this kind of stuff. Seriously? What the hell? Tom Brady has a sullied reputation for being a "baby daddy" but as far as we know he didn't need to find easy targets at bars and nightclubs. Peyton Manning? I don't think so.

And that's what she was, an easy target for this big shot and all his swagger. Wow. What a guy.

Douchebag. Ben, you are a douchebag. Might be a nice guy off the field, kinda doubt it, and kinda doubt that you care what I think.

So the case is not filed and no crime will be prosecuted. His prepared statement apologized to everyone under God's yellow sun except the victim of his assault, his target, his easy score. He had no words for her. In fact, his refusal to have ANY shows his contempt for her and women like her - apparently what he's not saying is that he thinks she got what she deserved.

Nice guy. Would an "I'm sorry for the pain I've caused all parties in this sorry affair" have been so difficult? Sure, it's a possible admission of guilt, but words to that effect could have been carefully prepared for Ben Rapist to read (he can, apparently, read OK).

Douchebag.

I'm ordering a Steelers #7 shirt and having the word "RAPIST" stitched on the back. I want him to sign it for me....how much you wanna bet I get a broken nose for my trouble?

God forbid the guy ever have daughters, wanna bet his opinion changes overnight? Or have something like this happen to a friend. Drunk or not, events like this devastate people, and the ripple effects can be massive.

Enjoy the life for now, ass. Karma is a wheel, that goes round and round.

Oh, the rumor is 4 games. Nah. I'd have him miss a season. Sounds harsh, I know, but he's a QB for the big leagues and barely missed being charged with a felony. They say that the QB should be held to a higher standard - well - there's the standard. Mike Vick hurt dogs. This guy hurts people (and there's been more than one...you, me, and the fencepost know this). I like dogs just fine but they're dogs ("chattels" under the law, property). If Vick's crimes were despicable Big Ben's have been no less so.

But I'm betting 4 games. They've got officially-licensed jerseys and booze to sell, ya know.

Talkin' absurd baseball

So, enough with writing like a middle-aged douchebag. OK, I may come by it honestly, but I'm man enough to admit it when I've written some entries that are.....gushing. I'm sure the 2 people that read this understand: I love my wife. Enough. For a while, anyway.

I have to watch an awful lot of TV that I don't want to. Spongebob Squarepants used to be "it." And, at first, I hated it. Didn't get it. But then I was forced to watch it enough to get the occasional chuckle out of certain episodes and we'd all watch it together with some degree of group zeitgeist. For example, the episode where Plankton sues Crabbs for his slip and fall was (for a lapsed Attorney) very amusing. Or the F.U.N. episode. Or the employee-training themed episode called POOP (people order our patties).

Some of it was funny.

Today, they're on to something called "Adventure Time." With a weird-looking animation style and inane plotlines. A dog with stretching legs. Kid with a weird hat.

I DON'T F*$^&NG GET IT!!!!!

Moving on....

It's Spring and that means baseball. I love it. I follow 4 teams, which some folks don't like. Some guys are very dogmatic, you live here therefore you must root for this team that is near us and only this team.

Nah. No thanks. I mean, I do, but no thanks.

In order of affection they are : The Boston Red Sox, LA Dodgers, and a practical tie between the Orioles and Nationals.

My Grandfather loved the old Washington Senators for most of his life. But he married a gal from Worcester, Mass. His solution was to pull for both teams even though they played in the same division. Easy enough, I guess. The old Nats moved in 1961 and again in 1971, so I had no DC team to pull for. Most of the baseball I watched with him was Sox games, and the occasional Cub game on WGN (Lord, why take Harry Caray?). There was nothing like taking the subway to his house after school on Spring afternoons, splitting a pizza, and watching the Red Sox. Of course, Buckner's infamous play (and the Sox' subsequent loss to the Mets) was his last memory of the team. He was born in 1919 and died in 1987, never seeing his Sox win it all.

I'd seen Fenway as a kid, and got up there again a few years back. Really one of the few baseball "shrines" left. There was really no topping the 2004 ALCS and Series win over St. Louis. The 2007 win was great, too, I'm not complaining.

The Dodgers were one of my dad's teams. He grew up in Southern Virginia and had no home team. He apparently liked the Yankees in the '60's and had memorized the "Murderer's Row" lineup. He'd also talk up Koufax and Drysdale, who were in LA. I kinda dug the uniforms and made it to Dodger Stadium with my wife a few years ago. The park had a retro feel to it, like a slice of 1962. Duh, it was built about then. Plus, they play Randy Newman's "I Love LA" after Big Blue wins. The Dodgers can be a lot of fun.

As a young boy growing up near Baltimore I thought it was pretty cool to be placed on the Orioles little league team. Back then, the Birds were a pretty tight outfit. I remember the '79 and '83 World Series, and can recite most of the starting lineup from the 1983 Series-winning Oriole team that beat Philly (I'm not looking this up: Bumbry, Singleton, Ripken, Murray, Roenicke, Lowenstein, Dauer, Dempsey,...um...Ford, Sekata..dammit..). The O's have fallen on hard times, somewhat mysteriously. They have a tremendously loyal fan base and a fantastic park to call home. I know the press and fans slam ownership, but that's only a partial answer - he doesn't throw the lousy pitches or swing at bad ones. Something stinks down there on Eutaw Street, and I'm not sure what it is. Even though I'm firmly in the tank for the Red Sox, I'd prefer to see a good, strong team in Baltimore over the fairly unwatchable product they've got now. It's sad.

There were salad days in my sports-viewing life where I thought I lived in Titletown USA. The Bullets won a title in 1979. The Dodgers won in '81 (Fernando!) and '88. The O's won in '83. The Redskins won in '82 and went again in '84. The Sox made it to the Series in '86. I thought it'd last forever.

Of course, like everything, it didn't. This is the great circle of life those damned lions talk about.

Kinda like the Nationals and their spunk, when they moved here in 2005 from Montreal. The new park is great but a little sterile for me. I think it'd be fun to see them build a contending team down there in DC. We'll see. Plus, it's my grandfather's team - risen from the dead. So, I watch just about every game on TV. I miss him a lot sometimes.

Because I'm too cheap to buy the MLB extra innings package, I mostly just watch Oriole and National games, and then whatever's free. I can't justify the expense for the freedom to log even more TV time on the Sox and Dodgers. I typically log about 40 innings a week, depending on what's going on at home - which feels like a lot. I love the game, my kids...not so much.

They can go watch Adventure Time, and someday they can explain to the world what in the hell that show's all about.

It's Patriot's Day, the marathon's on, and I'm hoping for a Sox win (not holding my breath, looking like a down year for all 4 of these teams....Never the Yankees!!!)

April 14th

Sorry, this is rushed and crappily written (moreso than usual). But I'm taking my youngest to his first baseball game and have no time for editing or actual thought, I'm all stream of consciousness today.

I met Carol White on April 14, 1989. It very nearly didn't happen.

I was dating a couple other girls around the time (Hello, Stephanie and Amber) and had a full calendar, including working weekends and getting to school. I was a 17 year-old senior at St. John's in DC. I had a crappy red VW Beetle. But life was good.

My friends from Glenelg HS were all planning a big prom shindig that year, and they wanted to find me a date so I could go. My best pal, since Kindergarten, was John Harrison. He knew this girl, he said, who needed a date for prom. Why not meet her ahead of time, see if we were OK with each other, and perhaps be prom dates.

I recall being sick on my couch with fever, watching baseball. John brought a collection of photographs and yearbooks to my house and pitched the deal. In my febrile state I figured why not. This gal wasn't bad-looking. Where's the harm?

So I show up at the Mt. Airy Pizza Hut (still there) ready to be OK with this. I almost didn't go, I'd been working at a farm all day and was dog-tired. I think I'd been forced to listen to one of the aforementioned ladies complain (not positive on that). I think I was hoping to just get through this and go home to sleep.

She rolled up in a huge Chevy Caprice. Nice. Her hair was long and she was waaay prettier than the pictures I'd seen. Plus, added bonus, she was sporting a Batman shirt. Way cool.

I guess there were a ton of guys in my pal Chad's Mustang, and not enough space. Carol offered to drive. On a whim, I hopped in her car. We were alone, together. Ostensibly, we were to meet up with the group at the movies and see....I have no idea what.

Carol and I started talking. I don't think we stopped, since.

Plus, she got lost on the way to the theater (where she worked). She likes to say she simply missed her exit. I like to say she got lost on purpose. The facts aren't really that important, though, are they?

We got to the theater late, but I don't think either of us minded. Since she worked there, we got in for free and walked in about 1/2 way through the tremendous motion picture "Major League." I don't recall much of the film, but I recall us holding hands in the movie - which was a first for me on a first date. Later on, well....it was all very unexpected and amazing.

That was it. The year of 1989 was magic. I'd met someone like no one else I'd known. She was bright, expressive, sweet, passionate....everything I'd wanted. Prom was great. Summer was great. Then we left for college.

Well, no good thing lasts. Every wave has it's end...you ride it for as long as you can but it runs out of strength once you ride it long enough. The real question is: do you stay in the water?

It's 21 years later and we're still here and together and things are good. Over 21 years, things happen that are good and bad. You either survive those and are stronger for it or you whither on the vine and die as a result. Both of us have made grievous mistakes and courageous accomplishments. I can't separate the two; there are scars and there are blemishes. Yet, at the end of every day, I thank God for getting me off my butt and driving to that Pizza Hut, where I truly fell in love for the first time in my life.

I can kinda sum it up thus:

"When there's nothing left to say

And all the clouds/ have faded away

And my mind wanders out there across the bay

Just to be there/in the morning/with the sun comin' through the trees

Well you know, there's just no place I'd rather be..."

From "Sunday Sunny Mill Valley Groove Day" by Frank Black

We still talk. Incessantly. And are still very much in love. I love you, Carol White.

Carry me back....

I like my Stonewall Jackson coffee mug.

On a gorgeous Spring day, much like today, I took my daughter to a roadside attraction in Berryville, Virginia, called "Dinoland U.S.A." It was a fun little park with large foam models of dinosaurs and other assorted creatures that the kids could run around and actually touch. We had a blast, ate junk food, it was fun.

The gift shop (of course, there must be a gift shop) contained Dinoland items, t-shirts offering many clever slogans, and quite a bit of Confederate States bric-a-brac. Since I was a practicing Attorney at the time, I picked up the above mug, and got my Dad (a partner at the firm) a General Robert E. Lee mug - he was the General and I was his strong right arm.

Full disclosure: my Daddy's a Southerner by birth. Mom's a Yankee. We're a little confused on this stuff. Shelby Foote once said every Southern boy dreams of going back in time and fighting for General Lee. I don't know, my dad said nothing of the sort.

So, last week the brilliant Governor of Virginia reinstates "Confederate History month" so that Virginians can celebrate....what, exactly? Losing a bitter civil war? Defending the immoral "business model" of a slave-based economy? No one really knows why, he issued a banal statement about "their cause" but was not very clear. It's better, of course, to muddy the waters and celebrate something ambiguous....lest you kick a hornet's nest.

Well, that happened anyway. And to his credit Governor McDonnell issued an apology for the omission of the existence of slavery. Yes, he was denounced by several left-of-center types and his apology was probably denounced (though I never heard it) by the right-of-center types. One columnist, I think it was a fellow named Roland Martin, described the confederate cause as "domestic terrorism."

Was it?

It raises an interesting point, though I'm not certain it's accurate. On the one hand, it sounds like a left-wing nut trying to stab at the right with his caustic pen. On the other hand, isn't that something like the truth? Didn't Booth assassinate Lincoln, all for the Southern "cause."

I doubt the guys and gals who make a point of flying the Confederate flag see their "boys" as- historically speaking, anyway - domestic terrorists.

I think the distinction lies in the manner of the conflict. They were rebels, not terrorists. The general point I'm trying to make is simple: the Confederate states seceded, raised an Army, and made war against the Union's Army. They didn't blow up airplanes or subway systems, they didn't attack the general populace of the Northern states in order to effectuate an end to the war. I am certain that there were incidents where Confederate soldiers acted less than admirably. There are many stories from the US Civil War that demonstrate the Union Army's lack of civility as well. It was, after all, a war. But accusing them of employing "terror" as a weapon does not seem to be based upon anything more than inflammatory language.

The Confederate army was led by many capable officers, like Lee and Jackson. They've been lionized for their fealty to the cause. In a sense, however, this gives them a free pass. They were, for their time, eminently civilized and perhaps believed that they were good men fighting for their State's rights. Perhaps they were in fact good men - no one's left who knew them. But I will never agree that their cause was anything more than protection of the immoral status quo of African slavery. They, and the men they commanded, were ready to fight and die in order to keep things just the way they were.

These men were rebels, traitors, and deserve next to no recognition for the long and bloody war which they helped prolong. Fly your stupid loser flag if you want to and call it free speech, but don't be surprised if it upsets folks - I'm sure that's the reaction you wanted anyway. Just remember, you still lost.

My gal's birthday

Today, my wife of 15 years and my dearest friend for nearly 21 years turns the odometer on yet another year. The photo above is from the finish of last summer's Virginia Beach 1/2 marathon. That's my gal.

It's hard to write anything meaningful about birthdays. They come and go. After you reach a certain age, they cease to mean much. Making this task even harder, the month of April has many small anniversaries for she and I, so to blow an entire entry on her birthday would seem ridiculous.

So, I'll keep this short.

She's one of the best people I've ever met. Intelligent, courageous, loving, and generous. She's always believed in me, especially when even I didn't. Stuck with me through lean times and fat times; high times and low times; seen me at my best and my absolute worst - and stuck by me anyway. She provides a life for me and my family that allows me to stay home and raise some pretty smart, and cute, kids.

In all of this is nothing spectacular. Banal, really. People do such things every day in every town across our great country and the larger world. Loyalty. Courage. Work. Family. Friendship. Love. These things are unremarkable, no?

And yet, it's everything . Thank you, gal-o-mine- for being a true friend. A wife. A partner. Everything. You have helped me to become a better man. No, it hasn't been easy.

Maybe I'll tap out that novel she believes I've got in me; or - in her words "if not, so what?"

Happy birthday, Carol

Gettin' on the bandwagon!

"Here we go again.." says the Washington Post. Philadelphia Eagle fans delight in....well, I'm not certain that they delight in anything other than booing.

I've not written this before, but I am a fan of the Washington Redskins football club. My grandfather was, and he brought me up to be one. This was not exactly a choice on my part. Nor was it easy - the Redskins from 1971 to 1982 were fair to lousy. They weren't the Steelers, or the Cowboys. They didn't win too many games and weren't a glamorous team. So - all of those 30-and-40-something Steeler, 49er, and Cowboy fans out there.................most of you are bandwagonneers and in your hearts you know it.

But the Skins? Nope. At least not until after 1982. That was their first Super Bowl year, Riggo's big run in the 3rd quarter that put 'em on top, 27-17. Game over. DC had a title. My grandfather, at last, saw his team win the big game.

He didn't live to see them win the 1988 Super Bowl against Denver, I found him dead on his kitchen floor about a month before the Skins somehow won that game. And the silly, superstitious part of my brain tried to trick me into believing that - from the grave - the old fella was willing the Redskins to win (or, more likely, heckling pretty John Elway and his blonde locks). That win was a small bit of sun in what was a really gloomy winter for me.

Thereafter, the Redskins treated us to a fantastic 1991-2 season, ending with a complete domination of the poor Buffalo Bills.

So, from 1992 to today...not much to talk about.

Sure, there've been blips on this sorry radar: Gibbs return, a new (and godforsaken) stadium, a couple playoff games, retro jerseys, Sean Taylor, Brad Johnson. But they've mostly sucked. Especially at the QB position.

In steps Donnie Mac.

I like McNabb. Seems like a nice fella and has always been a solid NFL signal-caller. He's not Peyton Manning or Tom Brady, but he's up there. He knows the NFC East, he can win there. So, in that sense, he's a good pickup. The downside, naturally, is his age and his new team. The Skins are Team Turmoil, not Team Shovel-Ready. I'm hopeful that a good coach/QB combo can change the culture (and Albert Butterworth), but healthy skepticism is warranted, Redskin True Believers. Realistically, the Redskins aren't as talented as Dallas, Philly, or the Giants. Their O-line is a mess. Their receivers are young, the backs are on the old side, and the defense can't stop anyone. McNabb might help get the offense on track and develop some of these young WRs (something he was not able to do in Philly) and the backs might have a season or two left in their legs. Butterworth might earn his cash - it's not like he's a lousy player.

Alot of fans hated this deal, as it evidenced a return to the "we can win now we're a mere player away" philosophy. I'm hoping that this deal is simply part of a larger plan, to grow a team through sustained success and slowly re-build the crumbled parts of the foundation with more focus than simply throwing up one's hands and saying "rebuilding season." Perhaps, with the QB position solidified for the first time since 1993, the Skins can patiently develop a receiver corps (there's talent there) and an O-line. Then, over the course of the next couple seasons, draft quality players to flesh out their defensive backfield and add depth. Once they've got depth, they'll challenge for the division.

Unless, of course, once Donnie Mac is done for, they trade their draft to get Jason Campbell back....