A Harbinger of Things to Come

Despite the fact that my calendar clearly says that it is January 31, 2019...for some demonic reason, a multitude of Presidential hopefuls from the Democratic Party have started making way too much noise, way too early. It has been a sobering reminder of what life will soon look like in these United States...

First it was Elizabeth Warren, offering herself as a candidate with the aw-shucks, I’m just a regular Jane who is gonna go get me a beer video, which no doubt gave her Ivory League colleagues the vapors, but certainly convinced me that she is authentic! Then, Michael Bloomberg, former mayor of New York and full time billionaire started making noise. Kamala Harris, the African American female senator from California became the automatic front runner when she threw her hat into the ring. Being both female and black is basically the Holy Grail of democrat politics these days, easily trumping Warren’s Native American schtick. If Ms. Harris would only declare herself transgendered, she could wrap up the nomination before the kickoff to the Super Bowl! Of course, then word came that Howard Schultz, he of the Starbucks fortune, would be a candidate of the Independant Party. Democratic Party big wigs are having a fit at the prospect of an untested Jewish billionaire gumming up the 2020 works, imagining the possibility of Schultz dividing the progressive vote to the point that Trump could win a second term. If that were to happen, Starbucks would become the first major corporation to be hated by both republicans and democrats.

From what I have been able to gather, at least among the declared candidates so far, the 2020 contest will be to see which candidate proposes the most free stuff. So far, I’ve heard about free college for all, a guaranteed minimum income for all, Medicare for all, and free ice cream on Friday night. All of these new freebies will be financed by some sort of income tax hike or a wealth tax on billionaires. But it won’t cost regular people like us a dime...however, the working definition of regular people remains nebulous, at best.

The Republican Party has been quiet. The presumptive nominee is the current occupant of the White House.

As I begin contemplating what the 2020 campaign is going to be like, I die a little bit inside. A a voter, I begin the contest completely opposed to Donald Trump’s re-election. And yet, my ability to support his competition is at present 0%. So, once again, I trudge along in the political wilderness, resigning myself to a two year, scorched earth campaign which will produce a disappointing result. Somewhere, somehow, I need to get my hands on this bumper sticker...

Kicking and Screaming

What I am about to tell you is a confession of sorts, and I will have to work hard not to bore you to tears while telling it, since it involves the single most boring subject in all of the universe...computers. More precisely it’s a story about modern office technology vs. tried and true old-school methods of organization. You can probably guess which side I’m on. But, yesterday, my efficiently tactless assistant put her foot down...and now I am launched into the modern technological age kicking and screaming. Here’s how it happened.

Many years ago, back before cell phones were invented, my assistant was my wife. When I hired her, she was instantly traumatized by the haphazard condition of my files. You know...random things filed under K for ...kids, that sort of thing. She determined to tear the whole confused mess down and start from scratch. It took her six months before she was satisfied with her work. I couldn’t believe how much easier it was to find stuff once Pam’s organizational zeal had been unleashed. The linchpin of her system was this chart she had designed and stapled on the inside cover of each hanging file, containing every single fact you could ever want to know about the specific client in question. It was a beautiful thing that transformed my business life. Eventually, Pam tired of her Uber-frustrating boss and quit. Her last words were something along the lines of...Well, I’ve done all I can do, dear.

A series of assistants would follow with varying degrees of success. Then, six years ago, I hired Kristin. The thing that makes her unique is the fact that I never have to wonder what she’s thinking, and she can talk smack every bit as well as I can...no small feat.

So, yesterday, I had the idea that I needed to update Pam’s summary sheet thing. It had been abandoned at some point after her exit and replaced by a Rube Goldberg system of post-it notes, and scraps of paper stuffed into overstuffed files, yours truly being the only human being on Earth capable of understanding where anything was. I broach the subject with Kristin, suggesting that she design a new summary sheet to staple to the inside cover of each hanging file. She nodded her head that she would make an attempt, then disappeared into her office. Thirty minutes later she was back in my office with that expression she gets when she’s about to call me an idiot, but is struggling to find words that aren’t too harsh. As I recall, it went something like this...

Ok, this thing you have asked me to do is...dumb. I will do it if you insist, but its stupid. It’s pre-historic thinking. You do realize that almost everyone else on the planet, including everybody in this office is using computerized client management systems, right? There’s 
this thing called RedTail which can do everything you want and tons more automatically. So, sure, I can do this very dumb thing you’ve asked me to do, or you can bring your business into the 21st century. Your call.

At this point, I put up a reasonably spirited defense of my system, pointing out that it had served me quite well over the past 36 years, and that I had already heard the RedTail pitch years earlier and considered it an overpriced and far too geeked out and complex for my style. Each argument was met with an eye roll and a snappy rejoinder. Finally she threw out this line...This system would make it infinitely easier for you to spend more time in Maine. Before the end of the day, she had my credit card and had signed me up.

I will hate every minute of the transition. My eyes will glaze over at every confusing glitch of the implementation. But, I suppose I will eventually wonder how I ever got along without it. That’s how the technology game works. You fight and claw against it’s encroachment, you vow to never let it’s tentacles ensnare you. Then one day you wake up and hear your wife asking Alexa to put coffee on her grocery list and realize that you have lost not only the battle but the entire war. Kicking and screaming, indeed.

A Challenge to my Readers

Sometimes its easy when observing the world to come to the conclusion that we are doomed. Reading the news is an invitation to nihilism. The reason this is so is because the news is almost always bad. Good news doesn’t attract eyeballs, so only the worst examples of human behavior make the cut. This isn’t anything new, of course. It has always been so. Human beings have, since the dawn of time been drawn to bad news like moths to flame. Still, we all know of good decent people. They are everywhere, all around us. Each of us could rattle off a list of a dozen people we personally know who are beautiful, generous, caring people. Hardly any of us actually know a rapist, murderer, or thief. But, when we are constantly informed of their exploits, they seem omnipresent, lurking behind every bush. We become fearful and guarded, withdrawing a bit from our fellow man. How can we fight this withdrawing? Is it possible to reclaim optimism?

Yes. Here’s how...

This is something I started doing many years ago at the urging of my Mom. I don’t do it every day certainly, but whenever I start feeling a bit too big for my britches,(one of my mother’s frequent accusations about her youngest child) it always comes back to me. It starts with the basic understanding that we humans are essentially selfish at our core. On the subject of total depravity, my mother was Calvinist to the core! To overcome our innate selfishness, we had to develop strategies to fight it. Her’s was simple...give money away. At first, I thought she was crazy. She had no business giving money away, I reasoned, since she never had enough of it to start with. But, Mom would always counter with...if generosity depended on wealth, only rich people could do it. Why let them have all the fun!?

So, here’s how it works. You go to the bank and withdraw an amount of money to give away. The amount isn’t as important as actually withdrawing it. It will vary widely from person to person. To some, giving $10 away would be a sacrifice, to others, $100 would be chump change. I always pick a number that at least makes me careful about just who I decide to give it to. Anyway, for argument’s sake, let’s say you withdraw a $100 bill. Now, the task before you comes with a deadline...you have a week or maybe two to find someone who needs a break, someone who you encounter in the normal course of your life for whom your $100 might make an enormous impact. But, who? That’s the most difficult part of this exercise. 

We human beings, even the best of us, have a tendency to plod through life with blinders on, head down, resolutely striving from one task to the next. Now with our cell phones, we are even less aware of those around us. The hard part of this is looking up...paying better attention to the people around us. In the past I’ve given this money to a harried mom in line at the grocery store, a hunched over elderly man in line at the pharmacy. Other people I know who have done this have paid for people’s meals at fast food restaurants. One guy paid for the next 25 cars in line behind him at a toll booth! There’s no right way or wrong way to do this...although I prefer not giving money to the professional pan handlers on Broad Street!

Here’s the payoff. It’s not only the recipient who benefits. It’s...you. When you let loose just a little to your grip on what’s yours, you discover the joy of generosity. You become more grateful for what you’ve been blessed with, and you discover the thrill of being a blessing to others. There’s no feeling in the world like knowing that you just might have made someone’s day by being their answer to prayer. 

Pro Tip....bonus points if you can manage doing your giving anonymously.

So, to anyone reading this, I make the challenge to you...give some money away this week. Keep your heart and your eyes open for someone who needs a blessing. Then come back here...anonymously...and share your story with the rest of us. That will be good news worth reading.

Dad Jokes III

For the third time in less than...oh, who’s counting? That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, once again I am prepared to publish the very latest, up to the minute collection of the world’s greatest Dad Jokes. Just so we are all aware of the rules...a Dad Joke only qualifies as such when it is super cheesy, while at the same time being...kinda, sorta funny. That’s harder to do than I make it look. Anyway, in no particular order, here they are. I will try my best to refrain from editorial comment:

1. Why was the blond staring so intently at the can of frozen orange juice?

    Because it said...concentrate.

2. Did you hear about the Dad who decided to give away all of his old batteries...free of charge?

3. Son: What’s the leading cause of dry skin?

    Dad: Towels

4. Wife: Honey, can you put the cat out?

     Dad: Sure...But, I didn’t even know he was on fire.

5. Son: Dad, can you put on my shoes?

    Dad: I can try, but I don’t think they will fit me.

6. Have you tried eating a clock?

    It’s time-consuming.

*7. What did one snowman say to the other snowman?

     Do you smell carrots?

8. Son: Dad, do you know where I left my sunglasses?

    Dad: No. Do you know where I left my dad glasses?

9. I would tell a Chemistry joke...but I’m afraid of the reaction.

* Sorry, but this one is really funny.

A Morning Not Fit For Man Nor Beast

I’m not sure if in the entire history of civilization dogs have ever been more popular than they are at this moment. They are celebrated everywhere, from Twitter to Hollywood to the newly ubiquitous dog parks which have sprouted up all across the fruited plane. I could not be happier. With the notable exception that many newly married millennials are much more interested in purchasing a dog than they are in presenting grandchildren to their impatient parents, I believe this new love of dogs is a beautiful thing.

Except on mornings like this...

Yeah, Short Pump has been inundated with record amounts of rain over the past 12 months, to the point where our fenced in back yard is an oozing, sodden, quagmire. With the recent sub-freezing temperatures, we have finally been able to let her back there for her morning constitutional. She has loved the cold and stays out there forever, doing her business, but also running around manically and sniffing all of the new smells she has been missing of late. Then, when she comes back in her paws are merely cold, with not a drop of moisture or mud to be found. It is a glorious.

Of course, this being Short Pump, Virginia...suddenly its 60 degrees outside and pouring rain. So, the back yard is out. At 6:15, Lucy plods down the stairs and stares me down as I sit on the sofa getting ready to take my first, magical sip of coffee. I cannot win a stare down with Lucy. Nobody can. She focuses those gigantic brown eyes at you and within minutes you are putty in her paws...Do you need to go pee, girl?... I ask, a ridiculous question, since we both know the answer. She immediately runs over to the back door, turns around and answers YES with those eyes. It is then that I inform her that we will not be going into the back yard today. No no...we will be trudging out into the front yard, in the driving rain and darkness for her first bathroom trip of the day. I put on my Columbo overcoat, grab a poop bag and launch out into the storm.

This is the part of dog ownership which makes you question your blind devotion. Lucy is fascinated by the rain. It must release a treasure trove of new smells, because when its pouring down outside she becomes obsessed with sniffing. Sometimes she even stands perfectly still and sniffs the same inch of ground for over a minute...which seems like an hour in dog years. I can plead all I want for her to get a move on. I can say, While we’re young, Lucy...while we’re young until I’m blue in the face, but it will not hurry her. She will simply not be rushed. By the time she finally squats, she is soaking sopping wet, her paws drenched. I look like an extra in On The Waterfront, and both of us smell like wet dog.

Once we’re back in the house, the five minute drying off process beings, towels strewn everywhere. I begin to sweat, I can feel my heart beating. When I finally return to the sofa, my coffee is cold. As annoyed and flustered as I am after all of this, I know that my frustration will have a very short shelf life. Within minutes, she will jump up besides me, flash me a goofy smile, then curl up next to me and let out one of those deep and peaceful sighs. All will be forgiven. I will forgive her for taking forever. She will forgive me my impatience.

See, that’s the thing about dogs. They are incapable of judgement, they don’t know how to hold a grudge. They don’t even know what a grudge is. They never get mad at you, let alone stay mad. Why would they ever get mad at you? You’re the greatest person in the history of the world! How do I know this? The eyes. It’s right there in their eyes.

Referees...Enemies of the People!

I’m not really a big fan of professional football. There isn’t a team that I root for or against. The NFL is basically the thing I fall asleep to on Sunday afternoon. College football is much more fun and enjoyable to watch. But neither the college game or the pros rouse anything approaching the passion in me that baseball does. This, I am fully aware, makes me an outlier, my baseball obsession being the source of many an eye roll from family and friends. That’s ok. It’s a semi-free country.

Despite my lukewarm embrace of the NFL, I do usually watch the playoffs. The games are more intense, and the outcomes more immediate. I watched parts of the second half of the Rams v Saints game. Then, I watched the first and last quarter of the Chiefs v Patriots contest. There were loads of truly awful referee behavior in both games. The infamous no-call on a blatant pass interference against the Rams essentially cost the Saints a trip to the Super Bowl. And, that forearm that flashed by the helmet of Tom Brady might have been the worst roughing the passer call of all time. If that’s roughing the passer, then I suppose bad breath should be roughing the passer as well.

But, as I was watching the ending of both games, it occurred to me that bad calls and missed calls are actually the best ending a game in 2019 could ever have. It fits so nicely into the overwhelming desire we all have now to be outraged. What better way to end an important and consequential game than with an accusation of referee misconduct, better yet...bias. The no call against the Saints wasn’t just a bad call, it was Fake Officiating!! The phantom roughing the passer call wasn’t just the bad judgement of a referee who had a bad angle on the play, but nothing less than a conspiracy to promote the Patriots!! Don’t believe me? Well, there’s a website some where which will spill all the details of the running 19 year plot to promote the false narrative of Tom Brady and Bill Belichick’s alleged greatness. The Patriots wouldn’t have won a single championship without this gigantic and intricate conspiracy, which has involved not just the officials, but hundreds of players over nearly two decades. The amount of bribes paid out to pull of this great scam must run into the billions! I mean, seriously...how else could New England win with so many white guys on offense??

So, now my Facebook feed is lit up with people who claim they won’t be watching the Super Bowl because they are sick of Brady and the Patriots. Another group claims that they are now Rams fans by default. Anyone but the Patriots!!

Fair enough. The Rams are a terrific team, with many outstanding players. In fact, they have better players top to bottom than the Patriots do. So, by all means, become Rams fans for the day and cheer them on. But, whatever you do...don’t wager a dime against Tom Brady.

Score One For the Internet

Like millions of other people, I play this game. It’s essentially an on-line digital version of Scrabble. I’m decent at it, although I lose more often than some of the people I play. Nevertheless, I find it a pleasant enough diversion and a passable mental calisthenic. But, the best part of the game is the opportunity it affords to meet people from all over the world. Take Natalia, for example.

She was suggested as a suitable opponent by the slightly creepy Words With Friends algorithm several months ago. I was assured that she possessed a similar skill level as mine. So, I took them up on their recommendation , something I rarely do. I prefer playing old friends...like Pam Lawrence...who, incidentally, is a beast!

I won our first game rather handily. During our second game, I decided to strike up a conversation using the chat feature. She had a very Russian-sounding last name, so I took a chance and asked her where she was from. I discovered that she was born, raised, and still resides in Moscow. Over the time we have been friends, it has been fascinating to discover things about her life in the old Soviet Union. She has been equally curious about what it is like to live in America. We talk mostly about our dogs and the brutal Russian weather. We have now played almost 30 games. I’ve won 18...Words With Friends keeps a running tally of our competition. But, yesterday a thought occurred to me. She has gotten better and better with each game and now I struggle mightily to beat her...and English is her second language!!! Suddenly, I felt intellectually inadequate. I shared this revelation with her and her reply was classic Natalia...It’s ok, I try to improve skills by playing game!

But, here’s another thought that has occurred to me. Although it is fashionable these days to decry the societal damage being inflicted upon us by the internet, and some of the charges are no doubt true, Words With Friends is an example of something that connects people from all over the world in positive ways. Anyone can play. It doesn’t matter what your politics are or your religious beliefs. There is no violence, virtual or otherwise, no blood and gore. Just two people trying to find a way to use the letter Z on a triple word score tile. While doing so, sometimes conversations develope that bring people closer together by highlighted the many things that we all have in common, our universally held desires for good health, happy family life, a good dog, and better weather.

Score one for the internet.