Signs would ward off questions

I travelled back in time today, reluctantly, to the oil embargo of 33 years ago. Running low on fuel, I stopped by that gas station with the funny name of "Fusion" (you know, the one I said looked like "Tucson" from afar).

Pulling into pump station 2, I went inside and the attendant greeted me, like normal. I asked for gas, and he said "We're out."

Great. The first thing I thought of was Steve's bad luck rubbing off on me. Remember, he's the one who couldn't get a Whopper at Burger King, although they had hamburgers... I then said what I always say in situations like this: "Why don't you put up a sign that says 'No Gas'?"

The attendant ended up giving me that same quizzical look that everyone gives me whenever I suggest a sign be posted -- for customers' convenience.

Why the quizzical look? Since the station had a convenience store attached, I can see why they didn't shut it down. But don't they make most of their money with gasoline transactions? Wouldn't I see the pump nozzles draped with plastic bags, signifying they're out of something? And how about that sign, anyway?

You can bet I had to mince my words when he added to the excuse: "We just ran out of gas half-an-hour ago." How convienent. He saw me park at the pump, and yet had no clue I was about to order gas?

I wonder how many people, just in the hour that has lapsed since I went there, have come in, only to be duped into thinking there is gas on premises, when in fact there's not. Many people I'm sure would have the same reactions, and may not even be as tactful addressing the situation. Whether the attendant likes the (negative) customer attention remains to be seen, but you'd think he'd get tired of answering that same question the rest of the afternoon.

But you never know about those working in the petroleum business. Something tells me they're not on the level of regular humankind on a regular basis.

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Speaking of vehicles, isn't it almost every week that you read about some type of safety recall? It affected Sheila's Jeep yesterday, which cancelled her plans to come here tonight. This, along with a screwy internet connection, really made her stew. So today, she offered me movie tickets to go with her to see Happy Feet, the penguin movie.

Boy, were my feet, and the rest of me, happy! No one can question me now about my appreciation for penguins. I inherited my mother's penguin collection when she passed on, and now they're the focus of some heartwarming movies in the past year. I received two penguin cards and a stuffed penguin this Christmas.

I'm simply carrying on my mother's tradition, and I know she's probably smiling in approval - of both the penguins and Sheila. She is a truly rare gem to me; an outstanding human being. And I am happier and more complete as a result.

Pardon the phone troubles

For those who know my phone number and are trying to get a hold of me, please rest assured I am okay. Issues with the service have increased greatly in the last three days, even with a new phone unit in place. I am not ignoring anyone; the phone company is the ignorant one, as they can't provide quality service!

I hope to have an answer by the end of the week. In the meantime, please be patient - I do appreciate it.

Hypocrite alert!

First, two disclaimers:

One, the passive mind reserves the right to re-remember entry themes that he's forgotten about...

Two, although my promise was not to get too morally preachy, sometimes you have to do what's needed.

Does Saddam Hussein deserve the death penalty for those hideous crimes of 1982 he was convicted of? Not to mention everything else he may have done during his years in power? In my opinion, absolutely. Now, without naming who caused the latest uproar, a source claims it is immoral to give him the death penalty because of all the deaths he caused. Why is it immoral? No one should be put to death by premeditated means.

Okay. Then why do we have killings all over the world every day?

Florida (I believe it was) has suspended their execution program because one of their lethal injections went awry. The scene was supposedly gruesome, as it took two injections to kill off the convicted killer. But didn't this person deserve something gruesome after the way he killed off his victims years ago? I mean, didn't they, as well as their families, go through the same mental anguish that anybody would?

I always say that the punishment fits the crime. The system can be too lenient on those who break every law in the book - which explains why the prison system is so overcrowded. Executions may be botched, as nobody's perfect; but for one brief instance, think about the crime committed. Doesn't the killer deserve a taste of his/her own medicine so they can go to the grave with that thought in mind?

I don't advocate a torturous society at all. There shouldn't be ANY killings going on. But in an imperfect world, we have to acknowledge that crimes do happen for ridiculous reasons. Punishments also have to be acknowledged, however. The whole cycle of crime is immoral. Heck, we live in an immoral world. Society is doing what they can to rid the world of the worst criminals. Now, a minority says to turn the other cheek?

That's like turning a blind eye to the problem!

Please, let things turn out as they may. We are not perfect, but in these instances, society is trying to act in the interests of fairness.

And that's still a human virtue... or so I thought.

Convienent, online history

Sometimes, I shake my head as the power of the internet is ignored or rebuffed in one way: local cities around here don't take the time to gather historical photos & artifacts, and put them online.

Having lived in Southgate for 28 of my 35 years, I would consider myself knowledgeable in the city's history. Most of what I remember stems from exactly that: memory, not photographic evidence. The rare times I have glimpsed at photographs, I'm proud to say that my recollections are mostly accurate. But why aren't these photos placed online so that people who now live out of town or cannot go to the city museum (such as myself) can appreciate the history?

I've been researching the one local mall (Southgate Shopping Center) recently. It actually has a page dedicated to it on Wikipedia, and I was appalled at the inaccuracies I knew were there. So what did I do? I joined Wikipedia, and proceeded to add some useless tidbits of information, like mall color schemes, store lineups, and such. Now this is all from memory, and is there actual photographic evidence to back my claims? Unfortunately not. However, you can read the entry here.

Heck, it took a real stroke of dumb luck to find an old photo of Southland Mall, the nearest major mall to my old neighborhood:

It should not be so darned difficult to find photos other than these! Why is that, I wonder? I know they exist: I saw an entire display of them about 13 years ago during an anniversary celebration!

You can even take that rotten airport building I work at: it was built in 1958, and has been out of date for twenty years plus. But in its day, it was sleek and state-of-the art. Visitors could roam everywhere. Every square inch of space was utilized properly. Passengers today shrug at that and say the dingy terminal they go through is the only way they remember it. I'm tempted to agree, simply because no one promotes any photos to prove the evidence. Again, the ones I had (which I can't call up right now) only came from a wild search on the computer that took nearly an hour.

It may be easy for me to say, since I hosted a local history show in 1995-96. But people's hearts are always warmed by memories of the past. And why we turn our backs on the past, I have no clue. Yes, we must move forward... but without our past, we would have no "present".

The past got us this far... let's acknowledge it in the most worthy way possible.

Mom always liked quantity

My mother's favorite Christmas saying to me in her later years was "Remember, quantity, not quality" when she was referring to Christmas presents. Of course, she meant this as a light-hearted joke.

However, just observing the huge amount of wrapping paper gone through this house in the last ten days, I feel like she did. Not since she was alive have I received so much for one holiday.

From my father and stepmom, some great, practical things: Christmas cookies of course, but also some new pajamas; South Park paraphenilia; a World Almanac; a new winter coat to replace that MSU jacket that's two sizes too small; a new raincoat which may come in handy at work; and some new portraits of them, among other things. Your generosity has been most surprising and much appreciated this season... thank you both.

Sheila just left, and she didn't disappoint for sure. In addition to candles and a felt-covered journal (I haven't kept one since 1982), she sent me a personal engraving showing just how much friendship means to her. "Best Friends" in fact. This is very high praise indeed. She would still be here now if I didn't have to work in the morning!

Lisa also sent me a token to remind me of my mom (talk about something out of left field; totally unexpected) and a very nice card... and the best present has been Steve not being home for the holiday as he is house-sitting for his sister.

Add to that ten Christmas cards I received in lieu of me not sending any this year, and this holiday ranks among the best I've had in years. It's a shame my greedy uncle had to steal my Christmas decorations (some of which dated from the 1950s), which has resulted in me not decorating anything... but in 2006, I consider that a small price to pay.

Since not everyone chats online, and given the phone problems I'm having, I'd like to use this space to express my sincere thanks for making this Christmas one to remember. Your efforts to cheer me this season will never be taken in vain and will always be remembered & treasured.

Thank you one and all.
- Kevin

Ghosts of Christmas past

While my brain has been out to lunch for the holidays (A.K.A. the "Passive Mind" has passed out), here are three photos from the archives of me from Christmas holidays past. Through total dumb luck, I was able to rescue these from the rinds of the computer and share them with you.

(Top left) -- Myself from 1973 with one of those pull toys, called "The Bee Says". The alphabet was on it, and wherever the bee was pointing to when you pulled the string, it announced that letter. I still have it; I took it out this past summer, but it sounded garbled. Where's the 30-year warranty?!

(Top Right) -- Myself in 1977, the last Christmas in the house I first grew up in over in Southgate. You would never see me beaming with more pride than I did here!

(Bottom) -- Of course, pride only goes so far. You've heard of the term "geeked"... well, this was me in 1994 when I received the Beavis & Butthead game for the old Sega Genesis video system (it proved to be too darn hard). This may have been more a sarcastic smile, as my mom wasn't a fan of the show. My dad, however, has turned into something else in that regard and LOVES annoying my stepmom about it.

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Right now, I'm awaiting Sheila's arrival, but she's running late. She promises a very good Christmas for me... and that's something I need, what with the money frustrations and all. Hope I can post tomorrow, but if not: MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Dog lovers, beware

Pet transportation at the airport is now reaching its holiday peak. I could never understand why we are transporting pets in the first place, since shipping them by aircraft can cost more than a reputable kennel could. I suppose it's up to the passenger, but I would think a kennel would be less disorienting than literally flying blind, 30,000 feet above ground.

Still, it's our policy to take them. I don't like dealing with them at any level, especially since the German Shepherd mix two doors west of me constantly wakes me up with his unnecessary barking.

I absolutely draw the line, however, at handling pit bull cages. I'm sorry, but I believe the pit bull is a breed that should be put out of existence permanently.

Examine this essay I wrote in December 2005 (this time last year) in my personal computer blog:

"... Here is a breed of dog that will likely never be fully domesticated, because it is totally unpredictable. According to a study shown on CDC.ORG, pit bulls were responsible for nearly 1/3rd of dog attacks on human beings between 1979 and 1996; over sixty in all.

In the past three years, I recall at least four cases in the Metro Detroit area where a child or elderly person is walking around, minding their own business, when a pit bull escapes its leash and runs over to attack, with no previous provocation by the human in question.

Doesn't that share at least some similarity to shooting off a gun at a random person in the neighborhood?

We recently received a pit bull cage at the airport over the 2005 holidays. Asked to take it off the shelf and put it on a cart, I refused and walked away. I wasn't ignoring my duties. I just used common sense, which meant I know better. Those cages are not going to hold those pets in, if they want to be aggressive. And we're total strangers, so that increases the odds.

We should fear anything that can attack us - it's not just limited to chemical weapons or foes with guns. Pit bulls are just too aggressive for their own good. Face it: some things in life, we don't have control over; we'll never tame all the wild animals in this world.

We need to get rid of the ones we have no control over, because our safety in this confusing world is more vital than ever."

It didn't help today that the dog's owner was poking fun of my fear of these animals. Who is he to say what I'm afraid of or not?

He may love the dog, but it doesn't mean everyone else has to.

Song timing in bad taste

Also this morning, a major disappointment and loss of respect for one of the radio stations playing Christmas music.

You would find it hard to imagine the necessity of either censoring, or outright banning, any Christmas music, since it's supposed to gear one's self to the holiday. But this morning bears an exception to the rule.

Why did the station find it necessary to play "Weird Al" Yankovich's "Christmas At Ground Zero?" Granted, the song was created prior to 9/11, and no one in his right mind could have predicted the tragedy that occurred that day. But now, with the title "ground zero" having one underlying definition, any use of that term other than the respectful one it now commands makes it sound very disturbing to me.

"Ground Zero" will now always mean the former World Trade Center to me. Let's just say it will always pop up if I play a game of Word Association.

The song needs to be retired from the playlists due to the tragedy. I'm just hoping they don't dare try playing that song in the New York City area.

Highly, highly disrespectful in this day & age.

"Illegal" trinkets still hang

Have any members of my family been known law-breakers? No one I know has been jailed for anything, or have had anything worse than traffic tickets sent their way.

Unknowingly, however, have there been law-breakers? Yes, many... including myself.

A not-often-cited law in Michigan prohibits a vehicle owner from hanging anything from their rear-view mirror, saying it will obstruct the driver's vision or distract from the actual driving. Driving home from work today after passing a car that had a wedding garter hanging from it, I remembered various cars holding these trinkets on the mirrors.

The first one I remembered was from the early 70s, where my aunt hung a stuffed dog that actually resembled a pinata. Fascinated with things in motion, I remember enjoying the dog move with every turn of her car. As I got into high school and received rides home from classmates, every one of them had something hanging from the mirror; whether it be beads or photos of the latest heavy-metal hero.

I've gotten into it, briefly, as I went through a "fuzzy dice" phase, then had a few air fresheners hang from them. And my late grandmother, one who refused to give up driving and household chores until she was forced, had her mirror literally filled with all her grandchildren's graduation tassels. Would the state pull her over for that? Evidentally so.

Within reason, I sometimes question why this law exists. If we go overboard on clutter, I can understand. If it jingles, or smacks the windshield, or moves too much, I understand that, too. But one graduation tassel? A small air-freshener? Even one of those imitation diamond balls hung from a long string that my mother wanted me to have one time? I couldn't believe her shock when I told her no, and she didn't buy my explanation as to why: I knew these were illegal.

But on some conservative trinkets, I don't know why. Take those hanging fresheners, designed to hang from the mirror. Where else could they go?

Like I'm fond of saying: "Why not extend the law to everything?" If you pull down the sun visor, doesn't that block vision? What about the wipers when you use them? Don't they move all over?

Now I have no need to hang anything from the mirror. My car will always smell like hell no matter what I put in there. But for the responsible driver who heeds the vision requirements and promotes no offense by placing something simple on the mirror to promote self-expression?

I think the law is short-sighted to them.

Our "Coat Of Arms"

The latest running gag in our house is defining a hammer as an equalizer; a revenge-maker; a coat-of-arms. In other words, nothing that malfunctions in this house seems to survive intact.

I will admit that my roommate, Steve, has a bad temper at times; yet at the same time he bottles up his feelings on occassion. But just when all gets its worst, something breaks down or doesn't work in the house, and out comes the hammer to do its thing.

In the past year alone, two cigarette-makers of his, plus a defective wireless computer keyboard, accompanying wireless mouse, and a VCR have bit the dust. The plastic cigarette-maker was destroyed in just ten seconds; the all-metal one took nearly five minutes of pounding before any defects were noticed. It took about that long to clean all the displaced computer keys off the back porch as they were scattered everywhere, and a hungry cat would have been repulsed at how the computer mouse look once deformed.

The VCR destruction was a seasonal treat; as Steve calmly went about his "business", he was joyfully whistling "Let It Snow". Talk about self-satisfaction! He does enjoy pummeling useless, inanimate objects that have no way to react.

Alas, I became more than merely a spectator today: I became the aggressor. My old cordless phone went down last week, and boy did the temper rise when I found out I couldn't call Sheila to let her know I was running late for a dinner date yesterday. Logic before destruction, however, was my thinking as I simply went out to get the battery replaced.

No such luck. The salesperson literally laughed at me, saying they never saw that type of battery before. In the world of technology, anything older than three years old apparently qualifies for Social Security. I had to blow an additional $15 to get a replacement unit.

Needless to say, I wasn't happy upon coming home. That's when Steve egged me on: why not take the frustrations out on something? It was comical! We did a formal march to the backyard, with me holding the old phone in bitter respect, and Steve calling out commands, hammer in hand. I asked for some music, and strains of "Let It Snow" echoed again, as I took hammer to useless utensil.

It only took thirty seconds, but I must admit: it felt good. The little guy has to partake in his revenge every now and then, to keep his self-respect. I kept that, plus a good laugh on a day I sorely needed one.

Getting long in the teeth

Since losing the World Series, the Detroit Tigers lost their only reliable left-handed reliever, Jamie Walker, to Baltimore. The talk around town has been for the club to audition any lefthander with a pulse for the 2007 team. In baseball, the pitching has become so specific in role definition that no club these days can be without a late-inning, lefty specialist.

So who do we sign? Uh, a guy that throws with the wrong arm... and a guy who's closer to Social Security than myself: Jose Mesa.

All of a sudden, the calls for a lefty in the bullpen have died down to a dull roar (good club analogy). But take away the starters, and what lefthander can you find to meet those situations I mentioned? Nobody in particular, and the "waiver wire" looks awfully thin at first glance. Don't they have enough power righthanders in the bullpen, i.e. Joel Zumaya and Fernando Rodney?

Manager Jim Leyland described them as being literal lefthanded specialists, given their outstanding respective seasons. But baseball has long been an odds-playing game, especially in this era, and do we continue to defy the odds in order to see whether the ballclub can succeed?

I get the feeling this ballclub is getting long in the tooth, as well. They talk about giving shortstop Carlos Guillen an extension, but he'd be 35 by its end, and it looks like he's a first baseman in the future. Where's the young shortstop to replace him? Pudge Rodriguez is in his late 30s, Kenny Rogers is 42, Magglio Ordonez is fast approaching his mid-30s. Mesa is 40, and never mind the fact he's a fitness freak. Bodies tend to break down around that age.

We waited nineteen years to get a pennant winner in this town. It would be a damn shame to have it be a one-time-only special because some bodies can't make it through six months.

The story never ends

I have had a pet project 15 years in the making that never seems to go past first base.

As down-in-the-dumps as Detroit has been for generations, it perhaps hit its lowest point in the early 1990s, when the controversial Coleman Young was at his worst; provoking combat with virtually anyone that didn't share his narrow-minded views on how the city should be run. He was more antagonistic than usual because much dirt was being dug on him at this time.

Having laughed for years about the micro-mismanagement of Detroit politics, I set out to write a book about how, with a few more wrong moves mixed in, Young could completely destroy the city and make it a laughingstock. The book was mostly fact, but part fiction, as it saw Young from an even more exaggerated standpoint than he was in real life.

Most Detroiters would recognize where my point of origin was in this book: the year he appeared on ABC's "Prime Time Live" and proceeded to lose his temper on the air when tough questions were posed (1991). That was also the year some good parody columns appeared in the newspaper, fantasizing about a conversation between Young and the big names in Detroit at the time.

So, with nothing but humor and self-satisfaction in mind, I set out to do the book. Fifteen years later, it still lays unfinished; having been largely untouched since I attempted a complete rewrite in 2004. Alas, unfinished it remains, as some of the events I listed happened at different times and some of the people were not identified properly.

I mentioned the book to Sheila as a throwaway comment, but she picked up on it immediately and said it would be a life's goal for me to finish it. Perhaps she might be right.

I've been known as a creative writer for several years and have always enjoyed writing books & articles. But for some reason, this book in progress keeps me from trying out new material. In contrast, I'll leave four or five household projects in limbo to start on a sixth; yet the creative process won't work that way for me.

Perhaps now would be a good time for me to dust off the gray matter in my head and get plugging away at it. If the process only works one way, it will be the only way to see what else I can pen and enjoy, either on my own or with others.

Where to go for "talk"

I have stated before that I am a music nut. But I've never stated I'm a fan of a lot of the things radio does.

Sheila brought over a DVD she made while taping segments of the local morning show prank-calling unsuspecting listeners. While I must agree that some of the segments we listened to yesterday were quite funny and are often elaborate, I often wonder why radio is so hell-bent on trying to entertain listeners with a team of talkers, who seem to talk about everything I don't find very interesting.

Most likely, I'm a victim of age & stubborness (and I better start recycling that excuse for use in later years), only preferring my "talk" from reputable sources, such as local station WWJ, with an all-news format. Even that station took a long time to grow on me, as my mother listened to it religiously.

Mom and I would be out & about while running errands, with the news endlessly repeating itself in the course of the journey. My parents lost track of popular music earlier in their lives, and that happens everywhere when you group two different generations together. In my early 20s at the time, what would I do when I drove off on my own? Immediately turn it to a music station in an attempt to cleanse my mind! Now please note: this was not a slight against my own mother; but a college student wouldn't be seen favorably listening to a news station ("I heard we have a 50% chance of rain today." "Kevin, who cares; did you hear the latest Bon Jovi song?"). With time, that has changed -- and it beats getting the newspaper every day, as the radio news is more instantaneous.

I do not discourage the efforts of those on morning radio shows harping on about celebrity misfires, prank callers, Santa Claus impersonators, and the like; it's just not something that charges my brain mentally each morning. I prefer good old-fashioned music in my mornings. I am, after all, the poor soul with a song replaying endlessly in my mind all day, not a comedy routine.

By the way, the best comedy routines were the old ones on radio from the 1940s and 50s. I don't understand why none of the local stations here broadcast those classics anymore. Talk about being riveted to the receiver!

Buy stock in Rubbermaid

... This is only said due to an interesting revelation while buying a poinsetta for Sheila this morning. I was tempted to also buy one for the house here, thanks to a display table which screamed out "$4.99" for everything on the table.

Taking it to customer service, however, it was rang up as $12.99, which would have deflated the budget. Was the poinsetta misplaced? Absolutely not. It was just unfortunately placed inside a plain plastic holder with a snowman on it, which jumped the cost an unbelieveable seven dollars!

I have bought flowers in similiar plastic containers before (save the design), and they end up thrown out. How can a simple plastic part cost seven dollars extra? For a simple design? What happens to that part when the flower passes on? I don't see that as a prop to use year after year.

Watch the stock price of Rubbermaid jump up this winter as more unsuspecting customers try not to remove the poinsetta from anything it may be in. It's simply outrageous to me.

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Watch the links to the right in upcoming days for some new additions. I am a fan of pure cornball humor, and while waiting for Sheila to stop by this morning, Steve was reading a list of these outrageous statements that did earn good laughs out of me.

My joke-telling is simple. I cannot remember many of the long-storied ones that get good laughs out of everyone else; something always gets lost in translation. This does not mean I am a simple man, but harks back to my appreciation for the little things in life. It doesn't matter how you laugh; as long as you do, it's a little time in happiness, away from the "everyday".

Obama: Good with timing

The news media, deep in coverage for "Race For The White House 2008" already, does not like to be proven wrong in its coverage. It prides itself on its exit polls, campaign rumors, and reporting scandals. The candidates play to this coverage, sometimes masking their true intentions with bombastic actions, revelations, and a canned charisma that can point to one reason for apparent voter apathy lately.

The actual role of "politician" is so typecast in today's society, that it's easy to believe the older citizens who say it's been generations since we've had a president we can believe in & trust. Without getting preachy and political, I can agree with that thinking: everyone seems homogenized to where we can almost always guess their next action.

I always sympathize with those who want to give politics a go (a result of another typecast, I suppose), but there are occasional candidates whom I do root for. Senator Barack Obama from Illinois is one of those who has taken the media and the country by storm. From the beginning, he has been mentioned as a potential presidental candidate.

But he has deviated from the proverbial script: he has actually communicated to his supporters, "Hold the train and let's be realistic."

Wow: a realistic politician? How rare is that?

The way Obama's career is taking off, he could probably have his choice of what office or position to hold next. Yet he is showing a humble side of himself in telling the people by his words and actions that he doesn't want to make a bold move until he knows it's time.

As was quoted on CNN.com by Chicago Sun-Times columnist Lynne Sweet, "He is so appealing because he has escaped some of the normal, you know, bad stuff that happens to people on the campaign trail... And here's the realization I think his people and Sen. Obama is coming to, and it's this: you can't time timing."

Somebody may finally have the currently unique idea that really can get them anywhere they want to go, and this would make me push for them even more to succeed - at their own pace. It might not resurrect Kennedy's Camelot, but it sure would point in the right direction.

From comedian to helper

Sheila and I share a love for Bill Cosby's comedy routines. My parents enjoyed his audio records from years ago, including the award-winning "Revenge" album. Of course, the two of us point to his video "Himself" as perhaps the pinnacle of his stand-up success. We know the majority of the lines word-for-word and we still get a laugh out of them.

When Cosby recently turned his focus into a new medium, I was left scratching my head. Cosby now takes to the lecture circuit and points out to certain families how & why their kids have taken to the streets. I've caught some video footage of some of those "town hall" meetings, and I swear it was the first time he'd been seen out of comedic character. At first, what he was saying sounded so foreign.

I was not the only critic to come out and brand him a "Johnny-Come-Lately" in this area. His Ph.D aside (and he is a very smart man), I wondered why he waited so late in his career to become a crusader. Problems in the slums and trying to get kids off the streets and into meaningful lives have been going on long before Cosby even made himself famous. Was he doing this to inject life into a fading career? Or, at age 68, was he just becoming bitter? Seeing his video footage, it appeared bitterness got the better of him, as it appeared he was scolding entire families like they were immature children. That garnered mixed attention in 2004 when he first started travelling.

Yet a year later, he is still into his cause, and I now respect him for it, while believing many people may actually take his message to heart. It is easy to forget, with the huge doses of celebrity news out there, that Cosby lost his only son Ennis to a highway shooting some years back. You may have seen Cosby's comedy act lampooning the kids, but he was a loving father behind the scenes, just like we'd all want our father to be. Cosby should know his stuff, holding a minor in child psychology. And places like Detroit, well-known for street activity, is actually a perfect place for him to start (along with Chicago).

I'm beginning to read articles about his lectures with interest, and it's hard not to notice positive reaction from event attendeees , saying the gathering touched the heart. No matter what race, economic background or whatever, everyone's heart should be touched to help those who have fallen backward. I claim in conversation to have "fallen backward" through the years. Though not in the severe plight some of the families are, I am just as grateful for the help as they should be.

Is Cosby's comedy career over? Many have superseded him as self-proclaimed "top comedian", so perhaps that branch of his career is. But I must admit, the new branch is blooming very nicely, and it may affect his audience in ways the funniest one-liners couldn't.

Primary memories

Today, I went rooting through the closet to look for some old check stubs (please don't ask why), and I came across some notes I saved from my mother back when I was in grade school. I look at these notes once a year or so, and it always brings back good memories.

It's interesting that when you talk to someone, they will mention that high school years were the best years of their lives, and they never give primary school a mention. I am the exact opposite. My high school years were terrible, both with grades and with peer relationships. Even as I was ready to graduate as a senior, I still wished for the less-complicated environment of Grades 1-8. Childish as it was thought of in 1989, as it may be in 2006, those memories still stand out and I am still thankful to the staff that worked there at the time.

The best part of my time there had to be Grades 1-3, plus Grade 6. The sixth grade was my time to shine in academic achievement, as I made honor roll all four quarters of the year. But Grades 1-3 were great from a people standpoint, and it wasn't because of the peers my age: it was the teachers, who I still marvel at 20+ years later for allowing me to glimpse into their working lives, allowing me to take a break from the everyday student routine.

Though I didn't get into film/video production until college in 1994, I became good friends with Mr. Fleming, the A/V head, back in 1978. There was always something about film that mesmerized me; whether it was viewing the films or just watching the projector project them. Teachers would note that I would pay attention to the physics of the operation more than the film itself, and were kind enough not to ostricize me. In fact, Mr. Fleming gave me a used reel of projection film & instructed me to create something with it. I tried to draw the proper way to make letters of the alphabet, but being in second grade, the film showed all 26 letters in the span of 15 seconds!

School worksheets at the time were done on ditto machines, before the advent of Xerox copiers. I was set on learning to become a teacher, and they spotted this as well. Whenever they went to run copies of a worksheet, they let me come with them, feed the paper into the machine, and operate it myself. This was so thrilling; I couldn't begin to explain it then, or now. Would teachers today even dare venture to let the kids do the work for them? I felt very fortunate indeed.

The teachers obviously thought I had a good shot at learning their craft, for they recommended a teacher's supply place that sold all the workbooks and planning books they used. When they replaced their reading class material, I'd be given all their old teacher's manuals. I bought a ditto machine from the principal, who thought it might be a good experience for me to learn how to pay for something in installments.

They let me play the Mr. MacGregor character in a stage play of "Peter Rabbit" (I have a photo of that one somewhere) and as Scrooge for our portrayal of "A Christmas Carol". Years later, I can still reap the benefits of those opportunities. The teachers were really a good group.

That's what made the following years so much tougher. The next grade up involves adjustments for everyone, but for me it was extremely difficult not having carte blanche to the behind-the-scenes experiences I had before. Teachers lacked patience & time, the peer teasing got worse, the work got harder, and many new people in high school made it uncomfortable for me.

But for three or four years at least, the perks of school balanced perfectly with the perks of home. Tuition money well spent, in my opinion. And I still thank those people today.

Who had the birthday?

As I stated below, today was roommate Steve's 40th birthday. I wasn't able to come up with the black balloons and the fake grave plot that I wanted to, but artistic license was enough to make up for it.

The card I got him was one of those old people's cards, and my verse playfully struck a nerve: "Happy 70th (oops), 60th (oops), 50th (oops), whatever (more acceptable) birthday this one is!" Names like "Old Relic", "Antique", and "Afterthought" filled the house tonight. He's got four years to get me for that. (You can fill in the "oops" words with the choice words you might be thinking about.)

But who ended up having the birthday celebration? I was elated & honored to have Sheila here for a few hours tonight. The friendship grows stronger with each passing day, and she is truly a treasure. We even sang a little bit off my 390-song-strong music database. I've never been around a girl who has such fun out of the little things. It is enjoyable to see.

Steve, meanwhile, decided to buy some Miller Lite and watch DVDs all night. He barely got one beer down before it was "Big Macs over the fence". He looked like he'd gone through the whole six-pack. At this writing, he's still not feeling well, and I'm wondering if he's caught the little flu bug that's been going around.

Or perhaps the "story of his life" bit him again. He bought a brand-new DVD recorder, but can't even get the DVD drawer to open; never mind the fact he can't set the clock. You would have to be here to see what I mean exactly, but electronic items don't go hand in hand with him. He has used the hammer as a destructive tool several times around the house in the four years we've been here. It's always been humorous to watch, but too much bad luck with anything electronic will get blood pressure to boil. I laugh with him, but feel for his bad luck sometimes.

A new coined catch-phrase

We once had a co-worker who viewed me as some kind of nut-case; one who thought I wasn't as bright as the others and would fade into the background in a group.

Now it is true that I may not be the type to come up with one-liners to keep the group laughing, but when I did, the co-worker in question would always say, "Every once in a blue moon, you come up with a good one!" What followed would generally be the mother of all sarcastic laughs, but at least I knew I could be original and funny once in awhile.

One of those interesting lines came today on the bus ride back to the employee lot. Very nice driver, though he's like me when it comes to work: not there for the fun of it. So I made simple light of the situation:

"Work: It pays the bills, yet offers no thrills."

What a resounding statement from the working man, eh?

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Tomorrow's the roommate's birthday: Anyone corner the market on black balloons?

My version of "Quick Hits"

Random ramblings on an off-day dominated by laundry. It has to be: when you've burned through your 25th and final pair of socks, you know something's gotta be cleaned.

* Curse drains & freezing weather. The laundry drain has been clogged since last year, and every time the washer is used, two pairs of eyes have to watch it so the drain hose doesn't fall out to soak the kitchen floor. This has happened twice, and I fear one of these days, the floorboards will give way. And now that the weather has turned cold, the tub we drain laundry water in has to be hauled to the bathtub instead of being dumped out on the deck. Laundry isn't fun to do - but I just wish that fact wouldn't keep making itself known every time the pile heaps over!

* Steve's father did pass away yesterday morning - please join me in condolences for him and the family. He has lost both his parents in the span of ten months. I cannot imagine what he's going through right now.

* Strange, or not so: Although the population of Detroit has been falling since the 1960s, the area has had to form at least three new area codes for phone service. It's proof positive that more people are carrying multiple cellphones with them. Even with the added area codes, we're running out of numbers quickly.

But you would think that numbers taken out of circulation would at least "rest" for awhile before being put back in use. Our current number must have taken an hour breather between users: two phone calls alone today from people looking to buy timeshare programs for air travel. We raised heck about those political calls - that was heaven compared to this.


* The photo at right is for my dad: Do you remember the icky-looking Telegraph/I-94 interchange? This is what it looks like now with the complete rebuild and Michigan's only tied-arch bridge. People have named it the "big blue blunder", but I actually like it. Further amazing is the fact that no grafitti has yet appeared. Are we sure this is Detroit?

* And, Cobo Hall is slated for demolition for the 20th straight year, thanks to the Auto Show needing more space. It will never happen. Detroit does everything backwards: they demolish architectural jewels and leave "tanks" like Ford Auditorium standing vacant on the riverfront for 15 years.

Does the definition of "urban renewal" vary by city, I wonder...

A source of happiness

I am proud to introduce to you: Sheila, the young lady I have been referring to recently. Sheila, as you can tell, is a beautiful person in this photo. But she is a complete inner beauty as well that I wish I could have seen in others I have been with.

The two of us have bonded, in the past week, more than the seven previous dates combined. This is no exaggeration. For lack of a more accurate word, Sheila is a "throwback" to people of a bygone age in that she values truthfulness, honesty and bluntness. She wears no masks, says what's on her mind, doesn't subscribe to the "Madison Avenue" theory that kills our society, and is very loving & giving of herself and her talents.

I had wanted to enter all my past relationships with this frankness and ability to communicate on a deep level. But I was always confronted with a masked person who would not let me sense their true thoughts. There was always something to hide with them, and eventually a mask would slip over me in the interest of fairness ("if they don't share, why should I?") Eventually, when someone else was met, the mask would automatically be put on as a so-called relationship was hastily built, with no foundation supporting it. The inevitable "crunch" would be heard a matter of weeks later.

I've thrown the mask away with Sheila. Looking into her eyes and listening to her words, you would not want to hold anything back, for her honesty & willingness to share would make you want to do the same. It was startling to me when I first saw this, but only because I wasn't used to this. It is something I was always hoping for, but never geared up to see. I can actually be myself, down to the heart, from the head to the toe. Honesty gives you more confidence as well, and everyone needs a good dose of confidence.

We chat online for hours at a time and my breath is literally taken away from me in amazement. We met at the house today, and "wow" is the only term I can use. I am floored. I have never met anyone as special as Sheila before (aside from family, of course). I thank my lucky stars above that she's come into my life, and allow me to say: I don't want her to leave.

Mom was right: there's someone for everyone on this planet. And there's probably the reason why I've toiled at that airport for over five years: I was designed to meet her there at that time and place. Best designers I've ever known!

Sheila, my dear: You are simply the best.

Controversial battle at end?

According to my former hometown paper, The News Herald, perhaps the most controversial environmental story in the Detroit area since the era of Superfund may have come to an unbelievably abrupt close.

Though environmental waste disposal wells exist elsewhere around the state, the location of this one: near a business park, Metro Airport, and within half-a-mile of mature neighborhoods really rallied the residents to take a NIMBY (Not In My Backyard) stance against the project. This would involve injecting liquid toxins nearly 20,000 feet down into bedrock for disposal.

Proponents claimed this would solve the long-standing problem of toxicants being above ground and polluting the surrounding air. But critics were quick to point out no consideration was given to the long-term effects. All one has to do is take a look at the infamous Love Canal saga near Niagara Falls, cited as the forerunner to the modern environmental movement.

Long story short, waste barrels were improperly buried & sealed at the site in 1957. Barely 20 years later, the toxins swept through the soil and began contaminating everything in their way. By the time 1981 rolled around, 90% of the neighborhood had pulled up stakes. Thirty years after that, the neighborhood has still not recovered and likely never will.

Just because toxins may be buried more than 19,000 feet further down than the canal barrels were, does not mean the land won't suffer effects in several thousand years. God willing, the human race will still exist then, and will still need basic health principles in effect to keep surviving.

The local story here dominated for fifteen years as meetings were held, protests were organized, long-time politicians were hacked to pieces, and fear built. A potential victory a few years ago was suddenly reversed, supposedly at the pleasure of one of the oil companies. The dread began.

Then, voila: a spill (and above-ground, no less). The Michigan Department of Environmental Quality shut down the site, and now... the operating company may no longer be in business. All the meetings and protests may have served to prove a point.

Of course, this doesn't end the problem of what to do with these toxins. A solution may not be found in our lifetimes, in spite of our best efforts. That solution is badly needed, as we know.

But short-term only lasts short-term. What's forgotten is long-term ramifications. If we want survival, we want our home base to survive. Whether this was just a natural happening, or thanks to the prayers of those vehmently opposed to this, score a small victory for our planet. We have to help it, as it has helped us for thousands of years.

Hollywood's glaring reality

An archived entry I made into the computer in December 2005. Enjoy.

Talk about self-preoccupation! This explains the Hollywood we now know in a nutshell.
How the mighty have fallen, especially since the "reality series" debuted.

In the midst of lack of originality and thought going into new movies and TV series, the gossip magazines scream out their headlines to you, worsening by the hour. All you see gracing the covers these days are spoiled brats who just aren't used to inconvienence. Souls of the pampered sort meeting the world's realities, which the common man faces each day. And boy, do we hurt for them. Yeah, sure.

Paris Hilton screaming at a flight attendant because of aircraft turbulence, followed by something like, "Don't you know who I am?" Geez, doesn't that take the cake? Nobody would care who I am.

The attendants would say to me, "You knew the risks when you boarded the plane." I have to live with what's provided for me, and if I don't like it, I need to explore alternatives. These so-called "stars", preening their way through life, don't actually see or acknowledge lives of the man on the street. Gee, where's Paris' beloved Tinkerbell? Who cares? What about the latest mugging in Detroit, or animal cruelty taking place everywhere?

Whatever made these celebrities blind to the realities of life; well, those factors still exist. Status may be important to some, but don't let status be your only prime motivation in life. Sooner or later, you'll lose more fans than you take in.

Sunday sampler - Dec. 3rd

* Many thanks to two co-workers who helped bail me out of a jam this morning. Without getting into specifics, I was the bailer for awhile and I'm grateful for the return favors. This coming week won't be as tough as I thought it would be.

* Not much more can go wrong with my car now because it's running out of old parts. In six months, the engine block, starter, battery and cables have all been replaced. What's next on the list? I might not know if I dump the car upon the next occurrence!

* How was my lunch break? It's fine - I'm taking it at home! That's the second time in three days I've had no lunch break at work, because the old routine has returned: everyone bails out of the room at 8AM, leaving me to do everything else for five hours. I knew it's the price I'd pay for switching shifts, but it just gets more annoying every day.

* Two pleasant surprises on the way home, too: courteous drivers! I encountered a broken down van and had to wait patiently behind it until a traffic gap opened. A big truck then stopped to let me pass. Then while getting gas, this SUV cut through to the pump I was going to use; then backed out and let me in anyway.

* I always complain about lack of money, but I wouldn't go on spending sprees if I made more. For some time, I have wanted to donate some money to certain charities or benefits, namely Detroit Newspapers' annual Thanksgiving dinner fund, and Toys for Tots over the Christmas holiday. I just can't save enough money, otherwise I could be more generous. I'm not the Scrooge by any means; the economy is.

* The local paper detailed a must-see Christmas decoration extravaganza in my neighborhood; so while driving the car home from the shop last night, I drove past it. So many lights & props in one small area looks more like clutter than fantasyland these days. Then of course, there was the house which had EIGHT of those inflatable props, and NOTHING else: no lights, no trim, no tree. It looked like a neighborhood prank gone horribly wrong. I'm fine with my solitary wreath on the door, thank you.

The gift I found ...

Patience is a virtue. But I never witnessed much personal satistfaction tied in with patience for me to appreciate it at all -- until now.

Folks, after 17 years of adult life, and 13 years actively searching for that special someone, I may have finally found her in the form of Sheila. I can actually say this with a straight face, and if you see me, you'll see that straight face, along with the proper eye contact.

I don't think I'm joking you or myself this time.

We actually met about three months ago at the airport, when I made a comment about needing to find quality notebook paper which I was going to send to another blog writer. Sheila happened to have several realms of notepads at home and promised to bring them in. Sure enough, she had them the next day. In a world full of broken promises, this deed was noted.

Then, on my way back from Quizno's two weeks ago with a work food run, she stopped me at her newsstand and we talked for almost twenty minutes about everything from airport life to how a relationship should be handled. The following week, we had another great conversation near the snack bar where I make my french fry runs.

Of course, this was noted by the personnel there (the same ones who tried me out with Raquel in the summer), and they did their best to matchmake again. This time, numbers & emails were exchanged.

This time, it worked.

Sheila's generosity knows no bounds, and she says it's the way she was raised. Someone must have overheard my mother's theories on life! Sheila is 25, with a great personality, a good mind on her shoulders, a good heart and oodles of affection (beyond physical). In the only two weeks we've actively talked, she's shown me that affection & caring more than some girls I'd been with for two years.

There are those people who are into finding new mates just for physical compatibility. Without friendship & trust, that will just fall apart. Many is the time I would encounter friends kicking themselves & asking what they'd gotten into. I must admit I fell into that trap a few times; that being part of the price you pay for trying to learn "street-smarts".

Not only have I tired of the age-old "game playing", I was tired of rushing into things without knowing where I was going. People have their whole lives ahead of them no matter what their age, and life is not worth shortening into a couple minutes. Too often we believe the previously-mentioned "Madison Avenue" mantra, which pressures people into acting NOW, without thinking about THEN.

"Do first, ask questions later"? This really doesn't work if you're out for total life fulfillment. Houses & automobiles may be cited as the top huge investments in life, but a relationship cannot be held lightly: it's just as important. It's the rest of your life you hope to be spending with this person - not just one night or one week. Do we see why there's so much distrust among people in general this day & age?

Sheila, by being herself, has made the past look frightfully funny. She is now showing me that I wasn't the oddball at my age who thought relationships & friendships could be enduring without the peer pressure. Some may consider me "dated" by wanting my ideal relationship to resemble my dad & stepmom's. I saw so much warmth and humor in their relationship when I visited them in May. Why do so many couples wage constant wars over wages, wandering eyes, and physical incapacity?

In Sheila, I see a real person, a loving person, a generous person. A person who bailed me out yesterday when my car had given out and, not only drove me home at her suggestion, but drove me to two banks to get my paycheck handled, without question. You had to be there to witness it, but my ideal view of a relationship was reflected right back at me and all I said was, "Ah-ha!"

See, I'm not so stupid. Even my roommate told me, "Don't lose this one." For him to compliment me on anything would stop the presses.

The only press I want to stop is the one that says game-playing invokes interest among couples. Good relationships can still be had.

And maybe I've finally found my own. Patience has its own reward. May I keep winning with this one!

... and the gift I couldn't

Ah... on the other hand, what procrastination will do to you when you end up not finding something you may have promised another person.

Since a sports t-shirt I was looking to purchase for my father is likely out of print (coming out just after the World Series), I can admit to its description:

It had logos of the four pro sports in Detroit, adorned with the line "Detroit: City Of Champions"; in reference to the Tigers' successful 2006 season, the Pistons' 2004 NBA title, the Red Wings' recent Stanley Cup wins, and... and...?

That's where the punchline comes in. The football logo is X'd out with the caption "Nobody's perfect" underneath it. This shirt literally had my dad's name on it as he is one of the many Lions fans who may never know what it's like to win. What does it tell you that he was eleven years old the last time they won anything?

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* I have to count 2006 as being the year of the latest Indian Summer I've ever witnessed. Forget yesterday's all-morning rain which dampened outdoor plans; a morning temperature of 54 degrees will keep the furnace happier and keep one's outlook on life happier. In the span of four hours, everything changed. When I got up this morning, my outdoor thermometer read 34 degrees. With that howling wind threatening the power supply here, I'm surprised that reading wasn't proceeded by a dash.

* That howling wind is nothing in comparison to the typhoon that hit the Phillipines yesterday, with wind gusts to 165 MPH. The islands, of course, are where my roommate Steve's fiancee lives. He is understandably worried, as he's lost all phone & email contact with her. Houses there are not built as sturdy as they are in the States, and he is concerned that her family's structures will not be standing, lest we think even worse.

Now I may not be on the same page with him on various issues, but you never wish natural disasters on anyone. My thoughts & concerns echo his: despite who it may be, that person is still a human being who shouldn't have to witness Mother Nature's wrath in most damaging ways.

Attack of the coat hangers

The above is a cheap reference to a vehicle that is otherwise described as being held together by duct tape, squeezing every last use out of it until it can't push anymore. An old New England proverb that my friend Pam always uses comes to mind:

"Use it up, wear it out; make it do, or do without."

Well, I've done all the four when it comes to my stupid car today, and the fourth one keeps biting me where it hurts.

Two weeks after the car originally took a dump on me, it's done so again with the same symptoms it had before. For sanity's sake, it better not be the darned starter again. Irregardless if I could get it replaced for free this time; shoddy repairs that don't last two weeks will not add to my trust level of the car. I ended up being seven minutes late for work yesterday, and my thin ice on that issue continues to weaken. It took a literal vote of confidence from the supervisor for me to get through the day.

Then my friend who got me the car said he had a 2000 Ford Taurus he could get me, with only 60,000 miles on it. I shuddered at the price, even when he told me the truth: to get quality, you have to pay for quality. I'm still scared to spend too much for quality because people in my situation have been burned plenty of times before via word of mouth. It's likely a mutual distrust of society and the people who occupy it, but personal feelings about safety must be observed.

Today was payday, so car fixes & transportation arrangements will not be a concern tomorrow as they were today. I just have to get up earlier tomorrow and be better prepared than I was today.

Farewell to Maddie

Since June, I have been riveted to a tender, yet gut-wrenching human interest story in the Detroit Free Press detailing the struggle to survive for seven-year old Maddie Trudel, a victim of bone cancer.

The stories in this series, written on & off since June, wonderfully portray the thoughts of a loving, caring father as he adjusts his life to his beloved daughter's condition; sharing her agony, and also her little triumphs in life. Maddie's father defined the term brilliantly: as great a dad to his offspring as you will find.

Maddie lost her battle with the bone cancer on Sunday, with services held yesterday. And the Free Press didn't disappoint with their last story in the installment. Written from the heart as were the others, it brought a tear to my eye.

In a world and in a newspaper always filled with bad news, these stories stood out. Readers actually had a feeling they were there in the house, hospital, or Disney World with Maddie & her father.

The media seems to make a "made-for-TV" movie out of every life story that's sensationalized. If one were made of Maddie, it would be one I would watch. My blessings to her and the family - she is reaping the joys of eternal life now with a smile on her face.

You can link to the latest article here. The page also features links to all the other articles in the series (in the grey sidebar).

Turn the compass around

So much for looking out west.

I have currently changed directions as far as my job search goes thanks to my father, who has been proven right for what he says is the second time in his life.

The old job which I had originally wanted to try out for in the early 1990s has come up in two Massachusetts locations with the help of Monster.com: one in Dexter and the other near Hyannis Port: that of cable access coordinator for Comcast. So now I go from the west coast job search (which looked futile at first) to a possible east coast job. I always knew I had to go to one of the coasts to find something.

Comcast was even notified of my interest in the posts faster than I imagined. I filled out the sample resume on the site just thinking I'd be creating an account, and then fill out a job-specific resume when I had the chance. But an email popped up yesterday saying "Thank you for your interest." Wow.

As far as television production goes, I still have no shortage of ideal references. I just wish two of the people I did most of my work with were still living in the area. One is in Chicago working on a local station; the other is still in training to become a lawyer. The two of them became part of my life during my three years as a most-active volunteer. And by "most active", I mean I was at the studio more than they were!

I started out just like any other volunteer there: showing up when they had a production to shoot. But they became so used to me as I was trained so well, they would sometimes go for an extended lunch break and I would end up doing some of the projects myself. My parents would always complain about the experience being unpaid, but it did directly lead to the job I treasured most of all from 1996-1998.

There was some turnover in the coordinator's position at Comcast while I was there, although I figured I was out of the running: they wanted a bachelor's degree & I never got past an associate's. Now an associate's is all Comcast Massachusetts requires. They listed about 20 different duties & requirements, and I qualified for nineteen of them (the only one I missed: robotics experience).

The three coordinators I knew best weren't totally into what they were doing. Paul became a lawyer; Rob had too much of a social life to be serious about his job, and Colleen just wasn't a people person. Comcast would be getting someone totally devoted to the job and the people involved. I'm the guy, after all, who can't stand working ten minutes' overtime at the airport, but would be restless as local cable technician during the holidays, wondering why I couldn't go in.

I keep a realistic opinion about my chances. But any headaches I would endure in moving, how to get there, etc., would be well worth the self-recognition I've desired for years -- not to mention (finally) use of my degree I worked so hard & enjoyed so much getting.

Bush & Lions: Something in common

Another Lions football game, another Lions loss.

Another Lions loss, another (head coach) Rod Marinelli press conference saying "this team is coming together."

Another Lions loss, and another week that people wonder why CEO Matt Millen hasn't been canned long beforehand.

As an average person, you can be sure that watching the Lions every week is a wretched waste of time. The constant losing has not watered down the fan base, amazingly enough. They do talk about organizing marches, or leaving in the second quarter of games, or wearing opposing teams' outfits in order to take a stand. The passion is there and the audience still fills the seats, although some of the comments regarding their 2-9 start this year are getting agonizing - for the ones doing the commenting.

What international instances are reminding people of the Lions conducting business as they do? That's right; the war in Iraq gone horribly wrong.

Take away video of two press conferences between President Bush & Millen; you'd swear they're interchangeable. We know the war in Iraq is going to kill thousands more people unless the president changes the course & breaks up the troops. We know that will not happen - but we hope for at least some concedement that things aren't all beans & gravy.

It doesn't happen: Bush says we are winning, they are getting the people trained, violence is down, and the public shouldn't be saying anything. People wish it was just a bad dream, but it's reality.

The Lions don't warrant a story as serious - yet it's pathetic all the same. Supposedly, they're playing well (uh, dropped pass or sack), they don't get the referee's whistles (ten penalities a game will do that), and watch Millen in the 2007 offseason try to draft another wide receiver.

What's the common link? Both people say things that antagonize the viewing public, making them turn red under the collar, while both men portray the look of innocence.

There' s a reason there was a party change in Congress, and all Lions fans hope for a good reason to change parties (owners) at Ford Field in Detroit.

Until then, there's only so much hair left to pull out no matter which issue interests you more.

Health & decision update

The all-year sinuses, dizzy spells, and fear of spreading germs earned me an early trip home from work today. Coupled with a free off-day tomorrow and my regular off days on Wednesday/Thursday, this will give me 3 1/2 days to decide what to do about short-term life.

I do apologize for yesterday's entry, if it seems to be so bitter. But when you live paycheck to paycheck like I do, you tend not to be the most optimistic person in the world. Mind you, I don't label myself as pessimistic, but "realistic" these days, and fear of failure is always realistic. If I dwelled on it too much yesterday, please forgive me.

I have much cleaning & organizing to do, plus many people to talk to - not just the doctors. I have to know where my next steps will take me.

Gas research forthcoming

In the near future, I will be doing more research into a favorite subject of mine, gas station history. However, I will be profiling more of what's out there today as compared to yesteryear.

Considering the constant fluctuation of gas prices, I've wondered recently why the price displays don't go LED or digital. I've seen some stations change their prices three times in one day - and most always with an employee using one of those sticks to move plastic numbers around. Especially in frigid weather, why subject the employee to the elements just because gas became more (or less) valuable?

Were the gods listening to me? I doubt it, but there are two or three service stations around me now that are going the red LED route. Isn't it easier to control price displays with a remote control? You'd think many stations would have caught on by now... but a Google search into display signs turned up NO photos of digital displays. I guess they're not as popular as they should be.

This would be my only admittance that some modernization of gas stations is needed through time. But I still prefer the old friendly service stations. Those people my age will remember some of the great ones, including Texaco, Boron, Sohio and others.

But who's in charge of naming these places now? I can understand off-shoot brands & independent owners. But some of these names strike a nerve: "WOW!", "Fusion" (when seen from afar it looks like it reads "Tucson"), and the worst one I've seen yet: "Welcome".

Can you imagine these companies demanding royalty payments every time the words are used, LOL? It's no wonder, as I've said before, that petroleum companies are where the money ends up.

Friday's shoppers looked harmless

This was meant to be posted yesterday, but the question still lingers to me: Is it really true that the absolute busiest shopping day of the year is the day after Thanksgiving?

The newspapers make a big deal about this - usually they use front-page hype to promote the new "Elmo" doll (I could care less if he tickles, touches or swears). These articles give you the impression that you HAVE to be there to watch the hoopla, spend countless hours participating in it, and make your wallet ten pounds lighter.

Well... driving around after work yesterday about 2PM EST, I saw a mall that didn't even need their overflow parking area. I used to live near Southland Mall in Taylor, and they had a gravel patch, far away from the building, that they only used this time of year for overflow parking. I live near Westland Mall now, and I couldn't believe the amount of parking spaces available -- even halfway down the aisle. I don't consider this a rush; I really didn't note a drastic difference in car volume.

Then to K-Mart near my house to retrieve the roommate's forgotten items from an earlier trip. In addition to overflow parking lots, I always remembered long lines, and every cashier station open & operating. The K-Mart in Woodhaven used to have nineteen checkout lines, and it was so funny to see all of them operating. This K-Mart has twelve checkout lines, and four of them were still closed! I was in & out of the line in five minutes. These are not the "rushes" I remember.

You can throw out all the statistics the papers throw at you about the economy, and even forget the malaise that is Michigan's economy: if people want to buy, they will buy. Where were the buyers, then -- if indeed Friday was supposed to be the busiest shopping day of the year?

The holiday evidentally has gotten off to a flat start in '06 in spite of what the papers are saying (the papers are lying & sensationalizing -- gee, what a Christmas gift).

Ah, no cooking involved

Happy Turkey Day to all.

As I am under the weather due to persistent sinus & cough, I doubt I will be making it out to see people or to eat a full meal today. This is in stark contrast to the Thanksgiving meals I knew when I was growing up. We'd have my mother's immediate family over every year, and if we were lucky, we'd even get my father's mom over the house. She always accepted the first invite she was given... I think we only had her at the house twice all those years.

I enjoyed watching the preparation of the turkey & pumpkin pie, among other things. Fallen to me, I have not come close to preparing anything as complicated. But I have tried, twice.

The first year was at the Dearborn apartment, when co-workers sprung for me to cook a turkey for the department. The 22-pound bird actually turned out perfectly, although I made one fatal mistake. Though the pan I used was oven-safe, it wasn't your classic covered pan; it was something I picked up for about $4.00, and it bent too much.

Then, splash! All the turkey basting ended up on top of the stove when I took the pan out for the last time. Heck, the apartment smelled a lot nicer for days afterward, but try cleaning turkey baste off a stubborn stove.

Then in 2004, I bought a 17-pound turkey, determined to do things right this time. I carefully recalled all the preparation time my mother had put into it, and even double-checked with my aunt for the cooking procedure. Now I've been accused of rushing the cooking process by cranking the oven up 100 degrees to save time - but we all know that results in uneven cooking. I was to go by the book this time and slow cook it, so it would be the best experience possible.

I had the basting times down to a science: every 25 minutes. So the kitchen timer would buzz every 25 minutes, with the roommate thinking the turkey was done. About the ninth time, I just started rolling my eyes and saying "No Steve, the turkey's not done yet." To this day, whenever we set the timer for anything (even to reset the clock to DST), we both chorus those seven words.

But that story didn't have a happy ending. Despite the slow cook time at a good temperature, the inner workings of the turkey were hardly cooked. We ended up eating fragments of the skin & outer meat while spitting at the flat mashed potatoes. And this was after I found out I never even took the giblets bag out of the damn turkey! I was shocked & amazed it held out in the oven for so long without burning up.

This year? No encore, sorry to say. My parents & I went to a country club one year for Thanksgiving, and I remember complaining we were away from the family and the fuss. My mother reminded me that she needed to relax that year.

Having two, um, interesting experiences with turkey cooking myself, I can appreciate that need to relax.

Pre-holiday fare

* What is it with new electronics equipment these days? We get a state-of-the-art DSL modem just a mere six weeks ago, and in that short time, the circuitry goes defective; costing us yet another week in lost internet time.

To the service provider's credit, however, they did provide immediate service and over-the-phone help. We just wish we could have had the thing Fed-Ex'd over here!

* Everything went wrong for me last week: got in trouble with poor attendance at work, the modem breaks down, and the car went out for three days as $180 had to be put into it for a starter. Every car I've ever had, save the van in the late 90's, has needed a replaced starter. It's not as if I grind the thing to the ground.

Come to think of it, I don't abuse my cars half as much as some people today who insist on being hot-rods. How long do brakes last in their cars?

* Today marks the 43rd anniversary of the JFK assassination. I'm a big buff on the case, and I HAD a comprehensive site linked to the right - but now it doesn't show up. I'll have another link posted soon. In the meantime, I added a few new ones.

In my opinion: JFK's actual assassin may be unknown (Oswald did participate), but I believe the killing was ordered by FBI director J. Edgar Hoover in order to keep (wink-wink) goodwill with crime lords from here & abroad. How else do you begin to explain the coordinated, out-of-character attitudes that all police authority seemed to exhibit on that day?

* Started talking to a real nice girl at work last week - her name is Sheila (same as my older cousin). If first impressions mean anything, she put forth a great one on Monday. She was smiling, asking me questions about my job, what I do for fun, what my plans were for Turkey Day, and how I felt relationships should be best conducted. This conversation lasted for over 20 minutes.

Heck! They wouldn't ask all these questions just to pass the time. There was substance beyond those questions; sincerety as well - plus an offer to hang out & shoot pool sometime. And cue the drum roll, please: Sheila's actually YOUNGER than me!

They say the true relationships that work are the unexpected ones. This came totally out of left field (at least I hope!).

College sport feedback needed

I've recently marked the six-month anniversary of this blog. Things have gone rather smoothly throughout, as I've noticed not much of my material has been biased enough to warrant debate. Not that I'm complaining... but there is an issue I know I'll get hammered for, and I'll gladly accept any challenges on:

Why are college sports getting so much attention, and is it deserved attention?

I know & can appreciate one of the goals that publicizing college sports strives for: to show sports fans who the future generation of pro sports belong to. But I never understood why the hoopla goes so far, especially with college basketball. The season seems to last forever. You would think that seeing Duke win all those games, and teams such as UConn consistently defying odds & getting into the national spotlight were more important than anything going on in the pro level. Does interest in an athlete's talents automatically have to lose viewers because that person is no longer in college?

The headline making the local newspapers most of the week has been the Michigan/Ohio State football game coming up on Saturday. I am always shrugging and saying "so what?" I am more a die-hard pro fan, and my preference still includes watching a pathetic 2-7 Detroit Lions team than to see whether the Wolverines will wind up with a perfect record. I'd rather see a battle for the World Series crown than for the Little Brown Jug. But what do I seem to hear about more? Certainly not the former, with the media having its way.

Your job is to feel free and bash this entry as much as you can, trying to convince me why I should give college sports credit for more than constant front-page exposure and sports show leadoff subjects. How did you go about getting the fever for a college team to where the pep & enthusiasm show more in college basketball stands than NBA stands? Why are bettors more enthused to collect for college picks rather than pro picks? Aren't pro picks the cream of the crop?

It's not a guarantee that any one person or argument will make me ditch the pro gear I wear and go to college pennants. But I certainly would appreciate the perspective of ones who do. Heck, the only reason I wear a Michigan State jacket is to keep warm. Imagine that!

I'd like to give credit where it's due, but I want to know why I'd be doing so.

Consolation prize for Linus

Environmentalists lament about farmland, vineyards, and other fields being taken up by development called "progress". Detroit Metro Airport is no different. Though much of the land to the immediate north & south is vacant, plans are being made to further develop these plots and add to the sewer & utility woes some neighborhoods experience.

There's still some room for farming, allbeit limited. This small area includes a pumpkin patch which is alongside the airport's main route about fifteen blocks up.

It makes me somewhat amazed that as busy & as polluted as the general area is, that there's still soil in existence that's somewhat fertile. But for all the landowner's efforts in planting the pumpkin seeds (not to mention keeping the area from builders), are the efforts worth it?

They had their annual pumpkin pick & sale from around October 15th to the first of this month. I drove by the area on approximately seven occasions, and only twice did I even see any customers hunting around the area. Then today, driving home from work, I saw a pile of almost 100 pumpkins dumped in a corner of the lot: many smashed, others deformed & perhaps diseased.

Simply put, if they will not be used to make fresh pumpkin pie, then what is the point of planting them when half of them don't end up selling?

Or put it this way: Why sell them for carving at all?

I never got into the carving, much as I didn't get into the treats. At a young age, when I saw the pumpkin guts, my stomach turned. How could that "slop" turn out to be pie? And what do we do with the jack-o-lantern we can no longer have because it begins to sag?

Buying plastic props would be cheap and untraditional, but would certainly save some bucks for the consumer by using a reusable resource - not to mention the many pumpkins that could be saved & utilized the best way: the aforementioned pies.

See it as you will. It's likely if you took my word for it, you'd swear Halloween would join the long list of "Hallmark" or "Peanuts" holidays. Just don't tell Linus!

Want a diverse range?

Below I spoke of my love for popular music - all types & all eras.

From what I've seen, most music is typecast by the generation first hearing it. As they go on in life, they lose touch with the music that comes out later. Their music is referred to later as "oldies". I have always tried to escape that "dating" by diversifing my music tastes to accomodate all eras. I have wowed women and friends by showing them samples of what I've listened to. The woman I dated 12 years my senior (Bonnie) last year actually was won over by my liking The Carpenters. Yes, those Carpenters. Hey, they had great songs.

I like popular classic rock, B-sides, 1970s ballads, disco, and big-band 1940s-50s music the best, but will listen to anything once so I can note it. If a band is known for one major song, I'll download their other songs as favorites. The two types of music I will not make a habit of listening to: this so-called "gangsta rap" and any individual song that promotes exploitation or violence of women and children.

Want that diverse range? Here's ten songs I recently downloaded, with release years:

1. Black Crowes/"She Talks To Angels" (1990)
2. Jackson Browne/"She Must Have Been Somebody's Baby" (1981)
3. Celine Dion/"A New Day Has Come" (1999)
4. Vince Guilardi Trio/"Cast Your Fate To The Wind" (1963)
5. The Cars/"Drive" (1985)
6. David Baby Cortez/"The Happy Organ" (1959)
7. Indigo Girls/"Closer To Fine" (1996)
8. Fergie/"London Bridge" (2006)
9. Rolling Stones/"Miss You" (1977)
10. k.d. lang/"Constant Craving" (1991)

Thankful for replay lists

Miscellaneous ramblings on a quiet Saturday before the DAY SHIFT resumes tomorrow:

* This chance wasn't going to pass me by again: I'm a overall popular music nut who has a computer collection of nearly 330 songs I've enjoyed from 1954 (Chordettes/"Mr. Sandman") to even the present day (Jesse McCartney/"Beautiful Soul").

One song had eluded me since the days before automated downloads (8-tracks); one of those annoyingly good songs which sound great, but I knew no lyrics to, no title for, and of course no artist information. The local classic rock station plays it about once a year, which made it more frustrating.

Finally, I caught the tail end of it last night while doing some running after work, finally now with the knowledge the radio station's website has a 24-hour database showing what was played. Just noting the time, I raced home -- found it -- and downloaded it. Now I'm playing it on a continuous loop until I tire of it -- which might not happen today, since it represents a 10-year victory for me!

FYI: Mott The Hoople/"All The Young Dudes" (1972), heavily influenced by David Bowie.

* Weird dream last night; a replay of a playground scene I knew from grade school in the early 80s, with my best friend at the time playing a supporting role. I often wonder what happened to the guy (Brad), who was a football player, but excelled at amateur wrestling and had his career apparently set up to be a stock broker. I've not seen him since 1993 at the mall, though I thought I saw him in 2003 at a media outlet. If it was indeed Brad, the wrestling literally ended up crippling him as he was struggling to walk with a cane. Too young (32 at the time) for that to happen to him.

Amazing, with all the time we spent together over the years, that 13 years have passed. Kids go into school claiming they have best friends, but so often that never lasts long. I always hoped it would, but I guess they've been proven right. It'd be great to get together, too. Hopefully I didn't turn out as bad as he thought I might!

* At least the supervisor at work last night told me he'd miss me on his shift. Doing the best you can for the supervisor counts for something.

The semi-annual semi-annual

The entire time I have been working the screwy afternoon shift, it seems there's no energy left in the tank when I stumble home. As a result, I make a full confession that I'm not the housekeeper I was at one time - but not due to lack of ability.

Okay, you're probably thinking, "A bachelor? Cleaning a bachelor pad?" I certainly got yelled at enough over my formative years for being, for lack of a better word, a pig. When I finally moved out on my own at the young age of 27, I decided I would be more of a cleaner than a "messer".

I remember starting out on my other cousin's house, beginning with the furniture arrangements ("Shouldn't the couch be resting against the wall?"), but then it ended up being general housecleaning. I'll never forget being in a panic just after Christmas, when my ex-girlfriend & her family were to pay a visit for a hastily-arranged holiday dinner. I managed to get the house spic & span through four hours of heavy cleaning, but it ended up taking its toll. And of course, when the cousin came home, she started asking where everything was. Turned out to be a trite embarassing.

When I lived at my Grandma's house, I kept the house clean as she would have, and it drew raves from everyone in the family. There was a sense of family pride in that house along with a lot of history, and that house never functioned as a bachelor pad before. Call it an appreciation of tradition, but I did my best.

The ex-girlfriend's house was a total loss thanks to the population there (two kids, the cats, the iguanas), and the apartment didn't count due to lack of space. The nine months I was there, it looked like a warehouse because I never bothered to unpack much of the stuff.

Flash forward to the house I've been in since 2003. This morning marked the first cleaning of the kitchen crevices in nearly two years. You'd swear I never lived in my Grandma's house. Questions were raised by the roommate about lack of cupboard space to place his food. Now there's no room for complaint: eighty percent of the boxes were junked due to expiration dates (the Science Experiment Society said "no thank you"), and the cans will be next. No one around here eats pineapple anyway, fresh or not.

Back to the question posed before: why clean it when it's a bachelor pad? Again, a matter of pride. As you know from reading, the landlord loves us here because we take good care of the place. Come again?

But with the shift back to days taking place at work beginning Sunday, I'll have more control over my day. And there won't be an excuse left. Family pride from the past will show from me no matter how the living quarters are classified.

Photos by popular demand

Here are some photos that were requested by a blog reader, who asked me about the missing younger cousin in that family photo shown last week. Above is Brian, who was busy playing football when we finally got Susan, the guest of honor, to come outside & greet her guests. This young man is the reason I retired from basketball over the summer. He's tall & lean for his age, but I still have him in height by at least a foot. What the heck is he doing dunking over me? I laugh, but realize the NBA will never hire me for a thing.



And this is Lisa, the airport co-worker (though for another airline) that I've talked about several times here. She's a great friend and good company. This was a spur-of-the moment photo taken basically as a prank. She was on the floor cleaning her desk, but the office chair was indeed broken as well (sign on seat says "Chair Is Broken"). She protested this photo and said she look terrible. Now we all know that's not true. The best smiles are the natural ones, and this photo was taken with lots of laughter; never mind the protests. Just find me a girl with Lisa's personality, looks, and caring nature - I'll be the happiest blogger you can find.

Can't apologize for duties

Last night at work ended up being a wild one. Minding my own business while waiting for my final flight to come in, a cleaning lady with only three days on the job to her credit passed by. I only made note of her badge, knowing she was legal outside, and I went back on break.

Then, a loud "HONK!" I knew this to be a security door alarm and rushed outside. She tried to gain access through a sealed door that had never been opened in the five years I've been there (the door is reserved for emergency sheriff usage only). Obviously due to her lack of experience, she just stood there, shocked while continuing to hold the door open.

I told her to close it immediately, and followed it up with proper procedure: airport operations needed to be called, and she needed to stand by that door until security came to clear her. I obtained the number from operations solely so she didn't have to stand there all night waiting for them to arrive.

My flight then came in and we took care of it. Upon punching out, I found there had been much fallout: apparently, everyone that came to the scene (and by that I mean everyone) gave her the ninth degree, threatened suspension, firing, retraining; the whole nine yards. She was on the verge of a breakdown. I saw her later in the baggage claim area complaining to some co-workers about the incident; awaiting her boyfriend to arrive and take her home, because she swore she was quitting after this incident.

I only hope that if she's thinking along logical lines, she doesn't attempt to blame me. I feel bad for her for the discomfort she experienced.

But I can't apologize for doing my job. If we are to earn a badge and keep it, we have to challenge any unnatural situation or allegedly illegal person. This is the number one thing you are trained for in order to keep the facility secure. If the roles were reversed, I would certainly expect to be come down upon. I would actually have been in a thankful mood for operations giving me the number to call myself, so I could explain first-hand what had happened.

Since I am not actual airport security, I cannot judge the harshness of the punishment they may have handed down. This is totally up to them and can vary depending on the scenario. The responsibility was on them. Call me a "trouble-starter" if you will; but with my actions, I knew I was achieving the exact opposite.

Milk addicts in-training

... And everyone called me a nutcase for preferring milk over beer.

I may have started a new tradition at work. Ever since I worked at Calder Dairy in 2000 & 2001, I have sworn by the products they've made. They're very versatile, offering over a dozen different types of milk, plus orange juice, cottage cheese, sour cream, etc. They are very well known in a limited area of Detroit, but turns out nobody at work knew about them.

They know now. After I get out and vote today, I'll be headed to the dairy to give everyone their Tuesday treat. All it took for some of the workers was one sip of the chocolate milk, and now they keep bugging me as to when I'll get more. I take the orders on Monday and go get the product on Tuesday.

Some have even said they will start boycotting the pop products offered in the vending machines because the dairy provides better products. Better, as well as healthier. Within logical reason, milk can do a lot of good for you. Pop tends to rot the teeth; one of the two reasons I don't drink soda (the other being I can only feel the carbonation in the pop and can't taste the flavor).

See? I may be verafiably crazy, but not always totally so.

Drama unworthy of direction

My career choice (communications/video production) doesn't ordinarily make print unless they're in movie credits. This morning, however, I have to thank the Michigan city of Warren for resurrecting my career from the printed media dead.

As most people in this area know, Warren has been crushed by cronyism and backdoor politics for over a decade now. In an incident aired on city TV October 25th and accessed thru YouTube, we can find evidence of censorship, refusal to follow orders, and an attempted arrest.

None of this involved council or mayor; it involved the head of the Cable Communications department; a post I held for another entity some years back.

To sum up briefly: Each city has its own standards when it comes to cablecasting meetings. Particular in this instance is the audience commentary part of the meeting, where residents are free to address the council with their concerns. Where individual standards come into play is whether the camera shows residents' faces or not as the council is being addressed.

In my teachings, it is not always advisable to focus straight on a face, lest the person be accused of grandstanding & showing up the council. That, however, would be left to the higher-ups to decide & act upon should that situation arise. Residents must be respected, but the council body they elect should be shown that same level. I would "split the middle" and show a medium shot of the council and the person addressing. But I will never shoot the back of a person's head if I can help it.

This was the focus of the last fifteen minutes of the Warren meeting in question, as analyzed here. The resident demanded to be heard and seen; however the image remained in a wide shot where you could not tell who was talking. The council president agreed with the resident's concerns and asked the director for a closeup. That closeup was not provided, drawing the ire of the council. Even pleads & downright demands from councilpeople who walked over towards the cameraperson went unheeded. Shouts were made about censorship & discrimination; the resident requested the cable coordinator be removed from office, and that the cameraperson should be arrested for refusing to follow a direct council order.

That took total guts by whomever was in charge of the cablecast. The coordinator is hired at the pleasure of the council, and is expected to follow city rules & procedures as dictated by that body. A director cannot defy the council, chiefly because they are side-stepping the chain of command. Concerns are welcome, but must be addressed correctly. In being addressed, the director/cameraperson allegedly let profanity erupt, yet muted the sound when the council read the charge of the refusal.

There's no gray areas with government; things must be done their way because it's law. Profanity aside; meetings cannot be censored or cut in any way. FCC mandate specifies that once a meeting taping starts, the taping can only end by conclusion of the meeting, or under extreme circumstances such as power failure (and even then, reasonable explanation can be given). What if the outcry to arrest that cameraperson went through and authorities wanted to examine the evidence?

I'm pretty sure the two crewpersons in question have been cut; if not before now, in the next few days. I know what you're thinking: would I dare venture into a jungle like that? I certainly would.

I'd love the challenge. They need respect & professionalism. And that's what I would bring them.