too little too late


allhell

when…

 

truth becomes fiction

complicit masses unison in mission

facts no longer a friend of reason

and rational out of season

people separated by manufactured ‘isms

not supporting love, encouraging schisms

when the end justifies any means.

then will clap the hidden hands of fiends

 

When all the news fabricated as an active drill on stage

global media, willful frauds inciting hate, fear, and rage

tragic events, gaping holes large enough to drive through

fearful masses jump on-board… there’s no one left to scare, or smart enough to lie to

indoctrinated – children paid a bounty to deny you

 

when sanity and logic lose to implausible deniability

evidentiary facts struggle in undisputable futility

the measure of success is the slowest downward mobility

 

The Kabbalah planted, now its fed and exponentially grows

ugly secret finally bared and now full Monty exposed

when a hint or suggestion of being nationally patriotic

implies treasonous instigator whose borderline psychotic

and the rest are in denial of being mostly robotic

 

questioning authority not just wrong it’s illegal

as dim-witted liars march boot steppingly regal

our new icon transformed into a double headed eagle

 

psychopathic money grubbers pedophilic porno-grabbing

trafficking humans and their organs after all the shooting and stabbing.

when every scam for raping you is utilized once it’s pondered

charitable non-profit means taxes evaded money laundered

when it’s too late to protest the freedom that we’ve squandered

 

too far from the path of righteousness had we wandered

 

those pillars of society you once idolized you now dread

self-righteously wanting you silenced, imprisoned, or dead

that solemn Hippocratic scorned as end-game hypocritical

pharmaceutical slaves swearing an allegiance to metaphysical

its as pathetically hopeless as its parenthetically pitiful.

 

when you’re forcibly beholden to some fraudulent secret oath.

you’re either one of them or one of us, but no more being both

to wake up too painful but the path to ever realizing any growth

 

Hegelian synthesis is that truth is the same as if you’re lying

divide and conquer propaganda the shit they sell that you keep buying

let it simmer then you realize that living means you’re dying

destabilize the masses with a dialectic reflecting off self-serving asses

do as thou wilt’ till good is evil in Satanic metatasis

 

a time when common men and common sense fly out open window

when defenestration sings out the inevitable crescendo

in front page news the Lame stream threat no longer innuendo

 

human empathy, love and hate… what the A.I. couldn’t duplicate

calculating the code and the odds we’d meet our fate

crunching algorithmic probability into trans-human-al-ly great

not understanding that emotion exists only when it arises

the pain on every human’s face no longer wearing computational disguises

 

Analog or digital, particle or wave, truth and/or consequences

the realization that good neighbors are those who’ve built the strongest fences

but the eye of Horus doesn’t see you now that it has extra senses

 

when you realized human history had been made-up from the beginning

and you hoped for some peace but quit making plans on ever winning

realizing it was too little too late to rally in the bottom of the ninth inning

 

 

 

the abomination of desolation or simply sublime disinformation?

gluttonous consumerism became the son of god MONEY’S creation

dissemination of lies, perpetrators become among the exalted

“crime doesn’t pay” the lie too big to fail that finally defaulted

and morally bankrupt laws of freedom the amendment that’s assaulted

 

when everyone’s been chipped, the real becomes the fake

and “quid-pro-quo” translates to “you give we take”

echoing the ignorant mantra of “liars, lizards, and snakes”

 

when our world is sucked into a vortex of perversion, fear, and hate

when there’s no escaping and there’s no more need for that debate

when we’ve spun out of control… what will become of our species and our fate?

and we wake to find there’s no hope for food upon our plate…

 

it’s when surviving extinction has dwindled down to…

                                             too little too late

-30-

things-i-m-afraid-to-tell-you-321337-475-475
but i must.                                    filed.

Re-post: Why Americans aren’t completely into soccer… yet. (opinion)


watermarked_thumbnail

THIS was written shortly after Spain had beaten Netherlands 1-0 in the 2010 World Cup final. It is a re-post, but the ideas are still prescient

You may have heard that FIFA, the governing (futbol) body in World Soccer has announced the use of “goal line technology” to be deployed soon at a pitch near you (or at least in the 2014 World Cup). Its funny, because my ideas (below) caught a rash of shit from the nay saying purists (read: foreigners) who bellowed that it would never happen…  and hell, it wasn’t even on the table back then. I mean, should an American even have the right to suggest changes to this venerable game?

When it comes to Soccer, Americans know nothing, right? But does America really  hate “the beautiful game”? Soccer is the second most popular sport by participation among children under 15 in the U.S. Our Women have dominated the sport for years, becoming the most dominant team in any international sport. Is it long before our men catch up with the rest of the world and make a WC finals? Probably, but give us another 12-16 years and…
2010 FIFA World Cup South Africa (video game)
2010 FIFA World Cup South Africa (video game) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

2010. I’m American and a soccer fan.

Unfortunately, I’m already feeling withdrawals from the thought of four years of semi-hibernation sans-soccer about to commence.

Like many soccer fans I watched most of this year’s World Cup, read a ton of internet articles, and listened to this year’s flavors of talking head, who all weighed in on “the beautiful game” and America’s ambivalent attitude towards it.

Though I’m not an expert by any stretch, I am a fan who has watched soccer from the outside for many years. I played American collegiate soccer over 30 years ago at a Division 1 college in Kentucky, though back then the game was nebulous as to the meaning of “American”. Like many American college teams, we were a collection of decent foreign players and renegade American sports athletes who for various reasons no longer graced their once chosen sport, or who had played high school soccer at one of the few schools who fielded a team. I was an ex-distance runner with average soccer skills who was recruited on-campus after I decided to forgo my track scholarship. After graduating, I played club soccer in North Carolina for about 10 years. Now, my experience comes exclusively from my thousands of hours addiction to playing video game maker Konami and EASports PES and FIFA soccer on my PS3.)

What changes are needed to create more fan interest in the game here on American soil?

Besides America actually winning, American sports fans care about two things in sports: excitement and fairness. World Cup watchers got a first-hand look this year at how the lack of these two things can drive Americans crazy, and perhaps keep us from embracing the world’s most beautiful game. In fact, the World Cup has been rife with “cheating” in the past, in the form of egregious “flopping”, sometimes changing the complexion of the entire Tournament. Scoring? Oh my. Last year’s final was a 1-0 affair with the winning goal (Spain) softly rolling off the goalie in the side of the net after a gentle Iniesta nudge. But was it boring? Not to anyone who actually watches the game with interest.

I personally don’t like penalty shootouts and don’t feel they are the best way to find the real winner of matches. I like better the Golden Goal rule where the game is played on the pitch until one team scores… then it’s ballgame. Also, weaker teams can play for a tie in hopes of winning a shootout. Playing to tie makes it much easier to actually end in a 0-0 tie, giving the weaker team almost a 50-50 opportunity.

1. Scoring –

People all over the world love GOOOAAALS, yet Americans are criticized for their “lack of depth” because they want to see more of them. To say that Americans under appreciate the richness or unseen nuances of soccer is to trivialize our ability embrace sporting value, without giving serious thought to the underlying issue. Long gone is the day when to be an American at a world soccer event was a curiosity. I’m tired of apologizing for our soccer to the world, and listening to people from everywhere tell me how we just don’t get it.

It is true that I found the Spain-Netherlands game the most exciting game of all even though the final score was 1-0. The final game may have been a let down to many, but isn’t that the way finals go many times, with over-expectation? The entire event was a low scoring affair, as it is many times when quality teams play one another.

The problem with this as I see it; unless there are changes made we are doomed with 1-0 or 0-0 finals forever. Great teams are not about to give up 2, 3, 4 goals in today’s game, and two great teams…well…?

The world wants GOOOAAALS!

During the World Cup I heard all kinds of opinions concerning America’s attitude toward soccer, many of them ridiculous. If America thinks soccer is boring how do you explain our obsession with baseball? If it’s just that we can’t understand the game in its’ totality, who is going to tell our women, who are the most dominant sports team in the history of International Sports?

FIFA, the governing body for International Soccer must agree that scoring more goals is important to the future health of the game, and not because of the “stupid” Americans. The Jubillane (ball) was introduced at this years’ event for one reason: more goals. It failed to produce.

I suggest that the goal be made two or three meters wider and a meter taller to allow for more scoring opportunities with well placed shots. Many goalies today are superior athletes and can block even the best aimed, most twisting and screaming shots, resulting in many games being decided by fluke goals or lucky, but weak chances. It also means that there are more terribly bad shots because of the increased pressure added for the low margin for error. This is not how sport is supposed to work, and I suspect many Americans sense it.

Why not give these great athletes a better chance to display their talent to the world? A great shot should be just that… an untouchable missle blasted just outside the even the swiftest goal keeper‘s reach, something rarely possible in today’s game. Even the final WC goal by Spain was knocked down before landing softly inside the goal. I dare say more goals roll into the back of the net than ripple it.

With a slightly larger goal there will still be the finesse of the flip shot in one-on-one situations as goalies will adjust to the larger goal area with earlier, more aggressive charges in order to cut down angles. Forwards and halfbacks will try slightly deeper shots once again with hopeful success; something rare in championship soccer today because of the evolving skill of today’s goalkeepers. a larger goal means the game will not be considered over when a team goes up by two or three goals,unlike it is today. The “hope” of scoring is just as important as the notching the goal itself to the fan of soccer. I think FIFA should give everyone more hope.

2. Officiating –

I am continually amazed at how many sports governing bodies have been able to ignore the onslaught of new technology when it comes to officiating. It seems that human officials have become the “sacred cow” of many sports; the one thing that must not give in to change. Frankly, I don’t understand the value proposition. What good reason or reasons are there for not getting more accurate results in a sporting event? The 2010 World Cup was an example of how protecting the purity of a sport may also be how to eventually destroy it. Game after game missed calls affected or potentially affected outcomes, leaving one to wonder at times which team was pre-destined to win?

Having played competitive soccer I know that every game endures bad calls and good calls, some favorable and others not. It is sometimes very difficult to identify the offender and the offended in a physical game like soccer where neither player owns possession in a strict sense. The World Cup officials were criticized for many calls which were made that might not be questioned in a regular contest. The magnitude of the event rightly or wrongly leads to magnification of every call and the WC officials are somewhat always in a no-win situation. Yet, at this year’s Cup, it seemed yellow cards were shown to players for simply playing hard, and even worse: Hollywood style faking by their opponents. Video captured these moments to FIFA’s embarrassment several times during the competition. Yet, there was no make-up call for the actors and the tragedy unfolded in horror for those falsely accused and their fans.

In soccer it is mandatory that calls be correct near the goal (inside the box) due to the excessive severity of a penalty. Time and again video replay busted the official calls or no-calls in the area, one of the most debilitating events which can happen to a team in soccer. Though the officials didn’t prejudice one team, they missed calls on every side.

Hey FIFA, what’s up? Can you explain this…?

Is it merely cost that stops FIFA from using video to insure that teams and titles aren’t lost simply over bad calls? Is it time? Techno-phobia? Why are we so entranced by humans who are only all too “human”? I could go one here forever, but I’ll constrain myself to this:

America will never love a sport where such contradictions exists. Yes, we hate to lose badly, but mostly we hate to lose unfairly. And who wants to win a Cup marred by so many blatant mistakes by officials? OK, you won’t hear any Spaniards complaining, but that’s about it. There are a number of teams this year who could say that the whistle cost them a game and maybe the Cup.

I hate crybabies in sports and believe that the mistakes somehow seem even out over time. But I think FIFA owes the sport a better deal.

FIFA should “embrace change”, America’s mantra of the eighties and nineties when we finally convinced ourselves that technology and change does not always mean bad. Almost every industry experienced game changing rules at record setting pace as technology advancement forced us to reconsider our most cherished and hallowed traditions. In sports we witnessed technology’s effect with a wary eye and slowly made changes where needed. Golf, one of the most traditional sports lengthened and re-designed courses to offset better equipment and stronger players. Basketball keeps moving the three point line and reducing the shot clock. Baseball built bigger parks and limited ball and bat technology…Every sport has had to re-evaluate and make needed changes to enhance and maintain their core value.

I think some limited use of replay has a place in soccer RIGHT NOW, not next time around. It’s imperative to get the calls right and to keep the game honest if America is to participate on every level. But for this to happen changes must be made, if only in small increments. FIFA seems to be unmoved by the controversy but changes might help America’s attitude toward the game improve.

Evolution has taught us that life, the world, and the universe is dynamic. Small improvements over time lead to larger overall positive results. Listen up FIFA!

Nowhere did it exclude the beautiful game of soccer.

-30-

I picked Holland over Spain in the final of my ESPN Soccerpick fantasy bracket based on a junk “home-team” theory I developed when I realized no African team was strong enough to win it all. My other picks were pretty good too, except for one glaring mistake: USA. Even though Uraguay won my WC when I played a completely computer driven WC Simulation with PES2009 on my PS3, my heart said USA would make the final four this time. Never listen to your heart when picking sporting event winners. You can check out my picks (mostdiggity) at http://games.espn.go.com/knockout/en-us/frontpage.

In 2014 you will see USA escape the Group of Death after Beating Ghana (finally) and tying Portugal and Germany. The USA will advance one more game before getting Gobsmacked by Spain. Germany (I think) is destined to advance and spoil Brazil’s party, then beat Spain in the final game 2-1 for their 4th World Cup win. I was in Germany in 1990 and 1994 when they were at their strongest. Germany plays like a fine uh… German Automobile. With precision.
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18 COMMENTS

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THERE ARE 18 COMMENTS. SHOW SPEED READING TIPS & SETTINGS ↓

I do agree with better officiating but….
I don’t think we need to have higher scoring games, that’s just ridiculous and takes away that intense feeling that these players can score at any minute. I think what Americans fail to appreciate is the fact that they can score at any minute, instead of having the mindset of “when are they going to score”. A lot of my friends were very bored by the final, but honestly I thought it was good solid game, it was physical, it had the right momentum, and it all culminated in an amazing shot. If you can watch baseball, why can’t you watch soccer? that’s one of the most baffling points that I also fail to understand. I do think that people are becoming more and more interested partly due to the FIFA and Pro Evolution Soccer Games, It tends to teach people the basic rules, strategies, statistics, things Americans love, but often misunderstand.

by TerpsAllTheWay on Jul 12, 2010 12:31 PM EDT actions
I think everyone who was watching learned just how amazing a 1 goal game can be when landon put the winner in against Algeria. I’ve said it many times, so i guess i’ll say it again, the reason soccer isn’t wildly popular in America isn’t because Americans don’t like soccer, it’s because theres such obscene amounts of money to be made with football. Why? because theres a thousand opportunities for commercial breaks during a football game. Soccer has precisely 1 break for commercials. ESPN and the like will pay attention to soccer during the summer when sports are slow, and they’ll pimp the EPL because it’s on early in the morning, and they have nothing else going on at that time so it’s better than nothing. But when college football or the NFL is available? You’ll never see the big sports networks get behind soccer, theres just not as much money to be made.

by GKINMD on Jul 12, 2010 2:19 PM EDT actions

Premise of the whole article is wrong
MLS is having great attendence – up 10% in a down economy that has MLB down 2%. TV ratings for MLS are even with NHL when put on comparitively accessible tv stations as well.

Records were set for American viewership of WC’10 South Africa. With all its time zone differences and what-not it was the most watched World Cup in US history.

So if this is going to be the best year for the domestic league, and the best WC why are we claiming that Americans don’t care?

I am not a Supporter | I am not a Fan | I am a Sounder
Sounder At Heart
by Dave Clark on Jul 12, 2010 3:20 PM EDT actions

I think one way to can increase scoring in soccer is to eliminate the offside rule. I don’t know how controversial this would be, but it seems like it would do the trick.

As to officiating, I think having one ref for each half of the field (they’d both be on during play) would eliminate some of the bad calls that seem to happen simply because the ref was far away and couldn’t do anything about it.

Hockey Blogger at Pensburgh.com
by GoPens! on Jul 12, 2010 6:25 PM EDT actions

Eliminating offsides
would change the game in a horrible horrible way, the game would suffer sooooo much

by I need more Esteban on Jul 13, 2010 10:19 AM EDT up actions

Yes, slow ass piss poor defenders would no longer be bailed out
by Cool Dudes on Jul 14, 2010 1:32 AM EDT up actions

Seriously?
slow ass piss poor defenders? How about the offsides trap? How about cherry picking? Offsides is intricate to fielding a good game. What fun would it be if someone just stayed at one end of the pitch and continuously fielded balls after a long kick? That would make the game terrible.

“I will never have my best season,” Brian Dawkins
“There are no limits. There are only plateaus, and you must not stay there, you must go beyond them.” Bruce Lee
“This fucking game is over!” Chuck Bednarik
“Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth” Mike Tyson
by Talon Talent on Jul 15, 2010 12:41 AM EDT up actions

Yeah, the “offsides trap”
A defense that rely’s on the proficiency of the linesman to actually be competent AND see perfectly to ensure that a goal is not scored.

Fucking brilliant! You should coach France! You would be great!

by Cool Dudes on Jul 16, 2010 12:37 AM EDT up actions

wow didn’t realize you could simplify it so easily.
The offside trap is not without risk as a perfectly timed ball will leave a defense watching the cleats of a forward as he streaks for a one on one opportunity. It may not be a “brilliant” defense, and yet how often has it saved a team? Anything that works as well as it does might very well be considered brilliant.
And it also amazes me that with everything I wrote there, the only thing you could dispute was the offsides trap part of it.
Simply put, soccer without offsides would be terrible. If you are looking for high scoring games watch basketball I hear they score like 80 points on average or something.

“I will never have my best season,” Brian Dawkins
“There are no limits. There are only plateaus, and you must not stay there, you must go beyond them.” Bruce Lee
“This fucking game is over!” Chuck Bednarik
“Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth” Mike Tyson
by Talon Talent on Jul 16, 2010 10:59 AM EDT up actions

Dude
There’s not enough time in the day to dispute everything you are saying that’s wrong. I just concentrated on the funniest part.

by Cool Dudes on Jul 16, 2010 2:46 PM EDT up actions

Nice. I take that as victory. Thanks for playing

“I will never have my best season,” Brian Dawkins
“There are no limits. There are only plateaus, and you must not stay there, you must go beyond them.” Bruce Lee
“This fucking game is over!” Chuck Bednarik
“Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth” Mike Tyson
by Talon Talent on Jul 16, 2010 10:04 PM EDT up actions

I disagree and disagree. Goals should be a treasured event. The scoring of a goal in soccer is one of the best moments frowarded to the players and the fans watching. It is because they are harder to come by. I mean if the goals were coming by the handful who the hell would want to be a goalie for the sport? All the attention would be put on forwards (as it often is now) and at the core of humanity is the need for recognition and love. This is why offensive players are usually more coveted in every sport. if anything soccer gives the defenders a more equal chance to shine.
Instant replay for soccer is always and always will be a bad idea. To put it brief (because I already explained it in Disappointedleafs fan World Cup Controversy fanpost) The fluidity of soccer can not be messed with. The momentum part of soccer is so crucial and Instant replay would take that away completely.

“I will never have my best season,” Brian Dawkins
“There are no limits. There are only plateaus, and you must not stay there, you must go beyond them.” Bruce Lee
“This fucking game is over!” Chuck Bednarik
“Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth” Mike Tyson
by Talon Talent on Jul 12, 2010 10:04 PM EDT actions

disagree
only in part.

I definitely agree that the fluidity should not be messed with too much but there HAS to be goal-line replay and replays on offsides when they involve goals.

You will have an official in the booth who watches a replay and relays the outcome to the head official in a matter of seconds. This would not mess with flow by any means, in fact, it might speed things up because you wouldn’t have to wait as 6 players argue with the official. This is 2010, you can make these things happen fast.

by I need more Esteban on Jul 13, 2010 10:23 AM EDT up actions

Somehow the NHL seems to be able to recruit goalies and keep their players from taking a smoke break during goal reviews
Not sure how they do it. Maybe we need some sort of secret Canadien technology.

by Cool Dudes on Jul 16, 2010 12:48 AM EDT up actions

The Final Was the Most watched soccer match in U.S. History with a record 24.3 Million Tuning in.
by TerpsAllTheWay on Jul 12, 2010 10:59 PM EDT actions

Agree or Disagree
This was a well-written post.

I don’t think I can jump on board with the widening of the goal. Like many have said, the rarity of goals are what make them so special when they do happen. What more Americans that don’t like Soccer need to realize is that the excitement of the game comes on opportunities to score. With every cross into the box of the opposition, you hold your breath that this could be the one that loses you the game, maybe even in the first 10 minutes! That’s why every minute matters and every opportunity is so special. When Americans that don’t enjoy the game realize that they may jump on board.

But hey, not everyone likes every sport and that is fine. I just wish our society could get past hating so hard on soccer. There is not a sport in America that more shit is talked on than soccer. Although, I do know a lot of people that hate pretty hard on baseball these days. I live in Kansas, though, so I run across my fair share of bumkins who throw out, “err soccer is so f’n borin’, let’s go watch us some g’damn Nascar!
End rant on that.

Agree with you about technology. Get with the times FIFA. I said it above, but goal-line technology and technology on offsides involving goals should be implemented in some ways. I mean the goal that England didn’t receive and the goal that Tevez scored on the non-offsides call were inexcusable. Do it incrementally, experimentally, just do something.

by I need more Esteban on Jul 13, 2010 10:31 AM EDT actions

If Soccer Had Just Been, or Was Just Being Invented
You would be totally correct. They made the goals too small, the advantage the goalie has using his hands over players using their feet is too much. But the goal is the size of the goal and I really doubt that will ever change (except perhaps as a good way to break a tie in extra time).

But, I really think there are some less drastic rule changes that could be made. A ridiculous number of goals get called off because of the offsides rule, and a lot are really borderline calls. I would really like to see offsides become more of a zone rule not unlike what they have in hockey. The intent of the rule is to prevent poaching and continous longballs, but it wasn’t well thought because a lot of calls are made after the ball is already in the box, which really makes no sense. I would really like to see this rule changed.

While the size of the goals may be sacred, I really don’t think the offsides rule is very universally loved and people would be far more willing to change it.

by Cool Dudes on Jul 14, 2010 1:39 AM EDT actions

No…
I think that the majority of Americans would watch it. But they refuse to watch it out of fear that they might like it. And that is enough for them not to give it a chance.

The Once and Future King
by FlaGators on Jul 21, 2010 3:53 PM EDT actions
Comments for this post are closed, bro.

what goes around comes around


Daddy-hood sort of caught me by the nape of my neck.   In the summer 2004 I was surprised to learn that… like it or not I was going to become a Father. Whoa!… after 50 years I had long decided against and avoided that (to me) unfortunate scenario. But, fate had chosen another route for […]

Russ not-so-diculous Smith… Man of The Year


Image

I’ve been a Louisville fan since growing up in the South End there in the late 1960’s. In those days Wes Unseld held down the post while Junior Bridgeman (oops wrong year… it was Butch Beard) drilled bombs that would now-a-days be NBA threes. I was also a Kentucky fan back then, as my limited scope at 11 only suggested that both teams were from my home State; and for me… that was good enough. I cried after the 1966 Finals when Kentucky lost to Texas Western. It was the first televised game I had ever seen (if you call a 13 inch B/W TV using rabbit ears at Rough River with fuzzy reception actually “watching”). I remember Louie Dampier and Pat Riley playing well, but Texas Western was loaded with quick athletic jumpers who cleaned nearly all of the glass. No matter how hard we played T-W was relentless and refused to reliquish an early lead. They shot 38 free throws and made 24, while were 11 for 13, because we could not stop (Calipari’s Don Haskins Dribble-Drive).

I could not then, nor do I now understand the hatred that exists between the fans of these two highly vaunted programs at (UK and UL).

Since those formative years I’ve remained a spectator and college basketball fan, eventually forsaking football, baseball, and other sports to concentrate on basketball, and found new love… in playing soccer. After college graduation one generally finds that career and other diversions tend to implore us not to spend so much discretionary time on sports. Somewhere along the way we should also gain a certain “adult” perspective that allows wins and losses to affect us only in “momentary” situations, without changing our personalities or affecting our priorities. I can remember once thinking (as a Cleveland Browns fan), “what if they win the Super Bowl this year?”

My internal answer came back solemnly… “well… you’ll have a hangover at work the next day. And then, it will all be over as quickly as it unfolded.” Of course, I never got to test my theory on Cleveland.

But, I’ve always known that the special UL/UK hate was limited to the fans, but not the players. The players, for the most part all respect one another and truly wish them well when not in direct opposition with one another. This last week, I was incensed after reading a Louisville fan blog, where a number of (so-called) humanoids berated Russ Smith’s game against their hated rival Kentucky. It is the epitome of classless, spineless, little man complex to even suggest that Russ Smith ISN’T the epitome of college basketball. I mean, holy sh&t, without Russ Smith, Louisville wouldn’t be on the map this year?

If I could have traveled through cyberspace I might have strangled someone. I wonder how much sweat these slugs must have lost watching Russ make a mistake or two? The nerve! And I hate to report that this kind of attitude is more commonplace than one could reasonably imagine. I witnessed Kentucky fans dropping  wholesale after every disappointment this year, creating more Calipari is crazy conspiracies than David Icke does aliens are living next door. Now they’ve had to order a new fleet of “bandwagons” to accommodate the repentant.

Of course, as we advance both in age and financially we become further removed from the “good ole days”, as our lives settle down we find time for watching sports again; if only to harass our friends over drinks, use travel games as party excuses, and/or make idiotic blog posts about our two-time First team All-American’s deficiencies. Albeit, we do all this with the same passion and nasty vigor of our youth, unless by then we’ve learned anything about real life. But then, sports chatter using facts and figures can also be fun, even when all you want to do is watch from the couch with family and friends and berate the commentator (I mean homer/hater Doug Gottfried).

hater-2355

The last few years though, I have experienced a gnawing ache, which seems to grow as I follow my favorite teams on the internet on TV and in the news and through internet blogs. Admittedly, (and duly embarrassed) a couple of years ago I began to engage my acute sense of wit (my description of course), knowledge of the game and its history, and uniquely blatant in-your-face writing style to have some fun tormenting those brain-farts whom I felt were less informed about the game I love, or were just plain trolling ignoramus’ who apparently make a life out of denigrating other teams and their fans.

 I can honestly (no self-efficacy here, huh?) say that when it came to words-a-cuffing, I was/am/can be the Mohammed Ali of heavyweight lightning factoid-icule. For awhile I got a kick out of out belittling (some unknown to me poster) with a twisted sarcasm that only I seemed to be able to produce in imaginative volume. For awhile, I admit it was fun…

Yet, it was internally hollow, and I soon tired of out-lambasting some teenager or sock-puppet who could barely spout, “my team is better than yours”, or wax philosophical about some ridiculous straw man argument, whom I quickly leveled with a few light jabs and then an overhand hay-word-insult-maker, landing him on his back not even attempting to answer the keyboard beep.

I particularly loved sparring with more intelligent fans (unarmed with my modestly? over-the-top imaginative hater vocabulary); unfortunately they too sometimes lacked the Ali-dance-cleverword-shuffle or even the hack-a-fact, and I found myself mocking them before finally throwing a swift combination Ali would have marveled at. Canvas. 1-10. Boom. K.O. Next…

It was easy especially if you’d ever read Darrell Huff’s book, “How to Lie With Statistics”, the most widely read book on quantitative analysis ever written. And if you’ve happened to have read his sequel, “How to Tell if Someone is Cheating With Statistics”. then…BOOM! Tysonian.

Thankfully, those days are done-skeey and I lament remembering some of the verbal beatings I gave. Almost…

Occasionally I can and do get drawn into a minor word wrestle with a formidable foe (likely because they have said egregious ignorant things with uncommon pride and arrogance instead of understated objectivity) whom I sense cannot go the whole fifteen rounds… even though I recognize my latent memory is beginning to escape me .

I’ll set ’em up with some obscure factoid, wait for the bell of my chosen round… then simply wind-up-round-house them before they can type, “Google”. Trust me, I had to learn a plethora of one punch put-down lines in Louisville’s South End growing up and I remember most of them.

But, I swear it’s ONLY because I hate the hater…

 …and so I dose ’em with a dash of high-test-hate-o-line (then an throw uppercut to the super-ego with a lit match thrown in for good measure). BA-BOOM!

True is dat. But this a confession, even if it sounds arrogant, because I’m sorry… especially after what Louisville’s Russ Smith has recently taught me.

The following statement by arguably the best player in the nation over the last two years exemplifies the notion of

CHAMPION

 better than I or anyone could ever express with any brand of kindness or venom.

THIS IS WHAT EVERY COLLEGE FAN SHOULD LEARN TO RECITE.

 Russ-not-so-diculous is, as of now my ALL-TIME favorite college basketball player:

Can anyone find something NOT to love about this guy? I don't think so...
Can anyone find something NOT to love about this guy? I don’t think so…

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Those who play the game (just like MOST OF US likely remember when playing sports), respect one another; it’s the fans who are LAME. Stop it you friggin’ idiots! It is a game. You have to work tomorrow either way, so STFU… (I know, I know… sure… its the refs fault).

Because in the end sports are about sportsmanship (learning how to win, and how to lose), not winning… and especially not whining like your 7-year old. It’s about enjoying true athletic skill which the common man can only appreciate with a certain awe. It’s about competitive fight, 100% effort, and all without cheating; and learning to LOSE well as well as WIN well. Well?

That trait alone makes one Russ Smith a true hero, and a real man. Those who play the game respect one another; it’s us fans whose ignorance is more than made up for by our lack of intelligence.

I mean, it’s a shame that stupidity isn’t painful…

Image

Stop the hate, fans of whom-ever-in-the-rat-fk.

It is ONLY a game that you ONLY participate in vicariously. Your kids will still have to go to the Dentist tomorrow, so please STFU with the crybaby stuff.

And… unfortunately it is the fans of my beloved State of Kentucky (equally offensive UL and UK fans) who are among the worst offenders. Some of these Neanderthals have professional jobs and careers. I mean, I love Kentucky though I’ve lived in North Carolina just as long, and now Florida nearly as long.

I’m still a UK and UL fan to the bone… because…

There’s nothing like basketball in KENTUCKY. I just hope it stays that way without us making fools of ourselves any more than we have already… well, all of us but those young inexperienced players on our teams… Bye Russ! I’ll miss your style, your smile, and your helter-skelter…

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Is it my tongue, or is a tail wagging the dog?


zemblanity

held my breath
too long it seems
finest place was just a dream
rose to the top jus’ like the cream

but virtuous… a lonely theme
the lies are told through smiles they beam
as curtains hide the actors scheme
gag the truth or it will scream.

you are just one and they are a team
wrinkled shirts will get the steam
so money’s god, but god ain’t green
while power wins, fine ass is reamed.

play or lose you finally gleam
know the truth but go mainstream
but every crack will find a seam
times gettin’ bad when good’s extreme.

-30-

kalopsia

FACEBOOK IT. (A recent comment to friend’s Facebook post about America.)

America? Where is it anyway?

I had a dream that I grew up there, but when I woke up… oh shit!?! I lived in a foreign land that existed only in the minds of an ignorantly deluded multitude, but in the “pockets” of a few greedy intellectual snake charmers with some bizarre ideas; who manipulated us (through their control of the monetary supply-system which they did privately own yet had surreptitiously presented as one being Federally regulated/owned), by using their powerful political, deadly, and financial force to corrupt and control this so-called “AMERICA”‘s political morally bankrupt leaders years many before my birth.

After a cup of Java or two had really opened my eyes and re-started my brain I learned that they had used lies and manipulation to hypnotize the masses into believing that we were living in and freely participating in the affairs of an ethically righteous political Republic; and one whom God had somehow annointed as “policeman to the world” due to our extreme technologically advanced capability of forcing will on nearly every aspect of the world’s populations through intimidation, blackmail, and destruction.

Sad that I had only dreamt about America’s greatness instead of actually having existed in an honourable country espousing freedom for all who wished to FAIRLY and HONESTLY excel through individual effort, determination, and innovation like I had been indoctrinated to believe…

I retreated, to the only real and local environment that I truly felt I could trust and love… my family and a few close personal friends.

So here I am… and here I’ll stand.

-mostdiggity

raiseawareness.gif-1 - Copy - Copy

The Real Deal?


The REAL DEAL?

The REAL DEAL is fair…feeling not better or worse than anyone, but rather sees the world as a somewhat level playing field where balance rules a life of give and take.

The REAL DEAL is one who understands that everything must stem from and lead to equality; that his own perspective is but one of an infinite number of possible perspectives, all clouded by their own personal histories yet just as valid and important as his own. Being real is neither superior or inferior.

The REAL DEAL gains knowledge from others but earns wisdom from within. He does not expect to be given anything for free except the respect that he freely gives to everyone.

The REAL DEAL is one who understands that he is solely responsible for his own self-predicament in life, but also understands the complex and fickle nature of luck, timing, and pro-active behavior, which can all lead to his ultimate success or failure. In the end he accepts himself and takes any blame for his mistakes in life.

A man who doesn’t use material things as barometers for success and happiness, and instead sees them as unreliable measures which are at best self-indulgent ego-symbols; The REAL DEAL values close family and interpersonal relationships as a more meaningful predictor of feeling and finding true self-worth.

But The REAL DEAL understands how images are real and important and must be paid some attention. The REAL DEAL is more giver than taker, but feels equality is best served by a near equal exchange. He doesn’t keep the score, but instead senses it and honors others on his mental scorecard. In the end he never owes, but instead is always felt to be owed by many.

The REAL DEAL stands up to be counted in plain view, who does not coward from any situation or person, even those who may see him as an adversary. He does not cringe before any person, despite their size, title, or social status.

The REAL DEAL does not ever honor violence, but sees how nature supports it as one of her own children whom she still loves despite its sometimes abhorrent behavior. He would not intentionally hurt anyone, unless defending himself or those he loves, or meting out some deserved injustice.

The REAL DEAL is passionate about many things, who appreciates the natural beauty in all things. He is a part of and is made of parts as all things are. His is a “holonic” existence.

The REAL DEAL rarely apologizes as he understands how every action stems from a conscious motivation of fairness and goodness that he refuses to stray from.

The REAL DEAL looks everyone in the eye, never seeing through them or seeing his own reflection, but sees everyone as an amalgamation of a person who has experienced the good, the bad, the beautiful and the ugly.

The REAL DEAL has an acute sense of awareness and feeling using a keen developed sense most humans have not developed, mainly due to their harried daily existence. This sense stems from a mental ,ability to do great mathematical calculations, without realizing he has done so.

The REAL DEAL does not deny nor accept the existence of God as fact, simply knowing that semantically speaking God can be many things to many people. He also understands how philosophy, art, and the sciences can provide a positive working framework for his existence, without the need for a God.

The REAL DEAL can forgive and forget, yet he never forgets those who are unrepentant. He might sometimes punish those whom he sincerely feels are purveyors of evil and destruction. This arises from his keen sense of equanimity, not hate.

The REAL DEAL is always… for real.

A letter to Dylan Thomas Adams-Brace


Dylan,

You wanted to know what it means to be The REAL DEAL?

Being REAL is acknowledging your mortality, but not succumbing to the negative vibe which we learn from others throughout our lives.

One cannot know anything about life unless one understands that by living, one accepts dying. Don’t deny- rather embrace that fact. Experience your subtle perceptions of pleasure and of pain as lessons in living. Examine your inner feelings, get to know yourself. Be who you are and want to be.

Any critique of anything you make is only as good as your understanding of how opposites need a counterpart for their own existence, their own survival. Thus any comment on good or great is dependent on your experience with bad and terrible. Lose the hate and embrace everything as your personal playground. Try to always feel yourself in the moment.

Being REAL is being thankful for your existence, whatever that is. Its all you’ve got. Learn to laugh about it. Enrich it with lasting love and friendships, and especially family. never forsake another person in need or seeking your help. Someday, you may reverse roles.

Awareness of self and of your own individual agenda as a human of good moral character is key. If you always stay true to the moral creed I’ve tried to instill, you will never have to remember what you say or how you act, as you’ll know that you have nothing to regret. No apologies will be needed. You are being you through and through, and that’s good. As my good buddy-man Tipster likes to say, “if you’re right, you can’t be wrong”.

Having and developing a keen sense of propriety, common decency and equality with everyone is important no matter what your or their station in life or social status. Or age, gender, creed, code, or religion… as it will serve you well throughout our life. You can’t read a book by it’s cover.

Being REAL is being ageless, and though you may comprehend the basic natural order of things, never succumb to pre-destined rules of order or mindset that needlessly limits openness, creativity, and love; yet neither should you worship youth as perfection. You are my greatest example of that premise since I was twice your mother’s age and look at what we produced together.

The entropic forces of time may affect physical beauty, but never assume this is related to better or worse. It is an entirely separate issue.

Your personal truth can only be found in your own personal life experiences, so cherish every moment and find your way on your own time… and make your own path if needed despite the brambles, bushes, and briars. You can follow or lead, or like me prefer to create your own path. The choices for you are all REAL and pertinent in your ever expanding journey through space/time.

Above all… Have fun and enjoy! That’s REAL.

DadFuture

The Human Race


race

I listened hard and watched the best. Secretly I’d one day be their litmus test. Late hours and freezing rain could not depress, the drive inside my lifelong quest. It wasn’t easy but I never faltered, the success I worshiped, on effort’s sacrificial altar.

On the day of reckoning, my mind prepared from daydreams of winning. Imagined moments never shared, except a mindless grinning. The fear of failure came nowhere near, compete and win my simple mission clear.

Nervously I toed the line, emotional tension outside-in sublime. I lurched ahead right from the go, then pushed the pace they wanted slow. Some seemed worried and took the bait, others doubted lay back in wait; on my demise they had sealed their fate.

Feeling strong and so relaxed, I stretched my lead never feeling taxed. While I saw turtles they saw a hare, as I blistered laps through the cool night air; on a record pace I had laid my dare.

Seemingly on a gun lap cruise, in retrospect I must have somehow hit the snooze. But glancing back at second place, he was so far back and wore an anguished face.

The crowd all stood with deafened screams, half o’ lap to enjoy my living dreams. That I glanced left is in retrospect my error, sprinting past my right was a nightmare terror.

Sheer momentum surged him in the lead, Read More »

the sound of one hand clapping?


Ask the question…
get the answer
it is true

do the math n…
add it up n’
feel it move

on the mountain…
in the valley
of the shrew

there’s a moment…
in the garden
at the zoo

smell the textures…
taste aromas
that you knew

hearing colors…
making noises
every hue

take your socks off…
taste a drop of
morning dew

time is wastin’…
for the many
and the few

you can’t stop it…
in the church or
in the pew

snowy blanket…
out your window
fresh and new

dusk is falling…
to the darkness
cold and blue

warm your fingers…
build a fire and
drink it too

take it inside,,,
feel the power
light a room

you bear witness…
to the knowledge
gift it too

breathe the lightning…
light the city
that you choose

U B IT

N IT B U

N U B… schmoove

teach the children…
every moment
never rue

n there is money…
n there is happy’
n they are two

there is love for…
all the children
at the zoo

when you feel it…
share the wisdom
you once knew

you were it and…
it was us and we were 2

I am paper…
you are scissors
we are glue

they are them and…
they are us and
they all grew

in a pot of…
everybody
it’s a stew

tasting sweet and…
tasting perfect
tasty brew

tasting now and…
tasting then and
someday soon

taste like chicken…
it’s a worldly… barbecue

when you live it…

you don’t eat it

it eats you

all the memory… all the knowledge → bursting through…        

you were it and…
it was us and
it is new

on the doorstep…
no more waiting
come on                           → through…                      

-30-

 

I confess I guess


The first rule of law.
Part One of: Philosophically confused… Confess, I guess.

Read the book Dress for Success so I did, I guess

Wore expensive clothes drove nice cars lived at the right address

Now some days I don’t shave or even wear my best

I’m aware that it works for me not for the rest… it don’t impress.

When I undress I feel no less, not a naked unsuccessful mess

So that’s all fair, I guess. More or less. I Confess.

I like to think I do more with less

I do with less than I did with more, I guess. More with less.

In me there’s a big ticking heart, a time bomb in a treasure chest

It’ll burst if I get too stressed, so I don’t worry and I don’t press,

Go straight ahead and don’t regress, without duress I guess. No less.

Invest less time making money than making love, oh yes. I Confess.

Once met a girl who had some great big breasts

We had some fun, and… well, you know the rest.

I like sex more than I do less, but with us more was less I guess. I Confess.

She liked sex more not less, and though I loved her yes she could be a pest, more than less.

To my ex with the great big chest; your’s may be fake but I ain’t… depressed, I guess.

I was in a zone you a full court press. So less is more, I guess. I Confess.

Say I ramble or I digress, but I suggest a point to this ole mess, I guess. More or less.

U can travel East or you can move out West, build a great big house or small cozy nest

Work real hard and fail life’s big test, but cheat yourself it’s you who you’ll detest, I guess. I Confess<.

Eat my WORDS and if you do ingest, when it all digests

you’ll know for sure that I DO NOT jest. I Confess. 

Upon my death I have this one bequest:

“Do what makes you happy, try your very best with all your zest

You’re in a game that you can’t win, but you cannot lose unless you choose, I guess.

So, more or less at my behest I ask of you, Confess.

Give thanks for each new day for each new moment for ALL your life, and when you do… you’ll be blessed
And I guarantee that its never less, and its always more than you could guess. To that I do hereby…

Confess I Guess…
humorous-quotes-sayings-job-done-deep-work (1)

Vida después de su muerte mi amigo


life after their gone my friend

Written a few years ago for a friend whose boyfriend was suddenly killed in a bike week motorcycle accident. I too was struggling through a recent sudden loss, making the moment even that more poignant… I thought I had lost the poem, but found (some of) it in a file drawer the other day.


life after their death, my friend

Sitting here by Kimberly’s grave
thoughts turn to you and Tony
life too short for both of them
our grief the testimony.

Who lives or not whose choice it be
or just the dice who say?
does God play poker, or is he the Joker
is it black and white, or grey?

And who am I that thinks of you
does a mirror speak the truth?
etching names in granite destroy the planet
isn’t uphill downhill too?

Does our narrow vibration on this playing field
prove that we “exist for real”, or only “sense” we do?
manifesting our love not by, “they’re dead and gone”
but “they live in our hearts and will see us through?”

And don’t we create our own version of real
realizing ourselves… in all our think, our say, and do?
Yes, we’re exactly who we think we are
and there’s part of Kimberly always alive in me…

and I think… always some Tony… in you.

No Method, No Guru, No Teacher…my Epiphany


…Or, my Quest For The Holy Grail, which I eventually did find by spending a life of studious observation, sometimes deep serendipitous thought, gawdy mis-informed and unabashedly arrogant fun, a dash of inordinate happenstance, and then… by the most fortunately-unfortunate of Accidents…

It’s no secret to those who know me well that I’ve learned life’s greatest lessons with a kind of “ridiculous oppositional defiance”; with that line of thinking having been one of my life’s greatest teachers. Though I now bow to it as my master of destiny, I cannot recommend this course of study to the faint of heart, weak of mind, or anyone who CANNOT become completely convicted of it’s arrogant, self-righteous path of expectorating the most resistance between any two points in the continuum.

In other words, if you have to be brought to your knees and dragged kicking and screaming before some of life’s simplest concepts, then… you may be considered a candidate for my school of thought. Admittedly, there ought to be a better means to attaining wisdom. But as has been for me; NOT.

Moi?

Self indulgent… yes. Self centered… definitely. Self defeating… mostly. Self aware… acutely. Self serving… without question. Selfish… morally bound by it, yet in a positive sense. Self-hatred… never and not even for an instant. Self-Actualized… I like to think so. Self motivated… once upon a time…

“WTF? Whoa… what happened Diggeratti? Why? I mean… your Dudeness, you kinda sound to me like you need to see a shrink. You don’t sound like the guy I once thought I knew.”

My retort?

“You know what? You’re absolutely right. I mean, about that last part, but if there’s one thing I DO KNOW FOR CERTAIN, IT’S THAT I DO NOT NEED A SHRINK. Got it?”

For all of my known life I’ve searched for “the secret” to it… (that being, the secret of life).

I have never divulged this story to anyone in it’s entirety, though perhaps I’ve shared small morsels to some close friends along the way; but only here and there and never enough for anyone to frame a complete picture of my personal Quest for that Holiest of Grails.

I can remember my fourth grade teacher calling my parents to request a parent-teacher conference because I was “the most argumentative boy she had ever had the displeasure of teaching.” She reasoned that I thought I knew more than she did, and that would just be the height of stupidity. Of course, she was right on all accounts.

Fourth graders HATE the idea of being told they’re wrong. And sometimes they are RIGHT, but they can’t say why.

But hey, did I let that stop me? “Uh-uhn. No sir, Not today Miss Smarty Pants. Not me. Nada. You can’t embarrass my little ole’ butt and expect to  get by with it.”

Fourth grade was a rough year for me.

Looking back, it was the year I framed the questions, and then demanded answers. Yet, no answers were forthcoming. But still I weathered on…

Having grown up on… let’s just say… not the bright side of the road (a lower middle class blue collar too many kids neighborhood), and being a tad small for my age group, I HAD to learn how to defend myself amongst the sea of bullies and general fuck-wads of Louisville’s South End, while keeping the blood flowing inside my nose.

I mastered the art of “holier than thou” with double-edged insult and crafty innuendo, tough guy talk (but not too tough as to result in fisticuffs), and then finally making friends with the biggest and toughest guys so as to keep the multitude of snapping sharks at bay. Still, I was not immune to an ill-advised attempt at busting some ass myself, which generally resulted in my own busted ass. Yet, I drunk it all in and I learned something new every day.

But not the reason for my existence.

Somehow god smiled on me around high school and I became a high school sports star (distance running), bringing glory and fame to my hood and school and earning exalted status amongst the good guys and neer-do-wells alike. Life, all of the sudden got a tad simpler for me.

I run. I win. They love. All good.

Now, I wasn’t an “A” student at any point in my young life, preferring to glide instead of propel. Though from my earliest days I can remember, too many times some school person informed my parents that it was a bit unusual that I did not make straight A’s given my way-above-the fray IQ. On standardized tests I invariably scored in the 98-99 percentile while dragging home C’s and B’s on my report cards.

My parents, who were more than all-too ready to indulge me in whatever it was I might happen to desire at any moment, were extremely smart uneducated folks. They used logic and reason (and pots and pans) to argue their many disagreements over the pettiest of issues. They were never bitten by the bug of glutinous consumerism, and were just happy enough to love their children immensely, while still not setting the bar too high for them; I assume to somehow insure our future dog-eat-dog worldly success. It worked.

The moral of that story has to do with familial LOVE in it’s most raw, unconditional sense.

So… anyway, I had devised my own little secret quest by around 7th grade. That not-so-small idea was: that I was going to find out for certain what our/my purpose was on this here little-ole spinning ball of dirt sitting way-too-far away from billions of way bigger balls as to be arrogantly considered of any significance by even the most unreasonable of minds in all of mice and men.

Having spent 10 years attending Catholic School I was absolutely certain that they (Roman Catholicism) were so full of shit that even a little fourth grader couldn’t buy into their baloney ass stories. I mean, by fourth grade I had already surmised that getting into heaven simply meant winning the genetic lottery. No god of any denomination could be that stupid, I figured.

My questions became arguments with seemingly (at the time) much smarter people early on, but I wasn’t about to shut up until they told me the truth. They never did. Nor did I ever STFU… and I realized far too soon to be considered healthy for any young mind that “they” (conventional wisdom) hadn’t the slightest fucking clue. To be sure, I wanted some REAL answers!

But, that little hate-show of mine disappeared once I became a high school sports star. I was too busy buying into the BIG LIE because it was fun, exciting, sexually conducive to my screaming testosterone, and material worldly attractive as a MO-FO to a guy who grew up thinking that a new pair of white high top Chuck Taylors was the ultimate gift in all of heaven-kind. Possibilities were becoming boundless and I was soaking in the poison and drinking it up like a lap dog with a new doggie bone.

Then came College. The Life. The Audacity! I had more fun than fourteen barrels of monkeys and forty-two barrels of single barrel malt Bourbon Whiskey, any Kentucky boy’s drink of choice and one-upmanship. And, it was the mid-seventies so pot was collegiately legal as well. It seemed that the world was here to become my personal oyster, and I had the munchies.

Or was it?

Post College. The BIG BUY-IN to THE BIG LIE. Now here’s where there are men, and there are boys on our puny little thin crust of oxygenated Garden of Once-Upon-A-Time Eden, soon-to-be Sodom and Gomorrah. (Why I do love me some Biblical quotation and/or reference!). Which one did I want to be? Take a guess. Go on, git’ you one. Oh, I’m all man… babeeey!

For sure, at this point in life’s roulette wheel of fortune one can either JOIN or NOT JOIN. Not Joining will surely NOT get you the keys to the best and finest of anything. Better to JOIN if you’re in the least enthralled with power, pussy, money, fame, highly limited material items, world travel, bad golf on the finest green lawned courses, or all other humanly delusions of grandeur. Boy, I liked ’em all. If there had been a Facebook Page for them I could prove it to you right now, and they just might wish to then, “like” me back.

But then, I digress…

Some folks who caught my flash thought/think they knew/know who I was/am. I played my part like a virtuoso for them all to see and marvel about. And, I might just add in a bit of total narcissistic self-immersion, I marveled at my damn-self a bit too. Deep down in me I felt a growl. Buried under my own self-image of worldly greatness there still lay that little unfinished business of a secret quest. But, it by then had had gathered much dust.

Truth be known, when I first learned of it, I denied its existence completely, blocked it from my intellect, refused its admittance into my panopoly of raging-life-parties. Yet, I somehow felt it was always standing just outside my door, peering in my windows day and night. But, it dared never knock at my door! Denial.

After all, I was by then a star of my own astronomical proportions. Call me space man. But, please call me so we can figure out what it is you can do for me, OK? And guess what? Me being all that I could possibly be, there was likely a shit load that I could do for you too. Mutual astronomical greatness we were! The vaunted “Win-Win” in the solar system cliché ridden parlance of the day.

Now, it can also be said that in most “core value” ways I have never changed one single iota, nor would I have ever considered it as worthy of my almighty damn-self to do so. After all I had eclipsed Mt. Olympus and now was considered by a small group of people (me, myself, and I) to be of the very essence of the gods.

Tru-dat. But alas, it was NOT to be.

I rumpled feathers every step of the way up the ladder of ascension to material worldliness and ironical self-absorption. If it reeked “the best” or “most expensive” I was all in. If they said “no”, I demanded “yes”. Good was no longer acceptable. For I was all about GREATNESS.

During those heady times the elusive answer which I did faithfully seek since childhood remained elusive, yet it began to slide uneasily to the forefront of my mind and studies, as I read hundreds of books containing both new and ancient wisdom from every perspective on every subject. (Crazy enough, I did all this  while driving many long hours almost every day in my profession for over 20 years).

I eventually came to the ultimate truth in an odd way; since not one book that I had read contained the answer (unless one considers “Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors” by Carl Sagan). That book stunned me to my core, and tied together various newer ideas in physics and philosophy. So then armed with Carl’s brainy wisdom, I eventually figured it all out for myself. But, still I wasn’t at all certain. It was just too simple.

Though it would be remiss of me not to mention that there had been a goddess driving my chariot during a near 20-year span of semi-marital bliss, it would also be imprudent and essentially wrong of me not to say that herein the first cracks began to show in my own majestic glorified godliness.

So… just when the gettin’ was gettin’ absolutely fabulous, the bottom sorta fell out. Plunge.

I had sunk to committing the most egregious crime most men seek out with an unworldly zestful appetite… adultery. Ungodly for sure. Un-Saintly, yes. Most un-Diggity, for certain.

On the surface infidelity may sound a bit trite to the accomplished reptile.

But here we had a man-god who had built his god-self-reputation out of all things pure unadulterated integrity. His own self-image was now rendered a literal a sham of the highest immoral degree. Having long since vanquished the various world religiosities as total and absolute frauds, I now had only to rely upon simple humanistic ethics.

Almost too sleazily human, I proffered.

Now un-deification of oneself requires a re-start of sorts, not to be confused with a do-over or a mulligan. Starting over from scratch. Ground fucking zero.

To further muddy my suddenly stormy world, I apparently was caught in the eye of a nasty hurri-karmic cyclical deluge of sorts. In fairly quick succession I weathered the deaths of my sweet (nonnie) grandmother, then my loving mother, and finally my always you-da-man dad. A personal tsunami of epic proportions. Fuck an el-Nino… this shit was bad. All wet and no place to hide.

And like a fine motor yacht that has been cut loose from its moors, I drifted out into a raging, foamy sea.

That world, the money-as-god-everything world from which I had laid the foundation for my existence, and then had built gold brick upon gold brick with my own golden sweat was nothing but a thinly veiled house of cards. It was THE BIG LIE.

The good news was that within these unfortunate events lay the definitive answer to my long sought after secret to my existence, which I immediately NOW understood all-too-well but all-too-late. I won’t say that I was elated, but I was way smarter and wiser than the fool I had left behind me.

Family…

That’s the secret. In the end your family is the most important reason for your living and being. Mine were now all dead, save my two “the real deal” better-than-me, wiser-older, childless sisters.

It seemed that almost every fool on the planet but me had known the simple secret, and all without knowing they knew it. It was just ALL TOO SIMPLE and all-too-humanistic.

But seriously, if one does consider science to be a revealing and enlightening subject, a cursory review of evolutionary history will belie my point over and over and over and over again. Read it and weep. Forget Deuteronomy. Learn the history of life.

Family. It’s what we live for, it’s what we die for, it’s what we strive for. Was I too little too late?

Suddenly, like some drunken riverboat gambler aimlessly pulling slots who haphazardly strikes THE BIG JACKPOT, I stumbled into an epiphanic episode of REAL TRUTH, that one which I had previously been loathe to avoid.

In fact, I was rather brought kicking and screaming into this ultimate reality bite (see above)… at almost fifty years of age; I was becoming a first time dad whether I liked it or not. At the time, I had rather not.

Oh my!

But then the very moment my newborn son was placed in my arms and our eyes connected I was forever lost then found by life’s highest order of it’s highest order of it’s highest order of all things sacred and TRUE and GOOD. Pure previously unfathomable, but now undeniable unconditional LOVE. I swooned. All of life’s past, present, and future shook me, rocked me to my very essence… oh my!

My purpose. My reason of reasons. Bang! Bow! Biff! Yeah! Oh yeah! YES. A primordial orgasm that gave its fiery commandments to me with my giddy consent… and like Moses I looked around for my tablet.  And lo’ Brother and Sister, I sayeth unto you; god-life hath honoredeth me with the highest joy ever beknownst unto all of mankind. The heavens were exalted!

My “family” secret. Solved.

Happy ending? I think so…

Word.


I know, I know, rhyming poetry is lame, Couldn’t help it…

I’ve felt the fire and walked long in the rain

Heard the loudest thunder, and I’ve seen insane.

Been to the mountain and back down again

Run up the steepest hills that seemed to have no end

But then coasted down ‘em my back to the the wind.
 

I know the deepest love, and I know the highest pain

I’ve been the best and I’ve been the bane.

Shared my honey while on the gravy train

Been beat by many and I’ve beat the same

Lost with odds in my favor an’ sometimes won the game.
 

I’ve said here I stand and I’ve said I will change

Almost around the world and home again.

I’ve thought I was wise and I’ve known I was lame

Looked out my window across a wild free range

Then caught in traps, like so much trappers game.
 

My lessons learned are my lessons plain

Black is white, white shines through his name

What it is I couldn’t say

But you can stand on the sidelines or you can play

Just kiss each new moment, and hug tight to each new day.

-30-

Sometimes I even imagine it can be me:


Image

Most who know me well know that I have a penchant for some unique, self-styled “poison pen letters”. It’s just that sometimes I feel that some ugly things NEED to be said in order for me to maintain my own Howard Roark image (see Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead) of myself… a true individual who will not trample on anyone, unless they trample on me. A man who knows who he is and who he is not and not afraid to stand up and be heard.

But, the real me, I also want to think is like the man in a poem that every SAE fraternity brother learns to recite during initiation.  Of course, its only my thinking but not always my being this perfect man.

It’s not a secret, so I’d like to share it here. I cannot count the times these words have inspired me into some actionable cause for righteous good. Each sentence, every word is beautiful, precise, and altogether on-point.

Sometimes I even imagine it can be me:

The True Gentleman

 

“The True Gentleman is a man whose conduct proceeds from good will and an acute sense of propriety, whose self control is equal to all emergencies; who

does not make the poor man conscious of his poverty, the obscure man of his obscurity, or any man of his inferiority or deformity; who is himself humbled if

necessity compels him to humble another; who does not flatter wealth, cringe before power, or boast of his own possessions or achievements; who speaks with

frankness but always with sincerity and sympathy; whose deed follows his word; who thinks of the rights and feelings of others rather than his own; and who appears

well in any company, a man with whom honor is sacred and virtue safe.”

– John Walter Wayland. Virginia, 1899

Almost broke? Like Water off a Duck’s Back


Early on in his book Darwinian Revolution , T.X. Huxley wrote a long time ago:

Let us endeavor for a moment to disconnect our thinking selves from the mask of humanity, let us imagine ourselves scientific Saturnians, if you will, fairly acquainted with such animals as now inhabit the Earth, and employed in discussing the relations they bear to a new a singular “erect and featherless bi-ped,” which some enterprising traveler overcoming the difficulties of space and gravitation, has brought from that distant planet for our inspection, well preserved, may be, in a cask of rum. We should all at once agree upon placing him among the mammalian vertebrates; and his lower jaw, his molars, and his brain, would leave no room for doubting the systematic position of the new genus among those mammals, whose young are nourished during gestation by means of a placenta, or what are called the “placenta mammals”…
In the later parlance of today “if it swims like a duck, quacks like a duck, walks like a duck, it’s a duck.”

Always having been labeled a maverick, a bit of a rebel, perhaps just a guy who is wary of organizations, or an independent thinker, I’m a person who can feel comfortable on both sides of almost every fence. But I tend to hold fast to my own interpretations after all things are considered. It is both bain and blessing, but at the end of the day I like who I see in the mirror… but I could be wrong.

I have not always felt that way, and in fact once lost my way under the influence of money, prestige, egotism, and vanity. But, age, wisdom, and lack of financial status has done wonders for my humble side. I rejoice in the lesson, but it was expensive and left a trail of folks I’d just as soon might someday remember me more fondly.

As Bob Dylan has said, “it’s getting’ dark, but it ain’t dark yet.”

My point? Well, just for intellectual discussion, I see our world de-valuing my kind of thinking and holding tighter and firmer to conventions, stigmas, and secular dogma. Are we evolving or devolving our own species when it becomes, to use a worn out cliché; “outside-the-box” to think outside the box? Isn’t that what evolution demands of us? Or does evolution prefer the eventual automaton humans that many feel permeate our schools, businesses, governments, social networks, and societal cultures?

I learned a lot in my younger day from philosopher/writer Ayn Rand, who spoke to me through her perfect world idealism, and glorification of the individual. I naively set about making my mark on the world with little patience for the less physically and mentally endowed, and rose to the top of the heap of every pile I decided worthy of my salt.

It can be lonely at the top (or thinking so anyway), and one tends to peek over the cliffs edge, or through their personal rear view mirror a little more closely as they reach into their mid forties, feeling self-righteously indestructable. If I jump and fall in a uninhabited forest, would anyone hear it?

What many find, as I did, those who are chasing you are relentless and calculating, nothing like my Howard Roarkish hero image of myself, but having values of deceit, dishonesty, greed, unfairness, and other assorted but equally sordid backstabbing notions. I despised people like that. I was cheating on my wife. My mirror cracked.

So, I dropped out of the race, a mistake perhaps, but with an ignorant wisdom not even known then to my all-knowing self-serving self-in-denial self.

I have found that the bottom of the heap is infinitely more vile and depraved, ruthless and selfish as in any other part of said heap. And those on their way up are only interested in what you can do to speed them there with little of their own energy expenditure. They don’t look in their rear view often.

That view from the top that I enjoyed then despised, I finally speculated wasn’t the problem; it was the viewee.

And so, after ten years and as many of my old life’s friends, acquaintances, colleagues, loves, and brief encounters start to come back in focus, I see the bigger picture and smaller picture in a more tolerating light.

Yet, many of them I see still refusing to call the spade the spade, the duck the duck, and we humans a frail but lucky-as-hell species who are not capable of appreciating a whole mountain in our shiny speedy BMW. Only in a comfortable pair of old worn out sandals on a slowly climbing always winding, but nature loving hike to the peak (despite two irascible, whiny children) can one feel the feel, smell the smell of the all-too-REAL mountain.

It’s only then that the top isn’t so disappointing when you get there.

Although Einstein illuminated all of mankind by postulating his Theories of Relativity, and quantum mechanics shows us that reality is neither real nor unreal, particle or wave, people insist on stamping their own brands of THIS IS WHAT IT IS on everything we touch. Answers are sold like goods and merchandise in the name of: SOLUTIONS. Solutions are it.

No, they are not what it is, it is what it is. And only, mind you… to you. And, only now.

And just how is that?

It depends on the observer, and from where they exist at this moment in space/time.  After that, it is only a guess. Every day and everything in one’s life can be seen in this very light… its all relative. Every continuous separate moment our real is lost and gained forever and ever. There is no past. There is no future. There is only here and now for us, individually. Solutions?  Not even Heaven above.

And now’s the time to drop these delusions which make us feel that our future is safer if we will just shut up, say our prayers, and get in-line with everyone else. Rejoice in the uncertainty and the individuality of the unknown. Say exactly what you are thinking to anyone you feel needs to hear it. DO NOT FEAR ANYONE or any situation. Believe in yourself. Perhaps in there lies: A Solution.

And what about our quacking duck?

Materialism is passé. Grow a brain and get a real life. I did. Now I have my own monument on the D.C. Plaza…

That’s me sixth from the back in the Franklin D. Roosevelt Monument for the Great Depression