Don Paré - "Can I just tell ya..."

Sunday Scribblings - #262 - befuddled

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Sun, 17 Apr 2011 15:50:00 +0000

Sunday Scribblings - #262 - befuddled

“So, you go there every year?” I asked her for a second time.

“Yup, every April school vacation,” she answered.

“Do you have nieces or nephews that you take with you?” I asked.

“No, I wish!” she said with her face briefly scrunching up into a disappointed scowl. Then it quickly brightened again and she continued. “It’s usually me and one or two other girlfriends from work that go.”

“To Disneyworld?” I asked for a second time.

I said it as much like a comment as a question, but with the hope that my face didn’t portray how befuddled I was by the whole idea.

“It’s really fun!” She said. “Does that make me weird?”

“No, of course not,” I reassured her.

The words that left my mouth though were not the same as what was floating around my head. “Yes,” I thought. “Being a school teacher in your mid thirties and going to Disneyworld every year for your vacation, with no children, yes, it does make you a little weird.”

I wondered if that really was weird, or if I’d become so cynical from years of dating that I was now like a character on Seinfeld, just picking out things from people to complain about. But, before I could say something to change the subject and give her the benefit of the doubt and maybe even salvage some fun on this doomed first date, her phone rang, blaring “When you wish upon a star” as her ringtone.

“Nope,” I thought. “Weird.”

We made small talk for another 30 minutes or so before I finally told her that I needed to head home and prepare for a big meeting the following morning. As I said goodbye to her outside the pub, and told her how nice it was to meet her, I couldn’t help but feel a little like Pinocchio, expecting my nose to grow at any second.

It was a beautiful spring night in New England, and because I really didn’t have a meeting the next morning, I decided to take a walk around my old neighborhood. I’d lived in downtown Boston for over a decade, but it had been many years since, and nights like this still showed me why I missed it. There are lots of great sections in this old city and everyone who’d visited may have their own favorites, but for me it’s the waterfront, particularly around the corner from the North End. There’s a little well-lit park at the edge of Long Wharf that allows you to watch planes come and go over the harbor, hovering only inches above the see-sawing waves. And leering over your back is the dazzling skyline of the Financial District, tempting you to leave the serenity of the ocean view and head into the liveliness of downtown. I always loved walking through this section at night. All the lights – it shouts “City!”

I planned to walk through the park and then stroll into Faneuil Hall to do a little people watching.

“Josh! Hey Josh!”

“Oh crap,” I thought. I knew that voice instantly. I’d heard those three words from that voice many times, over many months. a few years ago. They were usually followed though by “Can you make me some tea” or “Josh, I just need to get one more brief written. Can you make me a sandwich? Then I promise I’m yours for the rest of the day.”

It was Iris. We’d lived together for about a year, but it felt like ten, and in time actually spent together it may have only been a couple months. She worked, constantly. One Sunday after the honeymoon stage had long since dissipated and I’d tried to be patient and supportive for what seemed like eternity, I gave up waiting for her. Not just for us to go meet our friends for brunch that day, but gave up waiting for her period.

She was in sweat pants and shirt, with a leash in her hand and a tiny dog at the end of it, and a stroller in front of her. She was rolling right for me.

“Iris. Hey, how are you?”

I gave her a courtesy hug and kiss on the cheek and then kneeled down by the stroller.

“Who is this little cutie?” I asked, looking at the toddler sound asleep under a mound of blankets.

“That’s Brittany. Sometimes the only way I can get her to sleep is if I take her out with me when I walk Jonathon’s little dog,” she said tugging on the leash.

“So, you’re married now,” I said. “To someone named Jonathon, I take it?”

“Um…Yeah,” Iris said. “I married Jonathon Silver.”

“Our couple’s therapist?” I asked. “You married Long John Silver?”

“Only you called him that, Josh!” she shot back.

“No…we both did.” I said. “Anyway, whatever, I’m sorry. That’s nice. I’m happy for you. You have a beautiful daughter.”

“Thanks, Josh,” Iris said. “And I know. It is a little weird that I married our therapist, isn’t it?”

“No, of course not,” I reassured her.

But my thoughts screamed, “Yes! Yes, it is! Are you kidding me??”

I needed to end this conversation and get back to the peaceful walk that this had so rudely interrupted. I wasn’t in the mood for the whole “ghosts of girlfriends past” thing, not tonight. But, I was thinking too slowly, or maybe just thinking too much instead of acting, because she got out the question that I wanted to avoid.

“So…What’s up with you?” she asked. “Are you married? With anyone?”

“No, not at the moment,” I said, trying to end it quickly. “I’m really trying to focus on work for a while.”

“Oh, that’s nice. I quit working when Jonathon and I got married.”

“Really? Wow…That’s great,” I lied. “Well, it was great seeing you, Iris, but I gotta get going. I have a meeting in the morning I need to prepare for.”

I gave her another, even less courteous, hug and I pushed on into the park. Once I had turned the corner and was out of Iris’s view, I put on the brakes.

“Screw Faneuil Hall,” I thought. “I need a drink!”

I crossed through traffic and headed up a cobblestoned side street, into the heart of the North End. I needed something with more happy familiar memories. When I’d lived here, The Florentine Café was the place that I would head when I just needed something simple; cocktails and conversation. Oh, and the chance to try to pick up the hottest waitresses in the neighborhood. It had been about a year since I’d been to the Café and I knew that none of the same wait staff would be there. They recycled college students and twenty-something’s there before you could even get to remember their names, which was not a bad scenario back when I was also one of those twenty-something’s. But, I assumed that Pat would still be there and it being a Thursday night, expected to see him behind the bar when I walked in the front door.

“I’m just heading to the bar,” I told the hostess when I walked in.

They keep hiring them younger and younger, I thought. But, if I told that to Pat, he would say that they’re exactly the same and that it was me who’s getting older and older. It would be ironic coming from Pat too, because he had looked to be in his fifties when I’d first started going to the Café over fifteen years ago and he hadn’t appeared to age a day since. He still had the same full head of gray hair and the kind of build that would make even the old school North End types think twice before doing anything stupid in his bar.

He saw me walk over to an empty section of bar stools.

“Hey!” he said with a smile. “Look who remembered how to get out of the suburbs!”

“Hey Pat!”

We shook hands and I sat down on a stool.

“Martini?” he asked.

“You always know just the right thing to say, Pat.”

“Grey Goose and dirty, right?”

“Always,” I told him.

I instantly felt back in my comfort zone. Amazing how a place can sometimes do that. I swiveled around on the stool, taking it all in again. It wasn’t a pub. The Café was half restaurant, half bar, which there aren’t many of in the North End, so as always every table was filled. Other than the two stools next to me, the bar was full as well, and judging by the empty glasses still in front of those two seats, they were probably only recently vacated as well. I scanned the room for familiar faces. There were many, but I couldn’t tell you why any of them were. Until I got to the end of the bar and I saw Rick. I knew why that asshole looked familiar.

“Hey Pat,” I said softly when he got back to my end of the bar. “I thought Rick wasn’t allowed in here. Shit, I thought he wasn’t allowed in anywhere!”

“Yeah, you haven’t been around in a while. You wouldn’t believe this guy now.”

“Yeah, right.”

I looked back down at the end of the bar again. Rick checked his watch and then looked towards the back of the Café, where the restrooms were. Most of my memories of Rick were not from seeing him at the Café, or any other nice establishment. Back in the day, we’d run into him at dive bars, where we would foolishly end our nights, getting one final one before last call. He’d always seem to be at whatever place we strolled into, and he’d always be drunk, and loud, and ready to fight everyone in the bar. The first time I’d ever seen him, he bumped into me on the way to the bathroom and when I turned to see who it was, he’d put his right hand into my left eye and then shouted at me, while I was on the ground, to “Never bump into him.” He got kicked out of the bar that night and most other nights that we saw him. We all kept our distance as much as possible after that, but because of his drunkenness and our frequent meetings, he’d try to buy us drinks each time that we’d first see him, never once remembering how much of an asshole he’d ended the night being each of the previous times we’d seen him.

It was a little strange watching him there in the Café. He didn’t even have a drink on the bar in front of him. And his clothes seemed not only clean, but kind of nice. I couldn’t stop looking at him. It was sort of like the opposite of not being able to look away from a car crash, if that makes sense. But, I’d stared too long and the next time he’d looked toward the restroom, his eyes caught mine when he’d turned back. He smiled, got off his stool, and started walking towards me.

“Oh crap,” I thought.

He was only about five feet nine and a little pudgy, but he’d always been intimidating. I looked over at Pat, who saw Rick coming towards me and laughed.

“You’ll see,” he said, laughing.

“Hey, kid,” Rick said, holding out his hand.

“Rick,” I said. He’d never known my name and I’d never cared. “How’s it going?”

“Look kid, you used to live here a while back, right?”

“Yup.”

“Well, I just want to apologize. I know I must have been out with you and your friends a bunch of times at various bars over the years. I don’t remember much of those times, but I know what my reputation was, so there must have been a good reason for it. So, I just want to say I’m sorry if I was ever an asshole to you.”

“Wow, okay. Thanks,” I said. I still wasn’t sure what to make of this, but thought better of pushing it. “Can I get you a drink?”

“No thank you,” he said. “I don’t drink anymore.”

“Really? That’s great”

“I’m high on love these days!” he said, literally rocking up onto his toes as he said it. “Yeah, I got arrested a couple years ago after I beat up a guy in some bar. The public defender they assigned to me got me off on probation and then she put me on her own probation, for life. I fell in love with her the second she walked into my jail cell. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

I was speechless.

“Weird, huh?” he asked.

“No, of course not,” I reassured him.

An elegantly tall woman in a business suit started walking down the length of the bar and I watched her stop right next to Rick.

“You ready, honey?” she asked him.

“Yeah,” he said. “Nice seeing you again kid.”

“Yeah…” I said. “You too.”

I turned back to the bar, grabbed my martini, and took a gulp so big that the only thing left was the olives.

“This guy found love?? That guy is high on love??” I thought. “How the fuck am I still single?”

“You lost?” Pat asked me. “Why the befuddled look?”

I had been staring into the mirror behind the bar for what was obviously a noticeable amount of time. Right above the bottle of Grey Goose was my face. I’d been looking into those eyes in the mirror wondering if maybe that face knew some of the answers I couldn’t figure out.

“Nah…I was just thinking,” I told Pat.

“And what have you decided?”

“Well. I’ve realized, looking back on who I’ve dated over the years and who I’m meeting these days, one thing is becoming very clear – I don’t think I even have a clue of what I am looking for.”

“But you’ll know when you find it,” he said.

“Wow…that is some serious bartender wisdom, Pat.”

“Yeah, I don’t get out much, but plenty people who do, come in here and tell me their stories. Listen and learn Josh, my boy. Listen and learn. That’s what life is all about.”

http://www.sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/

From writing prompts: "Exhausted" & "Sitting by the pond at my farm on a sunny day"

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Sat, 09 Apr 2011 21:45:00 +0000

Jessie trotted slowly up from the edge of the pond to where Larry was sitting, a paperback resting on one of his legs. She’d looked over towards him a few times during her swim and the book hadn’t moved in quite a while, neither had Larry’s head, which was now pointing up at the bright sun.

She shook her hair around and sprayed her friend’s face with droplets of cool water. He barely moved. His eyes opened slowly and he spoke without looking at her.

“How long have I been out?”

“I’d say about the length of the pond, times two,” Jessie answered. “You look exhausted.”

“I’ve felt exhausted this whole month!” Larry said “March hasn’t been an easy one.”

“It’s April.”

“What?” Larry asked.

“I said it’s April,” Jessie repeated. “Today is April 2^nd.”

“Shit, seriously, how long have I been passed out here?”

Jessie plopped down and sprawled out on the blanket. She rolled from side to side a couple times, letting the roughness of the blanket scratch her back. Finally finding a comfortable spot, she lied on her side facing Larry’s chair.

“Are you still having a tough time with this break up thing?” she asked her roommate.

“Of course I am, Jessie!” Larry snapped. “You know I am!”

“I thought we came up to the farm so we could relax?” Jessie asked.

“I came up here so I could try to relax, but I would have left you at the apartment if I could have, trust me. This is all your fault!”

Jessie turned her head sideways, inquisitively.

“What did I do?” she asked, flashing her best puppy dog eyes.

“What did you do…?” It came out more as a sigh than a question.

Larry laid his head back again and stared up at the sky. The sun was starting to lower, dropping down to where it would eventually appear to submerge itself far out in the center of the pond. He’d seen this happen hundreds of times in his life. He could see it in his sleep. This view, these moments - It was probably the main reason he never sold the farm after both his parents had gone. Whenever he’d been going through a tough time in his life or needed to ponder a difficult decision, it would be to the farm he would head. The same wooden chair would always be waiting for him by the shore of the pond, weathered and welcoming.

“She might have been the one, Jessie,” Larry said. “And you messed it up for me.”

“She wasn’t the one,” Jessie told him.

“You don’t know that!”

“She wasn’t the one.”

“We’d been together for three months,” Larry argued. “I really got to know her. I don’t think it would have freaked her out.”

“She wasn’t the one.”

Larry stood up quickly from the chair, causing it to rock briefly on its back legs before settling back into the indentations in the dirt that had been formed over years. He wheeled on Jessie and shouted down at her.

“Well, you didn’t give her a chance to even find out!”

“Sorry, Larry, but she wasn’t the one.”

“You’ve never liked any of my girlfriends.”

“That’s not true,” Jessie said. “I like Lauren.”

“That’s only because she made special meals for you every day!”

“And I really liked her for that.”

“And I really liked this one for lots of reasons,” Larry said, exhaustion thick in his voice. “You said you would speak to her.”

Jessie rose up onto all fours and walked over to Larry.

“No, you asked me to speak to her,” she said. “I never said I would. I didn’t think she was the one for you.”

He walked away from her and sat back down in the chair.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that now. When I told her that you would speak to her and then you stood in front of her, refusing to say a word, she told me I was nuts and that she never wanted to see me again.”

“See…she wasn’t the one,” Jessie said again. She moved over to Larry and rested her head on his knee. “It has to be the right one.”

“Okay…okay. Fine,” Larry said, exasperated. “It looks like it’s just you and me again for awhile, girl.”

He patted Jessie on the head and watched her tail sway from side to side. Then he picked up her favorite ball, tossed it toward the pond, and chased after her, as she chased after it.

Sunday Scribblings - #260 - Nearly

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Thu, 31 Mar 2011 01:41:00 +0000

Sunday Scribblings - #260 - Nearly

“Shit, you nearly killed us!”

“Well, we’re supposed to go left there,” She said to me, very matter of fact.

“Where?” I asked, looking at the long dark stretch of major highway.

“It said we were supposed to go left about half a mile ago,”

She pointed to the dashboard, towards a sinister little box sitting atop it that was supposed to, in her mind, back up her story.

“There is a three foot high cement barrier running down the middle of this highway for miles,” I said, hoping that she hadn’t just noticed this now. “Um…I don’t see that left has been an option for like six miles now.”

“Well…” she said, again pointing to the – now suspiciously quiet – black box resting just below the windshield.

I stared at the GPS, willing it to say something, anything. Taunting it to somehow man up and back-up its reasoning for making my friend question whether or not she should just whip a hard left on a 2-lane highway, with a 60 MPH speed limit. Begging it to do something other than blink that freakin arrow. Anything. Recalculate, bitch! Nothing.

I looked back over to my friend in the driver seat and told her not to worry. “It’s not your fault.”

“I was mistaken,” I said, now moving forward, putting my mouth close to the GPS, and whispered. “It’s you who nearly killed us…”

http://www.sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/

Sunday Scribblings #254 - A Thousand Years

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Sun, 13 Feb 2011 16:39:00 +0000

Sunday Scribblings #254 - A Thousand Years

A thousand years ago, St. Valentine (work with me here…) and his apprentice Cupido freed the confectioners and jewelry makers from imprisonment. It was a dark time in history. But, aren’t they all. Under the rule of King Ethelred, “The Unready” (whose middle initial was W ironically), son of King Edger, the men had been thrown into jail for trying to create the first worker’s unions ever seen in recorded times.

Valentino seeing the unjust treatment of such skilled men, petitioned the king to set them free. His request was denied immediately. The King said that men were there to provide for the queen and him and would not be allowed to make rules for themselves. Undeterred, Valentino went to the gallows to speak to the prisoners. He told them all that he would continue to fight for their freedom. He promised that until that time, their wives would be properly taken care of. The prisoners were highly grateful, not knowing that when Valentino said “taken care of” he meant sexually, and they all cheered him, calling him a saint!

“I have a plan,” Valentino told them. “The only person that our king listens to is his queen, so we must gain her support. We cannot do this in an obvious way for it may turn against us if the king sees we’ve gone around his back. Therefore, you men, creators of the things that women fancy, must give the queen gifts, but she must think they are from her husband. So pleased with the king’s gestures, she will shower him with affection.”

“But, what will that do for us?” the men shouted.

“We will then go to the king,” Valentino answered. “And tell him that you all are the reason for his newfound marital bliss. I will promise him that if he sets you free, you will provide him with new gifts to give the queen, every year, on this same day.”

The men cheered and began to plot their course.

Jared, the leader of the jewelers, gathered his men and described a design of exquisite beauty – it would be a gift for the queen like she’d never seen before. All the jewelers worked tirelessly for days (fortunate to have all their equipment with them in jail) and in the end they produced a bracelet of linked precious stones, which the men called “charms.” There was one charm for each of the queen’s eight sons. The bracelet was breathtaking and Jared named it “Pandora.”

Godiva, the elder of the confectioners, told his lot that his son Truffle had a recipe for miniature cannon balls made of chocolate. They would make a different candied center for each of the queen’s eight sons.

On the fourteenth day of February, the year 1011, Cupido snuck into the castle and placed the gifts by the queen’s bed as she slept. Valentino’s half-brother, Hallmarkus, had provided the idea for a final touch - a note was also left on top of the package. It simply read, “Love Ethelred.”

The rest is history…

By D Paré

"Pope hailed as 'unfailing' leader at Easter Mass"

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Sun, 04 Apr 2010 13:16:00 +0000

Yup. He's the unfailing (as in not failing to be a hypocrite) leader of a group of close-minded prejudice liars and pedophiles, who’s beliefs, which haven’t changed with the times, are based on a book of fiction. Catholics must be so proud…

On this day, considered a holiday by many, I wish all those out there who believe in religion would stop for a minute and take a look at those core values that are always preached. Get rid of the ones that truly don’t apply anymore in this day and age. Focus on loving everyone, everyone…and helping those less fortunate. Allow the church leaders to marry. And for God’s sake, leave the freakin gays alone…

If there was a Jesus and he were among us today, he wouldn’t have discriminated against anyone - anyone - and he certainly wouldn’t have allowed the cover up of little boys being abused by so-called teachers of his philosophies!

SUNDAY SCRIBBLINGS - #203 - "When Hell Freezes Over!"

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Sun, 14 Mar 2010 19:26:00 +0000

“Lou! Get up!” the small man with the sharp accent shouted, as he banged on the large stone door. “You need to see this!”

The leader of his not-so-free world rolled over in his gigantic bed – a slab of granite lying on the red-clay floor. He raised himself up on his elbows, looked across the room to the door, and screamed, “Go away, Adolf!”

“You have to see this, Master! Look out your window!”

Lou sighed loudly then swung his legs around until his feet touched the floor.

“This better be important,” he said as he flipped the latch and opened his door, allowing his hyper assistant to come scurrying into the room.

“I was deep into a delicious nightmare,” he continued, rubbing his head with both hands, his fingers slithering around his blood-red horns like snakes around a fence pole. “I was out with Manson’s gang again last night and I need to finish my resting time.”

“Look!” Adolf said, pointing to the window.

Lou raised his eyes and the skin on his face tightened. Even from twenty feet away from the window, he could see something strange, and white, flickering and falling from the sky.

“Jesus Christ…” he mumbled.

“Lou!”

“What Adolf? I can’t take his name in vain? Seriously? Are you kidding me?”

“Sorry, Master,” Adolf said, rubbing his mustache with thumb and forefinger. “Sometimes I forget where I am, even still after all these years.”

“Oh their God!” Lou shouted when he reached the window. “What the here is that?”

Snow was falling heavily, gathering atop a frozen river, dark red lava barely visible just under the surface.

“We’re frozen over! Impossible!” Lou screamed. “Okay, let me think…First of all, get all those suicide bombers up here to start shoveling off my sidewalk!

“He he he he…seventy virgins, my ass!” he snickered. “Stupid fucks – no God tolerates that cowardly shit. Never mind reward it…Only I can appreciate it.”

“So, do you think God did this?” Adolf asked, still staring out at the snow in disbelief.

“JC? Nah…he has no power down here – never will – it’s in the bylaws.”

“So what do we do?” Adolf asked, following the much larger man over to a huge slate desk with multiple, strange looking, computer monitors spread out upon it.

“Get a few others in here,” Lou commanded. “Let’s check the usual suspects. There are certainly only a few events that can cause this.”

“I’ll get my best men on it,” Adolf said. “By the way, have you thought about my request?”

“About a full-time personal assistant for you?”

“Yes, Master.”

“I’ve told you. Cheney is not going to keep surviving every heart attack he has. Eventually he’ll make it down here, and then he’s yours.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do to speed that up, sir? I’m really buried with paperwork. I haven’t had time to torture anyone firsthand in months.”

“I know, I know,” Lou said, patting the diminutive man’s shoulder. “It is regrettable, but hey, that’s management.”

Lou tucked his tail in under his legs and sat down at his desk. He began clicking away at the keyboard.

“I’m going to make a list of things for you and your men to check – we need to get to the bottom of this,” he told his assistant. “Number one – check in to see if the bookmark has moved on that book that George W has kept on his nightstand since he was twelve. If he ever finishes a book, were finished down here, for good!”

“Got it, sir. What else?”

“What month is it up there?” Lou asked.

“March, I think.”

“Hmmm…okay, forget that one then. I thought for a second the Cubs might have won the World Series. You remember the blizzard we had back in 04 thanks to the Red Sox? Jeeeeesh…I get a chill every time I think of it.”

“Yeah, I always thought we were safe from that one,” Adolf said. “The pigs flying around made it even creepier!”

“Okay, I also want you to check on the…the…wait a minute, what is this?”

“What is it sir?”

“Oh shit!” Lou shouted. He pounded the desk with both hands. “CNN is reporting that the US Congress actually passed a Healthcare Reform Bill!”

“WHAT!?”

“I know, my friend,” Lou said getting up from his desk. “That was one of the big ones. Get my long johns out of storage. I’m afraid we’re in for a long winter...”

Health Care Summit - #1 - Lose the opening speeches!

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 15:14:00 +0000

Why don't politicians get that we don't want them there today talking to us! Stop the opening addresses with the usual blah, blah, blah. We want them there to talk to each other and finally find ways to get some things done. Start talking specifics!

The really sad thing that was apparent was that there are some really smart people in Congress, on both sides of the aisle. Unfortunately, none of them are in leadership roles. The President pleaded over and over to stick to details, point out things in current bills that they liked or disliked, and make alternative suggestions. Yet, every time it was the majority or minority leader's turn to speak, they went back to general political grandstanding - the worst of it from the two leaders of the party I begrudgingly support. Senior members of both parties, of both houses of Congress did nothing to help the process along - they actually stopped any constructive dialogue that was ongoing and the President had to restart it again...

Pathetic showings by Harry Reid, Nancy Pelosi, and Charles Rangold on the left, and John Boehner, Eric Cantor, Chuck Grassley, and John McCain on the right.

I completely agree with John McCain that it is criminal that certain Congressmen (their states) and special interest groups are getting perks that are included in current forms of the bill as part of deals made. But, at the same time, I'm sorry...but McCain has now completely turned into that raving cranky old neighbor that we all had growing up. He just can't be taken seriously any longer.

Republican Mike Enzi tried hard to point out ways they could work together. Sen. Tom Coburn (R- OK) made some great points as well. He said, basically, that while trying to lower costs, we should be putting just as much focus on lowering the costs involved in actual health care, not just the costs of the insurance premiums, in particular things like giving incentives to "preventative care!"

Other ideas I liked.

Small business being able to pool together in order to get lower cost insurance plans - good idea. No set guidelines for the insurance companies allowed to sell to the pool (Republican addition to a similar plan) - bad idea.

Be able to shop across state lines to increase competition - absolutely! Health insurance companies cannot be trusted to keep their own costs competitive - cannot be trusted at all, in any way. We should pit them ALL against each other!

I ended up watching just about all of the summit and when it was over, I felt that I was in dire need of healthcare myself, immediate healthcare, to heal my wounded brain...

I want to be hopeful that something will get done, and not by the "reconciliation" technique - I am not in favor of that method for a case like this. That's Bush Administration type tactics. I am just not sure that they are going to come together on enough to make this work. They need about ten more of these types of televised meetings!

Not saying that I'll be able to watch all of them - my head might explode - but I'll try...

I don't know which is more dangerous...

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 18:08:00 +0000

Is it worse that Sean Hannity is actually smart enough to know better, but makes false accusations and opinions because it fits his agenda? Or if he really is this stupid and yet is still allowed to host a TV show and speak to a number of American people, unfortunately also the mostly dumb or scared of everything part of America.?

Hannity says that the recent winter snow storms in the Washington, D.C. means that the planet isn’t warming. He also said that ,"the most severe winter storm in years, which would seem to contradict Al Gore’s hysterical global warming theories."

Can we please stop saying "Global Warming???" Scientists agree that the planet is warming, but it's the effects of this CLIMATE CHANGE that we should be focusing on...

Because we got multiple snow storms in DC, does that mean - in Hannity logic - that we are really experiencing Global Cooling? But, only in certain areas?

The warming of the planet creates unpredictable, volatile weather patterns, not warmth in every region every day of the year from now on!

Extreme dry seasons are creating more frequent, more damaging wild fires in California and Florida...There may not be more or less hurricanes than normal in a season, but they are more random and often more violent...Crazy snow storms in the mid-Atlantic, snow in Texas yesterday!, and yet none in the Northeast. Those are the examples of climate change...And none of the idiots on the other side will ever pay attention if we keep calling it Global Warming, at least not until it causes a natural disaster in their own state!

I really hope that it doesn't come to that.

A back and forth between Obama and the GOP - we need to see more of this!

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 23:47:00 +0000

A FB friend posted this a while ago and I kept forgetting to post. I watched the whole thing the day it happened. Please watch! This is the kind of bad-ass leadership we were hoping for, and the kind of dialogue that the public should be privy to more often. There are, of course, a couple right wing dummies, but also some valid civil points addressed by a couple Republicans. Try to watch some. This sort of thing being televised is unprecedented...

SUNDAY SCRIBBLINGS - #194 - Dare

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 04:01:00 +0000

SUNDAY SCRIBBLINGS - #194 - Dare

http://www.sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/

“I dare you,” Jeff challenged.

“You dare me?” Chris asked, in a mocking tone.

“Yeah, I dare you.”

“What are you, twelve?”

“Sometimes.”

They were sitting at one of the bar-stool tables in the restaurant they visited almost every Thursday night after work. Their attention had been drawn towards a slender, dark- haired woman sitting alone at the bar. She was stirring a martini with a stick of olives, in a way, the men wondered, that was either intentionally or obliviously provocative.

“You’re never going to find a woman then,” Jeff said, shaking his head.

“Bothering a woman sitting alone at a bar is the only way that I’m ever going to find someone? That’s what you’re telling me?”

“Exactly.”

“Jeff, that’s not what you did - you met your wife at your sister’s wedding,” Chris reminded him.

“So.”

“Only because your mom purposefully sat you at a table and right next to a single woman who she thought might like you.”

“I still had to make the first move,” Jeff said.

“Like what?” Chris asked. “You passed her a dinner roll?”

“I still had to charm,” Jeff was responding, but got sidetracked when he saw their friend Eric walk through the front door. Jeff nodded his head at him.

A tall athletically-built man with close-cropped hair headed gracefully towards their table. Eric, who had gone to college with Chris almost two decades earlier, was transferred to the Boston office of the FBI a couple years ago. Since then, he’d routinely joined his friends for Thursday night drinks.

“Evening constable,” Jeff said to Eric as he sat down.

“Wow, that never gets old, Jeff,” Eric said. “What are you two up to?”

Chris leaned closer to Eric so he wouldn’t have to say it too loud, and then told him that Jeff had “dared him to go over and talk to that woman at the bar.”

“Dared you?” Eric asked.

“Yup.”

“What are you twelve?” Eric said, looking over towards Jeff.

Jeff ignored the comment and leaned back on his stool, trying to get a better look at the woman at the bar, who now held open a book with the hand that wasn’t stirring her drink.

“You know what - I don’t blame you if you’re not interested in her Chris. She is a little on the old side,” Jeff said.

"What are you talking about?” Chris asked him. “She’s in her thirties, probably mid to late, maybe forty at most.”

“Right. Old.”

"We’re forty,” Eric said. “You idiot.”

“I’m not,” Jeff told him.

“You’re thirty nine!” Chris responded.

“It’s not forty.”

“Well, I do have to admit,” Eric said to Chris, while holding up his hand and waving, in an attempt to get the waitress’s attention. “You are pretty much the only single guy left that I know.”

“Um, besides you?” Chris asked. “You’re divorced.”

“Yeah, but I have joint custody of two kids. There’s nothing single about that.”

“Don’t you agree, Pam?” Eric asked the waitress, who had arrived during his answer.

“The usual Eric?” she asked, deciding not to answer his question.

Eric smiled and whispered the word yes. Pam grabbed the two empty glasses from in front of Jeff and Chris, gave the table a quick wipe with her towel and started to head back to the bar. She stopped after a two steps and came back to the table.

“What I will say is that I think you should go talk to her, Chris,” Pam said.

“You heard us?” Chris said with mild horror. He looked over at the woman at the bar to see if she’d registered any of this. She still looked engrossed in both her book and what was now a new martini.

“How can I not hear this idiot?” She said pointing her thumb at Jeff.

“For the hundredth time, Pam, no I will not have an affair with you,” Jeff told her, trying to hide his embarrassment. “I am a happily married man.”

“Uh huh…” Pam said walking away. “Well, I bet that makes one of you in that relationship.”

“How can she talk to me that way?” Jeff pleaded. “Doesn’t she know that it’s going to reflect in her tip?”

“Nope,” Eric answered. “Because she knows that a line like that is going to make Chris and I tip her even more.”

Pam returned with a round of drinks and the friends shifted their focus back to the woman at the bar.

“What do you think her name is?” Jeff asked.

“She looks like an Amanda,” Eric answered.

“Nah, I’d say more of a Becky,” Jeff added. “What about you, Chris?”

“I have no idea. How am I supposed to know the name of a person just by seeing her back and half of her face? This is ridiculous. I’m forty years old. We don’t pick up women in bars. I’ll be back - I’m going to hit the head.”

“Yeah, now that’s what we do at forty,” Eric said.

Chris stepped off his stool and walked away from the table. He slowed when he got near the woman at the bar, looking over her shoulder on his way to the restroom.

When he came back to the table, he found his two friends discussing whether the FBI regularly tapped their phone calls.

“Jeff, I get half of your calls directly and I don’t give a shit about them, I’m pretty sure the US government isn’t monitoring them.”

“Sure, that’s what you’d like us all to think,” Jeff answered.

Eric welcomed the opportunity to include someone else in the conversation and looked to Chris as he sat back down.

“So, what book is she reading?” Eric asked him.

“Huh?”

“I saw you look over as you walked by - what is she reading?”

“To kill a Mockingbird,” Chris said with a smile.

“You think it’s an act?” Eric asked. “Who hasn’t read that at her age?”

Chris watched her reading, turning the page.

“I doubt it,” he said. “I actually read it for the first time a couple years ago and couldn’t put it down once I’d started. I brought it to a pub myself one afternoon on a ski trip.”

Both Eric and Jeff stared at their friend.

“At this point, I’m afraid I have to agree with Jeff,” Eric said. “You should go say hello to this woman.”

Chris stared down at his drink. He looked over at the woman at the bar. Then back to his drink.

“I can’t. Women just don’t go for me on first impression - I don’t have the looks for that. They need to get to know me before they’ll be into me.”

“Who has time for that?” Jeff asked.

“Chris, when we were in college, you were the one who always went over to a group of girls at another table and brought them over to mingle with our group. You never lacked confidence.”

Chris looked down at his drink again. He shook the ice around in his glass.

“I just can’t do that anymore. Rejection didn’t matter back then. I didn’t care,” Chris said. “But, now…Every person who doesn’t want me hurts more, it feels like it could be my last.”

All three men looked down at their drinks and then towards each other. This was a reality that none of them wanted to face.

“I suppose that I am actually out there, and I guess I’ll have to face that at some point soon,” Eric said. “But, dude, you need to be more confident then when you were twenty. We were idiots then!”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just that,” Chris’s answer was interrupted when he noticed the woman at the bar was settling up her tab.

She signed her check and stepped up off of her stool. She tucked her book into her bag pocket, slung it over her shoulder and walked away from the bar. As she headed towards the door, her eyes narrowed in the direction of their table, focusing into a glower - right at Jeff. She held the glare for a few seconds and then looked away.

When she got to within a foot of their table she looked at Chris, smiled, and said, “You should have dared.”

Then she walked out the door.

I've given up on there being separation of church and state.

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 15:57:00 +0000

I just wish there wasn't such a separation of church and reason...

This story is yet another in a long line of examples of why religious organizations disgust me, especially the Catholic Church.
Has there been a family who has been more vocal, or public, in their devotion to the Catholic faith in the last 50 years than the Kennedys? I'll just go ahead and answer that for you - no, there hasn't.
And yet here is a church leader who is denying one of his members a part of his faith process because of the member's "political" views.
Someone correct me here - isn't that exactly the definition of the original need for "separation of church and state?"

If these people are the enlightened ones, I'll be happy to stay in the dark for the rest of my life!

http://www.boston.com/news/local/rhode_island/articles/2009/11/22/report_kennedy_barred_from_communion_by_bishop/

Stay Thirsty My Friends...

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Sat, 21 Nov 2009 01:16:00 +0000

Can someone explain the Dos Equis beer commercial (with the "Most interesting man in the world") to me?

I could ignore the fact that it's a stupid concept, if it made sense from a marketing perspective. But it doesn't.

His first crazy line is, "I don't always drink beer, but when I do, its Dos Equis."

If the idea is to make a character like this look so cool that the public will do what he says or does, then they've just learned that to be cool you don't drink beer all the time. Hmmm...Well, that seems counterproductive to Dos Equis sales...

The worst line of the series though is the tag line - "Stay thirsty my friends."
Um...what is the best way to stay thirsty? Yup, by not drinking anything to quench that thirst.
Don't drink - stay thirsty! Let's get that thought stuck in the head of the drinking public. That should lead to cases of Dos Equis flying off the shelves, right?

I could go on, but I need to go call Burger King and try to sell them my idea of changing their motto to "Stay Hungry America!"

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 18:04:00 +0000

Prediction: "Up in the air" coming out next month will be a really good film and will be the darling of the Oscars next spring.

Sunday Scribblings - #189 - Oracle

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 20:23:00 +0000

His rumored knowledge and influence was immense. The numbers who’d sought out his council was infinite. The man, almost larger than life, stood there peering out the window. From his space at the top of the tower, a place above the rest of the world, he looked down at the people milling around below unwittingly, as if their lives weren’t already pre-defined.

He turned around to see that the young man, not more than a boy really, was still kneeling on the floor only a few feet away – a puzzled look on his face.

“Why won’t you give me the answers I seek?” The boy asked, his expression melting into one of anguish. “Do you not know what I’ve gone through to get here?”

The great man lowered his head and then shook it in frustration.

“I’ll tell you again, son. I am not THE Oracle!” The man said. He pointed to a large wooden desk that sat next to the window. “I am the head OF Oracle…It’s just a company for Christ sake!”

“But what of my future?” the boy pleaded.

“The only future I can guarantee is an escort out of the building by security.”

The boy was being lifted off the floor by four large arms, men with short hair cuts and a headphone in one ear.

“What of my destiny?” he shouted while being dragged backwards out of the office. “I came here for a prediction!”

“A prediction? Yeah right,” the man said to his assistant, who was now standing at the office doorway.

“You really think I can predict the future?” the man shouted after the boy. “Take a look at our stock price!”

Time flies while flying back from Russia...

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 01:03:00 +0000

I just caught a few minutes of Rocky IV while on the treadmill. It was a scene where Rocky is talking to his son just before he flies to Russia to fight Drago. And of course give that famous speech at the end that pretty much knocked down the Berlin wall... So, anyway, Rocky's kid is like maybe nine years old. Who cares, right?

Well, a few weeks ago I caught a few minutes of Rocky V and the movie starts with the Rocko and his wife landing after the flight from Russia. Then he retires because of the damage he's taken to the head. Then they find out that their accountant has been robbing them blind and they are now as poor as the movie's dialogue. So, the Balboa's pack up their things and move back to the hood in Philly.

The problem is that when their kid is shown lugging some boxes of albums, he's now like 13 or 14 years old! So, I write this note as warning of something I've just discovered; the flight back from Russia apparently takes somewhere between four and five years...Be aware.

You're welcome.

Sunday Scribblings #185 – Junk/Spam

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 17:03:00 +0000

This was the explanation for this week’s writing prompt on Sunday Scribblings: In honour of the 20 minutes I have just spent deleting spammy comments, the prompt for this week is: Junk. (Or if you would rather, you could use 'spam' as your prompt!)

I’ve been thinking about a certain little event that caught the attention of a nation (and maybe even parts of the greater world) over the last couple days, and this prompt really put it into context for me. I now know how to word the theme that was floating around my head;

I wish there was a spam filter for not just my email, but for all mass media!

On Thursday a young boy and a balloon…well, I can’t describe it better than the “CNN Breaking News” email I got that afternoon, which said, “A 6-year-old climbed into a balloon-like experimental aircraft built by his parents and floated into the Colorado sky.” That is such a great line! I almost expect it to be in a book with illustrations. And that the boy eventually ends up in a land with magical creatures, learns an important life lesson and then wakes up at home.

Sadly though, this headline was in my real life. First of all, I just want to say that young Falcon Heene’s parents are jackasses, for many reasons, starting with naming their child Falcon…

This was a crazy story and in the end the boy was safe and hiding in a cardboard box in his attic. But, what I took from the whole thing was that it was yet another reminder of how small the world has become. Within minutes of the missing boy being reported, in Colorado, it was on national TV and all over the internet. Not long after that, there were helicopters with cameras in the air that had tracked down the floating balloon, and people all over the world were able to watch the saga “LIVE” as it was playing out. It’s amazing. As recent as ten years ago, this is the sort of story that would have probably been in the Boston Globe’s “Nation” section a week later, describing the search and the boy being found safe, long after the fact.

In 2009 though, it appears that there’s nothing that can’t be followed live. And you know what…I’m pretty sick of it.

I don’t need, nor do I want, to know about everything that’s happening in the world, as its happening. And I know that the freedom of the press is a wonderful thing, but media needs to show more internal responsibility. Sometimes what they show is actually not appropriate. CNN showed video of a piece of that balloon falling from the sky, which at the time was thought to possibly contain that 6 year old boy. Just because they have the right to show what they want, doesn’t mean they should. It’s all about ratings, and I know that we’ve become a nation of people who can’t look away from car accidents, so this footage would sell, but it wasn’t appropriate. The news media used to be about educating and enlightening the public. Now they just play to their lowest common denominator.

Think about this. If a TV network wanted to air a show in “primetime” that had a scene (even fictional) that showed a six year old boy plummeting to his death, including all the footage from beginning to end, they wouldn’t be able to, because the censors would say it was inappropriate for some audiences. But, the cable news networks are irresponsible enough to show a real-life version of that all day, to all audiences without thinking twice about it. Why? Ratings.

I’ve said this before, but they should not be able to still call themselves “news” agencies. It’s entertainment – sick entertainment, but still entertainment – not news.

Plus, it’s always “bad” news, this live breaking news phenomenon. Interrupt me for something “good” or “inspiring” or at least intellectually informative for a change.

How about this Breaking News?

“Project completed. All skyscrapers over twenty stories in America converted to solar power.”
Or.
“This just in…World reaches one year milestone of not a single religious fanatic killing another person.”
Or.
“Thanks to all countries working together, researchers report today that the polar ice caps are no longer melting at a dangerous rate.”
Or.
“First admitted Atheist is elected to a position of importance in the United States. Separation of church and state finally exists in this country.”
Or.
“Scientists discover genetic abnormality tied to existence neo-conservatives, and also found a cure!”

Sorry. Had to throw that last one in there…

I guess this it isn’t all the fault of media – they just start the process. People allow this to now be the norm. And most love it. They eat it up. What is most of the talk around the water cooler (besides sports, which I condone)? It’s about Michael Jackson’s body not being buried or some politician cheating on his wife. No one talks about the healthcare debate or the climate crisis – things that will actually affect their lives.

I went to a coffee shop, a supermarket, and a liquor store last Thursday afternoon and all I heard the people around me talking about was the Colorado “Balloon Boy.” I wanted to turn their volume off!

In the world of Facebook, you can “hide” those annoying people who post nonsense ten times a day and take up all your home page space. I want to be able to do that in real life too! I don’t want to hide from the world - and all the mass noise that comes at me all day – I just want to be able to “hide” some of it from me!

Actually…the more I think about it, I wish there was a spam filter for life!

Fiction based on the prompt from Sunday Scribblings

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 03:22:00 +0000

Sunday Scribblings - #183 -- First Kiss
http://www.sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/

“It was amazing,” Nancy said, squeezing her husband’s hand as she spoke. “I swear I could still feel his breath on my cheek hours after I got home from the date.”

“Ooooh…” The other women at the table cooed in unison

The two extra leaves were slotted in the dining room table. Wine glasses were full in front of the four couples seated. In most of the games played in this room, those couples were also known as teams pitted against each other. But, as most of the nights ended and when most of the wine bottles were empty, the traditional board games had been put away, and they played some sort of improvised version of Cranium/Trivial Pursuit/Truth or Dare.

“He’d walked me to my car,” Nancy continued. “When I got to the driver’s door and turned around, he was right on top of me. Our hips bumped into each other. I was caught a bit off guard and started to fall back into the side of the car. Then Carl’s hand shot out behind me and gripped the back of my neck. The touch of his finger tips gave me instant goose bumps.”

“Smooth Carl!” his friend Tim sneered from across the table.

Everyone in the room looked over to Carl, but he just sat silently smiling, holding his wife’s hand.

“Finish the story Nanc,” Joan announced from the head of the table. The monthly ‘Game Night’ was her idea to begin with and her and her husband Joel hosted more than most. The ‘Joes’ as they were called took it seriously.

“Ignore the peanut gallery,” she said.

“You know, I’ve never understood that phrase,” Tim responded. “What the hell is a peanut gallery? Is that like the Peanuts comic strip? Cause if it is, who am I suppose to be? Am I Lucy to Carl’s Charlie Brown, pulling the football out from under him? And speaking of Lucy, can we all agree that Peppermint Patty was a lesbian?”

“Tim!” the table shouted.

“What? Not that’s there’s anything wrong with that,” he said.

“Tim, you know how Joan feels about game night,” It was Joel who spoke now. “If you don’t shut up, somehow it is going to be me who sleeps on the couch tonight!”

“Okay, okay,” Tim said, looking anywhere but to his left where his girlfriend was glaring at him.

“Sorry Joan. Nancy, I believe you were getting goose bumps.”

Nancy didn’t really look like she’d been interrupted at all. She was still squeezing Carl’s hand and staring off toward the window across from her, never having come back from the place that she’d been describing.

“He…he…um…he pulled me towards him. It was like instinctual, an animalistic motion. He slid his left arm around my waist and with his right hand he guided my head toward his. When his lips met and grabbed onto mine it was electricity, it was synchronicity. I just felt so right.”

“Wow,” again it was the women at the table.

Joan jotted down some number even there was no score keeping at this point of game night.

“Before we let another couple share their story,” Joan said. “Carl, is that how you remember your first kiss with Nancy as well?”

“Yup, pretty much,” he said.

“Anything to add?”

“Nope, Nanc pretty much summed it up,”

“What emotions did you feel when it happened?”

“Emotions?” he asked, looking at Nancy and then the other men at the table. “Yeah, pretty much what Nancy said.”

“So you got goose bumps too?” Tim asked.

“What?” Carl said. “No. I mean it was like August or something. I was sweating.”

“It was March!” Nancy said. She’d risen up from her chair and was turned facing her husband.

“Yeah, it was March, Carl,” Tim said laughing. He nudged pointed at a couple other of the men and then nudged his girlfriend, but none were taking the bait.

Carl had gotten up from the table. He’d gotten another bottle of wine from Joan and Joel’s bar and was uncorking it at their bar.

“Okay, fine, you know what?” he said. “I thought the first kiss was actually a week later at Nancy’s apartment.”

Carl walked back to his chair, stopping to fill other empty wine glasses along the way.

“You want to know some honest male truth?”

“Yes!” Joan said, just a little too enthusiastically.

“That first date kiss was horrifying?” Carl said, sitting down. “I’m not sure women get how stressful that first kiss is, especially when it actually happens on the first date. There’s no magic on a first date – just apprehension, and often terror. We spend half the night trying to figure out if the woman has any interest in us, and then if there is any semblance of a sign that she does, then we spend the other half worrying about whether to kiss the woman goodnight or not.”

“Hell yeah!” Now it was the men in unison.

“That first date….” Carl continued. “Nancy and I got along really well, but there was none of what we are told are the tell-tale signs that she was interested. She never touched my leg or my arm, or laughed at much of anything I said. I walked her to her car only because it was on the way to mine. I liked her, but I’d never had trouble getting women before and I didn’t think she liked me, so I was neither planning to kiss her good night or ever see her again.”

“Seriously?” Nancy asked?

“I guess I’m probably the one sleeping on a couch tonight, but everything you said about that kiss I felt the next time, just not the first time.”

“What about all that passion you showed?” asked another woman at the table?

Carl took a sip of wine and then directed the answer toward his wife as if she’d asked the question.

“I had no idea what I was doing. I was always confident, because I’d always been successful with women. You had me confused. I was awkward. I bumped into you. You were falling into the car and so I tried to catch you. When I pulled you forward, I saw this look in your eyes that differed from all that I’d thought throughout the night, so I said fuck it, and kissed you.”

Nancy grabbed Carl’s hand again. She smiled and said to the group, “Still was a great first kiss to me and that’s all that matters. Who’s next?”

Has it always been like this?

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 00:51:00 +0000

And I've only just started paying attention? Or have things gotten worse?

It is a joke - The members of today's Congress act like bickering teenagers.

I admit two things; I didn't respect President Bush and his administration. But I also don't enjoy watching the extreme left Democrats gloat now because they have a majority. They are childish and unprofessional. I am disappointed to admit it, being a Democrat, but it is true.

At the same time, I can't help but be disgusted by watching the right side of the aisle show such disdain for the house of Congress and the role they've been elected to.

President Obama was heckled tonight. No big deal, right? I know that I heckled Bush 746 times over his 8 pathetic years. But I was never seated in the Capital and I am not a member of it. Unless they've instituted a "two drink minimum" in there, I don't freakin want to hear any heckling! From either side...

That was just appalling. Some Republicans also brought props and waved them up at the President.

I'm sure that many Democrats refused to stand up or even applaud from their seats when Bush was giving a grammar-disturbing speech, but I don't recall them ever heckling him or doing things as childish as displaying props. This is not a rally or a convention for christ's sake. This is the house of Congress!

I thought Obama showed some good fight tonight and it was a good speech, but I just have so little faith in the people we've all sent to congress that I'll be surprised if the two sides will lean anywhere near each other on the healthcare issue.

As a matter of fact, even though I'm happy that my side has the majority, it saddens me that this is the state of our country today and this divide will be present on all issues going forward for a while...

All I can hope is that Congress decides to act like grown ups, even just a little.

In my day...

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 22:58:00 +0000

Don't get me wrong - I am an tech and info junkie. My iPhone never strays far from my hand. But, there are definitely some things that were better when the world was smaller, in other words when I was smaller, or younger I should say - I'm still rather small.
Going to the movies was much better! There are some things about the movie experience now that are better like the sound quality and visual effects. And for someone who is 5'4" there is no greater invention than stadium seating.
But, the thrill has gone for me, and I think the main reason is that I used to love the moment when the lights went down (ten minutes before the "scheduled" showtime) and the previews started. I loved the previews! Back then it seemed like only myself and the select few in the theater with me were being let in on a little secret.
"Shhhsssh...We haven't told anyone else this yet, but there's a movie coming out in a couple months that you are just going to have to see! It's stars this guy and it has something you've never seen before!"
There was always some movie that I'd heard nothing about and after seeing the trailer, I couldn't wait to see it!
Well, the pre-movie experience changed gradually but it feels like it happened overnight. I think the beginning of the end was when I saw the preview for Independence Day. At the time, the effects looked out of this world and it showed the White House being blown up. I remember thinking, "Holy shit! This movie isn't going to make me think or win an Oscar, but it looks pretty cool!" Then on the screen it said something like "Coming in July." Only one problem - I was in the theater in September!
When they started teasing us with previews a year before the movie came out, I got pissed, but that was nothing compared to when they started showing commercials, not movie previews, but freakin TV commercials. One of the best things about going to the movies was not only the big screens, but you got to avoid being force-fed TV commercials. These days to make it even worse, they start the commercials ten minutes before the scheduled showtime and then the previews, so it's twenty minutes late before the feature film even begins rolling.
If you go to a 10pm showing and god forbid it's an epic like Lord of the Rings or something, you better bring breakfast!
And I'll end my complaint by going back to the point of the world being smaller. The Internet has revolutionized most of our lives, but it has ruined part of the movie experience. It's been at least five years since I saw a movie preview in a theater that I hadn't already heard just about everything about through leaked trailers on Youtube, or rumors about someone being attached to the project before it even starts filming, or just the endless marketing buzz by the makers themselves.
The thrill of the surprise preview is gone and I miss it.

Sunday Scribblings - #173 - Where in the World?

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 21:27:00 +0000

Where in the world has my summer gone?

I was driving by a farm stand with a friend recently and I said to her, "I wish it was corn season already. I'm dying to chomp down on some good cob!"

She asked me when the local farms usually have it ready for sale and I told her it was somewhere around the 2nd or 3rd week of July. At that moment, I realized - holy crap!
It IS the third week of July already! Where has my summer gone?

The fact that a lot of the corn was still not fully grown leads back to what happened to the beginning of summer - weather - dreary weather to be exact. I spent May and June in a constant rain delay. If mother nature was an umpire, she would have "called the game" and rescheduled summer for the next time she happened to be in town.

For about six or seven weeks, it seemed to rain 4 out of ever 5 days, and of course, every weekend. And these weren't good ole summer storms, when it's 80-plus degrees and a quick thunderstorm is often a welcome, refreshing blow through town. This was drizzle, and constant cloud cover, and days of puddles, and cool, damp temperatures.

I ate a lot of soup in June. I don't want to eat soup in June! I want to sit at outdoor patios and drink vodka tonics and chew on a lobster roll! I tried to play golf three straight weekends and ended up playing a total of 18 holes combined, as play got interrupted each time by rain - One of the rounds was stopped because of hail the size of...well, golf balls.

As the snow melted in the spring and I shed both my long sleeves and the stress of a work crisis that had me shuttered and worried from December through May, I was looking forward to summer. I anticipated many day trips, enjoying the great gas mileage of my new clean-diesel, but by June one, I was thinking about building an ark instead!

By the time I saw three days in a row of sunlight, it was already the first weekend of July. By the time I froze my ass of in the New England ocean water, or had my first bite of lobster roll, it was the middle of that month.

And now, as I write this, August is only a few days away. Where in the world has my summer gone? Well, the first half of it, I'm sad to report, apparently drowned. But, the second half is still ahead and I'm also going to go out on a limb and predict that the fall will be full of "Indian Summer" type days.

So, I will play more golf and if that spiteful bitch Mother Nature decides to thrown down some more giant hail, I'll grab my 9 iron and play em where they land!

I'll head for the beach a few more times and to make up for loss time, I'll body surf no matter how cold the water - until I can no longer feel my toes or quite possibly lose my sense of smell, whichever comes first.

And lastly, if there are any medical professionals out there reading this, please let me know if I am about to do my body harm, because I plan to eat nothing but corn on the cob for roughly the next month and a half!

Happy summer!

I bought a pair of pants today.

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Sat, 25 Jul 2009 01:24:00 +0000

They are a fine pair of pants. There is nothing super special about them though, nothing that would necessarily make me write about the purchase. I have no problem with the quality nor my selection of color. They were just a plain pair of LL Bean chinos, comfortable, but dressy enough to wear to work. I got them at a grand opening of a Boston-area store.

Here is the thing though...

Ever been to a store to buy chinos? Sure you have. It's the same in every store. They're not on hangers - they're folded and placed on shelves. In this particular store there were four levels of shelves. The first at my knee level and the next three rising up to the top shelf, which was probably six feet off the ground.

I am 5'4" and I wear pants that are 32 waist and 30 inches in length. It was funny. I found one or two pairs of 30 length on the middle two shelves, but alas none that were also 32 waist. You know where I found the one pair of 32/30s? Or at least I thought I saw one - I couldn't be totally sure from such a far distance away. Right there on the top shelf, a good foot or so out of my reach. Thankfully, what I did find on the very bottom shelf, where I had to bend down to view, was a number of 42 waist - 36 lengths. 36 length! That 6+ foot person is going to have back trouble just leaning over to get those!

This is not rocket science! If someone wears a 30 length, it pretty much guarantees that he can't reach a shelf six feet in the air. Unless of course, he's one of those rare people who have a four-foot-long torso!

I know the toughest thing in retail is actually being able to fold those pants, but come on...How should you decide which size to put on which shelf? Do the math!

Don't get me wrong - this is not a completely negative post - those pants are really freakin comfortable. Welcome to Boston LL Bean.

President Obama “acted stupidly” with his comments last night about the arrest of Harvard Prof Gates.

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 15:49:00 +0000

President Obama “acted stupidly” with his comments last night about the arrest of Harvard Prof Gates.

Now don’t get me wrong – I am a huge supporter of Obama. After being completely embarrassed to be an American over the previous eight years, the Election night from last November was one of the best I’ve had in a long while!

But…During the campaign, he managed to stay above the fray when it came to race issues, unless they were thrown directly at him, like with the comments of his former pastor. And he should have stuck to that plan last night when he was asked about the recent arrest of an African- American Harvard Professor.

As Obama said last night when asked about this case by a reporter during a prime-time national press conference (about Healthcare), “There’s a long history in this country of African-Americans and Latinos being stopped by law enforcement disproportionately.” And I agree he’s right about that. But, at the same time, he earlier said, “I don't know, not having been there and not seeing all the facts, what role race played"

For me that’s the key here. He has given his critics a huge amount of ammo by talking about a specific incident that he didn’t even know the facts about. Not smart.

I don’t know all the facts about this either, but from what I’ve heard and read, Prof Gates was arrested for disorderly conduct, for being really belligerent towards the police officer outside of his home, in front of neighbors and other officers.

President Obama said that, “the Cambridge police acted stupidly in arresting somebody when there was already proof that they were in their own home.” The problem here, and with his uninformed comment, is that according to the police report (and Gates’ on comments on his website) the Professor wasn’t arrested for being under suspicion of breaking into his own home. The cuffs didn’t come out until tirade he went on while (and after) the police were verifying who he was.

Gates admits that he couldn’t get his door to open, because it had been broken by a previous break in attempt, so he was trying to force his way in and that’s when a neighbor called the police.

I don’t doubt that the police may have used a bit of “profiling” when they found a black man in a house in Cambridge, after a neighbor called about that very house being broken into, which I think was the theme of Obama’s comments, about how that is still an issue in this country.
But, is it also possible that a famous black professor, who teaches about race relations at Harvard, could have acted a bit arrogantly and over-reacted to the police, and quickly went to the “race card” out of habit or instinct?

Like the President, I don’t completely know. I don’t have all the facts.

When you are the first African-American President though, and there are many out there just waiting to chop you down on the race issue, you better get all the facts about a specific incident before commenting on it, on prime time!

Sad that this won't get half the attention that Michael Jackson did

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Mon, 20 Jul 2009 19:57:00 +0000

Michael Jackson was a truly talented individual, but he was also a sad, abused, disturbed human being, who lived a life that couldn't have been further from the reality of 99.9% of the rest of us in the world.

Last Friday a true American legend passed away, a man who not only reported history but played a part in shaping it. I wasn't even born when Walter Cronkite anchored some of his most famous newscasts, but I still know the impact he had on this country when he was literally known as the "Most trusted man in America."

Sorry, I don't agree with the nonsense that was said at Jackson's funeral, things like Michael made it possible for Obama to be elected President. Nope, I think when Rev. Sharpton said that he was forgetting about a guy named MLK.

And who reported on the rise of Martin Luther King's peaceful campaign, who went to the south to report on the story when a church was blown up by the KKK killing young children, who told America that MLK had been shot to death? Walter Cronkite.

Before there were 24/7 cable news programs and social networking sites and the ridiculousness that is Twitter, or blogs like this, or even before there were three different network evening news programs, there was Cronkite on the CBS news. He did it in an honest real way, putting more focus on getting the story right, rather than worrying about how it was presented. Today, where ratings rule and networks like CNN lean more towards Entertainment Tonight than 60 Minutes, an anchor and his producer will practice and choreograph everything before going on there air. When Cronkite had to tell the world that JFK had been assassinated, he didn't worry about the fact that everyone got to see him pause and choke down tears. He also never worried about the sheer childlike joy he showed while he broadcast the first moon landing, which was 40 years ago today.

The most indicative thing I saw of him trying to get the story right was when he announced that former president LBJ had died. I saw this on a Cronkite retrospective over the weekend. During a commercial break of a nightly newscast, he received a phone call from LBJ's chief of staff telling him of the death. The cameras came back on live before Cronkite had finished the call. He still didn't have all the pertinent facts, so instead of just hanging up and telling what he knew, Cronkite held up his finger to the worldwide audience and told them to wait a second, while he continued the phone call for another minute. Then he hung up and announced LBJ's death.

No offense to Katie Couric, but can you imagine her, or anyone in news doing that today? They'd be accused of being unprofessional or unprepared. And we all know that means more today than actually getting the story right.

The list of historic events that Cronkite either reported on or was part of is extensive and impressive, including a documentary on Vietnam with a commentary at the end that was credited with single-handedly changing the opinion on the war of Americans 30 or older.

That's why it's just sad that Michael Jackson, a man less than half as impressive, gets so much more attention following his death. But, that's what the world has turned into. It's the reality world generation where dirty laundry and controversy is all anyone is interested in. We're all just in one big vehicle and can't help but slow down and gawk when passing a car accident...

A little stream of conscious writing.

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Wed, 11 Mar 2009 03:17:00 +0000

Which you can tell by the lack of a real ending... But it was good to just write something for a change!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I had a dream last night that I was saving elephants,” Josh said.

“You mean like saving the whales?” Adam asked. "Were you making bumper stickers?"

They only met now once every couple of weeks or so for what used to be the nightly “after work” pint at a local pub. The conversation still flowed though as easily as it did when they were roommates, having each just moved to Boston almost two decades earlier.

"No, I wasn't part of a campaign. I was really saving elephants, from like eminent danger. I was there with them, in the jungle. We were running and I was leading them. I was saving them."

“From what?”

“I’m not really sure. I think at first I thought I was trying to save a whole bunch of them from men, poachers I guess, but then I was pretty sure that I was actually helping one elephant get away from another elephant.”

“Like a bully elephant?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, that makes no sense,” Adam said.

“That makes no sense? The part about there being a bully?”

“Yeah.”

“I live in a city, in the United States, but somehow I’m in the jungle somewhere saving elephants and that’s perfectly okay, but the fact that I was saving one from a bully seems odd to you?”

“Well, yeah. You could have been at a zoo. We don’t live that far from Franklin Park Zoo. Maybe you were there.”

“Saving elephants?”

“Right. That’s not that far fetched.”

“Of course not.

“But, a bully elephant?” Adam said, not really asking a question. “Have you ever heard of such a thing? I mean, I’ve watched a lot of shit on the Animal Planet and I’ve never heard of one elephant being a bully. A bear maybe - they can get quite aggressive with each other.”

“But not elephants?”

“Nope. I mean, I could be wrong, but I really don’t think so.”

“Okay. Great. I’m glad we cleared that up,” Josh said, motioning to the bartender for another round. “If I dream about another animal bully tonight, I’ll try to make sure that it’s a bear.”

“Well don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re afraid of bears. Everyone knows that. And then you probably won’t try to save the bear that’s being bullied.”

“I’m not afraid of bears.”

“Everyone knows you’re afraid of bears, Josh.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone,” Adam answered. “Come one, you wrote a short story once about a fear of being attacked by a bear at a camp site.”

“Yeah, but I never said that the character in that was me.”

“We all knew, Josh. Everybody knows.”

“It’s not like I’m paralyzed with fear the whole time that I’m camping. I just thought it would make an interesting story. I actually really like most aspects of camping.”

“Just not the potential for running into a bear,” Adam added.

“Well, yeah. No. I mean, of course, that part is something you have to be wary of. Hey, at least I go camping and get out of the city once and a while. That’s more than you can say.”

“I don’t like any aspect of camping though. Never said I did.”

“Sitting and relaxing. Sipping on a drink. Shooting the shit next to a roaring fire. How can you not like that?”

“Look behind you,” Adam told him, pointing to the fireplace on the other side of the pub. “Last time I checked we’ve been sitting here for the better part of an hour relaxing and shooting the shit.”

“Fine. Let’s not talk about camping anymore.”

“Starting to worry about bears?”

“Funny. So, what do you usually dream about?” Josh asked his friend.

“My fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Monahan.”

“Nice. And knowing you, probably really creepy.”

“She was nice. I got my first erection because of her.”

“Okay, let’s talk about bears again.”

“Ha ha!” Adam said as he downed the rest of his first beer and reached for the second. “Hey, you’re the one who started talking about dreams.”

Sunday Scribblings - #153 "Listen up because this is important!"

noreply@blogger.com (DJPare) — Sun, 08 Mar 2009 16:20:00 +0000

Okay, listen up! This is important! Alright, maybe not in the grand scheme of things. Not on the level of curing cancer or finding out what happened to all the fucking money...in the world economy.
But, in my little ole life, it's important. I have had so many other things on my mind lately that there seems little room left for creativity. This week's Sunday Scribblings prompt brought me zero fiction ideas, none, after days now of trying to come up with something...
Help me! Listen up! This is important (to me)! Someone give me a premise. Offer me some suggestions, so I can try to write some fiction this weekend. I need some ideas to get me started.
Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?