August 2010 Archives

I've always been a little leery of insurance. It's not about having it, it's the concept.  I'm sure you've heard it before but in essence you're betting against yourself.  You're betting that your house wont burn down or you wont get into a car accident or ultimately you wont die.  I used to work with a news director who had to do a lot of business travelling.  Everytime he was off to the airport the sports director would offer him 50 dollars and say...."Here take out some flight insurance and put it payable to me, will ya?"  Which always made for a miserable flight for  the newsy.

Pittsburg Steeler safety Troy Polamalu has taken out a one million dollar insurance policy on his hair.  It's actually not him who's paying the premiums, it's Head and Shoulders, the shampoo folks who promise to tone your dandruff down while you luster up.  Polamalu does commercials for the Procotor and Gambol subsdiuary so I guess Proctor and Gambol doesn't want to gamble on anything happening to the Polamalu perm. 

Now to be honest, it is one captivating coiff we're dealing with here.  Polamalu went Repunzal on us in 2000 and stopped cutting his hair.  That's a decade worth of do.  And don't get the wrong idea but if I were driving behind someone with a massive mane like that I would speed up and pass just to get boo at the do. 'Course I'd be disappointed to discover is was a dudes do and because he's younger, stronger, faster and drives a better car than I do, what I would do is get off at the nearest exit before I got into some large do-do.

So I got to thinking about who else might take out insurance on a body part.  Years ago the old Vaudville comic Jimmy Durante, who had a nose this size of Panama, took out an insurance policy on his honker.  Dancer's would insure their legs.  Singers their voices. Guitarists might fret about their fingers and pick a policy. 

I would assume that someone as endowed as Pamela Anderson would have some backing for what she's packing.  Face it, sooner or later gravity gets us all.  Even if it's a fraudulent front sooner or later it could turn into a silicon valley.

While I'm in the car I've notice a lot of other drivers giving people "the finger". They're probably paying middle digit dues just in case something happens to their beloved bird while they let the finger linger out the window. 

The Kardasian Sisters?  They actually believe they matter but they might want take out a policy on their fame because sooner or later they wont.  Roger Clemens would need insurance on denial.  Oh it's going to blow up on him.  While I'm at it I should have taken out some career decision coverage while I had the chance.  Steven Hawkins?  A policy on his brain.  Paris Hilton?  She would probably never think of that.

Don't you think it's about time Paris Hilton  took out some insurance on stupidity.  She was busted for cocaine posession in Las Vegas.  It could come with a substantial fine, which it might and 4 years in jail, which it wont.  She told police that the purse they found the blow in wasn't her's.  She borrowed it.  Really?  Paris Hilton has more purses than I have body hair.  You really think she expects us to believe she was toting at tote that wasn't hers.  And what about that white powdery substance they found in the bag she bummed?  Paris purred she thought it was gum.  You might mistake Coke for Pepsi but watch Al Pacino's Scarface for 5 minutes and you're not likely going to confuse cocaine for gum unless you're buying kilo size chicklets.  For insurance purposes the answer is priceless, the thought process worthless.

Oh oh, another wait until next year year for the Maple Leafs.  That's according to The Hockey News whose puck pundits pick the Buds to battle their way to 12th in a 15 team Eastern Conference.  Better than a season ago when 15 out of 15 wasn't quite the same as getting 10 out 10 on a grade 8 quickie quzz the teacher sprang on you.

Brian Burke, the capo di tutti capo of all things hockey at the ACC, seems to want to improve on what he's got rather than tear the whole think down and build with...oh I don't know maybe the second over all pick in the draft who will probably turn out to be a franchise player.  The problem I have with Burke's line of thought is that there wasn't much of a "got" to expand on. 

I understand the philosophy if you've got a good young corp and you need to add pieces to the puzzle.  Problem was, when Burke rode in as the new sheriff in town there was no good young crop, or good old crop for that matter.  He must be getting a little saddle sore trying to restore order to the mob of itty bitty Bud backers who figure after 40 plus years it's time to be parolled from this puck purgatory.

Now, it is obvious that the Leafs are a better team, especially on defence where Burke boasts about having 8 legitamate NHL defencemen and, according to Burke, you can never have too many real deal rearguards. One of them, newly anointed captain Dion Phaneuf, is apparently ready to be all that he an be. A player who can vent vocally and physically.  The major problem I have on defence is Tomas Kaberle.  If he doesn't play the style your coach wants him to play then trade him.  But you wont trade him because you're not going to get what he's worth. Besides at 4 1/2 mill a year he's a bargain.  But if you're not playing him what he does is sap your cap.  The 4.5 is better spent elsewhere.

The quixotic quandry is up front.  Some good young kids but just one good young proven goal scorer in Phil Kessel.  Kessel will forever be known as the "2 first round and a second" guy the Leafs gambled their future on for a piece of the right now.  Well, right now the Leafs have to get A Bryan Trottier to turn Kessel into a Mike Bossy.  Anything less and the trade goes down as a failure in the same category as Tom Kurvers  from New Jersey for the third pick in the draft. (another Maple Leaf lark. The no. 3 pick turned out to be can't miss hall of famer Scott Niedermayer). Kessel reminds of Chris Bosh. A nice piece to the puzzle but not the puzzle you add pieces to.

But the diciest dilemma has to be the special teams.  Nothing special about them. The Leafs are pretty well worst.  They don't man up when they're a man up and they don't shut it down when they're a man down.  Special teams are so very crucial in the NHL.  How many games are won and lost because you can paralyze their power play and then go out and sore on yours. That could be coaching.  If what Ron Wilson is telling the players is a correct way to do things then he needs a system saver.  It's not filtering through. 

Going from 15th to 12th in a season isn't a bad step forward.  It's not the quantum leap that Burke or the board of directors or the fans have in mind but it's probably the realistic.  I think Burke is in the process of pointing his Buds in the right direction. He wants to make the playoffs and that's what we expect from our Big Blue cheese. Wanting and getting aren't always in the same snack bracket. 12th over all will leave us wanting.  But we're getting used to that, aren't we?

I'm writing this in response to another comment sent to me by "Mississauga" concerning my position on not supporting the war in Afghanistan but supporting the Canadian troops fighting there.  "Mississauga" is very eloquent and passionate about the need to support both.  Please read his comment below this blog.

Mississauga: The discussion started with the treatment our soldiers get when they return from combat.  My friend, who is mental health care nurse, has seen the down side especially the mental scars that combat can leave with an individual. They need help that they're not always getting.  The politicans who committed them to this cause owe them and so do we as citizens.

I disagree that this has nothing to do with politics. It has everything to do with politics because it was the politicians who decided to go into Afghistan.  It was politicians who committed American troops to Iraq.  These are foreign policy decisions.

George Carlin may not be a great role model for some people.  I wasn't holding him up as a role model, only as a high profile person who can look at a situation from 2 vantage points.  Not support the war in Viet Nam but the obligation to take care of the soldiers, fully take care of them, when they returned.  You committed them, make damn sure you do right by them.

My original point wasn't about the war. It was about anyone who puts their life on the line for their country deserves the best medical treatment, if and when they need it.  They did their duty for us now we have to do our duty for them. 

I absolutely agree with the closing of your comment about living in a country where we can agree to disagree.  Where we aren't persecuted for religiion or lifestyle.  Where women can vote and where they can run as candidates.  My father fought for all of those things in WW II. I have great respect for the committment he made.  You say, "Yet countries like Afganistan don't have these freedoms......".  Agreed.  Here's my problem.  How many other countries don't have those freedoms either?  How many other countries pose a threat to our way of life?  Iran?  North Korea?  How many countries around the world are run by dictators who oppress their citizens?  If you're going act as policeman to the world how can you chose one country to liberate and not another?  Those are political decisons.

Any war can be justified.  I don't think I have a duty to support that justification if I choose not to.  You may find it an enigma that I can care for our Canadian troops but not war.  I can live with that.  Believe me, I do understand your point of view and I respect it. I simply choose to disagree.  And I thank my father and his commrades who fought and fell in the second world war for giving me that privledge.

A while back I wrote about the need to take care of any soldier who comes back from Afghanistan for life.  They put their lives on the line for their country.  They need to be looked after weather it's a physical or a psychological disability.  In the piece I mentioned that I may not support the war in Afghanistan but I support the troops.  One of the comments I got came from "Mississauga" saying....."You can't have it both ways Rick, no matter how you justify it, hide behind that fuzzy warm blanket of political correctness if it makes you feel good."  I've been accused of a lot of things.  Never being politically correct. And it seems to me in this instance the politically correct thing to do would be to support the war. 

Political Correctness:  A term that denotes language, behavior, ideas and policies that try to minimize political and institutional offence in gender, occupational, racial, cultural, disability and age related contexts.  The Reader's Digest version?  Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. 

Being politically correct is looked at as a negative.  Politically incorrect, a positive.  Political correctness, a liberal leaning.  Political incorrectness, a conservatrive conviction.  Well, I'm neither.  I'm not a large C or small c conservative or a small l or large L liberal.  I realize that to some extent we are all political beings I just try to avoid the process.  I get a kick out of people who call themselves social liberals but fiscal conservatives.  Here's a bullettin.  Fiscal conservatism is not going to pay for liberal social programs.

I believe I can support our soldiers but be philosophically opposed to the war in Afghanistan.  George Carlin didn't support the war in Viet Nam but he ranted for years about the treatment or lack of treatment Viet Nam vets were getting.  If someone honestly believes that the Afghanistan is justified I can disagree. I can also sympathize with their feelings.  I don't expect everyone to agree with my sentiments and hey, I could be wrong.

There are somethings I wont tolerate.  When I was doing sports I would never use the "Red Skins" when talking about the Washington Red Skins.  It's reugnant to a lot of native North Americans. I respect those feelings. Is that politically correct or is that simply not using a term at a people find offensive? 

I will not tolerate child molesters. For me, you abuse a child once you forfiet living in our society. No second chances.  No rehabilitation.  I refuse to take that chance with our childern. Politically correct?  If it is then I'm guilty.

I'm a tree hugger.  I hate to see land stripped of trees and replaced with subdivisions.  When we run out of green we run out of breath.  I pick up litter on my road all the time.  Is that the politically correct thing to do.  If it is then the idiots who use their car windows for garbage disposal units must be way cool politically incorrect. More likely though, just idiots.

Some of it is self preservation.  I don't run red lights because I don't want someone doing it to me.  I don't embarass people in public because I don't want a return rejection.  This may seem a bit anal but I don't go over the 10 item limit at the express check out. I get pissed when someone ahead of me does it and I don't want a disparaging ditto.

I think what this is all about is trying to look at things from the other person's vantage point.  There is nothing black and white.  It's never my way or the highway and it's never "my country right or wrong".  Your country, or more to the point, the politicians who happen to be running your country at a particular time, can be wrong. 

Bobby Kennedy was part of his brothers adminstration when the Viet Nam war was escalating.  In 1968 he ran as an anti-war candidate.  Politically correct?  Or was it a bad war that needed to be ended? 

If I'm politically correct about the war in Afghanistan then "Mississauga" must be politically incorrect.  But I don't think he is.  It's simply his opinion and I respect that opinion. Besides the entire thing confuses me.  In a conservative society being politically incorrect would be correct.  Which means in a liberal society being politically correct would be incorrect would be correct.  No, wait.  That can't be right.  Who the hell makes up these things?  Probably some politically correct conservative.

Heard an interesting discussion on the Fan the other day.  It started out about supporting women's hockey if there was a professional team in Toronto.  Some the listners took it in another direction saying they wouldn't support women's hockey or other women's sports because women aren't as good as men. 

Hardly the point. Women can't skate as fast or shoot as hard as men.  But you can't tell me that a Canada/US final in women's hockey isn't exciting.  It's about the competition.

One of the callers got to talking about women's tennis and how Maria Sharapova couldn't beat any high end male players like Federer, Nadal or Murray.  Well of course she can't.  But she can beat the Williams sisters, I remember Chris Evert once saying that as good as she was there was no chance she could beat the 100th ranked man in the world.  Evert could out play 99.9 per cent of the people on the planet male or female but not the number 100 man.  Did that mean an Evert/Navratilova or an Evert/Goolagong US Open final wasn't exciting?  Of course not.

Again, it's about the competition.  I've seen Junior A hockey games that were equally and in some cases more exciting that a Maple Leaf game.  Most of those kids wont get a sniff at the NHL level.  But their competition level was tremendous. 

Is the NFL better than the CFL?  Yes.  Is it more exciting?  Not always. I'd rather watch a 36-30 game between Saskatchewan and Montreal than Indianapolis ripping Buffalo 47-3.   The NFL'ers are bigger, stronger and for the most part fasters.  But more exciting?

The other night I watched the Blue Jays beat the Yankees 3-2.  Great game.  I stayed for the full 9 innings.  Next night when the Yankees took a 10-1 lead  and I flipped to my PVR list.  Same 2 teams but the game wasn't competative. 

This isn't about women playing against men it's about women competing against women and the level of competition.  The fastest time for a women's 100 meters is 10.49 set more than 20 years ago by Florence Griffith-Joyner.  Best ever men's time is Usain Bolt's incrediable 9.58 set last summer.  That's less than second.  A bat of an eye to you and me but an an eternity in sprinting.  Flo-Jo could probably have run faster than 99.9% of the human population.  On her best day she could never have beaten Bolt. But tell me a women's 100 meter final at the Olympics isn't exciting or competative.  Argue all you want, I wont buy it.

It's our genetics.  Our physiology.  I sit out back and watch the birds. The bright red cardinal is a male.  The mousey coloured brown one is a female.  Did nature get it wrong?  Nope.  The male is bright red a) to attract a mate and b) if a hawk swoops down what's going grab his attention?  The ravishing red of the male or the faded feathers of the female who's camouflaged in the trees with her nestlings. Guess who loses that one?

 Our genes got it right. It is a competition but not in a race or on sheet of ice.  It's a competition to survive.  It takes 2 to procreate progeny.  After which the "she" takes care of the offspring while the "he" goes out and gets dinner then comes home to protect the brood.  She makes sure the kids are nurtured.  He makes sure some saber tooth tiger disguised as a cro-magnon Avon lady doesn't show up at the cave's door.

There's a theory that most prehistoric inventions came from men.  A little hunting, a little gathering and then a little time to kill and to think. "Hey Ormp, wonder what would happen if I sharpened this stone and stuck it onto the end of a branch."  Voila, a spear is born.  How bored would you have to be to rub 2 sticks together for a half hour for no particular reason and then one day....holy crap...I invented fire! 

I'm convinced that sports evolved because men had way too much time on their hands. Which is what a lot of women still think after their mates spend a Sunday on the couch with his pig skin pals, a jumbo bag of porkrinds and the obligatory 2-4. Domesticating animals may have been the most important thing to happen to the development of sports. "You know. Ugwa if we can convince that cow and that pig and chicken that we'll feed them maybe they'll stick around and we wont have to hunt anymore.  Then we spend our time seeing who can kick that rock the farthest".  Presto!  The invention of soccer.

Bigger, stronger, faster is not a compeition between the sexes.  Our physiology and our evolution made us what we are and that process probably isn't finished.  For now men will be able to hit a golf ball farther, a tennis ball harder and run faster.  Sharapova against Federer wouldn't be a contest.  Neither would Wie against Woods.  But toss the Ottawa 67's into the same game agaisnt the Maple Leafs and what kind of a competiion would that be?  Okay, bad example.  Toss the 67's into the same game with the Pittsburg Penguins and what kind of a compeition would that be? It wouldn't.

Women can be every bit as cometative and skilled as men.  Bigger, stronger, faster may be in the evolutionary plan for them. A man's athletic equal. And men?  Well  like our antediluvian ancestors we'll have plenty of time on our hands to think about things like....the possibilite of  3-D tv football, how pork rinds would taste as a taco topping and concluding that our requisite refreshment...beer simply cannot be improved on. It is man's epitome of inspiration. 

Thanks to Lloyd and Kim for passing this along.

The Haircut

One day a florist went to the barber for a haircut. After the cut he asked the barber about the bill and the barber replied "I can't acccept money from you.  I'm doing community service work this week." The florist was pleased and left the shop.  When the barber opened his shop the next morning he found a dozen roses and a thank you note wating for him at the door.

Later that day a police officer came in for a cut.  When he tried to pay the bill the barber told him "No sir, I can't accept your money.  I'm doing communtiy service work this week."  The officer smiled and left the shop.  Next morning when the barber opened up he found a thank you note and a dozen donuts wating for at the door.

A few hours later a politician walked in.  He asked for a haircut and when it was done he went to pay the bill.  The barber said "I can't accept your money, I'm doing community service work this week."  The politician was very happy about that and left the shop smiling.

The following morning when the barber showed up for there was something at the door.  A dozen politicians waiting for him and free haircuts!

And that, my friends, is the fundamental difference between the citizens of our country and the politicians who run it.

Post script:  Both politicians and diapers should be changed often.  For the same reason.

Found an article earlier today that advanced the question...."Should parents and kids be friends on facebook?"  The article and the survey that was done had no definitive answer.  But some of the results are interesting.

75% who have kids between 13 and 17 are f/b friends with their kids. That strikes me as a  huge number. I'm f/b friends with 2 of my 3 kids but they're adults now.  It's a quick, easy and for them inexpensive way to keep in touch.  You don't have spend an hour on the phone looking for something to talk about.  I've become my father.  Once the "how are ya's" and "is there anything new" is over with I don't have much left to say. 

It's the pubescent progeny that's having the problems with parents poking into their personal lives. Close to 1/3rd of kids would un-friend their parents if they could.  Half don't want mom and dad posting comments.  And this may sting, but  for all you gals who want to be pals with your kids, twice as many of them would un-friend you before they would ditch their dads.

13 to 17 years old?  It's the time of life when some kids don't want to seen with their parents because they've grown from micro to macro boppers.  Hanging with ma and pa aint cool.  You gave them life. Now they want you to give them space.

I understand the parents point of view.  We want to know what's going on in our child's life.  Who they're talking to, who they shouldn't be talking and what they're saying.  But that's the last thing the kid wants.  They don't understand that the parent is trying to protect them from the predators that pervade the internet.  It's old adage..."wait 'til you have kids of your own".  Which will never penatrate 15 years olds brain until they have kids of their own.

There was no internet when my kids were in their teens.  Did I trust them?  To a point. But I knew that they weren't going to tell the entire story just like I didn't tell my parents the details of my weekend wanderings.  There are things I did, that to this day I have never told my parents. I asked my oldest son about that once.  "Anything you did that you never told me about?"  "Yep." was  the reply.  "And I'm not going to tell you now."  I said.."That's okay because I don't think I want to know."   I remember telling my youngest son, when he was in his teens that if  he ever did something that he thought I would ground him for life for...don't tell me!

Is that bad parenting?  I don't know.  But I do think that teens need a certain amount of privacy.  Because f/b is so public I don't thing your little Cosmo and Cosmette are going plotting things that will get them on B&E TV. 

Teens can do dumb things.  My dad did (although it was my mother that told me about them and not him), I did, my kids did and their kids will.  I think it's a pubescent problem.  They want to push the envelope and sometimes that's good.

Is that bad parenting?  I don't know.  I wont debate that we have a duty to take care and look out for our kids.  I told my kids if you're going to push that envelope too far you'd better understand Newton's Third Law Of Motion:  For every action there is an equal and opposite reation.  You're bad action means a reaction from me you probably don't want to know about.

Here's something I will debate. Do we really need to know everything that's going on in their lives?  I don't think so. They deserve a certain amount of privacy just like we do.  I think if my kids had f/b when they were in teens we would be friends at the dinner table but on on-line.

Sometimes the poet Thomas Gray is right..."Where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise." 

It's a phrase I've never heard before, aesthetcially challenged.  It's the catch phrase for a new dating site in the UK called the Ugly Bug Ball.  Here's the premise.  They say that 50% of the people in the land of UK are, in a word, ugly.  Problem is there are no dating sites specifically for people who set their sights low and suffer from low self esteem.  "Why wade through a small pool of prettiness when you can dive into an ocean of ugly".  That's one of the lines they're using to sell the service.

According to the site only 15% of folks in Britain are staunchly stunning.  Not sure how scientific that is but the number is at odds with the very unscientific study I saw on Sienfeld when Jerry notted that only 5% were verifiably vivacious.  The rest? Yada Yada Yada.

Now, even though a site like this would open up a universe of possibilities for me I really don't like the word ugly.  Fact is I know people who you might consider uncomely or plain but when you factor in their personalies they become alluring. 

A spokesman for the site says pretty people are generally not very nice and some are a bit shallow.  'Course they can afford to be.  Most of us can't.  I got it all when I was a kid.  "You gotta face that could stop a truck", "You got a mug that my dog wouldn't lick,"  "Only a mother could love a puss like that." 

The worst though happened when I was around 15.  I worked in a bowling alley and I had a weakness for a waitress.  I love a woman in uniform especially one with milkshake stains on her apron.  I looked for any excuse to talk with her and one day when we were all alone by the meat locker she looked at me with her beguiling baby blues and said...."You know, you're really not the best looking guy in the world but you have nice sweaters."  I swear to God that's what she said. Had I been bewitched by a bitch? No, she was probably right and I knd of figured then and there that hunk and Hodge were never going to used in the same sentence. I thought of changing my name to Rick Raglan.

That's probably why I spent a good chunk of my college years in the local pub.  I figured if I could find a 7 and buy her drinks she'd be a 10 my last call.  Then the pressure was on me to get her to think I had made a quantum leap from a 3 to a 7.  Never worked but it was worth the try.  However it have could led to the urban myth about the coyote date.  3 becomes 7 and in the morning the 7 who turned into a 10 will chew their arm off to make a dash for the door leaving me, the 3, to make breakfast for one.

Occasionally you'll bump into a provocative person who's actually shy about their looks. I like those people. They don't think they're better than you because they look better than you. There really is something to those things we heard when we were kids.  Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  Beauty is only skin deep.  You can't judge a book by it's cover.  My friend, Jeff O'Niell calls the beautiful people who let you know you're dealing with appealing, "eye candy dumb asses".   He's right. They taunt with a flaunt.

I realize this UK web site is gimmicky but it does allow the the unattractive to be proactive and take away the fear of reaching out to meet someone.  15 hundred have signed up in 5 days.  As soon as I finish writing this It will !5 hundred and one. I'm signing up:  Male, aesthetically challenged. but I have nice sweaters.

The Tiger and Elin divorce came up twice for me today. Linda Lavigne commented on my facebook page that one of Tiger's paramours was upset because he had other mistresses.  As Linda said...."fool around with me I'll fool around with you". 

That's something I don't get.  If you're jumping in the rack with someone's who's married do you honestly think you're his one and only side salad.  God, Woods had a salad bar going for him. A stash of stunning standbys at every stop on the tour.  Not sure why women, and I guess in some cases men but it seems to happen to shes more than hes, take the bait.  They have to know there isn't a sowballs chance in Augusta in August that Tiger was going to leave Elin of his own accord.  So, this particular covert concubine figured being no. 2 to Elin was like being no. 1 on the mistress menu.

What she didn't know was Tiger had hammered out a harem stretching from San Diego to Syracuse.  Linda's waring about...'fool around with me and I'll fool around on you"...strikes another chord.  I've met former mistresses who married the man they mooched from his mate.  Then they couldn't figure out why their pirated partner was now doing the same to them.  For guys playing the Team Tiger game once is never enough.

I was on the air with The Rock radio station in Windsor this morning.  They posed the question..."Who gets married first, Tiger or Elin?"   Ineresting poser.  From what I've observed women in Elin's postion tend to get a bad case of the nuptual nerves.  Do they want to get into another mess like they just got out of?  Can they ever trust again?  The healing takes time. Besides in Elin's case she wont want for anything financially and the kids are taken care of so time probably isn't an issue.

I'm betting that Tiger takes the "I do" dive first.  Probably wont be for a while.  He has to get his stroke back and concentrate on his short game (I'm talking golf here, get your minds out of the gutter) before he proposes a proposal to another woman. 

Seems obvious that he needs someone, anyone, a lot them them in his life.  It will have to be a strong willed career oriented woman like a Hillary Clinton who can accepted Tiger trysts or woman with balls of titanium who can make sure he walksoff the 18th green on a short leash. 

Will Tiger make the same mistake the second time around?  I'm not talking about his frisky frolics. We don't have the details of the Elin divorce but if those stories were correct that she was going nail him for half of his worth for him nailing half of the country he could be out as much as a half billion dollars.  The second Mrs. Woods is going to have to sign a pre-nup.  Not to protect him from her but to protect Woody from Woody. 

Disturbing story out of Barrie concerning a man who punched his girlfrield, knocked her down and hit her on the side of her leg with a metal bar.  Thankfully she only sustained minor injuries and police say she's fine.

The reason for the attack?  The woman served her boyfriend a steak that had "the wrong level of tenderness".  Police weren't sure if it was too well done or too rare.  What is for sure is that tenderness is not a word this guy understands.

Now, in now way do I find any humour in what happened to this woman.  Physcial abuse of your partner happens too often and in my mind it's a heinous crime.  What strikes me about the story is what the arguement was about. 

I learned early on that you do not criticze your partner for the meal they've just prepared.  For you it might just be a meal.  For them, weather they microwaved some Kraft Dinner or spent hours preparing a duck l'orange, it's their creation.  They made it for you.  Castigating them is a verbal slap in the face.

It took time but I realized if you really don't like what your partner has served up you might get away with...it could use a little more garlic. Actually I say that about everything I'm served.  There can never be enough garlic. (note:  if you're on a date and you're eating anything garlicy make sure your date is eating garlic too. Later in the evening when the things get amorous and you reek of the superb herb and she doesn't it wont be the season for sex). 

The only time I mention there's anything wrong with what's in front of me is at Thanksgiving.  "How's the turkey?".  "Oh, it's fine. a little dry but put gravey on it and you wont notice".   Yea you wont notice if the gravey boat is the size of a cruise ship. You can think that but never say it.

All partners are going to get into a relation ruckus now and then.  Few of us know how to do it.  If you're going critize your mate, even if it's constructive criticism, be prepared for a defensive dis.  While your trying to point out something that's bothering you they're getting ready to counter with something that's bothering them.  It degenerates into a..."I may do that but you do this" debate and the point of the discussion, which has now evolved into a blowout, is lost.

When arguements get out of hand things get said that aren't necessarily meant.  They're said to hurt.  It's happened to me a few a times.  You bury it in your psyche but every now and then it finds it's way into your consciousness and you wonder..."if that's how they really feel why are we together".  

I try to avoid arguing. If the discussion veers off on another road into a verbal altercation, I bail.  I leave the room.  I go for a drive. Not because I'm afraid things will get physcial. But because it stops both of us from saying some things we'll regret later. Some think that's the cowards way out.  Maybe it is but I'd rather be called a wuss than leave a room full of hurt when I can just leave that room.

The beef about the beet in Barrie didn't have to and never should have made it to the physcial stage. My God, think about it. Hitting your partner because of the way a steak was cooked.  That's not even worth verbal argument never mind a physcial showdown.  We waste too much time arguing over small things that are easily fixed, easily ignored or easliy accepted.  We waste too much time arguing, period.

I was sitting out back the other day writing a blog, actually it was Friday, I know that beause Friday is garbage day up here.  I did the manly thing and brought in the blue boxes earlier but hadn't hauled in the green bin or the regular garbage can.  You can't see the road from the back of the hosue but I heard a pick truck go by.  Now I don't get a lot of traffic on the road and over time you get to know the difference in the sound of a car, a dump truck, farm machinery and the afore mentioned pickup truck.

I heard some noise as the truck passed by.  Sounded like something out the old Batman TV show...you rememer....biff...pow...zappo...splinter...boom...burp....a cacophony of ear popping pandemonium.  Okay, it wasn't that bad.  More like a bang and a splat.  But in true caped crusader fashion I sprang into action.  By the time I got to the road the truck was history and so was my garbage can.  The recepticle was detecable but barely.  I knew right away that this was no accidental denting.  There was malice directed towards my bruised bin.

Why? Because it's getting close to school heading back in.  It's a phenomea that occurs in early and late summer.  When school is getting out and when school is set to go back. It seems like a right of passage. 

My first experience with this came about year after I moved up here.  The target was my old tin mail box.  What they do is drive by, hang out the passanger window and  take a baseball bat to the box.  Pound the post hard enough and you've got instant air mail which happened to me for a couple of years before I wised up and bought a one piece hard plastic mail box that so far has stood up to these mail box mashing miscreants.

My neighbour wouldn't budge.  He had a makeshift wooden mail box up.  As far as he was concerned this rabble was committing a federal offence by doing a Barry Bonds on his  box.  He decided he was going to go rogue.  He told me he was going to wire it up with electicity and if they hit it again they'd get the shock of a life time.  I explained that a lot of kids have carry around aluminum bats these days...they hit your mail box with aluminum and you might morph them into some kind teenage mutant moppet with powers we don't want to know about.  He thought twice about it.

Now what I don't get about this is damaging other people's property.  Not to say we did go on capers when we were young and stupid. Our favourite fad was a little game we called nickey nickey nine door. The idea  was to wait until dark, run up to someone's door and knock or ring the door bell and then run like hell.  My first taste of this nocturnal knocking involved my brother and his friend.  I think I was about 10.i was prepubescent  I know didn't have any urges yet.  I knew what I needed to know about girls, they were soft and prettier than boys.  I had to wait until post pubescence to figure out the rest. Anyway I was out with my brother and his friend for a night "ring and run".  But I got scared and went home to watch tv with my parents.   About an hour or so later the door bell rang at the front door.  This can't be good.  No one ever came to the front door. 

A pair of larger than life policemen wanted to know if a Rickey Hodge lived here.  My ears started burning.  That's what happens when I know I'm in trouble.  It's like someone his lit my lobes and committed ear arson.  Turns out my brother and his buddy had been stopped by the cops and asked about kids ringing people's door bells.  Yea they said...we saw a kid who lives over there named Rickey Hodge prowling around.  Big Hodgie had turned in Little Hodgie. 

Now I know this was a bite in the butt for our "nine-doored" neighbours.  But there was never and property damage.  And that's what I don't get about kids using a Louisville to level my letter box or making my garbage can look like the loser at the local demolition derby.  It's not a federal offence but it is offensive and I have to replace my bashed bucket. I know I wont catch these search and destroy boys....but....revenge?  I'm thinking about getting a metal replacement can and then go see my mad scientist neighbour to get him to rethink his aspiring wiring,  He could be the Nikola Tesla of Essa. Here's the deal kids. You don't crash my trash and I wont jolt your jeep.

You know damn well 20 years from now these kids are going to be sitting at home when another pack of teen terrors puts the whack on their waste and they'll be saying..."does that old coot still live around here who knows wire up garbage cans?'

Roger Clemens has been indicted by a grand jury for lying to a US Senate committee looking into steroid use in baseball.  If he's convicted on all counts he's starring down 30 years in the slam in stead of starring down batters trying to slam him.  He wont get 30 years maybe closer to a year and a half. 

We don't know it for sure but most people who've followed this story figure it's a fact that the Rocket wasn't being factual when he denied he used of preformance enhancing drugs.  I watched it.  Clemens was about as convincing as Bill Clinton's dubious dictum "I did not have sex with that woman."  No sex involved with Clemens, not in this instance, but there was a booty.  A witness testified that he injected himself in his rear.  No ifs or ands but there was a butt involved.

The odd thing about this steroid thing in baseball is that for the most part the players who have been up front and admitted using them hae been forgiven.  Even Alex Rodriguez who swore he didn't score caved in when there was too much evidence to deny it.  For me his 600 dings are tainted but he seems largely forgiven.

Clemens wont be.  Neither will Barry Bonds.  The best hitter and the best pitcher of a genration are persona non grata in their game. Bond's tater tantrums and Clemen's wiffs record, as great as they are, may not be good enough to get them into the hall of fame.

Ther other day I heard Mike Wilner on The Fan say that Clemens belongs in Cooperstown with other fungo fabs.  He'll go down at the best pitcher of...the steroid era.  The steroid era.  Not until just a few years ago did baseball concern itself with steroids. To the shame of the game steroids weren't tested for or banned. We'll never know how many juiced pitchers were pitching to juiced batters.  For some that's an even playing field.  No harm, no foul.  And I might agree if every player on every team was on steroids. The playing field was never even.

It's not steroids that will keep Rocket off the hall of fame docket.  It's the lying,  When Bonds is found out it's the same deal. It's not the cheating it's the lying about the cheating that bothers a lot of us.

Rob Ford, running to be Mayor of Toronto got caught in a lie last week.  When he had the chance to come clean on his past peccadillos he didn't.  When the misdeeds emerged Ford fell on his sword and came clean.  He didn't have much choice did he?  But so far he's still the flavour of the month to the new His Honour.  Reminds me of A-Rod's end run.

Lying is an interesting item.  Virtually everyone I've ever me has been guilty at one time or another of a fraudulent fib. We do it for different reasons and we can generally justify it to ourselves. Problem is we usually get caught in that lie and some of us, who don't know when to quit, lie about the lying.  Not the circle of life but certainly a viscious circle.

What Clemens is trying to do is protect his image and his legacy. He never was much of a likeable person but there are plenty of unlikeable players with plaques in Cooperstown.  He always struck me as an.."it's all about me" type of player. Plenty of those in the Hall too,

I understand the argument.  I get his numbers.  But numbers aren't going to be the decider.  An impaired image and a litigious legacy are the road blocks that will stop him for entering the imortal portal into the Hall of Fame.

I've heard it argued that if you don't support the war you can't support the soldiers.  Yes you can.  I don't support the war in Afghanastan.  I support the soldiers.  I don't want to get into a moral or philosophical arguement about the war.  If you support it, knock yourself out.  We can agree to disagree.

The other day a freind of mine posted this on her facebook page..."I see "support our troops" on tee shirts but we are failing them. I know that some of the people are coming back suffering from PTSD (posttraumatic stress disorder).  The so called therapy they are getting is not working,  They are paying out of pocket.  They are suffering.  Their families are suffering and none of this is made known.  Support our troops means support them after they come home and give them the care they so richely deserve." 

My friend is a nurse.  She sees it every working day.  For me, any Canadian who fights for their country should be compensated for any injury, physical or mental, incured while on active duty for their rest of their lives.  Financial and medical assistance should never run out.

In reality people who sign up for  the armed forces are civil servants like the folks who work for Revenue Canada or any other departement of the federal government.  And not unlike politicians who, although they too often don't believe they are servants of the people, are civil servants.

I wont argue that no one forced the men and women in the Canadian armed forces to enlist.  But they did it.  They did it out of a sense of duty to their country.  They agreed to fight in a war they believed in but not a war they created.  The Canadian government commited Canada and our service people to the war in Afghanastan.  With that committment has to come responsibility to the people sent to war.

Soldiers and politicans:  both civil servants.  And that's pretty much where the similarities end.  Politicians serve their terms and get fat ass pensions. Soldiers tramp through a foreign country never knowing if the next truck that passes by is fitted with a bomb. Our politicans get to grandstand, emote and act like the rowdy rabble in a back street bar at last call while they mug for the cameras during Question Period. 

When a politican is elected the perks come with it.  First class travel, first class accomodations, a budget over and above their salaries and lord knows the freebies that come with their positions we'll never know about.  When they're done with the Parliament Hill hoopla what do they have to look foward too?  A solid gold pension, they can use their contacts and prestige of being an Ottawa insider to become lobbyists or sit on the board of directors of companies they can open doors for.

What does a politician risk when they run for a seat?  The embarassment of losing or maybe being forced to return to what was probably a failed private sector career. What do soldiers risk?  Their lives!  They risk their lives, not for personal gain but for their country and what they believe is right.  A soldier killed in action leaves behind family that may not be able to take care of itself.  A soldier who comes home with physcial and/or psychological damage and who can't function properly in civilian life must be taken care of for life. It's our duty for them doing their duty. These soldiers may come home to a failed career in the private sector. But it's not their failure. It's our failure and the failure of our politiians who have the ability and the obligation to do something about it.

A synonym for injury is abuse.  If we don't, if we wont, take care of these men and women we are  abusing them.  They put their lives on the line which is a hell of a lot more than anything our politicians have done.  These soldiers made a decision. It was their duty to risk their lives for their country in a war they didn't make.  The politicians who commissioned the soldiers have a responsibility to make sure they are properly taken care of for taking care of us.

We owe them.

Short article in the paper last week about the folks in Britain prepping for  the 2012 Olympics.  What they're trying to avoid is offending foreign tourists while the games are on.  They want to sell London and the rest of the country as a go to tourist attraction.   So They've issued a list of how to deal with the onslaught of Olympic Game gad-abouts.

They've broken it down by country and culture and they give the goods on how to deal with....Canadians.   Their research conludes that we will always shake your hand.  We would rather use first names in conversation.  We like  shopping and we are a very friendly people. For the most part we are although I don't think their analysis factored in rush hour on the 401, the 400, the 403 or the Don Valley when tempers flare and horns blare.  Our benign nature morphs into a madness that would shock the Anglo Saxon faction.

According to the list Canadians are a first come first served people.  Do not, and they stress this, do not butt into line in front of a Canadian.  Of course over 'ome they call it jumping the que.  So all a Brit has to say is..."I'm not buttin' anything, I'm a que jumper".  We being polite by nature would reply..."Oh, well then, go ahead."

 Another Canadian caution is do not offer us cigarettes.  The crack team of societal investigators across the pond has assertained that we distain ciggies.  Unless of course (their research, not mine) the Canuck is from Quebec.  Tobacco is taboo for the rest of Canada but in La Belle, what the hell.  Which may explain our 2 solitudes.

Now anyone who has travelled understands this one.  Canadians do not want to be mistaken for an American.  Americans:  rude.  Canadians:  polite.  Americans:  aggressive.  Canadians:  passive.  It seems to be some law of nature which is caused by crossing the 49th parallel and it remains a mystery of science.  I've always found this strange.  Canadians embrace everything American.  TV, movies, music, culture, dress, food.  Why have an all Canadian angus beef burger when you can attack a Big Mac?  Oh sure we love our Canadian talent.  Neil Young, Allanis Morisette, Mike Myers, Jim Carey, Wayne Gretzky, Keifer Sutherland.  Candian to the core, maple syrup running through their viens, all living in Los Angeles. 

I'm a little iffey about about the research that was done about us to give them a heads up on how to handle Canadians during the dog days of 2012.  On the flip side I have done an extensive study of British culture.  I have watched Coronation Streeet for more than 20 years and I know what makes the English edgy and the British skitish. 

According to my Corrie Catelogue, every British bar maid will at have an affair with at least one pub patron.  Some have more than one. So they're pulling more than pints.  The lone exception is Betty, who is famous for her hot pots (do not read anything into hot pot...it's food).  All Brits will eat at least one bacon butty per day and always on white bread.  Whole wheat doesn't seem to have made it to the Isles yet.

All British men over the age of 20 spend no fewer than 18 hours a day in their local (a British term for the corner bar) while holding down day jobs.  How they do it is a mystery steeped in history.  British men over the age of 35 all have beer bellies.  Again, I know this from Coronation Street.

All Britrish women over the age of 40 have big hair.  The hairdresser has big hair, the pub manager has big hair, the shop owner has big hair.  It's a hair spray haven over there.

Each British community will have at least one but probably more nefarious neighbour.  A person so vile they will commit any depravity including murder. It could be a man, it could be a women, it could be an obscene teen. Each has done it or tried too.  And they always seem to elude capture unless they're written out of a script.

I know that most women, at one point in their lives, will be refereed to as a "slapper".  I've never been able to fully gauge what a slapper is. They can be old, middle aged, or young.  I do know by the reaction it exacts that it's not a term of indearment. 

I'm passing my research along to prepare any of you who might be considering a trip to the London games.  It may not be scientific but I've been working on this longer than Einstein worked on general relativity.  Coronation Street is a mirror of British life, or so I'm told.  I mean they say the Queen watches it daily.  You know that if it's happening in Weatherfield it's happening in Heath.  If you're taking your partner, beware the affair.  There is no adult on Coronation Street who has not had an affair with the exception of Betty the previously mentioned hot pot practitioner. 

There is one piece of advice from the British study that puzzles me.  It tells the locals to never. under any circumstances, mention the Mexican-American War to a Mexican. It will upset them.  I'm having a hard time imagining a Mexican tourist walking into a pub and one of  the punters, who's been there for 16 of his obligatory 18 hours, balancing his pint on his ale enlarged midriff, thinking it's his turn to have an affair with the bar maid with the copious coiff but first he needs a bacon butty in his belly, leaning over the to the visitor and saying..."Hey mate, you beat 'em up good at the Alamo but you got your arse kicked  'round the corner by the Yanks at Veracruz, didn't ya."   

That's never happened on Coronation Street.....yet.  

Don Barrie posted this on facebook earlier. It's a bit by John Tesh telling us the 5 most offensive things in the english language you can say to another person.

Now, I'll be honest.  I have never been a huge fan of the Teshman.  Never bought into his whole new age thing.  And his taste in music?  Let's leave that one alone.   But I was curious about his list of the 5 most offensive things you can say to another person on his meaness menu.   

1:  I don't care.  2:  If you say so.  3:  What ever.  4:  What's your problem.  5:  Shut up.

Don't know about you but thinking back on my life I have had far more offensive things said to me.  Mostly dealing with my eating habbits (over the sink, no plates), my ineptitude as a euchre partner (you made it with a 10 and a queen and no bowers?),  my golfing ability (I actually thought that after you addressed the ball you put a stamp on it  and mailed it) and my total lack of technical skill (every time I have to cut and paste I have to email my kid so he can explain to me how to do it again).

The key to Tesh's no no numbers is nuance.  It's what the question is and the tone of the answer.  Q:  Ice cream or cake?  A:  I don't care (because they both sound good).   Q: Wanna send the kids to my folks tonight and...you know?  A:  If you say so (said with a sense of titalating anticipation).  Q:  Baby dolls or fish net stockings?  A: What ever (see previous brackets).  Q: What's your problem?  A:  I can't get the zipper on my dress to go up maybe you can help he honey.  Q:  I just landed a free pair of Black Eyed Peas tickets.  A:  Shut uuuuuup!

Not offensive at all.  'Course I have heard these terms from Tesh's list of diction depictions.  It went something like this.

Q:  How about we go out for dinner tonight?  A:  I don't care (yea, like I give a rats' ass).  Q:  Well do you want to stay in and I can fire up the BBQ?  A:  If you say so (but the sarcasm has to drip off the words like the grease from those burgers you were all set to toss on the grill).  Q:  Well I can run out and get some fresh salmon instead.  What do you think?  A:  What-eh-Vah. (it's crucial you say this like the guests on Maury Povich do...I heard one woman say it 18 or 19 times in 5 minutes. I fell in love instantly).  Now by this time the guy is getting fed up so he figures it's his turn to ask a pop a poser.  Q: What's your (explative optional) problem?  A: Shut up! 

So you see, like new age philosophy these phrases aren't always what they seem.  There is no locution solution.  It can come across as an inflection rejection or a tender tenor.

I want to preface this by saying we do not practice democracy in it's purest form.  We practice parlimentry democracy.  A representative form where we, the people, elect others to make decisions and vote on issues for us.  It's the only way democracy can work.  Populations are too large to have every eligable voter vote on every issue.  It's not ideal but it will have to do.

Americans don't even elect their presidents in a strict democratic sense.  They have an electoral college that can and has denied the presidency to the candidate who's picked up the most popular votes.  So, the system is flawed but again it will have to do.

This brings us to Rob Ford.  Toronto city councilor who's running for mayor.  The discussion is about the awarding of a 20 year contract to Tuggs Inc. to operate a cafe in the Beach.  The contract seems a little lengthy but that's not the issue.  The issue is that it was awarded untendered.  No other bidders need apply because they wouldn't be considered.  Right way that's wrong.  That's not how it's supposed to work.  It's in the best interest of the tax payers, the citizens of Toronto, the people who elected council and the mayor to make sure the city gets the best deal.  But that's not what troubles me.

The decison was made in-camera.  An odd little handle which means the decision was made in private.  It was made without public or media access and the politicians who sit in-camera  can't discuss it with you or me or reporters.  Ford says there's more corruption and skullduggery going on in the in-camera meetings that he's ever seen in his life.  If that's true then why aren't citizens made aware of it?

I can understand keeping certain things dealing with national security secret.  It's not ideal but if it keeps information away from people who want to do harm to Canada and Canadians I'll buy into it.  I don't think the awarding of a cafe license to a local restauranteur meets that criteria.  The people of Toronto have a right to know why this company got the nod and why it wasn't put up for tender.

The whole concept of government has gone off the rails.  We don't elect politicians, on any level, to rule us.  We elect them to represent us.  They are accountable to us.  With the exception of those few top security issues we have every right to know why every decision was made, who made it and how much it's going to cost.

Politicians are no different than other profesionals.  In effect we're hiring them to do a job. A lawyer, a stock broker, an accountant or a doctor are all accountable to us.  We're paying their freight to do a job for us. 

We have the the right to know what a politicians' expenditures are to the nickle.  We have a right to know why 12 politcians have to go to a conference in Bali when 3 would have been more than sufficient.  And why the hell do you have to go to Bali.  We have a right know why they flew first class when coach would have done.  Why a 5 star hotel at 5 hundred a night instead of a 3 star at 150. 

Politicians have "misplaced"  billions of dollars without accountability. Do that in the private sector and you'd  be dismissed immediately and probably charged with fraud or misappropriation of funds.  Politicians bury it, continue on in their jobs with all the bells and whistles that go with it and hope that we, the great unwashed, will forget about it when election time rolls around.  Sadly we generally do.

It filters through the system.  My first taste of it was years ago when I had summer job with a government run facility.  First day at work I did what I was told and when it was time for a coffee break I asked my manager what he wanted me to do next.  Next?  he said.  You weren't supposed to finish that until lunch.  Slow it down, pace it out, there's no rush.  Make it a good job not a fast job or they might cut staff. Staff to him, tax dollars to you and I.

I knew a woman who worked for a school board.  She was one of 4 administrative assistants at a school.  She told me there was enough work for 2.  So how come 4?  She said she was told if the cut 2 wages it would be taken out of next year's budget.  Less money is anathema to administrators. To us it's more cash out of our pockets.

Those are little examples.  There are more and much bigger ones.  But the bottom line is that it's our money being wasted.  Public funds isn't a synonym for "trough" that keeps getting filled up so cats can get fat drinking from it. You and I may not think so.  Politians seemingly interpret it differently.

Democracy is government by the people.  Supreme power is vested in the people.  The moment you go in-camera you are taking that government away from the people. The moment you make secret decisions on things as mundane as a cafe license you are stripping the people of what is supposed to be their power. 

Even if these in-camera sessions are harmless and in the minds of the politicians, in our best interest they give the illusion of corrutpion or as Ford calls it skullduggery.  We have a right to know what's going on at all levels of government and the politicians we elect (hire) have a duty to inform us.

Story in the Toronto Sun on Wednesday that bothers the crap out of me.   Catriona Delaney is the manager of "Get Active Toronto",  She says "This generation of people will have a higher mortality rate than it's parents."   So if you're an adult with kids you wont out live them buy you'll have a longer life span than they will.

How come?  Because it's a good bet you were more active than they are when you were kid and you probably still are. We know what the enemy is.  Television, video games and computers. 

Now when I was a kid...yea, yea you've heard it all before but here's something I thought about and wish I had said before I heard Buffalo writer/broadcaster Jim Kelly say it.  When we were growing up we'd watch a football game on tv then go outside and play football.  A hockey game on Saturday night meant first thing Sunday morning there would be a gathering of the clan out side and we'd spend the day playing road hockey.  It was the same deal with baseball and basketball.  We wanted to emulate what we saw.  You're the Leafs, we're the Habs...game on!....wait a minute..."CAR".  The only time my kids made reference to cars is if they needed a lift to the mall or they were playing "Grand Theft Auto". 

Here's what my kids did. Watch a hockey game, play a hockey game on video.  Watch a football game and crawl into their virtual world for an encore.  No thought of getting off their their increasing bulbous butts, going out side and getting a taste of the real thing.

I don't know what goes on in the schools any more...but when I was a kid.....(yea I know it's getting old...live with it)...we had an hour of phys-ed every day.  If you weren't good enough to make the school team there was intra-mural.  Kind of the special ed of phys-ed.  Sure, we all watched tv.  We all had our favourite shows but most the memories I have from my micro-bopper days are being out side playing something.

It's not just lack of physcial activity that bothers me.  I'm not sure that living in a virtual world is all that healthy although it's something I've been caught up in over the past several months.  I was having breakfast not long ago in a restaurant on a Sunday morning.  A girl who looked about 14 or 15 came in with a woman who looked like her grandmother.  They sat down and the teen immediately started texting.  They were there for about an hour.  I never saw the girl lift here head and I didn't hear one word, not a single word, exchanged.  I don't know  what their relationship was but if they were granddaughter and grandmother I felt so sorry for the older woman.  How much time do they get to spend together?  Not a single word!

I ran into another situation that disturbed me.  In a meeing at work we had 10 or 11 people sitting arund the table.  10 minutes in you heard a beep. The entire meeting was spent with no fewer than 3 people at any given time checking for messages and texting.  If some VP verging on total lunacy ever decides to give me a management job my first rule for meetings will be the three T's. No telephones, no texting, not tweets.  I need an hour of your time. If I have point to make you listen and I'll extend you the same courtesy. 

I know we evolve.  My parents didn't grow up with television. I did.  I didn't grow up with video games or computers. My kids did.  I probably watch too much tv these days but I still make a point of reading a new book every 2 weeks. I don't check the road anymore to see if there's a road hockey game set to break out but I do try to get as much exercise as I can. 

When I was a kid....(this will be the last "when I was a kid"...I promise)....when I was a kid there weren't as many "sit on your ass" distractions as my kids had.  We had plenty of distractions but for most of them involved working up a sweat.  Our grand kids will probably have more distractions than our kids had and possibly an even shorter life span.  I don't want that.  Neither do you.  That's not evolution that's devolution.  Technology can be a great thing but it seems to me it has us pointed in the wrong evolutionary direction. Hi Tech has turned me into an ass man.  Get off it and shake it. 

Hard to argue that Tiger Woods has lost it.   His marriage.  A large chunk of cash cache.  And he's lost his game.  On the eve of the PGA, the last of golf's majors, Tiger produced  the most fallacious finish of his career.  18 over par and a tie for second from the bottom at The Bridgestone Invitational last weekend. To paraphrase the William Blake poem..."Tiger, Tiger burning not so bright".  Not any more.

Now, I'm not much of a golfer.  Infact I've only done a round twice in my life. My best was 22 over par.  That's just 4 off Tiger's worst. 'Course my best didn't come at St. Andrews'.  It came at a 9 hole par 3.  But still Tiger is considered the best of his generation.  Maybe the best since some Scotsman said..."let's get some sticks and hit a ball.  Then we'll look for it and hit again and again and again until we find a hole to put it in."  Guess it got boring in the highlands. 

Those who know the in's and out of high stakes pitch and put tell me golf is 90 per cent mental.  It always amazes me how a golfer can shoot 2 under par on the second round and then come back the next day and go 6 over on the same course in the same conditions. Not long ago Bob Mc Cowan said on The Fan that it wouldn't surprise him if Tiger never won another tournament.  Not a major, a tournament, period.

So it's obvious that Tiger's matrimonial meltdown with his wife Elin has had an impact.  We'll never know what's dancing through his head when he's trying to drain a 15 footer for par.  His game, his marriage, losing his fortune or ruining his reputation with the string of bimbettes he bedded that got him into this sub par pickle in the first place.

It's not just Tiger that's feeling the impact of his infidelity.  There's another chain reaction faction.  The game.  There's a certain resentment towards Tiger on the tour.  It's always all about him. Then again it should be. There is no one  like him in golf.  He has no rival. He's bigger than the game he plays. 

Those are rare athletes.  They don't come around often.  Michael Jordan.  Wayne Gretzky.  Muhammad Ali.  Supremely talented but it's more than talent.  You are transfixed by them because you don't know what they're going to do.  You just know it's going to be special and something you've probably never seen before.  Tiger has that knack to take you aback.  I love watching this guy get into trouble because you're thinking..."how the hell is he going to get out of this one?"  And he does.  If Tiger is within 7 or 8 shots of the lead on the final round I'll give up a summery sunlit Sunday to stay indoors and watch him mount a charge and paralyze the putters of the guys on the leader board.

It's a bit of a stretch but you could compare Tiger to Babe Ruth.  Back in the 1920's baseball needed saving because of the 1919 Black Sox scandal.  The Babe came along a year later and began hitting home runs at, well, at a Ruthian pace.  When Tiger came along golf didn't need saving but it needed some oomph.  It was populated by golfers who walked alike and talked alike and sounded alike.  Tiger changed that.  He was cast from a different die.  That got people who aren't  normally sunshine shut ins to watch the wizzard on television.  That translated into higher ratings which translated into higher ad costs which translated into copious amounts of cash for the golfers.  It was Reaganomics.  The trickle down effect functioning on the fairway. 

At the Bridgestone last weekend, once viewers figured out that Tiger was out of contention the ratings vanished faster than the career of Yahoo Serious (Young Einstein..good movie).  As disgusted as most of us are with Tiger's trysts we don't watch him to see him fail.  The respect may have erroded but not our fascination with the drama he creates on any given Sunday.  A tamed Tiger is boring.  A Tethered Tiger is a dollar dilemma for the game.  The toughest hazzard the pros face right now isn't on the course.  It's a Tiger who can't make the cut. 

He still has his physcial gifts.  But if the game truly is 90 per cent mental and with Tiger losing his marriage, his kids and upwards to 50 per cent of his net worth and with his public image in shambles, he may never recover. We'll tell our grand kids about what might have been.

"Tiger, tiger burning bright in the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye could frame thy fearful symmetry."........Tiger's symmetry isn't framed it's frozen. 

I posted a link from Yahoo news on Sunday about some research done that says who you are at the age of 6 is who you will be at 16, through your college years, into adulthood, middle age and retirement.  By the time you're trying to figure out 4 x 5 your personality is pretty much etched in cement.  The researchers figure that a change in your basic personality isn't likely.

Now while I was reading the article I tried to do a back peddle to the tender age of 6.  I do recall being excited about just having a birthday and telling the lady next door that I was six.  She said, that's too bad it's no fun to be sick.  No, I'm six.  Yes, you told me you're not feeling well.  Do you have a cold?  No, what I mean is I'm six.  Then you'd better go home and rest.  It seems my communications skills were no better then, then they are now.  Maybe these's reasearchers are on to something.

The problem I'm having with this is that my memory is a little hazy.  I call the time from my 5th birthday to about 11 or 12 my Fruit Loop years.  Mom wanted me to eat a good breakfast before school and what better breakfast could there be than a cornucopia of Toucan inspired, artificially coloured grain product. Trix..and Sugar Smacks and Honey Combs and Boo Berry and Count Chocula and Franken Berry. You put a bear with a honey pot on the package and I'm in for 2 bowls.  And let's not forget the critter who started me down the road to my sugar induced stupor....Tony The Tiger and his Frosted Flakes.  This is when my fascination with science began.  It's pure genius to be able to take wheat, corn and oats and turn then into a nectarous nosh.  I was harmonized with anything carmalized and it came with my mother's approval. Nowdays these sugar shockers are "part" of a nutriious breakfast. Back then they were breakfast.

There must be some truth to the research.  When I was 6 I didn't like to get into fights.  Still don't.  I had a respect that boarded on fear of authority figures.  Still do.  I liked to pass on information that I thought no one else had. This is a true story. In grade 2 we were taking bible studies.  We were learning about the life of Christ and the teacher made reference to Pilate.  I had paid my devotional dues.  I'd been to Sunday School.  Up went my hand and I announced to my teacher and the class that Pilates first name was Pancho and he came from Mexico. She gave me a pitiful nod and recommended me for special ed.   That's another thing I took into my teen years and adulthood.  Believing I was right when I was wrong.  At 6 or 7 that's okay.  Over 30 you're going to pay for it.

I was shy then.  I am now.  I hate walking into a room full of people.  But I love to discuss.   I love banter and arguing in it's truest form.  Interesting combination considering I chose broadcasting as a profession.  But you can talk all you want while hiding behind a mic. I loved the anonimity of radio. That all changed when some wise ass program director (who to this day is still a dear friend) thought it might be a good idea to plaster my face on a billboard.  My life changed.  Well, not really.  I turned into retro Rick and went back to being that shy 6 year old. 

So at six your fixed. The essence of your quintessence has been hardwired.  But when you've only managed to get through your first half dozen birthdays how much do have to worry about. If mom wont buy you the Costco size box of your favourite sugar shockers you can throw a candied covered conniption.  The worst you might get is a time out. Do it at 16 you're a rebel.  If that attitude is ingrained and part of your personality as an adult and you do it at work you end up with time off, permanently. But by the time you're living in a retirement home and you throw a tv tantrum because they wont put on The Golden Girls then you're just that quircky old eccentric who's probably in needs a prune danish.  It's the circle of life.

Flip through the papers, watch the news, check out the internet and crime is everywhere.  We get hardened to it.  I remember a few years ago there was a story in one of the papers about gun shots being fired in the general direction of some police officers.  Not long ago that would be front page.  This little episode was on page 6.

There are some crimes that are obviously more heinous than others.  Harming childern sexually, physically or mentally.  Abuse of women.  It's a long list.  This one may not be in that category but it truely bothers me. The woman who turned herself in in Oakville admitting she scammed people out of money with a story about cancer.  She said she had 4 kinds of terminal cancer. She had shaved her head to play the part and had friends raise money.  For her, not for a cure.

There is no one I know any more who hasn't had to deal with cancer.  A loved one, a family member, a co-worker or a friend.  We have all in some way been touched by what has become proably the most feared disease in North America.  To use it as a scam to line your own pockets makes this a heinous crime.

Now, if this were a single monther, living on welfare, feeding 3 kids with foodbank handouts and getting their clothes from the Salvation Army, a woman with no hope and no prospects and doing it out of love and fear for her kids, I could understand it. Does that make it right?  No.  Should she be excused?  No.  But I could understand it.  Desperate times, desperate measures.  

In the handfull of cases that have come to light with cancer scams we not deal with a desperate parent. We're dealing with people who simply want more than the have.  It's not about survival it's about greed. 

I realize we're not talking about a Wall Street rip off where millions and maybe billions of dollars that were ponzied out of investors wallets ended up in some offshore account in the Carribean where the cash couldn't be touched.   We're dealing with much smaller amounts of money.  This isn't about numbers. This isn't about people investing for a return on their dollars. This is about good faith donations with no pay back expected except the hopeful recovery of the person taking taking your money.

Sitting in my inbox junk file right now I have untold riches.  Robert Morgan of Zurich wants to transfer 232 million US into my account.  I'll end up with 40 % of it if I can keep it a secret.  All he wants is all of my personal information including my bank account number.   Alexandra Garcia from the U-K is holding on to may 2 million dollar inheritance for me.  I give her my ATM pin number and a copy of my credit cards and the money will be freed up and put in my account.

An oil company in Kuala Lumpur which I've never heard of tells me my email address is a lottery winner. It's good for 2 and a half mil and all I have to do is give them every piece of personal information I have including the names of all my pets and my mother's maiden name.  I even have a marriage proposal.  A woman in Burkina Fasso read my profile and thinks I'm the perfect person to share 40 % of 9.4 million that she can only get out the bank if she has a husband to act as a trustee.  It would be a proxy marriage.  All she needs is a copy of my credit cards.

Now, if I bite on any or all of these, well pity the fool.  I deserve to be scammed.  But if someone asks me to donate to cancer research or give 20, 30 or 50 dollars to a cancer sufferer who needs the money for medical bills I don't for a minute think it's a scam.  I've seen, we've all seen, what cancer can do.  We know it can be crippling emotionally and financially.  Sure, I'll donate.

And that is what makes this a crime that so deeply troubles me.  I donate in good faith so you can dine out a 5 start restaurant and take that European vacation that you could never afford but deserve because you had to graduate from the school of hard knocks?

The woman in question here has been charged with 3 counts of fraud under 5 thousand dollars.  I don't know what kind of sentence comes with that if and when she's convicted.  But what ever it is it can't be enough. 

We as Canadians, supposedly the one of the nicest, unassuming and agreeable people to trod the planet are more profane than our cousins to the south or kin across the pond.  An Angus Reid survey unleashed a couple of days ago maintains we swear more than the Yanks or the Brits.  To be fair to Canadians according to the poll it's Quebec that puts us over the top.  So with all the talk about being a distinct society and seperation, while they're fussin' they're cussin'.  More  than the rest of us.

Swearing is fascinating.  Didn't hear much of it when I was growing up.  My mom would utter the odd damn or hell.  Once in a while she'd call me a little bugger and I've never been sure if that was the real deal when it came to profane. My dad would take it one step further occasionally putting God in front of damn to puncutate his point.  It worked because it scared the %@*& out of me. 

You need a comfort level to swear. You can get away with around friends and co workers.  Broadcasters have always amazed me, myself included.  You can be sitting in the studio while the a commercial or song is playing and the language sounds like you're on  the other end of a call from Mel Gibson. But as soon as that mic goes on a switch goes off in the brain and every no-no noun you know if vacuumed from your vocabulary. 

Sometimes swearing can shock you. I was walking out of a convience store one day.  There were 4 or 5 young teenaged girls sitting on the grass.  They looked about 13 or 14.  As I was walking away from them the "f" bomb was dropped about 7 or 8 times while I was still in ear shot.  Just wasn't expecting that from a pristine looking group of girls next door who sounded more like budding femme fatale's.

The "f" bomb is an interesting word.  Jerry Seinfeld says if he uses it in his stand up routine he's just not doing his job.  Chris Rock is profuse with profanity and uses it a lot but I don't find it offensive. Lewis Black says he "f's" it up to get you to laugh and to shock you. That gives him a couple of seconds of remember his next line.  Comics who use the "f" bomb as their payoff line don't know how to tell a joke.

For people I don't know well or a boss, no-no's are a no-no.  Until someone opens the profanity portal.  Then it's fair game.  A tidal wave of selective invective comes gushing out.  

I've never been comfortable with using profanity infront of women.  But a lot of women don't mind using it infront of me.  Infact it's been my experience that a woman can generally curse worse than anything I conjure up.  Oh I'm thinking it, but I don't have the &%@#)* or the +&%(## to say it. 

Swearing is universal these days.  A novice lip reader can pretty well get the gist of the list of prhases a hockey coach is using on a referee.  Pissed is becoming common place in all media.  And setting the stage for us as Canadians was one of our most revered politicians.  I still snicker when I hear Pierre Trudeau's "fuddle duddle' refered to.  Oh there was an F and U involved but no duddle.  He dropped the "f" bomb in parliament.  We forgave him and fuddle duddle entered the Canadian lexicon. 

I do my worst swearing when I'm driving alone.  Sort of auto pilot profanity.  Someone cuts me off, someone doesn't signal when they turn, someone is playing kissy kissy with my back end and I will castigate the tail gate.  It's not so much road rage as  caged rage.  The offending driver will never hear me.  I let off steam and I've actually come up with a few things I've never heard before.  I'll say to myself..."was that a dirty...well if it's not it should be."  It gives me peace of mind, sort of obscenity serenity. 

So we're never going to beat the Brits at soccer of the Yanks at basketball.  But any time they want to do a best 2 out of 3 in a fuddle dudde format we've got them by their %$&*'s.

You know the National Football Season is getting close when......Brett Favre doesn't know what the hell he's doing.  So we know the season is closing in on us because Brett Favre does't know what the hell he's doing.  First we get reports that he's been tweeting his teammates that he's going to retire because his ankle injury hasn't healed properly.  But wait, now Favre says that there must have been a mistake.  He's bitter about the twitter because he didn't send them.  Then who did?

This is not Favre's first retrirement tussel.  Just last year he told his Minnesota Vikings he was quitting and there was no discussion.  Well no discussion until the second exhibition game when he pulled the plug on his pulling the plug, showed up and just about got the Vikes to the Super Bowl. 

There are 2 things going on here.  No. 1:  Why can't Favre ever get a finger on his future and no, 2:  There is no discreet tweet. 

Now Favre will go down as one of the greats.  Super Bowl rings, MVP awards.  Not the best quarterback ever to slap his hands on a centers butt but one of the best.  What troubles me is here's a quaterback who's entire career has been about making decisions. On the field he's pure genius, most of the time.  Off the field he makes Matts Sundin's decision making look like tachyons. 

It's not just the fans who want to know.  The team builds it's ad campaigns arounde guys like Favre.  It builds it's offence around him.  They need to know because no matter who they go out and get or who they promote off the bench that quarterback isn't going to be as good. 

'Course there are a lot of things confusing about Favre.  Like the spelling of his name.  How do you get...Farve...out of Favre.  It should be pronounced Fav-re. Now, my name can be confusing too.  Hodge should be pronounced Hod-ge.  But the "d" is silent and the english language allows for that.  Favre has inverted  the "r" and the "v".  There has to be some kind of grammatical law against that.

No.2, is Twitter.  I've watch it's evoluation in sports.  The older generation of reporters and fans don't get it.  That's not the way you're supposed to communicate information.  It's tough on the media because it's not the primary source anymore.  It can't beat the tweet.

I've always looked at twitter as folks sitting around the table chewing the rag except you're not sitting around a table.  You're across town, across province, across country.  You have instant communication with your friends.  But for me you need something interesting to say and most tweets aren't.  With all due respect I don't much care about how man egg mc muffins you were stuffin' at breakfast. 

This is why I don't tweet.  I just don't think I'm that interesting.  I may well end up at the Alliston Potato Festival this weekend.  Once a year you put on your best spud duds, gather up your little tater tots and head into town. But do you really care what I think about the consistancy of this year's corn dogs?  Or which is the greater tater...fried or mashed. 

I don't see myself going to the washroom and tweeting..."gotta run to the throne. taking a cross word puzzle.  be 20 minutes.  if i can't work it (the crossword puzzle) more like 5".  That's just not interesting.

For the rich and famous and talented it's different.  Inquiring minds need to know their proclivity for washroom activity. Chris Bosh started his divorce from The Raptors slowly by tweeting hints that he may not come back. He eventually tweeted his way right out of town.  5 or 6 tweets in we knew it was no win for the Rappies.  Most of us figured he wasn't coming back but we didn't like the way he did it.

Man up, be straight with us.  Basketball fans invested 7 years in Bosh.  He made us bitter with twitter.  And this is what Favre is doing.  He says he'll play if he's healthy. That's not the answer Viking fans want but they can live with it.  You can't tweet a couple of teammates that you're all set to buy the farm without telling your head coach never mind the the g-m and the owner and the fans.  That's jerking their chains, toying with their emotions.  It's what Sally Youngsten did to me when I asked her to the prom.  Unlike Favre her problem wasn't a bad ankle, it was waiting for a better offer.

The betting is at some point Favre will be wearing the Vike's horned helmet lined up behind his center and ready to play.  It's a better bet than Sally Youngsten taking me up on my prom offer.  She went with quarterback. Those damn quarterbacks.

Well, I've been off work now for several months. Actually it's been more than several months and I've spent a lot of time with myself.  Turns out I don't like me as much as I used to.  We're starting to argue.   The biggest problem is occupying your time. I just changed fonts to see if I could make this blog more interesting, It's not working.

I thought cats were fun when you spent 4 or 5 hours a day with him.  Spend 18 hours a day with them and you find out they sleep for 16 of those hours, spend another hour in the kitty litter and God knows where they go at night when I need someone to talk to. 

 I pvr quite a few tv shows.  I've turned into a Law and Order junkie watching the reruns over and over again to see if they nabbed the wrong perp.  So far no luck. I've become a devout fan of Coronation Street.  Admit it. I know you're out there.  It's not something all of us want made public but once you're hooked you're in for life.  It's an addiction.  I've got the Corrie jones so bad I'm starting to develope feelings for Janice Battersbey.

Hey, you need things to do.  Recently I got upset because they cancelled the Battle of the Bands at the Alliston Potato Festival for lack of interest.  Okay it wasn't that interesting, kind of boring infact.  But when you're bored you'll settle for boring.

People ask me what I'm doing for the long weekend.  Long weekend!  Every weekend is a long weekend.  Actually this past weeekend I went to a thing in Barrie called Kempenfest.  They were giving away free rolls of toilet paper (or bathroom tissue for the more genteel).  I thought, why not, I can wait in line figuring having 3 sheets in the hand is better than being 3 sheets to the wind.  Then I thought better of it and went to the beer tent.

Some folks call it the doldrums.  My dogs call it a pain in the butt.  I know what they're saying.."oh big Rickey looks like he has the blahs...crap he's going to take us for another walk".  When I'm feeling jaded I head into town and do comparison price shopping between Giant Tiger and Wal-Mart.  Never buy anything.  Just do it to see if you really can by a shirts for 3 dollars.  You can!

I check my emails every 15 minutes because you never know.  Right now I'm negotiating with a Hong Kong business man and a Nigerian prince over who's 2.5 million British pounds I'll agree to transfer to Canada.  It could be worth a lot of money as soon as I give them all the information they're asking for and I put up 50 grand as a good will gesture. In the meantime I've made both of them facebook friends.

I buy groceries by the day to cure my lethargy.  Doesn't really cure much of anything but it gets me out of the house.  'When I buy cat food and serve it up to them I wonder what it tastes like.  Actually it doesn't taste....wait...too much information.  

I try to keep my brain active by imagining things.  Like what will the world be like when Sarah Palin becomes president of the US?  I try to come up with 3 positive things that Paris Hilton has given the world.  I'm still working on that one.  I wonder what it's like to Amish.  They don't smile much but they always seem busy riding around in their buggies.  I drive to remote areas looking for out of province lisence plates. So far I have one, Newfoundland.

I pvr movies I never watch.  Although I do wonder what Gingerpalooza is all about.  I spend time trying to see how long I can go without having a verbal conversation with another person.  I thought I could stretch the time by using the self checkout at the grocery store but that voice shoots out of the scanner telling to "put the item in the bag".  I hate that woman.

I found 27 synonyms for boredom. Apathy, ennui, indifference, lassitude, tedium, chagrin, funk, malaise, topor and monotony are just a few.  Oh and that word in the title...pococurantism?  I've never heard the word before.  Don't know how to pronounce it but it means boredoom too.  How bored do you have to be to find that out?

One of the things with face book that confuses me is the list you get to choose from in the relationship category to reveal your status to your virtual cronies.  Some are straight forward.  Single is single and I would assume availavble.  In a relationship, engaged and married means you've made a committment.  In an open relationship means you're commited but you're also open to invitations.  Rule of thumb, if you put down "in an open relationship' on your profile page make sure you're partner knows about it other wise you'll get a disin' for goin' fishin'. 

What if you're in a virtual relationship.  Never met, never touched, never spoken on the phone but you've developed network nearness. Does that count as a relationship?  If you're in a relationship are you cheating?  

Widowed is pretty straight forward.  Complicated, not so much.

All relationships are complicated.  Any time you have a partner things can get puzzling, problematic and preplexing. I speak from experience.  One of the things I would always do was work out my arguement before hand.  I would go over it and over it knowing that the points I was trying to make weren't open to interpretation.  There's a flaw to this.  I always worked under the assaumption that this would be a monologue.  But 30 seconds in it would turn into a dialogue.  Ruthless repartee.  I never did manage to make my points or any point. 

But to term you're relationship status complicated is a little murky.  Are you committed but troubled?  Is the committment in trouble?  I read some posts on f/b from people who said their relationship was complicated.  They were trashing their partner in wanton terms letting us all know that the partner was unwanted.  But,,,and this is a big but...they were still their partner.

By complicated you could mean you're bored with your accord and would like to get out.  You're married but plan to get out because the rapport is no more.  You could be in the process of separating but still cohabitating.  You could be separated.  Is the estrangement arrangement a trial separation? You could be legally seperated.  The matrimony might be phony but you're still legally attatched.

If a person has their relationship status down as complicated.  Does that make Them available?  Well yes I guess but do want the baggage train that comes with it. I've been asked by f/b friends what exaclty my definition of complicated is.  I hem and I haw and try to explain in round about terms.  Tell the truth it would be easier to be in an open relationship rather than a relationship that's open to debate. Facebook could do us a favour and give us a category like...enter at your own risk.