I was going to apologize in advance for the profanity, but someone told me recently that I don't curse (that is the proper word, not cuss) in person, but I do here. Sometimes, I do. I admit it. This post will have some profanity. If you don't like it, you will know what to do by the end of this post.
Be a fucking man. Stand up and say something. I am so tried of these pieces of crap who want to say bad crap and hide behind the Internet or post it behind someone's back. Is it that hard to man (or woman) up and say something to my face? Are you that fucking scared of me? Do you think I am going to hit you or beat the tar out of you? I promise I won't.
Look, not everyone likes me. I get it. I dont want everyone to like me. I dont need everyone to like me. My wife likes me. My kids like me - sometimes. My parents liked me, when they were alive. Okay, so my dad more than my mom. My friends (all 6 of them) like me. That works for me. If the rest of the world doesnt like me, then that is their loss. Because you know what? I may be short, hairless and a fuck up, but try to find someone more willing to go to bat for you, to stand up for you, or to help you out. Seriously, I don't mean to toot my own horn, but my friends know that they can pick up the phone and call me if they need anything - even at 12 in the morning.
So, some piece of crap carpenters dream (flat as a board and easy to screw) wants to talk smack about me? At least have the common courtesy to do it to my face. Is that really asking for too much? Would it be that hard to cc me on your email? Would it be that hard to pick up the stupid phone and call me? "Hey Jon, I think you are a piece of shit. I am going to tell Billy Smith." Fine. Be my guest. Its your opinion. You can say anything you want about me. But at least say it to me first.
Its not that hard. Hell, you can find me on Facebook, twitter, email, phone, anything. Are you that much of a mouse that you can't do it to my face? Really?
Look, I am not perfect. There, I said it. I have made plenty of mistakes in 38 years. I can think of mistakes I made in 2nd grade, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, well you get the fucking point. I have made mistakes every year I have been alive. I know it. Some are not that bad. Some are pretty bad. Some suck. Some are just funny now. I am not sorry I made mistakes. It happens. Its called being human. I own my mistakes. I make them, I take the consequence, and I learn from them. I think that is called living.
So, you think I screwed up? Big fucking deal. You want to tell other people? Its a free country. Tell anyone you want. But could you at least have the balls to say something to me first? Is it really asking too much. Oh, and if you are going to run your piehole about me, could you at least make sure its related to something else and you tell the whole story?
Look, one time, at band camp...........okay, fine there was no band camp. One time at summer camp, I made out with a girl. I did. I shouldnt have because I didnt really like her and I did it as a dare. I admit it. I screwed up. (This is a true story.) It was a mistake. But she didnt want to either. Turns out she was doing it as a dare too. That, my friends, is what Paul Harvey would call the rest of the story. Its kind of important to know.
So Mr. Chen or Mrs. Chen or Shim Chen, fuck you and fuck your high horse that you rode in on. If you don't like me, keep it to yourself. If you think I am a screw up, most people don't care about your opinion. If you have something to say to me, pick up that damn phone in your piece of crap fancy office that no one wants to see and dial my fucking phone. It will ring. I promise you. I will answer it. You can say whatever the hell you want to say about me. I dont care. I will let you say your peace. Then I get my turn to say mine. Deal?
If its not a deal, then shut the fuck up. No one wants to hear from a whiner who doesnt have the cojones to stand up and say it to someones face. I promise you that.
Have I made myself clear? Let me recap: I have made mistakes. I am not proud of them, but I assure you I have learned from every mistake I have made. I am not perfect. If you have a problem with something I have done, then tell me, dont go crying to the rest of the world. They have bigger problems than your whininess. I don't regret my mistakes. I learn from my mistakes. I am a better person today, May 14, 2012 then I was on May 13, 2012 and on May 12, 2012 and every day before that because I learn from my mistakes.
Now, go fuck off you loser. Get a fucking life and learn to be an adult. Am I clear?
Monday, May 14, 2012
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
I dont know what to call this
Yep, I dont have a title for this. I dont even know why I am writing this. Therapeutic? Because I have nothing better to do at 8:45 on a Tuesday night? Because I am scared? I dont know.
Preface: I know I have not had a rough life. Its been pretty good. I get that. So this is not a pity party and don't read it that way.
Remember when you were a kid......did you ever think about what your life would be like as an adult? Did you ever wonder what would happen at 30? 35? 40? I did. I distinctly remember two things. I was in high school. My dad had a business dinner. It was with a guy who I knew. I came down the stairs and told them both I would be a millionaire by 35. Um, 35 came and went. No million dollars. Not even close.
My other memory: growing up, watching my dad, and thinking "That is me at 35." You know the song Cats in the Cradle? Its a great song. If you dont know it, listen to it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUwjNBjqR-c If you do know it, listen to it again.
So I grew up and when I was young, say, under 10, I would watch my dad and think "Why does he shake like that?" I had no idea. None whatsoever. He was 45. I heard people say things but I didn't know what it meant. I was about 10 and I remember a discussion with my parents. They told me that my dad had Parkinson's Disease. I distinctly remember asking if I would get it and they told me no. Looking back, its the first time I can recall my parents telling me something that simply wasn't true. I didn't know it then. I know it now. I won't bore you with the details.
As I got older, I realized how much it affected my dad's life. Oh, he still made it to the important events. He was there at my high school graduation, my college graduation, my wedding. The last event he was at was my law school graduation. He died a few months later. But, it still had an impact on what he could eat, when, what he did, his driving.
I also started looking at my family history. My dad had it. My grandfather had it. My grandmother had dementia. The freaking trifecta. Oh, and that doesn't even include my mom's side of the family and the cancer that wouldn't go away. Happy happy, joy joy - or some such nonsense. I decided in high school that I was going to end up like my dad. I don't know if it was a conscience decision or if it just happened. I don't know.
I remember talking to my wife, then my girlfriend, about it. We were serious. I told her I wanted to have kids young because I didn't want to be like my dad - having a difficult time with a young child. He was 35 when I was born. I wanted to make sure I had kids long before that. So I did. 26, 28, 30. Then, at 35, my wife got pregnant and I was having a kid at 35. It was such a happy time.
I also noticed a few shakes now and then. It was stress. It was not enough potassium. I even called his neurologist to make sure. Before he died, I had talked to him about it. He assured me it wasn't genetic. After he died, my mom told me he had testing and his other neurologist said it wasn't genetic. I guess.
So at 36, 37 I noticed it now and then. I even went to the doctor. And I don't go to the doctor. She assured me it was stress. I went with it.
A few weeks ago, it came back. I was putting together a toy and was having a difficult time. I knew it. But I could hide it. Its not rocket science. I have spent most of my life hiding my fear of this. How hard could it be to hide a bit of a shake?
Tonight was dinner. Eating is easy. I do it alot. And I like it. As I was eating the rice, my hand started shaking. Not a ton. No one else noticed it. But I did. It wasn't a stress shake. It wasn't a "OOPS, I overdid it today" shake. It wasn't a lack of potassium muscle twitch.
So now here I sit. Sad. Confused. Upset. I don't know why this happened. I dont know if there is a reason. I just know I have spent the last 28 years dreading this day.
Funny. The end of Cats in the Cradle:
And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me
He'd grown up just like me
My boy was just like me
It occurred to me tonight. I have grown up just like him.
Preface: I know I have not had a rough life. Its been pretty good. I get that. So this is not a pity party and don't read it that way.
Remember when you were a kid......did you ever think about what your life would be like as an adult? Did you ever wonder what would happen at 30? 35? 40? I did. I distinctly remember two things. I was in high school. My dad had a business dinner. It was with a guy who I knew. I came down the stairs and told them both I would be a millionaire by 35. Um, 35 came and went. No million dollars. Not even close.
My other memory: growing up, watching my dad, and thinking "That is me at 35." You know the song Cats in the Cradle? Its a great song. If you dont know it, listen to it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUwjNBjqR-c If you do know it, listen to it again.
So I grew up and when I was young, say, under 10, I would watch my dad and think "Why does he shake like that?" I had no idea. None whatsoever. He was 45. I heard people say things but I didn't know what it meant. I was about 10 and I remember a discussion with my parents. They told me that my dad had Parkinson's Disease. I distinctly remember asking if I would get it and they told me no. Looking back, its the first time I can recall my parents telling me something that simply wasn't true. I didn't know it then. I know it now. I won't bore you with the details.
As I got older, I realized how much it affected my dad's life. Oh, he still made it to the important events. He was there at my high school graduation, my college graduation, my wedding. The last event he was at was my law school graduation. He died a few months later. But, it still had an impact on what he could eat, when, what he did, his driving.
I also started looking at my family history. My dad had it. My grandfather had it. My grandmother had dementia. The freaking trifecta. Oh, and that doesn't even include my mom's side of the family and the cancer that wouldn't go away. Happy happy, joy joy - or some such nonsense. I decided in high school that I was going to end up like my dad. I don't know if it was a conscience decision or if it just happened. I don't know.
I remember talking to my wife, then my girlfriend, about it. We were serious. I told her I wanted to have kids young because I didn't want to be like my dad - having a difficult time with a young child. He was 35 when I was born. I wanted to make sure I had kids long before that. So I did. 26, 28, 30. Then, at 35, my wife got pregnant and I was having a kid at 35. It was such a happy time.
I also noticed a few shakes now and then. It was stress. It was not enough potassium. I even called his neurologist to make sure. Before he died, I had talked to him about it. He assured me it wasn't genetic. After he died, my mom told me he had testing and his other neurologist said it wasn't genetic. I guess.
So at 36, 37 I noticed it now and then. I even went to the doctor. And I don't go to the doctor. She assured me it was stress. I went with it.
A few weeks ago, it came back. I was putting together a toy and was having a difficult time. I knew it. But I could hide it. Its not rocket science. I have spent most of my life hiding my fear of this. How hard could it be to hide a bit of a shake?
Tonight was dinner. Eating is easy. I do it alot. And I like it. As I was eating the rice, my hand started shaking. Not a ton. No one else noticed it. But I did. It wasn't a stress shake. It wasn't a "OOPS, I overdid it today" shake. It wasn't a lack of potassium muscle twitch.
So now here I sit. Sad. Confused. Upset. I don't know why this happened. I dont know if there is a reason. I just know I have spent the last 28 years dreading this day.
Funny. The end of Cats in the Cradle:
And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me
He'd grown up just like me
My boy was just like me
It occurred to me tonight. I have grown up just like him.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Two minutes for me
What the fuck is wrong with people today? Is Mercury in retrograde? (I have no idea what it means. Someone who I know and like actually made that comment to me one day and I still haven't looked it up to figure out what the fuck it means. If you know, please tell me.)
Lets see. I just got a voice mail message from a guy who stated "Steven Smith, 415-555-1212." That was the entire fucking message. What does that mean? I assume that is your name and number, but so what? Are you looking for a prostitute? Do you need a lawyer? Are you looking for Jenny? How the fuck I am supposed to know what you want and whether you even called the right place?
This, of course, followed a woman who couldn't slow down enough for me to understand her. Look, I like John Moschitta (Google him or look here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NeK5ZjtpO-M) as much as the next guy, if not more. I think hes pretty funny. But when you want me to tell you if you have a case, if you can't slow down enough for me to understand you, then my answer is no. I have no idea if she has been sued, was hurt, or has been arrested. Look, that takes some special talent. Slow down and explain yourself to me. Its not that hard - is it?
This is followed by the douchebag idiot dweeb who continues to jerk with me on a case. I think he finds it funny. I think the court doesnt find it funny. I think his clients will find it even less funny when I am done with the trial. I dont really think the law was created for pantywaste guys like this to do things that they think are cool. Its not cool. No one likes you. And your reputation is so bad that Joe Francis looks like a freaking saint compared to you. (Google him too.)
I dont know what the fuck is wrong with people today. I am going to get my work done, spend time with my family, drink a root beer or six, and tell them all to go jump in a fucking lake.
Thanks!
Lets see. I just got a voice mail message from a guy who stated "Steven Smith, 415-555-1212." That was the entire fucking message. What does that mean? I assume that is your name and number, but so what? Are you looking for a prostitute? Do you need a lawyer? Are you looking for Jenny? How the fuck I am supposed to know what you want and whether you even called the right place?
This, of course, followed a woman who couldn't slow down enough for me to understand her. Look, I like John Moschitta (Google him or look here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NeK5ZjtpO-M) as much as the next guy, if not more. I think hes pretty funny. But when you want me to tell you if you have a case, if you can't slow down enough for me to understand you, then my answer is no. I have no idea if she has been sued, was hurt, or has been arrested. Look, that takes some special talent. Slow down and explain yourself to me. Its not that hard - is it?
This is followed by the douchebag idiot dweeb who continues to jerk with me on a case. I think he finds it funny. I think the court doesnt find it funny. I think his clients will find it even less funny when I am done with the trial. I dont really think the law was created for pantywaste guys like this to do things that they think are cool. Its not cool. No one likes you. And your reputation is so bad that Joe Francis looks like a freaking saint compared to you. (Google him too.)
I dont know what the fuck is wrong with people today. I am going to get my work done, spend time with my family, drink a root beer or six, and tell them all to go jump in a fucking lake.
Thanks!
Thursday, April 12, 2012
More on my little town
Before you read this, you should read this from August 1, 2011: http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2011/08/my-hometown.html
Done? Good. Do you feel enlightened? Probably not. So let me enlighten some more.
No, Elk Grove does not have a gang problem. Are you idiots? A gang problem? Do you know what a gang problem is? Go look at the website for LAPD and click on Southeast. That, my friends, is a gang problem. Then go look at the crime map for Elk Grove. In my area, there were 4 freaking thefts. 4. Total. 12 in all of Elk Grove. Total. 12. Um, folks, there were more than 12 in a day in Southeast LA. They average 12 in a day. We have 12 in 14 days. Do the math.
Are there bad folks who live here? Yes. DUH! There are bad folks who live in Beverly Hills. Hell, in the rich area of LA, there were 43 crimes in the last week. 43 in a week. That would average out to 86 in 14 days. I am not a math person, but that is about 7 times more crime than we have. And don't tell me that there are one million people in the Beverly Hills area of LA. There just aren't. Hell, Beverly Hills itself only has 34,000 people or so.
So, lets put this to rest: there is no gang problem in Elk Grove. None. Not at all. Are there kids who think they are gangbangers? Sure. There are also idiots who want to stir up trouble, adults who think they are tough, douchebags who are racist and losers who make crap up. If you think there isnt a place in this great country of ours that doesnt have those people, I have a bridge to sell you. And maybe some swamp land!
Now, lets not pretend our city is perfect. Apparently, the city can't find it in the budget to buy some freaking blue light bulbs for Autism awareness month. Had I known money was so tight, I would have started by asking why we pay Bank of America $108,000 to manage our money. Maybe we could drop that by say $108,000. Seriously, why does a city pay $108,000 to a bank to manage our money? Here is an idea - the bank should pay us interest. Novel concept. But seriously, we couldn't come up with the money to put up a couple of stinking blue light bulbs? They could turn the Empire State Building blue and we couldn't put up blue lights at City Hall or Laguna Town Hall or some place like that? Dear Elk Grove, I got a couple of bucks for blue freaking lights next year. And I got a construction friend who will install them. Deal? Sincerely, Me
And then we have politicians. I won't lump them all together. But let me say this: if you come out to one of my events and shake my hand for a freaking picture, you sure as hell better remember me and when I put on the event next year, you should be the first person to sponsor it. Is that really asking for too much?
And if you want to bring professional sports to our fine city (read this: http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2011/12/mls-in-elk-grove-i-think-not.html) then how about you support things that actually happen? You want to get professional soccer? Then support a soccer event - especially one that gets tweeted about my, say, professional soccer teams! I mean, I am not a genius on product development, marketing, etc... but I did grow up as the son of a guy who did that crap for a living. I learned a thing or two. You don't jump from nothing to the big time unless you show you can support the little things. It just doesn't happen in this day and age. So if you want to bring in something like MLS, then start by supporting a little soccer game that raises money and gets attention.
(Sure, its my game and its a bit self serving, but its not nearly as bad as what these folks do. I want to raise money for a good cause which will then show the powers that be that we support soccer. That in turn makes it easier to get them to support you. Its not rocket science folks.)
So there you have it. We are not utopia. But we are not some crime riddled city where people should flee to the safety of their bunkers. We are a nice town with some issues and politicians who can pay lawyers to fight over things, but not put up a couple of damn blue light bulbs.
Done? Good. Do you feel enlightened? Probably not. So let me enlighten some more.
No, Elk Grove does not have a gang problem. Are you idiots? A gang problem? Do you know what a gang problem is? Go look at the website for LAPD and click on Southeast. That, my friends, is a gang problem. Then go look at the crime map for Elk Grove. In my area, there were 4 freaking thefts. 4. Total. 12 in all of Elk Grove. Total. 12. Um, folks, there were more than 12 in a day in Southeast LA. They average 12 in a day. We have 12 in 14 days. Do the math.
Are there bad folks who live here? Yes. DUH! There are bad folks who live in Beverly Hills. Hell, in the rich area of LA, there were 43 crimes in the last week. 43 in a week. That would average out to 86 in 14 days. I am not a math person, but that is about 7 times more crime than we have. And don't tell me that there are one million people in the Beverly Hills area of LA. There just aren't. Hell, Beverly Hills itself only has 34,000 people or so.
So, lets put this to rest: there is no gang problem in Elk Grove. None. Not at all. Are there kids who think they are gangbangers? Sure. There are also idiots who want to stir up trouble, adults who think they are tough, douchebags who are racist and losers who make crap up. If you think there isnt a place in this great country of ours that doesnt have those people, I have a bridge to sell you. And maybe some swamp land!
Now, lets not pretend our city is perfect. Apparently, the city can't find it in the budget to buy some freaking blue light bulbs for Autism awareness month. Had I known money was so tight, I would have started by asking why we pay Bank of America $108,000 to manage our money. Maybe we could drop that by say $108,000. Seriously, why does a city pay $108,000 to a bank to manage our money? Here is an idea - the bank should pay us interest. Novel concept. But seriously, we couldn't come up with the money to put up a couple of stinking blue light bulbs? They could turn the Empire State Building blue and we couldn't put up blue lights at City Hall or Laguna Town Hall or some place like that? Dear Elk Grove, I got a couple of bucks for blue freaking lights next year. And I got a construction friend who will install them. Deal? Sincerely, Me
And then we have politicians. I won't lump them all together. But let me say this: if you come out to one of my events and shake my hand for a freaking picture, you sure as hell better remember me and when I put on the event next year, you should be the first person to sponsor it. Is that really asking for too much?
And if you want to bring professional sports to our fine city (read this: http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2011/12/mls-in-elk-grove-i-think-not.html) then how about you support things that actually happen? You want to get professional soccer? Then support a soccer event - especially one that gets tweeted about my, say, professional soccer teams! I mean, I am not a genius on product development, marketing, etc... but I did grow up as the son of a guy who did that crap for a living. I learned a thing or two. You don't jump from nothing to the big time unless you show you can support the little things. It just doesn't happen in this day and age. So if you want to bring in something like MLS, then start by supporting a little soccer game that raises money and gets attention.
(Sure, its my game and its a bit self serving, but its not nearly as bad as what these folks do. I want to raise money for a good cause which will then show the powers that be that we support soccer. That in turn makes it easier to get them to support you. Its not rocket science folks.)
So there you have it. We are not utopia. But we are not some crime riddled city where people should flee to the safety of their bunkers. We are a nice town with some issues and politicians who can pay lawyers to fight over things, but not put up a couple of damn blue light bulbs.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
PETA, Orcas and courts, Oh My!
Okay, so this is a bit late for me to get to this, but I had to. I was going to go all depressing again, but I thought funny was better.
So, PETA filed suit in Federal court in San Diego. Was there some big problem with the food supply? NOPE! Was some racehorse being tortured? NOPE! There had to be some problem with the fisheries? NOPE - again! What was the problem, you ask? Orcas.
So, PETA, a group of HUMANS (or so they claim they are humans) filed suit on behalf of orcas, killer whales, if you will. The claim was that the orcas were being bothered by sonar from the US Navy. In the ocean. The open ocean. Where orcas live.
This is an actual transcript of how the initial meeting went:
PETA (P): How are you orcas doing?
ORCA (O): click click clack click
P: Oh really? That is not good. We have to put a stop to that.
O: click click cliiiick click.
P: How dare they? We need to stop this. It is an outrage!
O: cliiick claack click click claack click
P: No, we must put an end to this. Its just wrong.
O: cliiick, cliick, click, click, cliiiick.
(The Orca then swam away.)
Here is the Orca's version:
P: blah blah blah blah blah
O: What the hell are these idiots doing? I am a killer whale. As in, I KILL! Don't they know I can eat them.
P: blah blah blah blah blah
O: Maybe, I should just eat them. They probably taste pretty good.
P: blah blah blah
O: They smell funny. Its protein deficiency. These fools don't eat meat? They can't taste very good.
P: blah blah blah
O: What the hell? I have better things to do with my time, like swim. These folks are losers.
I talked to the orcas. Really, I did. I talk to orcas. I know orca. Its one of my many unknown talents. The orcas wished to release the following statement:
Dear PETA: You sued in court over something that happens in the open freaking ocean? You do understand that the court can't tell us or anyone else what to do in the ocean, right? You don't speak for us. In case you are unaware, we are meat eaters. You are anti-meat eaters. Why do you think WE want YOU to represent us? We would rather have Jeffrey Dahmer represent us. At least he understands the flavor of meat. (Okay, bad joke, but it was pretty funny.) Why do you think you speak for anyone other than the other crazy loons who send you money every year? By the way, you really want to help us, push some of those crazies over the side of the boat. We could use a little more human meat in our diets. In the future, if you think we want you to represent us, let us be perfectly clear: we don't want your help. If we have a problem, we have the tools to take care of it ourselves - its called our teeth."
So there you go. PETA filed suit for a group of whales who clearly didn't want the help. I am glad I could bring you this public service announcement. Please take any money you have earmarked for PETA and send it to me. I will make sure that the orcas get it. (They won't eat me. They tasted me once - I am a bit too obnoxious tasting even to orcas!)
So, PETA filed suit in Federal court in San Diego. Was there some big problem with the food supply? NOPE! Was some racehorse being tortured? NOPE! There had to be some problem with the fisheries? NOPE - again! What was the problem, you ask? Orcas.
So, PETA, a group of HUMANS (or so they claim they are humans) filed suit on behalf of orcas, killer whales, if you will. The claim was that the orcas were being bothered by sonar from the US Navy. In the ocean. The open ocean. Where orcas live.
This is an actual transcript of how the initial meeting went:
PETA (P): How are you orcas doing?
ORCA (O): click click clack click
P: Oh really? That is not good. We have to put a stop to that.
O: click click cliiiick click.
P: How dare they? We need to stop this. It is an outrage!
O: cliiick claack click click claack click
P: No, we must put an end to this. Its just wrong.
O: cliiick, cliick, click, click, cliiiick.
(The Orca then swam away.)
Here is the Orca's version:
P: blah blah blah blah blah
O: What the hell are these idiots doing? I am a killer whale. As in, I KILL! Don't they know I can eat them.
P: blah blah blah blah blah
O: Maybe, I should just eat them. They probably taste pretty good.
P: blah blah blah
O: They smell funny. Its protein deficiency. These fools don't eat meat? They can't taste very good.
P: blah blah blah
O: What the hell? I have better things to do with my time, like swim. These folks are losers.
I talked to the orcas. Really, I did. I talk to orcas. I know orca. Its one of my many unknown talents. The orcas wished to release the following statement:
Dear PETA: You sued in court over something that happens in the open freaking ocean? You do understand that the court can't tell us or anyone else what to do in the ocean, right? You don't speak for us. In case you are unaware, we are meat eaters. You are anti-meat eaters. Why do you think WE want YOU to represent us? We would rather have Jeffrey Dahmer represent us. At least he understands the flavor of meat. (Okay, bad joke, but it was pretty funny.) Why do you think you speak for anyone other than the other crazy loons who send you money every year? By the way, you really want to help us, push some of those crazies over the side of the boat. We could use a little more human meat in our diets. In the future, if you think we want you to represent us, let us be perfectly clear: we don't want your help. If we have a problem, we have the tools to take care of it ourselves - its called our teeth."
So there you go. PETA filed suit for a group of whales who clearly didn't want the help. I am glad I could bring you this public service announcement. Please take any money you have earmarked for PETA and send it to me. I will make sure that the orcas get it. (They won't eat me. They tasted me once - I am a bit too obnoxious tasting even to orcas!)
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Where am I in life?
So here I sit. 3 days after my dad's 72nd birthday. And I think. Where am I in life? Where did I want to be? What did I think life would be like?
You know, its interesting the impact of our fathers have on our lives. Well, at least it is for a guy. I dont know about you women-folk seeing as how I am not one of you. Thankfully. (For all of us! )
I was the typical underachiever. No wait, I took underachieving to a whole new level. I made underachieving an art form. I did as little as possible to get by. Homework? HA HA. I did it if I HAD to, but even then, only the minimum. Why do homework when you can take a test, get an A, and end up with a C in the class? 2.0 was my goal so I could stay eligible for the speech team.
I was such an underachiever that my high school suggested I see a psychologist. The shrink agreed - I am an underachiever. Of course, the shrink decided it was because I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life at 14. My dad walked out. (Okay, so there is more to that story, but this works for now.)
24 years later and what do I want to do with my life? I was so sure I knew what I didn't want to do with my life. No science for me. My dad had a fucking PhD in pharmaceutical chemistry. I can barely spell it, let alone explain what the hell it is. So science was out. But, my dad was the classic overachiever. Okay, so is it overachieving if you have are a genius and go on to do those things even if you grew up in a poor house and didn't have any of the advantages? I don't know. Sadly, my dad didn't talk much about his upbringing. Anyway, he went on to succeed in business too.
I clearly recall a conversation in my senior year of high school. I said I didn't want to go into business. Why? I didn't want the comparisons with my dad. There was just no way I was going to succeed to the same level. It wasn't possible. Hell, its still not possible.
So I sit and I think. Did I make the right choices? I know I could have done better in school. But if I did, would I be sitting here today, in this place, in this house, being happy? Life isn't perfect. Far from it. But its better than some.
I guess I have made my decisions. I didn't know the outcome in advance. I wouldn't want to. That takes away the fun. That takes away the adventure. Who was it who said "Its the climb?" Oh yeah, Miley Cyrus. (Don't laugh - it was the song my youngest son sang at his preschool graduation.) Its not about what's waiting on the other side.
I think that is right. Its been a hell of a climb. Some of it good. Some of it bad. Some of it fucking sucked. But its been unpredictable. Its been interesting. Its been exciting. I guess maybe this is a bad time to be down in the dumps. Maybe I need to realize this is just a bump in the road. Its like riding a mountain bike and you hit that big rock. You get back on and go up the mountain some more.
So that is where I am. Its been tough lately. Its been sad. But its been. And that, my friends, is something that no one can take away. I may not always like the ride, but I get to take it. And we have to make the best of it. I don't know where I am in life, but I don't need to know. As long as I wake up every morning and have my family with me and I keep growing as a person, that is all that matters.
You know, its interesting the impact of our fathers have on our lives. Well, at least it is for a guy. I dont know about you women-folk seeing as how I am not one of you. Thankfully. (For all of us! )
I was the typical underachiever. No wait, I took underachieving to a whole new level. I made underachieving an art form. I did as little as possible to get by. Homework? HA HA. I did it if I HAD to, but even then, only the minimum. Why do homework when you can take a test, get an A, and end up with a C in the class? 2.0 was my goal so I could stay eligible for the speech team.
I was such an underachiever that my high school suggested I see a psychologist. The shrink agreed - I am an underachiever. Of course, the shrink decided it was because I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life at 14. My dad walked out. (Okay, so there is more to that story, but this works for now.)
24 years later and what do I want to do with my life? I was so sure I knew what I didn't want to do with my life. No science for me. My dad had a fucking PhD in pharmaceutical chemistry. I can barely spell it, let alone explain what the hell it is. So science was out. But, my dad was the classic overachiever. Okay, so is it overachieving if you have are a genius and go on to do those things even if you grew up in a poor house and didn't have any of the advantages? I don't know. Sadly, my dad didn't talk much about his upbringing. Anyway, he went on to succeed in business too.
I clearly recall a conversation in my senior year of high school. I said I didn't want to go into business. Why? I didn't want the comparisons with my dad. There was just no way I was going to succeed to the same level. It wasn't possible. Hell, its still not possible.
So I sit and I think. Did I make the right choices? I know I could have done better in school. But if I did, would I be sitting here today, in this place, in this house, being happy? Life isn't perfect. Far from it. But its better than some.
I guess I have made my decisions. I didn't know the outcome in advance. I wouldn't want to. That takes away the fun. That takes away the adventure. Who was it who said "Its the climb?" Oh yeah, Miley Cyrus. (Don't laugh - it was the song my youngest son sang at his preschool graduation.) Its not about what's waiting on the other side.
I think that is right. Its been a hell of a climb. Some of it good. Some of it bad. Some of it fucking sucked. But its been unpredictable. Its been interesting. Its been exciting. I guess maybe this is a bad time to be down in the dumps. Maybe I need to realize this is just a bump in the road. Its like riding a mountain bike and you hit that big rock. You get back on and go up the mountain some more.
So that is where I am. Its been tough lately. Its been sad. But its been. And that, my friends, is something that no one can take away. I may not always like the ride, but I get to take it. And we have to make the best of it. I don't know where I am in life, but I don't need to know. As long as I wake up every morning and have my family with me and I keep growing as a person, that is all that matters.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Be a man
Okay, so here is what I think. If you are going to call yourself a man, be a man. Don't be a freaking mouse.
I spent yesterday flying to Orange County, driving to a hearing, then turning around and flying back. It was a 14 hour day for all of this "motion denied." Seriously. I had to spend what would have been my dad's 72nd birthday dealing with crap. (Okay, so maybe its odd that I still count his birthdays and he passed away at 63, but its my thing and I do it.)
So this piece of crap down in southern California filed a motion. In his motion, he called me all sorts of names. I was the devil incarnate. I was so bad that I made Jackie Childs look good. I am such a horrible excuse for a person that I made Idi Amin look like a saint. (Look him up.) I am such a jackass that the United Federation of Donkeys should object to my very being.
Fine. Look, you don't like me, I get it. Lots of folks dont. I am a bit abrasive. I am confrontational. I dont put up with bullshit. You call me out, you sure as heck better be wearing Kevlar because I am going to fire back. I totally understand. And I am an aggressive advocate for my clients. I am cordial and friendly, but I do know that I don't handle things like a lot of other folks. So, yes, I tick some folks off.
But if you are going to file a motion with the court and call me every name under the sun and force a hearing, then be a man. Its your right to file a frivolous piece of crap 50+ page motion with NO CITATIONS. Its your right to make yourself look like a loser. I get it.
But show up. Dont send some associate. You have the balls to call me names in a pleading? You sure as hell better have the balls to do it to my face. Otherwise, not only are you a loser, but you are a spineless coward who can't be a man. Are you a man or are you a mouse? Apparently, you are even lower than a mouse. At least a mouse wouldn't call me names and then hide - it would just hide.
I may be a lot of things, but when I have a problem with you, I call you out. Someone took what I thought was a cheap shot at me on an email list. I fired right back. I ruffled some feathers, but I called it like I saw it. He didnt like it. Not my problem. I have sent tweets to Geraldo "Idiot" Rivera and Michael "I like to be called Doctor because I think that makes me sound more important than I really am" Savage calling them out. I have written about radio DJs who talk like they have a mouth full of marbles (yes, you Carmichael Dave) and I have sent text messages to other hosts who can't put together a sentence in proper English. And I would say it to their faces.
If you are going to be a dickweed, at least don't make it worse by being a pussy. Man up and say it to my face. Not only are you a loser now, but you are a spineless, coward, loser. You are the lowest of the low. I have no respect for you. You can now go, I think the expression is, suck it, you scumbag.
I spent yesterday flying to Orange County, driving to a hearing, then turning around and flying back. It was a 14 hour day for all of this "motion denied." Seriously. I had to spend what would have been my dad's 72nd birthday dealing with crap. (Okay, so maybe its odd that I still count his birthdays and he passed away at 63, but its my thing and I do it.)
So this piece of crap down in southern California filed a motion. In his motion, he called me all sorts of names. I was the devil incarnate. I was so bad that I made Jackie Childs look good. I am such a horrible excuse for a person that I made Idi Amin look like a saint. (Look him up.) I am such a jackass that the United Federation of Donkeys should object to my very being.
Fine. Look, you don't like me, I get it. Lots of folks dont. I am a bit abrasive. I am confrontational. I dont put up with bullshit. You call me out, you sure as heck better be wearing Kevlar because I am going to fire back. I totally understand. And I am an aggressive advocate for my clients. I am cordial and friendly, but I do know that I don't handle things like a lot of other folks. So, yes, I tick some folks off.
But if you are going to file a motion with the court and call me every name under the sun and force a hearing, then be a man. Its your right to file a frivolous piece of crap 50+ page motion with NO CITATIONS. Its your right to make yourself look like a loser. I get it.
But show up. Dont send some associate. You have the balls to call me names in a pleading? You sure as hell better have the balls to do it to my face. Otherwise, not only are you a loser, but you are a spineless coward who can't be a man. Are you a man or are you a mouse? Apparently, you are even lower than a mouse. At least a mouse wouldn't call me names and then hide - it would just hide.
I may be a lot of things, but when I have a problem with you, I call you out. Someone took what I thought was a cheap shot at me on an email list. I fired right back. I ruffled some feathers, but I called it like I saw it. He didnt like it. Not my problem. I have sent tweets to Geraldo "Idiot" Rivera and Michael "I like to be called Doctor because I think that makes me sound more important than I really am" Savage calling them out. I have written about radio DJs who talk like they have a mouth full of marbles (yes, you Carmichael Dave) and I have sent text messages to other hosts who can't put together a sentence in proper English. And I would say it to their faces.
If you are going to be a dickweed, at least don't make it worse by being a pussy. Man up and say it to my face. Not only are you a loser now, but you are a spineless, coward, loser. You are the lowest of the low. I have no respect for you. You can now go, I think the expression is, suck it, you scumbag.
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