tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31020189768969337302023-11-15T07:52:26.984-08:00Random Rants 08This blog serves one purpose: for me to rant. That is it. If you have ideas or comments, please post them. If you have a topic you want me to rant on, please let me know. But, most of all, enjoy!A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.comBlogger276125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-55896618103714522412016-03-29T20:23:00.001-07:002016-03-29T20:23:13.407-07:00One last rantSo this is it. Eight years ago I started this blog as a place to rant, to just say what I wanted to say. I could blast people. I could mock people. I could laugh. I could cry. I could be me and not worry about it. But eight years is enough.<div>
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Tonight, I sit back and reflect on my life. Five years ago today my mom passed away. Five long years ago. My dad had already passed away and there I was - no parents. It hits you. Hard. </div>
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<br />I look back and have very few regrets. I have, in some way, been like my mom. Stubborn. Opinionated. Myself. I don't care about the people who don't like me. You don't like me? Your loss. I don't care about the people who talk shit about me. You want to talk shit? Go for it. I don't care about the people who are just assholes. Go be an asshole away from me. </div>
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Here I sit, March 29, and after a long day, I realize this: we live in a world with a lot of bad shit because people are so wrapped up in themselves, their phones, their computers, their video games, their whatever, that we stopped caring about each other. </div>
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Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country, right JFK? Something like that. How about: ask not what the world can do for you, ask what you can do for the world? Too big? Okay. How about: ask not what Bill/Bob/Susie can do for you, ask what you can do for Bill/Bob/Susie.</div>
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You see, I may be naive, I may be dumb, I may be an idiot, but I really think a lot of our problems can be solved if we simply learned to help each other. Wake up each day and do something good for someone else. Try to find something that you can do to help someone else. A smile? A hug? Maybe a cup of coffee? </div>
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<br />I know, as I sit here tonight, that my mom taught me to help other people. For that, I am grateful to her, even more on this night. So, no more ranting. No more blasting. No more mocking. Just trying to make the world a better place - one day at a time. Join me, won't you? </div>
A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-31599100636537956812015-12-18T17:04:00.000-08:002015-12-18T17:04:04.399-08:00Don't ever question meI am pissed. I have been pissed for a few days. I have to remove some facts to protect the guilty - or the idiots - or the morons. So, I will get it off my chest now.<br />
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A couple of days ago I had a call from an attorney about an issue. The attorney was calling me as a witness. He did not know what I did for a living. When I asked very basic questions, I mean questions that a first year law student would know the answers to, he gave me the wrong answers. For example, did you know you can be sued for negligence? Negligence means you did something below the standard of care. That is a fancy way for saying you made a mistake and someone got hurt. Negligence does not require you to intend to hurt someone. In fact, by definition, it is not intentional. Think of a car crash. It is a car accident, not a car intentional.<br />
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Anyway, after he was done lying to me, I asked if he knew what I did for a living. He told me no. So I told him what I did. He asked what kind of attorney I was. I told him I am the kind who sues people for a living. I wasn't rude about it. I wasn't a jackass about it. I was just matter of fact. What do I do? I sue people. Seriously. I sue people. Not everyone, but people who deserve it.<br />
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At that point, he decided I was going to be hostile. Well, long before that he decided he was going to be a jackass. Yes, a jackass. He was a huge jackass. How do I know? Rule #1: never trust anyone who uses their middle name. They start the relationship off by lying to you. Yes, they are lying about their name. Liar, liar pants on fire. Tell me what your first name is if you want this to work.<br />
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Anyway, he was calling me about an issue with my kid. Fine. I told him I was protective of my kid. He asked if I cared more about my kid than other kids. Um, how do I put this without sounding like an asshole? Yes. I do. I care about my kids. I love them. And, if you hurt my kid, we have an issue, whether it is physically, emotionally, mentally or some other way.<br />
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So he continues with this about how I don't care about other people. I am a jerk, clearly. I mean, any parent who cares about their own kid clearly is an asswipe or a douchebag. What kind of piece of crap human would care about their own kid more than other kids? We should clearly not let those people be parents.<br />
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At this point, I am pissed. Like, pissed beyond belief. I stop him and explain to him, politely but firmly, that I am the PTO co-President, mock trial advisor, wrestling coach, 20+ year soccer coach, and I go to the worst schools, not the bad schools, but the worst of the worst and talk to the kids about being successful. But, yes, you are right you piece of crap that I don't care about other people's kids. I volunteer all of this because I am a shitbag. Yes, a human shitbag. That is me.<br />
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Look, I do a lot wrong. I get it. I am not perfect. In fact, I am pretty fucking far from perfect. I am mean. I make people cry. I can be biting in my sarcasm. I can just be a complete fucking ass. I have made mistakes, some bigger than others. I am not a role model. I am not even a good person half the time. Do not look up to me. I am fine with it.<br />
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But do not ever, ever question my commitment to making sure our kids, not my kids, but OUR kids are going to do better in this life than I have done. Do not ever think I don't give to our kids. Every single fucking day I do something for someone else's kids, whether it is tying a shoe or volunteering or talking to them or simply making sure that they have what they need to be successful. Yes, you can skewer me for a lot. But if you ever try to make me look like the piece of shit you are, we will have an issue and I am sure that I will come out on top.<br />
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So, dear douchebag: remember there is always someone out there who is smarter than you. I know there is someone out there smarter than me. You, however, scum, are not smarter than me and if you push me too much, you will not like the result. I assure you of that.<br />
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<br />A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-86014773919266877722015-08-03T16:18:00.002-07:002015-08-03T16:18:51.303-07:00The Fish Hopper - a disaster<span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">Don't say I didn't warn you if you go to this place. This will be a bit less PC than I can post on Yelp or Tripadvisor. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">Could we give zero stars in reviews for places that suck and not in the good way? That would be a better option until this place gets new management. And by new management, I mean fire the two dildos who I had to deal with. They couldn't manage their way out of a paper bag. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">However, before I rant too much, here are the positives:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">1. Daniel, our server, was amazing. This guy should be at Mortons or Ruth's Chris or some other 5 star restaurant. He gets it. He knows how to take care of a table. The meal started off horribly (more on that later) but he did a great job getting it back on track. The guy is simply a genius.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">2. Along with Daniel, Christian was great. He is one of the managers. This guy should be in charge. He is funny, smart, personable and understands customers. He may have one of the best senses of humor in the restaurant business. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">3. The food was great. The chef knows what he is doing. Every one of our meals was good. Why this guy is cooking at this POC is beyond me! </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">Sadly, the good, even as good as Christian and Daniel were, was outweighed by the idiocy, the morons, and the complete lack of caring. I could have taken the best service in the world and the best food in the world, and the two dicks running this place would ruin that. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">Sad and what makes it worse is that this is apparently a family company with two guys who could not have been bigger douches if they tried. I always want to see a family succeed. I like family businesses. But you can't put an asshole in charge and expect to succeed. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">Before I rip into these two clowns, let me relate the story.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">Two months ago, my mother in law made a reservation for my father in laws 70th birthday. She stopped in and checked it out. Then she called. There were 11 of us. She was told she had to deal with catering. Then catering told her to deal with the restaurant since catering only deals with 15 or more. So she called back. She made a reservation for 11 with a request that we have a table near the window. After all, the window views are part of the deal.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">On Friday night, my mother in law called to confirm the reservation. She was told that they may not have a table for 11 (how that is possible, I have no idea) but that they would get us two tables close to each other. No one was ecstatic with this, but fine. We get it. Saturday night is busy. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">So, we get there and they tell us that they have no table. And, well, they don't really have two tables close to each other. After some discussion, we agree to take the two tables. They seat my in laws at a table for 6 with half the party. Right next to them is another table. But, apparently we can't have that one. They sit the other 5 of us halfway across the freaking restaurant. We were so far away, I couldn't see them without standing up. Seriously, I had to stand up to see them! I am not the world's tallest guy, but it may have been a Tiger Woods chip shot at the AT&T Pro Am to reach their table from our table! </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">As we are walking past their table to our table, we notice a round table set for 6 that is clean and empty. It is 2 tables away from theirs. Its shorter than a late 70s MG to get from one table to the other. How hard can this be? But, they keep us going and going like the Energizer bunny. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">So, maybe they had a party of 6 for that table, even though we were sat at a table for 6? I don't know. But not 5 minutes later, they sit 5 people at that empty table. Well, that is when the worst customer service ever started. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">First, we have Steven. Steven thinks he is smarter than he is. He is a cocky guy who wants the world to be impressed that he is one of several managers at a small restaurant in Monterey. No one is really impressed by him. I think Steven thinks he has some idea what he is doing because someone called him a manager. I don't think Walmart would take him as a clerk, let alone a manager. If you are going to be cocky, you should at least be able to back it up for more than 5 minutes before you have to turn me over to your general manager. Let's just say that a McDonald's manager would have been more impressive than Steven.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">Then we have Adam MacDonald. Adam apparently thinks that he can talk around issues without ever explaining to the customer that he may have been wrong. Adam told me that when they have a party of 11, they have to have two different waiters help the party. Under this thinking, any reservation for 11 or more would have to be sat in two separate areas of the restaurant. Why would you do this? And why wouldn't you tell people this when they make the reservation? It is simple courtesy. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">Adam is not comfortable enough talking to guests to do it out in public. So, instead of talking to me in front of the hostess stand, he brings me to a back room by the kitchen. It felt a little like a New Jersey mobster scene. In all of my years, I have never had a manager, let alone a GENERAL MANAGER (as his name tag makes so very clear) refuse to talk to me in public. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">Then, when this is pointed out to Adam, he tells me that I don't understand how his restaurant runs. That is what everyone wants to hear. The GM is smarter than the customer, even if the GM looks like he is a balding 15 year old. Apparently, customers in shorts are not smart enough to understand how to cook and serve food. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">I explained to Adam that there was this open round table they could have sat us at. He tells me that is not possible since the people sitting at the round table asked for a round table and he has to honor all requests. Um, we made a reservation and requested one table for 11. When you told us that wasn't possible, we then requested two tables close together. How come our requests were ignored and you honored theirs? Adam goes back to his favorite answer: I am just not simply smart enough to understand how it works. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">(Mind you, I grew up in a family where my dad ran businesses, where he had friends who ran businesses and where some of those friends ran very successful restaurants that served tourists.) </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">Back to the story. Adam then explains that there is simply nothing he could do and we should have known this before. It is our fault for making the reservation. It is our fault that there is not one table big enough for 11. (Of course, he ignores the fact that there were two parties that night bigger than ours that had long tables put together.) It is our fault that he needs 2 servers to wait on a big table. (Of course, Daniel had our table and the round table that the other people sat at.) It is our fault that we simply aren't smart enough to understand this. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">I then asked him for his boss. I figured a general manager must report to someone. But, apparently, Adam is the HMFIC. He told me he doesnt have a boss. It must be cool to be a manager and not have anyone to report to. I wish that was my job when I worked for someone else. He basically acts like he is the head douchebag when he is just a lowly douchebag.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">He reports to no one. He told me I could call HR if I wanted to file a complaint. Now, I get calling HR if there is harassment. I could understand calling HR if I was an employee. But can someone explain to me what HR has to do with a customer who is upset? </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">As an aside, Mr. Shake, the actual owner, may be upset to learn that Adam thinks he is in charge. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">Let's just say that Adam has absolutely no idea how to interact with customers. I think his training came at a facility where he had no interactions with the public. Maybe he worked at a prison where the customer was always wrong. Maybe he has some experience in the grooming industry where he could ignore the dogs. Maybe he worked as a debt collector. But somewhere he missed that the customer is always right, or at least, you should make them feel that way.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13.9919996261597px; line-height: 19px;">So while Daniel and Christian were great, and while the food was very good, they get a one star rating because Adam and Steven couldn't figure out how to spell customer service, let alone give it.</span><br />
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A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-77152828394383315652015-06-25T12:30:00.000-07:002015-06-25T12:31:22.094-07:00Tip of the Hat to Sacramento RepublicI am fortunate. I get it. I grew up in the late 70s/early 80s in New Jersey. We lived in an area where you could watch some great sports. The Yankees were in 4 World Series and the Mets won the World Series in 1986. The 76ers won two NBA titles and made it to a 3rd championship series. The Rangers made it to the Stanley Cup Finals, the Islanders won 4 in a row and 4 out of 5, the Flyers made it a couple. The New York Arrows won the MISL championship (even though we grew up as fans of the Philadelphia Fever). And then there was the best collection of players in a sport - ever. The New York Cosmos won 4 NASL championships and lost a 5th.<br />
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It is simply not an argument that the Cosmos had the greatest collection of players at any time. Pele. Beckenbauer. Chinaglia. Roth. Carlos Alberto. Bogie. Chinapoo. Rick Davis. Messing. And that is without thinking about it too hard! Simply no better collection of stars on one team in any sport ever.<br />
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So growing up, it was pretty easy. I went to Yankees games at Yankee Stadium. I went to Phillies games at the Vet. I went to Mets games at Shea Stadium. Flyers and 76er games at the Spectrum. Rangers were at MSG with the Knicks and the Isles played at Nassau Coliseum. Of course, the Cosmos were at Giants Stadium at the Meadowlands. Every where I looked, it was winner-winner-chicken dinner.<br />
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I was also fortunate that my dad and his friends knew a lot of people. A lot of people. I sat close to the floor for the 76ers. I went to a player meet and greet with a friend in NYC and the friend's dad got us autographs from all of the stars. I met several Cosmos, including Pele and Werner Roth, my soccer hero growing up. It was a special time - and sadly one I didn't realize was special at the time.<br />
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Last night I went to the Sacramento Republic FC game. I have been a handful of times. And let me tell you - these people simply get it. When we arrive, there is music. There are food trucks. There are souvenirs for everyone from the babies to the granddads (and grandma's too!). There is a crowd ready to cheer on their team. But it is so much more.<br />
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Tell me what other sports team has the owner walking around mingling with the fans. And while he could cop the "I own this team and you don't attitude," he simply doesn't. I refer to him as Mr. Smith, but plenty of fans call him Warren. And he responds to that! I know we are less formal these days and my clients call me by my first name and not Mr. too. I also don't own the most successful soccer team in Sacramento! I even saw him doing some manual labor pre-game to make sure everything goes off without a hitch!<br />
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Next I see Fred Matthes, VP of Ticket sales, moving chairs and making sure everything runs smoothly. He talks to everyone from the VIPs to the season ticket holders to people who bought tickets just for the 1 game. Of course, he is assisted by a great group of people including Megan Springmeir, who might be the best Corporate Account Executive in the country. Seriously. She understands how to deal with people.<br />
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I could go on and on about these people. Brent Sasaki walked around and was talking to people, answering some questions about things like why the clock stops at 45 minutes to talking to sponsors. They were all so approachable.<br />
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But beyond the personnel, there are the players. I remember the glory days of sports. You could sit at Giants Stadium after a game and get autographs. You could hang out by the players entrance and get autographs. An autograph as a kid was a huge deal. Somewhere along the way, this changed. I blame idiots who try to monetize sports memorabilia. Anyway, it changed and it was no longer possible to get autographs.<br />
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But at every game I go to, the players are signing autographs. After the game, they walk up to the stands and thank the fans. They sign shirts for the kids, they sign balls and programs and anything else. They do it with a smile and a few nice words to the kids.<br />
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Now, to you and I, this may not be a big deal. But to a 5 year old or a 10 year old or a 12 year old, this is a huge deal. The kids look up to these guys. They are "heroes" although I hate to use that word. But the kids want to be like these guys. They see the players as role models, especially ones who want to grow up to play professional sports. So the attitude and friendliness of the players makes all the difference in the world to the kids.<br />
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And notice that in all of this, I never mentioned the quality of the play. It is excellent. It is, by far, some of the best soccer you can see. I don't care if you call it "minor league" or "lower division." These guys can play. And play well. But, despite being the league champs, they come out to play their hardest every game. Every single time. Its just such a joy to watch.<br />
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I get professional sports. I have seen it when it was accessible. I have seen it when the best of the best play together, but also make sure the kids get that experience that you can only get from sports. Sac Republic gives that experience still.<br />
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So there you go. A big tip of the hat to Sac Republic. Warren Smith has assembled a fantastic group of people and they know what they are doing. If you have not been to a game yet and you are a soccer fan, make sure you go. If you have not been to a game yet and you are not a soccer fan, make sure you go. It is such a tremendous experience for your entire family. Congrats to everyone at Sac Republic!A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-56626260682318017842015-05-31T20:46:00.001-07:002015-05-31T20:46:13.786-07:00My little girl is growing upEvery night is bath night for my baby. She loves her baths. She gets clean. She gets to play. She gets good mommy time. She loves her baths.<br />
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This weekend, she decided, at the ripe old age of 5, it is time to take a shower. Every night she wants a shower before bed. She looks at me tonight and says "I am a big girl now, daddy." She is so proud of herself.<br />
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It was some weird combination of Butterfly Kisses (see this from 2 year's ago: http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2013/06/butterfly-kisses.html) and Cats in the Cradle.<br />
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I grew up listening to Cats in the Cradle. My child arrived just the other day.............I remember her being born. I remember holding her. I remember her sleeping next to me. My little girl. My baby. My sweet angel.<br />
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I feel like I jumped to the end of the song tonight. I've long since retired...........except I have not retired. She hasn't moved away. She has just grown up. She has gotten big. She is her own person. Smart, cute, funny, hard working. She is confident and independent.<br />
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And no matter how hard I try to keep her little, to keep her small, to keep her my baby, she grows up. She grows and grows. She gets more independent. She will always be my baby, but now she is my growing up little girl.<br />
<br />Not matter how hard I try, she will continue to grow up. And no matter how hard I try, she will go from my baby to my little girl to my big girl to an adult.<br />
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As Simon and Garfunkel said, preserve your memories, they're all that's left you.A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-22068875033065701202015-05-05T20:53:00.002-07:002015-05-05T20:53:40.764-07:00Why soccer matters to meI am going to share a story from about 35 years ago. Pay attention. It's important.<br />
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In the 1970s, the most famous sports team in the world was the New York Cosmos. Don't argue the point. It is simply a fact. You may not like that the most famous sports team was a soccer team, but it was. They made the Yankees look like the freaking Florida Marlins. They sold out Giants Stadium for every game. They were rock stars. Pele. Beckenbauer. Messing. The best soccer team ever assembled. They played in the NASL, an up and coming soccer league that folded in the 1980s.<br />
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Part of the charm of that generation was that athletes were accessible. I remember going to shows and having baseball cards signed. I remember getting things signed at Yankee Stadium or Shea Stadium. I was up close with Dr. J in Philadelphia. The Cosmos, as part of their marketing, ran soccer camps.<br />
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One guy, Werner Roth, was the captain of the Cosmos in the late 1970s. Think Derek Jeter before Jeter was even born. Captain of the Cosmos was like President. You could do anything you wanted to do. Roth retired, but he opened soccer camps in the NY/NJ area. He was what Kennedy would have been upon leaving office if Lee Harvey Oswald didn't shoot him (alone, without help, and no conspiracy).<br />
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Roth ran camps for kids who were 8 and up. 8 is apparently the magic number. If you are 8, you can learn more than at 7 or 6. 8 year olds get it, I guess. Well, Roth heard of this kid who was 6. He could play a little. He really wanted to go to Roth's camp, called the Werner Roth Soccer Camp. The kid had been a fan since he was born. He went to all of the Cosmos games. He knew the players. All he wanted for Christmas (or Hannukah) was to go to the camp. Roth agreed to take the kid.<br />
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It was a week long camp. The players learned to dribble, pass, shoot. They were shorts that were entirely too short. They had t-shirts that were so big they looked like dresses. The 6 year old had the problem of shorts that were too big mixed with a shirt that was ridiculously big. But it didn't matter. They played soccer in the morning. They played soccer in the afternoon. They watched soccer at night.<br />
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At the end of the camp, Roth put on a clinic for the kids. He showed off some skills. When he was done, he called up the 6 year old. The shy, nervous kid went up there. The entire camp watched as Roth and this kid stood there. Roth set up two goals. He gave the kid the ball. They played. 1 v 1. This 6 year old kid and the retired captain of the most famous sports team in the world, the guy who was captain on teams with Pele, Beckenbauer, Carlos Alberto, Chinaglia. The kid shot. He missed. Roth missed wide. The kid shot. Roth slid and blocked it. The game went back and forth. Finally, the kid scores and wins 1-0. The camp cheered.<br />
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For the next few years, the kid went back to the camp. Every camp ended the same way: Roth v. the kid. The kid was undefeated, winning every match 1-0. Roth would come to the kid's house and talk. They watched Victory together. They had dinner. Roth became friends with the family. As with all things, the camp ended, the kid moved on.<br />
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Fast forward 25 years. The kid tracks down Roth. Roth and the kid are on the phone. The kid asks Roth why he let him win. Roth says "I saw the love of the game. I knew that playing would bring it out in you. I let you win so that it would develop that love."<br />
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Fast forward 10 years. The kid has a family. He is grown up. He still plays soccer. He still loves soccer. He still recalls playing with Roth all of those years ago. Now the kid has his own kids. His kids get the chance to have dinner with a soccer player. They eat. They talk. They go to the street and kick the ball around. The player teaches the kids how to curve the ball. He encourages them. He shows his love for the game. The kids glow. They spend days talking about it. They ask when they can do it again.<br />
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You see, the game, like the ball, is a circle. Soccer comes to us as youth. It teaches us skills we use in life. We play alone. We play in small groups. We play on teams, in parks, at the beach. We play in the parking lot. We play on the street. The passion develops, it builds. The passion becomes us. We move on in life, but we never forget those lessons of scoring when we were 6, of playing as a team, of sharing our snacks. We have kids and we teach these to our kids. We pass on the game. We use the game to connect to our kids. But, the game also connects our kids to the world. Our kids are taught the game. Our kids develop that passion because they see it in us.<br />
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The game, like the ball, is passed between people.The kid's dad taught him the game. Roth brought out the passion in the kid. The kid taught his kids. Those kids learn the passion from the player. The circle continues..............A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-9341040028772685652015-03-26T20:37:00.002-07:002015-03-26T20:37:30.670-07:00Science fairs are a waste of timeA modified version of my email to the school district<br />
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I am writing to you about our district science fair. Simply put, this was a waste of time.<br />
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Let me back up. I am a very involved parent in the district. I have kids at two campuses and have volunteered at both schools. I have coached in the district two different sports at two different levels. I never turn down an opportunity to help our kids, whether its volunteering at the school or helping at the district office. But, I am now 0 for 2 in getting any feedback on the district science fair and why we bother with it. Maybe it is some Ed Code requirement. Maybe someone thinks it’s a good idea. I don’t know. But, it is a waste of time and resources.<br />
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My son and I came home from this year’s science fair. He entered an invention. His invention was simple: all natural, tear free baby shampoo. It was freaking brilliant, if I do say so myself. I know a thing or two about baby shampoo and this was genius. It is not earth shattering, isn’t going to change how the world works, and is not “fancy.” My kid isn't Elon Musk. I get it. But this was good! However, it is something that hasn’t been done in the approximately 40 years since Johnson and Johnson developed “No More Tears.”<br />
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At the school level, inventions are not judged. I don’t know why, and couldn’t get an explanation from the district science resource teacher. But, my wife and I volunteered to judge the school science fair. We were given a rubric and graded 40 or so projects, between the two of us. At no time did I translate the rubric to mean “It must use these words or else.” Apparently, I was wrong. I thought kids could use some creativity in figuring out what to write and didn't need us to shove words down their throat!<br />
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At the district level, inventions are judged. However, those scores are never given out. Never. Not once. Even if you ask for them. Seriously, how the fuck do you grade something and not tell someone the grade? I don’t know why or how. I have received an explanation, but it must be wrong for a school district. The explanation is that we don’t do it because we don’t want kids to feel bad. I will address this more later. I don't want idiots to feel bad so I guess I shouldn't tell them that they are idiots.<br />
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When I asked how my son did, I was told he did not place. Great. He wasn’t upset. I wasn’t upset. But, how did he do? What could he do better next year? How could he improve? After all, his project was seen by a lot of people prior to going to the district and the consensus was that it was a) very cool, b) innovative and c) impressive for a 5th grader. In fact, a patent attorney for Johnson & Johnson was impressed by it. Seriously, when a patent attorney tells you he likes a product that is based on a product for which he knows the patent, you take that as a sign of a good product!<br />
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The judges remain anonymous. Their scoring is a bit like figure skating in the 1990s Olympics – hidden. Trying to figure out why he didn’t do well, or if he did well, was a bit like trying to figure out why Qatar is hosting the 2022 World Cup. It is a good question, but impossible to answer. Maybe we should move the science fair to December? (Like 4 people laughed at that, but it is funny. Trust me.)<br />
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So, I asked the district science resource teacher. His response was that they don’t give out scores because kids could do well at the school level, but not as well at the district level. They don’t want the kids to feel bad. Isn’t that what school teaches? For example, when I coached middle school wrestling this year, I had kids who were really good for being in 7th grade. Maybe he or she was the best wrestler at the school at 102 lbs, for example. We would go to a local tournament. Instead of being the best, my wrestler took 3rd place. We expand the pool of participants and the ability level to be the best goes up. As my wrestler made it to the county tournament, maybe he took 5th place. Again, the bigger the pool, the higher the competition, the better you have to do. It isn't freaking rocket science. You may be the smartest kid in your class, but you aren't the smartest kid in the school!<br />
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Isn’t the science fair the same thing, but for science? My son may have had the best project at Sims. As he goes to the district, it may be that his 90 is only an 85 when compared to other kids at other schools. And, at the next level, maybe isn’t that good, but rather an 80? Are we now afraid of telling kids that it gets harder the bigger the pool of competitors?<br />
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Then, the resource teacher went through the rubric with my son and his poster board. He pointed out that my son didn’t list “<b>Materials</b>.” (I bold it as it appears on the rubric.) My son, instead, listed “My formula.” Under his formula, he listed his actual formula. Now, “<b>Materials</b>” is defined as “All items used for the project are listed in specific terms.” My son’s formula lists the ingredients used and the amounts used. Further, he lists them based on the trials he did. By definition, he met this criteria. He listed all items he used in specific terms. But, the issue appears to be that he did not use the term “<b>Materials</b>.” You must be a lemming and use our language, human!<br />
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One might think this was just a bad example. However, it was also pointed out that he did not write “<b>Problem or Question</b>” which is supposed to be “[t]he invention clearly identifies and solves a real problem or need.” My son listed “My Goal” and wrote “Why not make a baby shampoo that doesn’t hurt eyes through chemicals but uses natural ingredients?” Now, I fully admit I don’t have a PhD in science. But, I am pretty sure that my son’s goal was a question that identifies a real problem and solves it.<br />
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But, there are ten categories on the rubric. So, just two bad examples? No. My son called his “<b>Research or Background</b>” by the name “The Principles.” Yes, he used a synonym. I am not sure, but I think that synonyms are something we want kids to learn how to use. Otherwise, they would call everything a red balloon, and not an orange-red sphere attached to a string. This seems ridiculous.<br />
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When I pointed out to the resource teacher that there was no point to a project that gave no feedback, he disagreed with me. I explained to him, gently, that in 24 years of education, I never did an assignment that didn’t have feedback. After all, how are kids supposed to learn? Even in law school, the most draconian of educational facilities, there was feedback. Heck, when we coach sports, we give feedback. “Billy, that was a good attempt at the take down, but next time you need to put your head on the outside of his leg.” Billy hear's something good but also learned what to do next time.<br />
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In this case, there is no good or bad. There is simply nothing. The resource teacher told me that he did assignments where he only received a grade. I pointed out to him that a grade was feedback. It may not be detailed, but at least it is feedback. You may not like an 80, but you know you got a B. My son doesn’t know if he got an A, B, C or if he turned in a piece of junk. Seriously, I don't know if it was A work or Z work. What the hell?<br />
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If you are going to score things on a scale of 1 to 100, you should at least give students the numerical score. Maybe, my son did a great job and got a 95 and was beat out by kids who scored 96, 97 and 98. That is very possible. But, maybe my son also scored a 62 and was beat out by kids in the 80s. That is also possible. And, either way, there is value to knowing the result.<br />
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Instead, I am left with a kid who is in 5th grade, has competed in two science fairs, and won’t enter any more because he is frustrated by a process that even he understands is unfair. Its not the result that bothers him, but that after doing weeks of work, his only feedback is “Sorry, it is not good enough and we won’t tell you why.” I asked him as we were leaving today what he learned, and he said “Nothing.” I asked again and again and that was his only response. This is a kid who has been on district honor roll, competes in sports, plays in the band and is involved with leadership programs at Sims. I asked him what he learned from the teacher and he said “Nothing.”<br />
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I tried talking to the teacher about my concerns. All he did was accuse me of yelling. I assure you I wasn’t yelling. Mr. Pierce knows my yelling and I would have been heard throughout the district office. But, in a room where parents are talking to their kids, you have a large number of people, and you are not allowed to make a point before being interrupted by a teacher, there is a need to be heard. I am sure I wasn’t yelling because no other parent stopped what they were doing to watch or listen. Yet, that was all your teacher could say.<br />
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In conclusion, the science fair is simply a waste of resources. If we are going to do this and NOT teach the kids what they did wrong (or what they did right), it has no educational value. Sure, my son learned how to make baby shampoo. But, he could have done that at home, avoided two trips across town to drop off and pick up his project, and spent his time learning other things. He could have worked on something without worrying about a rubric. The district science fair wants rote, boring potatoes powering light bulbs using only the language provided by the district. Quite frankly, it seems the antithesis of everything the district stands for, of its common core goals, and of good education. If we wanted our kids to recite back what we have taught them, we would teach them “just the facts.” I think the district needs to reconsider this waste of time and money.<br />
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A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-11531670156872113552015-03-25T20:48:00.005-07:002015-03-25T20:48:43.535-07:00On hate.........I am writing this with a Campari in my hand. Just remember that!<br />
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There is a lot I don't get. Some of it I don't get because I just am not very smart. Some of it I don't get because I don't want to spend the time trying to understand. Some of it I don't get because it simply is idiotic. I don't mean to be offensive, but some stuff is just idiotic.<br />
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For example, guys walking around with their pants sagging is idiotic. That went out of style in the 90s, I thought. Or, guys walking around dropping the F bomb around elementary school kids. That has always been idiotic. I don't get why people do these things because they are so idiotic that trying to understand them is a waste of energy.<br />
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You know what else is idiotic - hatred for a group of people. Let me give you an example. "I hate tall people because they picked on me when I was younger." This is idiotic. Just because a couple of tall people made fun of me when I was younger, doesn't mean all tall people are jackasses. Now, some of them may be. A lot of them may be. But I am sure there are some tall people who are nice. When I meet them, I will let you know. (I kid. I have a lot of tall friends. Tall, of course, being defined as taller than me, which isn't that hard since I am 5'5 - on a good day!)<br />
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Now, my example is extreme and idiotic. I get it. It was designed to make a point.<br />
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You know what I hear a lot of lately - I hate blank. One of the popular ones now is "I hate cops." I don't know why people hate cops, but they seem to hate cops a lot lately. Yes, some cops have done dumb things. You know what? Lots of people do dumb things. If you are reading this and have never done a dumb thing, raise your hand? Yeah, I thought so.<br />
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Of course, there is also the old stand-bys. "I hate ..." fill in any racial group of your choice. White people hate black people, black people hate white people, Hispanics hate both, and everyone hates Asians. Right? We have all heard this. Why? Because some douche in one of these groups does something and, instead of blaming the person, we blame the group. It wasn't Billy Smith that robbed me, it was "those white people" who did it. Dumb, of course, to the educated person - maybe. But it happens every single day.<br />
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We can also blame religions. We are not fighting a war against terrorism, we are fighting a war against Islam or Muslims or ............just a crazy idea, we are fighting a war against scary people who may be religious, but probably aren't. Of course, the Nazi's hated the Jews, and now Palenstinians hate Jews because, clearly, every Jewish person is responsible for what happens in Israel. Of course, that would mean every European was responsible for apartheid in South Africa until it ended.<br />
<br />
I get hate. There are people I hate. It may be 4 people. It may be 5 people. But, it is specific people. I don't hate groups of people. I hate certain people. I hate people who have done mean, horrible things that cannot be forgiven. I don't hate groups. If everyone could try, just a little bit harder, than the world would be a better place. Maybe not much better, but a little better.A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-79040184423141404872014-12-28T11:58:00.001-08:002014-12-28T11:58:18.991-08:00This is the holiday spiritI wrote at the end of December that one small act can change the world. Go read that now: http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2014/11/one-small-act-can-change-world.html It won't take long. Seriously. Go read it. It is good stuff. Maybe the best stuff I have written. So read it. Done? Good. Now you can go on with this. And if you need some inspiration while you read the rest of this post, you can get it from here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U7cTPIayXb4<br />
<br />
I spent last week at Disney World in Orlando. Or, as the folks at Disney like to call it, Walt Disney World. After all, that is the official name. It is a huge place. And sometimes, folks end up in places for the right reason at the right time. I am going to relate one of those stories.<br />
<br />
At Disneyland, and at Walt Disney World, they have the cutest little thing called Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique. Every little girl should experience it. Basically, girls from 3 to 12, roughly, can go and be made up like a princess. They get their hair done and their nails done. They get some makeup put on. They can buy a princess costume and wear it. Its adorable, and I am not saying that just because my daughter LOVES it.<br />
<br />
Anyway, there we were last week at Walt Disney World at the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique. The place was packed. To my right were two little girls with their parents. They looked to be sisters, maybe 6 and 5, or something close to that. Dad and mom had big pin on that said "Make A Wish." (If you don't know what Make A Wish is, shame on you. But then go read this: http://wish.org/) The little girls were being made up and had on t-shirts and sashes. It was probably the most basic package.<br />
<br />
You see, Make A Wish will pay for the family to get to the destination. They pick up some of the expenses. But the family has to pay for these little "add ons" as I call them.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the girls finish up. A stranger, or at least a guy who appears to be a stranger, walks up to the cash register. He hands a credit card to the cashier. She looks at him and asks what he is doing. He says he wants to pay for these two girls. She confirms it. The mom walks over and says she wants to buy a jacket for the girl. Then a second for the other girl. While an employee runs to check to see if they have a 2nd jacket in stock, the cashier asks the man if he wants to still pay for it. He nods his head and says yes.<br />
<br />
The cashier rings it up. The man pays. He walks away. I watch more. The cashier tells the family that someone has paid for this for them. They are surprised, to say the least. After a brief discussion, the cashier points out the man who paid. He is still there, with his family. Mom walks up, tears in her eyes, and hugs him. She walks up to his wife and hugs her. Dad comes over, teary eyed as well, and shakes the man's hand. He hugs the wife as well. The little girls say thanks, although the girl in the wheelchair can is barely audible.<br />
<br />
The family leaves. There is some discussion among the employees. I decide to get more information.<br />
<br />
I ask the man why he did it. His answer was simple: he doesn't know what they are going through, but whatever that family is going through is worse than anything he is going through. He tells me he hasn't had a great year, isn't making a lot of money, but he knows he can afford to be generous to a family whose lives are much more difficult than his life. He has had a rough year, he says, personally, but he cannot imagine the pain and heartache that this family is going through. So, if he can help them, why not? At some point, its just a matter of being a good person and not worrying about his own situation.<br />
<br />
I talk to the employees. They have never seen this before. They don't know what the man was thinking or why he did it. His reasons are irrelevant to them. What matters is that he did it. He helped this family that their hearts broke for as well.<br />
<br />
The moral of the story: the holiday spirit is alive and well in complete strangers. The holiday season may be ending, but that doesn't mean that the spirit is over. January 1 marks the start of a new year, but it doesn't have to mark the end of the generosity and caring that people showed. The spirit can live on, should live on, if everyone just tries, like this man tried to help someone, even complete strangers.A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-64292036445871391262014-11-30T19:54:00.002-08:002014-11-30T19:54:55.560-08:00One small act can change the worldThis is a true story. Its a story of a simple act. But its a simple act that made a difference in one man's life. Its an act that helped one young man. Its an act that you can do.<br />
<br />
Its a rainy morning in Sacramento, although it could be any city from New York to San Francisco, Anchorage to Miami. There is a Starbucks at the corner of two streets downtown. Inside, people are drinking their coffees, staying warm, eating food. They are enjoying the conversation, playing on their tables or phones, ignoring the people around them.<br />
<br />
Outside, on one street, is a homeless man, dirty, sleeping, with his dog next to him. He is in his 60s, probably, looks like he has had a rough life. He is there every week, refusing any offers of help. On the other street, sits a boy, probably 20. He sits with his back against the wall of the coffee shop. He is drawing with pencil on white paper. He draws a woman, long hair, a smile. His artwork is amazing.<br />
<br />
Inside, watching, is a man. He sits there with two kids. The kids are talking and playing. The man watches the boy draw. He sees him add texture to her hair. He watches the boy draw a shirt. The boy adds a bra strap. The picture comes to life.<br />
<br />
The man gets up. He walks to the counter and asks for the largest coffee that they have. The barista, knowing the man, asks why. The man explains that the boy outside is drawing and has a sign that he is homeless and is asking for food. The barista hands the man the coffee at no charge.<br />
<br />
The man walks outside. He walks up to the boy. He says "That is some great artwork." The boy responds "Thanks." The man says "Here is a cup of coffee." The boy says "Thanks" and returns to his drawing.<br />
<br />
The man walks inside. His son, who is a young teenager, asks to give the boy a bagel. The man opens his wallet, hands his son $5, and tells him to go get a bagel and bring it to the boy. The son walks out.<br />
<br />
A bald man in the coffee shop is also sitting, looking outside at the artist. He hears the man's conversation with his son. He grabs a brown lunch bag. He grabs his sandwich out of the bag. He walks outside, has a conversation with the young artist, and walks back in.<br />
<br />
The father says "That kid does great work." The bald man says "Yes, he is great. He told me he is homeless. I am homeless too, but I have plenty of food. I can share my food with him," The father looks back at the bald man. The bald man says "I heard your son offer to get him food. I figured I had extra food that I could offer to."<br />
<br />
The father's son comes back. He walks up to the young artist and offers him the bagel. The boy grabs the bagel and offers his thanks. The artist takes a bite out of it, hungry. The son comes in, happy that he could help.<br />
<br />
The father's daughter, no older than kindergarten, asks to give the artist some food. The father makes a purchase at the coffee shop, hands it to his daughter, and tells her to bring it to the boy. The girl goes outside, with her brother, and says "Here you go" to the boy. The boy smiles back at her, says "Thanks" and puts it in his backpack for later.<br />
<br />
Another patron watches this. He walks outside, sees the boy drawing, and offers him $20 to help offset the cost of a place to spend the night. It will be another cold, rainy night. The boy smiles, continues his drawing, and watches people walk by, most of them ignoring him, not even making eye contact.<br />
<br />
The moral of the story: one man wanted to give a homeless guy a cup of coffee. That turned into a free cup of coffee, a bagel, a scone, a sandwich and $20 to help the artist find a place to stay. It may not be the ending of racism or ageism or any other ism, but to this young boy, it is a chance for a fresh start, a shower, some food, and some hope.<br />
<br />
What s your small act to change the world?A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-10563888983795745312014-09-17T11:06:00.002-07:002014-09-17T11:06:36.660-07:00What I have learned from Facebook today:This originally started as a quick rant on Facebook, but I decided to go off!<br />
<br />
1. I can't eat any food because it may cause cancer or some other horrible disease;<br />
2. The people I am friends with are miserable and always unhappy;<br />
3. Life sucks for most people;<br />
4. We all suck as parents/kids/spouses/partners;<br />
5. We need to all work out 18 hours a day and it has to be the RIGHT way.<br />
6. Everyone is going to disconnect from Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, cell phones, pagers and beepers.<br />
<br />
Look, I don't get it. I recognize that I am not the brightest guy reading this. But lets be , a) I eat food because I like it and it may cause cancer, but breathing your smoke can cause cancer too, walking down the street may cause cancer, and quite frankly, not eating WILL lead to dying and since I don't want to die, I think I will keep eating and take my chances. Maybe you don't like beef or chicken or fish or you think we should eat Paleo or only protein or only carbs. But, at the end of the day, you have NO ACTUAL idea what is going to kill you. I am sure of that. So if we are going to cut out all of the stuff we eat because of what it MIGHT do, then we might as well cut out driving, walking, running, exercising, and anything else that could lead to you dying. Sheesh!<br />
<br />
B) You aren't that unhappy. Seriously, if you think you are, you have depression and you need to see your doctor. Today. Now. Stop reading and go see your doctor. If you just want empathy or sympathy or some other athy, then pick up the FREAKING TELEPHONE and call someone. Seriously. Make a phone call. Talk to a real, live human being. I am sure he/she/shim/it can help you. But posting it on Facebook is not healthy for you. I am sure of that. You may have a bad day. You may have a bad week. Heck, you can have a bad month. But if every day is crap, crap, crap, crap, you are suffering from a medical condition. Go get help. Please?<br />
<br />
C) Life is never fun for anyone. Ever. Nor has it been since about February 3, 2004. (Figure out why I picked that date and get back to me.) Seriously, no one has had any fun since then. It is just a miserable experience for everyone. GET OVER IT!<br />
<br />
D) I am the worst father in the world. Thankfully, I appear to be tied with everyone else. I am also the worst son in the world, the worst husband in the world. I clearly have no idea how to parent and I need everyone else to tell me how to raise my kids. I also need you to tell me how to love my wife, how to be a son, and how to be a human being. Seriously, I am surprised I know how to walk down the street safely. Would you like to teach me that too? I know, a white paper on the proper way to walk down the street. I am so writing that as soon as I figure out how to have fun, be happy and eat.<br />
<br />
E) I clearly am a fat ass who is out of shape and cannot properly take care of myself. I must do cross fit, check fit, fit fit, fat fit, P90X, P90X2, P90X3, and its long lost cousin Takeadump180. If I do not do all of these exercises, then I am a failure. I am fat. I am out of shape. I am not going to live to be 100. I will not be able to run a marathon, a half marathon, a fun run, a color run, a gray run, a black and white run, and a FREAKING run run. I will also not be able to swim around the world, hike a mountain or do anything else that requires any physical exertion because I am clearly a loser.<br />
<br />
F) I am still surprised that I can figure all of this out since everyone is constantly disconnecting from technology. There are no people on Facebook or Twitter. No one checks text messages or cell phones or calls anyone. No one knows how to talk or communicate.<br />
<br />
And, I sure as shit know, that no one knows how to say to someone "How are you?" I don't mean How are you as in hey, I mean how are you really, truly, actually doing. Apparently that is not something that is possible to ask anyone anymore!<br />
<br />
Now I am going to ride my bike and ignore everything I am doing wrong, although I am sure I ride my bike wrong too!A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-57248037510061040562014-07-23T11:00:00.002-07:002014-07-23T11:00:27.326-07:00The Elk Grove Auto Mall adsSo last night I was laying in bed and a commercial came on for the Elk Grove Auto Mall. We see the Mayor of Elk Grove, Gary Davis, and the Vice Mayor, Jim Cooper. We see a few more folks from the City and a member of the Cosumnes CSD board. They all say how great the Elk Grove Auto Mall is and why we should shop there. Basically, it comes down to money.<br />
<br />
Now, let's spend about 30 seconds analyzing this:<br />
<br />
1. Why is the mayor or the vice mayor in an ad for any business? That is an endorsement of that business. Do they shop at the auto mall? Are they willing to be in ads for other local businesses? I don't see Jerry Brown endorsing Intel or Apple or Google.<br />
<br />
2.Or are they now in the endorsement business? What about other businesses? Is the endorsement up for sale? If you bring in $1,000,000 in sales tax revenue, will the mayor be in your ad? What about $2,000,000? Do you have some magic number that applies? I didn't realize politicians endorsed local businesses.<br />
<br />
3. Why don't they ask the Elk Grove Auto Mall why their ads aren't shot in Elk Grove? Look at the freaking tv ads. How many of them are done in Old Sac or downtown? Apparently, we should give our money to the Auto Mall but the Auto Mall should not give their money locally? Really? Is that how it works now? We support them and they spend their money elsewhere?<br />
<br />
4. Why are city employees in the ads at all? Did the Auto Mall pay for their time to be in the ads? Are taxpayers paying for their time? Is this something that is covered by their employment?<br />
<br />
5. Does anyone buy a car based on the endorsement of politicians anyway? Seriously, would you buy a product because of a politician recommendation? I wouldn't.<br />
<br />
Okay, short rant over. I can go on and on, but you get the point.A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-69512166735202508362014-07-13T22:02:00.002-07:002014-07-13T22:02:56.449-07:00Shop localThis is going to be a bit different. No, this is going to be a lot different. I am not going to get mad. I am not going to drop any profanity. I am not going to call anyone names. Ready?<br />
<br />
I was talking the other day with a friend of mine. We both work for ourselves and we both notice the same trend: people want to talk about shopping locally, but when push comes to shove, they don't do it. This applies to friends as well as to the general public. Let me explain.<br />
<br />
Pretend you are a friend of mine. Now, I am a lawyer. It is what I do to support my family. And you would know this, because, at least in this example. you are a friend of mine. So, my new friend, you have a legal issue come up. You know I am a lawyer. But you decide to call some big city law firm to represent you. You pay them good money to resolve your issue. Later, you mention to me that you hired Dewey, Cheatem & Howe.<br />
<br />
Let me explain the problem. (I will ignore, for a minute, that we are friends.) Your hard earned money goes to a big city law firm. The big city law firm's lawyers live in a different city than you live in, and a different city than I live in. The big city law firm uses products and services from the big city. They hire couriers in the big city. They pay rent to some landlord in the big city. All of that money you paid them is paid out in the big city.<br />
<br />
If you hired me, I use local people for my services and products. My business cards are printed locally by a woman who designs them locally. She buys her products and services locally. My postage is bought locally. When I need to hire someone to do something for me, I hire someone local, whenever possible. I take my income and spend it locally at my local stores. When I go out to eat for Italian food, for example, I choose to eat at a small, local place. They hire people who live locally. They buy their food at the farmers market and from local supplies. Those suppliers buy their products locally.<br />
<br />
You see, shopping locally gives local people money to spend locally. This is what makes a community's economic development grow. As more people spend locally, the local businesses grow, hire more local people to work there and spend more money locally. It has a mushroom effect. When you take money and spend it outside of the community, you are helping to grow those other cities.<br />
<br />
Now, I get you can't always buy things locally. I use software that is only available from big companies. I buy paper in bulk and can't find a company that sells it in bulk. If I have to get papers sent by overnight mail, I am limited in my choices. So, it is not always possible. Further, maybe you need a patent attorney. There are none in my town. But, if you call a local attorney for a referral, that local attorney gets "goodwill" from the attorney he/she recommends. That comes back to the local attorney in referrals from the other attorney, which then helps the local economy.<br />
<br />
And, let's be honest, there are some businesses that you will not shop at, for a variety of reasons. For example, a local business owner in my town had a dispute with me over something. Instead of disagreeing, he chose to attack my character. That is his right. However, it is then my right to decide not to give him my money. After all, I work hard for it and why would I give it to someone who thinks I am a jerk? I wouldn't and you wouldn't either.<br />
<br />
About that friendship part: if you are a friend and you enjoy our friendship, then it is worse when you decide to give your business to someone else. If we are friends, and I don't mean Facebook friends, but real, actual friends, then you should be willing to call me when you have a problem that requires my services. I may not be able to help you, or it may not be a good fit, but a friend should do business with other friends. It is not required, but friends help friends, and that means helping them with everything. Don't tell me we are friends then buy widgets at Walmart because you think they are cheaper than I sell them for.<br />
<br />
I may be wrong, but I think there is something to shopping locally. Who is in with me?A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-37011813318580596782014-06-30T21:23:00.002-07:002014-06-30T21:23:35.267-07:00Fucking idiotsOkay, this one won't go on Facebook.<br />
<br />Fucking idiots. These people are fucking idiots. So my kids born in October, November and December can play soccer at 4, but my kid born in September cannot. Seriously? Someone thinks there is logic to this.<br />
<br />
We all know it is bullshit. They are just making crap up. And they aren't even good at it. You mean to tell me that someone born September 9 cannot play soccer for a season that starts on September 6. But a kid who was 4 through the entire season can play. That is proof you are full of crap.<br />
<br />
Why not just say "Look, we don't want you coaching." At least be a man about it. Right? There are plenty of times I would like to just make crap up. But I can't. Its not in my DNA. My DNA tells me to call it like I see it. So, this is how I see it: BULLSHIT!<br />
<br />
Okay, so these idiots want to ruin youth soccer. That is fine. Go ruin it. When you have run it into the ground, don't call me. I won't be there to help you!A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-14239521270976909262014-06-30T21:15:00.000-07:002014-06-30T21:15:03.912-07:00Its amazing how adults ruin thingsLast night I received a disturbing phone call. Okay, disturbing may not be the right word. An annoying phone call. Obnoxious maybe? It caused me some annoyance. So, this morning, I wrote a letter to Elk Grove Youth Soccer and West Lake Soccer Club. Here it is (with names changed to protect the innocent):<br />
<br />
***********************************************************************<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am writing today
after receiving a phone call last night from Ms. Jones, the assistant XXXXXXXXX for West Lake Soccer. A little background before I
begin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My kids first started
playing in EGYSL in 2003. I was an assistant coach for a U6 boys team in the
Laguna Creek Soccer Club. My oldest son played on that team at the ripe old age
of 4. His birthday was not until after the season ended and he was in preschool
at the time. We never registered him for Kindergarten at that time. My oldest
son played for several years. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My second son played
for <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">West</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">Lake</st1:placetype></st1:place> starting in 2005. He
was also 4 at the time. That child had an October birthday and my wife and I
simultaneously registered him for preschool and Kindergarten, not knowing if we
were going to hold him back. We didn’t make the decision to send him to
Kindergarten until July of that year. He played for <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">West</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Lake</st1:placetype></st1:place> for several years.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My third son began
playing soccer in 2007. He, too, was 4. He was a December birthday and never had
any chance of going to Kindergarten during his first season. However, he was
allowed to play without a problem. (By the way, he was allowed to play up 2 age
groups when he was young as well, in 2009.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Over the years, I have
helped out EGYSL and <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">West</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Lake</st1:placetype></st1:place> numerous times. I was an unofficial
board member for <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">West</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Lake</st1:placetype></st1:place> one year when Mr. Gones was the
President. The next year, I was the equipment manager for the board. I received
numerous calls from both EGYSL and <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">West</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Lake</st1:placetype></st1:place> when they needed a referee for a
difficult game. I helped out countless times, including last year.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">When there was a U14
team with no coach, I was asked if I would coach the team. My 11 year old was
playing and should have been playing in U12. However, I agreed to play him up a
year and coach a team, despite not wanting to coach that age or coach my son.
That team, by the way, had 3 11 year olds on it to start the season, 3 kids who
had never played soccer, and never more than 13 at a game, with most games
having 11 or 12 players. Yet, the boys managed to go a respectable 5-5 and
finished 4-1 to end the season. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">With that background in
place, I received a call last night from Ms. Jones. My 4 year old daughter, who
has the earliest of any of my children’s birthdays, September 9, is not allowed
to play soccer this year, despite me signing up to coach her team. She is signed
up for Transitional Kindergarten because EGUSD will not let us challenge
kindergarten until we are within 60 days of her birthday. That has been our
plan, with the testing to occur on her birthday. However, I now understand that
my daughter cannot play soccer this year. Honestly, this baffles me.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">All 4 of my kids are
fall birthdays. Of my 3 older children, they all played soccer at 4, which is
when I started, even though 2 of them were never going into kindergarten when
they started playing. Those two were both in preschool. However, suddenly the
oldest of my children, the one most prepared to go to kindergarten, the most
mature, and the most ready to play soccer, can’t play. This makes absolutely no
sense. Quite honestly, it seems like adults ruining an opportunity for kids to
play.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My daughter won’t play
this year. You can send a refund check to me. There are two other families who
signed up their kids to play on my team. I have talked to one already and I am
sure they are going to request a refund as well. I believe that the
2<sup>nd</sup> family will request a refund as well. (Incidentally, Ms. Moser
believes this is a mistake for those families, but if three girls who have been
best friends for 2 years can’t play soccer together when the 3 dads were going
to share coaching, then that is the decision for the families to make, not
anyone else.) She may play next year, but she may not. She wanted to try soccer.
She has other interests and will pursue those other interests. Sadly, while I
believe that soccer does more to teach our youth about sports, sportsmanship,
working with others, etc… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I believe that once
again rules have been made with absolutely no forethought. Are all kinds between
September 1 and December 1, the old cut off date, going to be told that they
can’t play soccer? Will they find other activities and just not play soccer?
Will kids who challenge into kindergarten after August 1 simply be told that
they have to wait another year and miss out on that year of bonding? It is your
league and you can make whatever rules you see fit. However, making it harder
for kids to play soccer seems counterproductive especially in a time when
“soccer fever,” something I have been waiting for since I saw Pele play in the
1970s, is finally taking root in <st1:city w:st="on">Sacramento</st1:city> and
the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">US</st1:place></st1:country-region>. </span><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">***********************************************************************</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Now, let me rant. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">What the hell is wrong with people? Ignore for a minute all that I have done for the league over the years. Pretend I am Stern John. I don't know jack. Okay? Ready?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You have a kid who wants to play. And yet you say no. You are turning down a) money and b) kids. Just so we are clear, youth sports are designed for, wait for it..........................................................the youth. Yes, without kids, you have no sports league. No teams. No games. No league. No adults to get in the way. You need the kids. The kids need the adults substantially less.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">How do I know this? I grew up playing sports. I played soccer in a league. But I also played basketball at the park. We played football. We played hockey. We played wiffle ball, and for the old timers, we played stoop ball, even if we called it curb ball. There were no leagues for most of this. We just played on the street, in a basement, or wherever we could find space. There were no adults around and we turned out just fine - other than one broken arm. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And you are turning down a volunteer. Every freaking year sports leagues call up parents and say "Hey, we need a coach for this team. Will you volunteer?" They beg and plead for volunteers. Now they have one - Stern John. And they say no. They are turning down a coach. Seriously. For some made up rule that has never applied before. Nonsense.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Now, pretend I am me again. When they had no coach last year, there were 13 kids who could have been told that they can't play. A grand total of ZERO parents stepped up to coach the team. I didn't know these kids from Adam. But I agreed to coach and agreed to move my kid up an age group. And yet the reverse does not apply - they won't let my daughter play now. Seriously, if her birthday were 8 days earlier, we wouldn't be having this discussion. But she can't play because of 8 days. WHEN THEY HAVE A GUY WILLING TO COACH! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And, let's be clear, in addition to having volunteered for these people for years, I am a damn good coach. Yes, I said it. I am a damn good coach. I could put up my team's records. But that isn't the sign of a good coach. My teams have fun. My kids learn the game. And I assure you that I do drills that most of these coaches couldn't figure out if you gave them step by step instructions, but that the kids rock at doing. They are easy - too easy for the coaches who think they know more than I do. See, you can read that here: </span>http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2009/05/beautiful-game.html </div>
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36 years of soccer playing. 20 years of coaching. More than two decades of being a ref. And yet, I can't coach my daughter and 2 of her friends for some made up BS rule.</div>
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I will say - I think if I were Stern John and not Jon Stein, this wouldn't have happened. Yes, its freaking politics. Someone was pissed off that I did something and this is a good way of making a point. Great. You win. You are right. My daughter, who has wanted to play soccer since she was a baby, can't play this year. Next year, who knows? Maybe she plays. Maybe she doesn't play. She has other interests. </div>
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I sure as hell don't need to coach. You mean spend 4 months playing babysitter because parents can't bother to sit at practice. Do everything because parents don't volunteer. Get yelled at because little Billy is playing the wrong position or didn't play enough of the game or the team lost. Get yelled at because some kid didn't get his medal, but mom and dad refused to help.. Put up nets, take down nets. And do it all with a smile. Yeah, I won't miss that at all. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Sadly, I wonder what parents will get a call asking them to coach their kid when a willing coach was ready for his daughter...............I hope someone steps up. Otherwise, once again, the adults will have ruined it for the kids. </div>
A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-68382129508096688002014-06-12T21:18:00.002-07:002014-06-12T21:18:56.752-07:00 More on MLS in Elk GroveOkay, so I wrote this on December 14, 2011: http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2011/12/mls-in-elk-grove-i-think-not.html Let me hit the highlights if you don't want to read it:<br />
<br />
1. <span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">So where to start? Should we start with Fabian Nunez? Dude was Speaker of the State Assembly. Dude's son killed a guy. Yes, we all make mistakes. I have made plenty. Just ask my wife. But, murder, manslaughter or anything close to it? Not on my list of sins. But, I get it, people screw up.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">2. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">First, Sacramento could not support the Sacramento Knights, a minor league indoor soccer team. Stockton, our neighbor to the south, could not support the Stockton Cougars, another minor league indoor soccer team. We can barely keep the freaking Kings in Sacramento (although one of their idiot play by play guys is the reason I won't support them). We have lost 2, or is it 3, pro football teams. Heck, San Jose lost the Earthquakes several years ago. Yet, somehow, Elk Grove is going to support professional soccer.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">3. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">Elk Grove has a mall that hasn't been finished. Elk Grove has a ridiculous number of foreclosures. Elk Grove has unemployment around 10%. Elk Grove schools are struggling. Yet, these people are going to support a professional sports team?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">Then on November 4, 2013, I wrote this: </span><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2013/11/morons-i-say-morons.html You don't want to read it? Fine, more highlights:</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">1. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">Do you know who is getting the next MLS team? Not Elk Grove. Why not? Because Elk Grove doesn't freaking listen. Not just to me, but to MLS. Orlando is getting the next MLS team. Why? Because Orlando deserves it. How do I know? Because Orlando has supported minor league soccer for years. Orlando has shown it is a great soccer city. So, MLS is going to reward Orlando. The moral of the story: if you want to play with the big boys, follow the fucking rules, you morons</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">2. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">You see, Elk Grove is not a destination. Never has been. Never will be. It doesn't need to be. Its not why we moved here. People moved here because they like it as it is, a small town where you can still go to the grocery store and see friends. A place where everybody knows your name. You walk in and feel like Norm.</span><br />
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Now, let me go a step further. There was a city council meeting last night. Here are some highlights courtesy of: http://www.elkgrovenews.net/2014/06/elk-grove-to-continue-its-pursuit-of.html Laura <span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Georgia Serif'; text-align: center;">Gill, the city managerm expressed concern over a number of negotiation points that she said were not favorable for the city. And then there is this: Patrick Hume asked </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Georgia Serif'; text-align: justify;">"You are the captain of the ship, someday you will have shore leave and sipping lemonade, would you look back on this and say it was a good deal?"</span></div>
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"Not at the moment," Gill responded.</div>
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"The only reason why I say that is that because you all have lots of things you would like to get done," she added. "You have a civic center you would like to finish, you have an animal control shelter you need to contemplate once we get feedback from the consultant, and frankly, it's a matter of priorities." </div>
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Of course, there is also this: <span style="text-align: center;">Hume said he supported the competitive field component of the proposal, but expressed skepticism on the public financing aspect. He noted that the recent Sacramento County sales tax proposal to fund a soccer stadium there would only have a 20-percent public financing component. </span></div>
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<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Georgia Serif'; text-align: justify;">
<span style="text-align: center;">As I said on another page, "</span><span style="background-color: transparent;">Not only is it a bad deal, but there is ZERO chance of
getting an MLS team. Let's see: </span><st1:state style="background-color: transparent;" w:st="on">Minnesota</st1:state><span style="background-color: transparent;">
is getting one. There is NYCFC. There is </span><st1:city style="background-color: transparent;" w:st="on">Miami</st1:city><span style="background-color: transparent;">.
There is </span><st1:city style="background-color: transparent;" w:st="on">Orlando</st1:city><span style="background-color: transparent;">.
There are ZERO teams that are moving. Then, if one reads what MLS actually
says, they clearly state that you need a USL team to get an MLS team, unless
you are a billionaire or David Beckham, neither of whom are building in Elk
Grove. Guess who that means gets a team? </span><st1:place style="background-color: transparent;" w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Sac</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Republic</st1:placetype></st1:place><span style="background-color: transparent;">.
Why? Because THEY CAN FOLLOW DIRECTIONS! Seriously, folks, we learned this in
kindergarten. If you can follow directions, it helps." </span></div>
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This is absurd. It is moronic. It is idiotic. It is completely ridiculous. Look, MLS has laid out the criteria. There is one team in Sacramento following these criteria: Sacramento Republic. It is easy. Heck, even Wikipedia gets it: I<span style="color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.399999618530273px;">n February 2014, Garber again confirmed Minneapolis and San Antonio as candidates, and also mentioned San Diego and Sacramento as expansion candidates</span></div>
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This is idiotic. It is either a colossal clusterfuck, a sign that the Elk Grove City council has way too much free time, a sign that there is too much money for people, but not the city, or a sign that politicians will do anything to please a politician who has more power. I don't care which one you pick. Either way it is a mess, a disaster, an idea that will destroy Elk Grove while not resulting in an MLS team. </div>
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Freaking idiots! </div>
A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-10156986925499032132014-05-18T17:26:00.000-07:002014-05-18T17:26:34.830-07:00Some thoughts on my soccerSo today I played soccer. It is my regular Sunday soccer game. And when I got out there, as I was warming up, I thought "Am I done?"<br />
<br />
You know they say that you are always the last one to know its time to hang up the cleats. It applies in every sport. Brett Favre. Dan Marino. Giorgio Chinaglia. It happens in every sport. And I thought maybe it was my time.<br />
<br />
Then the game started. It was nothing different while I played. But the more I played, the less I enjoyed it. I probably should have quit early. But I didn't. I kept playing. And playing. And getting more and more frustrated. Maybe it was the whining. Maybe it was the piece of shit slide tackle. Maybe it was the guys who stand in front of the fucking goal. Maybe it was the guy who thought we played cherry picking soccer. I don't know.<br />
<br />
But, maybe it was me. Maybe the game has just passed me by. Maybe at 40 it is my time to hang it up. Maybe I go with the fact that I had a good run. I have been playing 36 years. I have made quite a few friends. I have enjoyed most of those 36 years. I have great memories with my teammates. I have great memories with my dad. I have been fortunate to play in many states and see many different things.<br />
<br />
One day, a few years ago, I realized I was no longer able to play competitive soccer. I just couldn't care enough about winning. I wasn't willing to do what some of these a-holes were doing. I wasn't going to recruit college players. I wasn't going to stack my team or bring in ringers. I was just going to play and enjoy the game. But when other people play like its the World Cup and you don't care anymore, you realize it is time to call an end to playing and worrying about winning.<br />
<br />
Today struck me as one of those days. Maybe it is just too much. Maybe driving there and playing is not what I need. Maybe I need to fish more. Maybe I need to sit back and watch others play. Maybe I need to find another way to relieve my stress. I don't know. I do know this is the first time in 36 years I have thought about giving up the game.<br />
<br />
I will take some time off. I will think about it. But, I do wonder if the fact that I am thinking about this is my subconscious' way of telling me it is time............A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-72255973329439604892014-04-28T16:22:00.001-07:002014-04-28T16:22:57.960-07:00When are we going to stop?Okay, so I have to get this off my chest. Let me start with this: Donald Sterling is an idiot. He is also, probably, a racist. I assume we all agree on that. If you don't know what I am talking about, A - take your head out from the sand you buried it in, B - you are a moron. So, go with this assumption.<br />
<br />
But before we all tell the world that Donald Sterling is the anti-Christ, let's stop and think about our own behavior. I have written about this before. But let me re-state my position since some idiot like Sterling comes along and people stop thinking about racism properly.<br />
<br />
If you are an African-American, and you use the "n" word, then you really can't complain when other people use that word. Why? Because you have implicitly stated it is okay to use it. Don't go with "It is a term of endearment when I talk to my buddies." It isn't. It is a racist term. You may not think you are a racist, but if you are using the N word, you are promoting racist. You see, racism can't go on if good people stand up and say enough is enough.<br />
<br />
And I could substitute "African-American" and "n word" for a variety of groups. Jews and the "k word." Mexican and the "w word." (Think about it people.) Puerto Ricans and the "s word." How many more examples do you need? These words have meaning and those meanings are evil.<br />
<br />
Then I turn on ESPN Radio. I am listening to the Dan LeBatard show. He has some co-host, some side kick, some idiot, Stugotz on his show. I don't know Stugotz from Stu-pid-asshole. But this guy says he has a different take on the Donald Sterling issue. So he then proceeds to say that all Jewish women are crazy.<br />
<br />
How the hell is this different from any of the other racist, anti-semitic, misogynistic comments that people make? You see, the problem here is that when you paint with a broad brush, you are, by definition, being a bigot.<br />
<br />
All soccer players are wusses. All football players are dumb jocks. All cheerleaders are easy. All sports talk hosts are failures at sports. All tv people are stuck up. All side kicks on radio shows are idiots. None of these are true. But you can make those statements - and sound like a douchebag.<br />
<br />
But, worse than that, you can do it with race, religion, national origin and sexual orientation. "All blacks are dumb." NO! They aren't. But you could say it. "All Jews are cheap." Really? "All mormons are cultists." Sure, if you are an idiot. "All gays are pushing the 'gay agenda.'" (What the fuck is a gay agenda?) Every single one of them? All Africans are unsophisticated. Not true. All Americans are lazy. Except the person saying it, of course.<br />
<br />
Look, Dan Le Batard should know better. Stugotz, who claims to be Jewish, really should know better. I don't care if you are a Jewish guy and talking about Jewish people. If you use your national platform to talk negatively about a group, any group, even a group to which you belong, you should be canned. You are only encouraging those morons who believe what you said. So, now the anti-semitic folks are going to say "See, all Jews are crazy. Some Jewish dude said it on ESPN Radio." You have used your platform not for good, but for evil. You are a moron.<br />
<br />
When are we going to stop?A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-15269138585476956152014-04-23T19:53:00.003-07:002014-04-23T19:53:49.814-07:00Idiots<span style="font-family: inherit;">So today on Facebook, my status was:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline ! important; float: none; font-size: 14.4px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15.456px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Dear Lawyers:</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline ! important; float: none; font-size: 14.4px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15.456px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">1. I don't care where the hell you went to college.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-size: 14.4px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15.456px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline ! important; float: none; font-size: 14.4px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15.456px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">2. I don't care where the hell you went to law school.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-size: 14.4px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15.456px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline ! important; float: none; font-size: 14.4px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15.456px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">3. I don't care how old you were when you graduated college.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-size: 14.4px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15.456px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline ! important; float: none; font-size: 14.4px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15.456px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">4. I don't care how old you were when you gradated law school.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-size: 14.4px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15.456px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline ! important; float: none; font-size: 14.4px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15.456px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">5. You do NOT have a doctorate. You are not a doctor. Never have been. Never will be.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-size: 14.4px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15.456px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline ! important; float: none; font-size: 14.4px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15.456px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">6. If you are so pompous that you think I need to know 1 through 4 or you plaster your website with 5, you and I will have a problem.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline ! important; float: none; font-size: 14.4px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15.456px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Why would this be my status? Because I was in a bad mood. Let me give you my rules for dealing with people:</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline ! important; float: none; font-size: 14.4px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15.456px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">A. I don't trust you if you go by your middle name. You are starting out our relationship, be it personal or professional, by hiding something. Primarily, you are hiding your first name. I don't know why you are hiding it. I don't care why you are hiding it. I just know that you are hiding it. Remember that dumb saying that you don't get a second chance to make a first impression? Well, that is true when you go by your middle name. Its like giving me the middle finger! </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline ! important; float: none; font-size: 14.4px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15.456px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">B. If you have to tell me how smart you are, then you are not that smart. I told this story to someone today. I didn't know that my dad had his PhD until I was 12. I didn't have a clue as to how smart he was until I was 15 or 16. I didn't really know how smart he was until I was in my 20s. Why? Because he never had to prove to anyone how smart he was. He was just smart. If you think you have to prove to me that you are smart, then you aren't really that smart. Easy enough?</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline ! important; float: none; font-size: 14.4px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15.456px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">C. If you have to tell me how old you were when you made some major life accomplishment, you are a douchebag. I don't care if you were 10 when you graduated high school. I don't care if you were Dr. Sheldon Cooper. I don't care if Doogie Howser was based on you. Not only do I not care, no one else cares. If you think you need to tell people, then you are a douchebag. Plain and simple. Hence, "Dear Douchebag: We don't care how old you were when you were potty trained. Sincerely, Civilization."</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline ! important; float: none; font-size: 14.4px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15.456px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">D. If you tell me how old you were when you graduated from college, you have a small dick. Seriously. Yes, I said it. No one cares. That would be the worst pick up line ever. "Hey baby, I graduated college at 15. Wanna have sex?" Worst. Ever. Seriously. It doesn't matter if you were 15, 25, 35, or 95. No one cares. I have to think about how old I was when I graduated college. And law school. Why? Because I don't care how old I was. Life isn't about what you do at a certain age. It is about what you do to make the world a better place.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline ! important; float: none; font-size: 14.4px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15.456px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">E. If you have a law degree, you are not a doctor. End of story. Don't even argue it. I am not Dr. Jones. You are an attorney. You are a lawyer. You are a person. You are not a doctor. Don't refer to yourself that way. If you must refer to yourself that way, then you need to call your local plastic surgeon because someone pulled a Lorena Bobbitt on you. (Look it up, youngsters!) Seriously. We are not doctors. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline ! important; float: none; font-size: 14.4px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15.456px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">F. If you have fallen into more than one of these categories, you need a life. Not a "are you breathing?" life, but a real, honest to goodness, fucking life. Get out of the house. Make some friends. Stop driving your Bentley or your Rolls or your whatever. Go out to dinner with some friends. Join Match.com. Get laid. Do something with your life. Because you clearly think the world revolves around you. It does not. Trust me. It never has. It never will. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline ! important; float: none; font-size: 14.4px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15.456px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Look, this is simple. Just be a decent person. Fuck up once in a while. It is okay. But don't brag about yourself. Don't think anyone else cares. Don't try to be a superhero. Just be yourself. And if you look in the mirror and you can't be yourself, then realize you are an idiot. People see through fake. Sure, it may work for a year or 10 years, <span style="font-family: inherit;">but at the end of this, you end up as a loser. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.399999618530273px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15.455999374389648px; orphans: auto; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Am I clear? </span></span>A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-79668420935896274892014-03-16T20:49:00.002-07:002014-03-16T20:49:17.788-07:00Dear Starbucks........Dear Starbucks:<br />
<br />
You are kidding, right? Today was just a bad dream. It was a nightmare, right? I didn't have the experience I just had, right? Tell me it wasn't so.<br />
<br />
You see, some people tell me I am a bit rigid. I have my routines. One of my routines is waking up on a Sunday morning, taking the kids to Noahs and then stopping at Starbucks at 19th and J Street in downtown Sacramento. They know me. They know my drinks. They are friendly. There is a group of regulars. We talk. We eat. We laugh. We watch the people walking on the sidewalks.<br />
<br />
This morning, I get up. I start my drive downtown. I get to J St. There is some race. Maybe its a half marathon. Maybe its a 5k. I don't know what it is. People are dressed in green and running. So the streets are closed. I tried three times to get around the race, but wherever I turned there were little green people running. Fine. I give up. The green people win.<br />
<br />
But wait...........just when I start to lose hope, I remember. There is a Starbucks at 15th and Broadway. I can sing one of my favorite songs...........It starts like this "Me and Kid Sensation and that home away from home/In the Black Benz Limo, with the cellular phone....." Hey, its a Starbucks. There are three that I go to that are simply spectacular (not just used to describe one of Jerry's girlfriends). The rest are good. Its a chain. I have certain expectations. Yeah, about those expectations..........<br />
<br />
So we walk in to this Starbucks. It turns out it is store 5963. I didn't know that at the time.......Anyway, I walk in. There are two kids in front of us in line. The nice girl takes my order. It isn't rocket science. An organic vanilla milk box. Two kids cocoas. A plain bagel. A pumpkin loaf. A coffee cake. An egg and cheese sandwich. A venti iced mocha, decaf, non fat, no whip. It is not rocket science people.<br />
<br />
So we get the milk. Heck, we took the box of milk. Its in the cooler. Easy. Done. We get the pumpkin loaf. Bam. Two for two. Then it appears that those little green people must have invaded Starbucks. Because it was all downhill from there.<br />
<br />
Two cocoas come out a few minutes later. Fine. It took a bit long and it shouldn't be rocket science. Then we get my coffee. Okay, so we are 5 for 5. The wait is a bit much for a store that isn't busy. But I can deal with it so far. Then there is a bagel. It is the wrong bagel, but fine. 5 for 6 is a B, I guess. Sadly, it went from 5 for 6 to 5 for 8. Why?<br />
<br />That coffee cake? Yeah, it didn't come. Apparently, it is hard to take the coffee cake out of the case and put it in a bag. The egg and cheese sandwich? I think they were waiting for the hens to lay the eggs. I ask the barista who is closest to me if he can check into it. He tells me that the food is backed up so it should be another minute. Maybe another hour was what he meant.<br />
<br />
A few more minutes. Still no food, but we got the bagel. So I get back in line with my 10 year old. A woman asks if we need anything. I explain I need the sandwich and the coffee cake. She will get right on it. Good. What can it take? 2 minutes? Maybe 3? WRONG!<br />
<br />
I go back up and ask to speak to a manager. I thought this was going to be a good thing. WRONG! I guess I was 0 for 2. The manager is the woman who told me that she would get right on the food. I still think she is waiting for the cheese to separate from the curd. A male employee, I think his name was Michael, is also there. Apparently, he wanted to show the manager he was an alpha male. Yeah, newsflash dude: you aren't.<br />
<br />
Now, from what I know about business, if a customer wants to speak to a manager, a manager comes to the customer. There should not be a gap of 10 feet between the manager and the customer. (Okay, exception if there is a threat of violence.) This manager apparently has a 10 foot personal space need since that is the closest she got to me.<br />
<br />
I need her to hear me. I need her to understand how frustrated I am. So I ask where the food is. She told me it was in line. WHOA! My food should have been cooked well before now. She says she thought I wanted the coffee cake heated up. WHAT? Hot coffee cake? That sounds as good as hot ice cream. No thanks. At this point Michael decides he is smarter than me. He tells me not to yell. Mind you, if you have ever heard me yell, you know that Michael wouldn't have been able to tell me not to yell as his ear drums would have been ruptured. When I yell, restaurants stop. Just ask anyone who has been on the receiving end of that.<br />
<br />
I tell him I am not yelling. He gets in my face. Now, at this point, I thought the manager would step forward and tell him to go take a break. WRONG! Yes, I am 0 for 3. She doesn't. I continue to express my frustration. He continues to tell me to calm down. Yeah, calm? On a Sunday morning? I am calm. Dufus then tells me that its just Sunday morning. Great, its Sunday morning. And I have things to do. I then ask the manager if all of her employees talk to customers this way. No response.<br />
<br />
They ended up refunding me for the milk, the bagel, the coffee cake (that I never got!), the cocoa and the pumpkin loaf. My coffee and my egg sandwich, that I never got, were not refunded to me.<br />
<br />
So, lets see: I had to pay about $8.00 to get service so bad it makes the Embassy Suites Anaheim South look good. (read: http://www.tripadvisor.com/ShowUserReviews-g32420-d224310-r152254596-Embassy_Suites_Anaheim_South-Garden_Grove_California.html#CHECK_RATES_CONT) Yes, it cost me money to get service this bad.<br />
<br />
I am going to write to Starbucks. I hope they do something. If I ran a business and found out one of my stores treated someone this badly, I would be embarrassed. I admit it - I am a Starbucks junkie. I have had a gold card for years. I know several managers. All are great people. But this - this was a freaking nightmare.<br />
<br />
<br />A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-87151953893321191112014-03-06T21:21:00.002-08:002014-03-06T21:21:48.968-08:00A week from hellI am in a bad mood. It has been a week. A very, very long week. Where do I start? Wait, I know, people have it worse than me. Sick kids. Dying parents. I get it. So this is not a "oh pity me" post. I am fortunate enough to have this blog to vent. So now I vent.<br />
<br />
Lets see............dear douchebags who stole my credit cards - twice: you suck. Really? Is it that cool to spend someone else's money? Do you think it is a good idea to use my credit card? Sure, I don't know who you are. But I am pretty sure you are not a short, white, bald dude. And I am pretty sure I bust my ass harder than you bust yours. So you are stealing. Just so we are clear. It is theft. You are a thief. You are a no good piece of crap. I hope you end up living under a gutter.<br />
<br />
Okay, the rest of it isn't that bad. At least, I don't think. A flat tire. New tires on the car. People who don't listen..........oh, and debt collectors.<br />
<br />
I did get some good lines in.<br />
<br />Lets see. If you are a debt collector and you are attempting to collect a debt from overseas, do not be surprised when I tell you that my left testicle is smarter than you. Yes, when you tell me that the law does not apply to you and that you will do whatever you want to do, I may explain to you how my left testicle is smarter than you. What? You don't like that. Well, guess what? I don't like douchebags. I guess we are even.<br />
<br />
But, that wasn't even the best. There is a debt collector who shall remain nameless (FS Mediation aka FS Legal or FS Law). These folks are in NY or OH or Toronto. Or some other Gawd-awful place. They are some of the most idiotic people you have met. Seriously. Find the dumbest dude you know. Then think that he is 10 times smarter than these folks.<br />
<br />
So, yesterday, this Patty Callahan dude told my client he was the President. Then he told me he was a paralegal to some 90 year old attorney who practices family law. I asked for his address. He didn't know it. Yes, dude told me that he doesn't know his address. I may have told him that he is an idiot. May have. Not sure.<br />
<br />
Today, I spoke with some other guy who told me he couldn't give me a fax number. I asked him "Does your mom know you are a scam artist? Is she proud of you for being a scam artist?" For some reason, he didn't find that funny. But dude is running a scam. No fax? No email? No address? Yes, we call that a scam. And he was offended. Can you believe that?<br />
<br />
You want offensive? This is offensive: you take advantage of the elderly, single moms, women, people with disabilities. At some point, I will track you down. I will find you. I always do. Until then, please understand that my left big toe is smarter than you. And if you think I am wrong, you can kiss my white ass. A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-21946931561876511792014-02-05T20:49:00.001-08:002014-02-05T20:49:52.200-08:00IdiotsPeople are idiots. Just simply fucking idiots. I don't get it. But they are.<br />
<br />
I live in Elk Grove. Its a nice town. We have 160,000 people or so. We have some really nice places. We have some farmland. We have residential tracts. We have businesses. We have a lot. We also have some problems.<br />
<br />
But let's be clear about something: Elk Grove is not a dump. It is not a zombie town. It is not a hole. It is not a lot of things.<br />
<br />
If you don't like Elk Grove (and please feel free to insert the name of your town here since I am sure this applies to a lot of places), then you have three options:<br />
<br />
1. Leave. Seriously. Pick your crap up and move. If you need help, call. I will help you. I will pack your shmatas (as my mom would have said) and drop them off in whatever hole you want to go live in. Maybe you want to move to Compton. Maybe you want to move to San Francisco. Maybe you want to just move to the middle of the Pacific Ocean. You can leave.<br />
<br />
2. You can shut the fuck up. Yes, STFU as the kids would say. Shut up. If you don't like it, you can just mind your own fucking business and shut your fat mouth. There. Done. Problem solved. Then people like me don't have to listen to people like you. Ever. Again. That would make it so much nicer!<br />
<br />
3. You can do something about it and try to make Elk Grove (or whatever town) a better place. Get out and volunteer. Join a neighborhood watch. Help out local kids. Do something, anything, to make your town a better place. If that is too much for you to do, then read 1 and 2 - leave or shut the fuck up. It is that simple.<br />
<br />
You can either be part of the problem or part of the solution. If you want to be part of the problem, then leave. That is one less problem for me. It is one less whiner. It is one less jackass who apparently can't get the fuck out of bed to make the world a better place.<br />
<br />
So are you an idiot or are you a difference maker? A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-66520528768928787182014-01-27T13:24:00.002-08:002014-01-27T13:24:14.034-08:00I am not an assholeI was called an asshole yesterday. Yeah, there are times I can be an asshole. I am an asshole to debt collectors. I have been an asshole at other times. Sometimes, I deserve to be called an asshole. But, yesterday, I was not an asshole.<br />
<br />
Look, I run a business for a living. I charge people money. I don't apologize for that. Nor should I. A little story........... (And don't aww me or tell me how amazing I am. I am not amazing. I don't want to hear that crap. This is just to give you background.) <br />
<br />
I graduated from college in 4 years. As it is now, it was a time when not a lot of people got out in 4 years. I took over 20 units my last semester to get out in 4 years. That included tutoring, an internship, and a job. We had a mortgage to pay, after all.<br />
<br />
I got a job out of college. I worked hard at it. 3 years and 3 months after starting that job, I earned my CPCU. (Google it.) Back then, the CPCU was 10 essay exams. Essays. For hours. It also required 3 years of work experience. Do the math. It was tough.<br />
<br />
Then, a year later, I started law school. 4 years. At night. While working full time. Kids came in years 2 and 4. 4 am feedings. Late nights after school. Very little sleep. It was stressful on me. It was more stressful on my wife. It was stressful on my kids. Do you know how many vacations I took while in law school? 1. 1 actual vacation.<br />
<br />
I took the bar exam after graduation. Passed on my 1st try. I had surgery the next day. 2 months after the bar exam, my dad died. He never saw me get sworn in. It has been almost 11 years since I was sworn in. Do you know how many actual vacations I have taken in those 11 years? I mean a "let's not work and take time off for more than a weekend" type vacations. Wanna guess? 2.<br />
<br />
3 vacations in 15 years. Sometimes, it sucks. I don't get a steady paycheck. I don't get vacation time. I don't get PTO. Benefits? Yeah, I pay full price for those. And you know what, I wouldn't change it.<br />
<br />
Don't pity me. I don't pity me. I wouldn't change this. I haven't missed any of my kid's events. I have been there when they need me. Heck, I picked up my elementary school kid by walking to his school on Friday. Its the life I chose. I get it.<br />
<br />
But I don't work for free. I have a wife to support. I have 4 kids to support. I have a mortgage to pay. I have bills to pay.<br />
<br />
Yes, I take pro bono cases. But I make that decision, not you. If you ask for free help, my response is generally no. If you expect me to help you for free, my answer is fuck no.<br />
<br />
So, imagine my surprise when a "friend" mails papers to my house with a note that she expects me to take care of her lawsuit. Yeah, I don't do that. Not to my business. No phone call. No request. No offer to pay. An envelope with a copy of a lawsuit and a note that told me to deal with it. My response: a letter to her telling her I don't represent her. This is what I would send to anyone who sends me unsolicited papers or assumes I will represent them without signing a fee agreement. It is fairly standard. <br />
<br />
Yesterday, this "friend's" partner came up to me, in front of my 4 year old and other adults, and called me an asshole. This is wrong on so many levels. <br />
<br />
First, who calls someone an asshole in front of other adults? You don't know those people. You don't know how I know these people. Maybe they are friends. Maybe they are clients. Maybe it is someone who is interviewing me. But now, suddenly, I have to explain why you called me an asshole. Thankfully, these folks ignored it, as most of us would do. But you don't do that to someone.<br />
<br />
Second, who calls someone an asshole in front of that person's kids? My daughter is 4. You want to call me an asshole in front of her? I am pretty sure that makes you the asshole. Of course, I didn't say that back because, well, I don't curse in front of kids, especially 4 year olds. That is simply idiotic and moronic. <br />
<br />
Third, this was at a temple. You are going to use profanity at a place of worship? Really? That doesn't seem very god like. I mean, you are in God's holy place and you think dropping a little profanity is the way to go. Who taught you this?<br />
<br />
Fourth, why, exactly, am I an asshole? Because I won't represent you for free. Do you expect your doctor to treat you for free? Your dentist? Is your landlord supposed to give you a break too? When do you think you should pay for services?<br />
<br />
Yes, I have asked a friend for a favor before. Hey, can you pull a title on this house? Hey, can you give a friend an insurance quote. But, a) I refer these people business and b) it usually is a precursor to paying them. Oh, and it never involves more than a few minutes and I sure as hell wouldn't ask a real estate friend to sell my house for free. Once an attorney gets involved in litigation, its not easy to get out.<br />
<br />
Look, folks, attorneys are people too. We have families. We have bills. Just because you know us doesn't mean we are obligated to help you for free. If you want help, offer to pay us. Sure, we may say no. I know I have done that a few times. But at least fucking offer to pay me. Don't assume I will work for free. And sure as heck don't call me names when I won't.<br />
<br />
This is how I support my family. It is not a crime. I should not be ashamed. I am not going to be embarrassed or bullied about it. I busted my ass. The reward is that I get to run my own business. If our friendship is built on you thinking you can get something for nothing from me, go fuck yourself. And don't talk to me again.<br />
<br />A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-87902588797308507952014-01-14T15:31:00.002-08:002014-01-14T15:31:57.714-08:00On manhoodOkay, so its not often I get involved in something that is current. Normally, I am ripping on idiots or making fun of some schmuck at the store. Sometimes, I make fun of some current "star" like when I mocked Michael Phelps' pot use or rap like Pitbull. (Dude still needs a new name. He is a freaking moron and can't sing! I am sure my raps are better than his!!) But, today, I need to weigh in on something that is bothering me. Men!<br />
<br />
Did you know a study came out a few months ago about men? Yep. Some fool studied how much sex men get who do "women's chores." You don't believe me? Read it here: http://thelibertarianrepublic.com/study-men-womens-chores-get-less-sex/ Seriously, this was a real study. Some morons paid these people to study what kind of man gets more sex. How this affects the world or makes the world a better place, I have no idea. But the conclusion is that we need socialized gender roles, apparently.<br />
<br />
Then my wife told me about some story she read on Huffington Post. I looked it up. Dude is "Daddy Doin' Work." Here is his website: http://daddydoinwork.com/ I don't know him, but there is some good stuff there. You should read it. Now. Go read it. Then come back here.<br />
<br />
He was apparently attacked for a picture of him doing his daughter's hair with a baby in a baby carrier. Let me be clear on this: FUCK THAT! (No, not him. The people who attacked him. Maybe that wasn't clear enough.)<br />
<br />
You know what I think of all of this? Its nonsense. Its all garbage. Its not worth the paper it was written on. (Or the typing spent writing this crap.) Let me give you my thoughts. <br />
<br />
What did you do this weekend? Beats the hell out of me. What did I do this weekend? I baked a pie. I cleaned the house. I watched the kids. I coached wrestling. I played soccer. I took my kids to breakfast. I went shopping at Target. I hung out with my daughter.<br />
<br />
I just don't get it. Why do we need to have these ridiculous rules? We didn't have them when I was growing up.We didn't have anyone tell us we had to be real men and women had to be real women. <br />
<br />
I was a little kid when I heard stories of my mom's dad. He was a "man." He was tough. He ate horse. Seriously. My grandfather ate horse. He was a boxer. He was a tough guy. In his 80s, I am sure he could still have kicked the crap out of me. He always looked like a boxer. He owned a laundromat. He sold Disney vacations or something like that. But he was a man. No one would have ever questioned that my grandfather was a man's man. <br />
<br />
Then there was my dad. I found out my dad was a bad ass when he was growing up. He would kick the crap out of people. There was always a good reason. Usually, those reasons had to do with my uncle getting in trouble and my dad having to fix it. He also was a chemist and a very good businessman. Smartest guy I ever knew. He would mow the lawn and take care of his family. My dad was a man's man as well. <br />
<br />
Then, in the early 2000s, suddenly a man was something different. We had that Queer Eye for the Straight Guy show. Suddenly a real man was someone who shaved his whole body. Yeah, lets just be clear. I never shaved my whole body. Ever. Nope. But a man also had to be able to cook and clean. He had to groom daily. He had to have some "soft side." It was all the rage to be a metrosexual. I still don't know what that word means. But men were suddenly all metrosexual. At least, if you wanted to be "cool" you were a metrosexual. I guess I wasn't cool! <br />
<br />
Now, we want to go back to men doing men things and women doing women things. What the hell does that mean? Am I supposed to tell my daughter she can't play with cars and trucks? Are my boys not allowed to learn to cook? I am so confused by all of this.<br />
<br />
Here is what I know. A man takes care of his family. Maybe he works two jobs. I went to law school at night while working full time. Sucked. Yep. I was up at 4am to feed the baby (we had two), was in the office by 5, worked, came home so my wife could go to work, then left to go to school when she came home. Did I enjoy it? Nope. But it was necessary for my family.<br />
<br />
Maybe a man makes sacrifices that we don't know about. I didn't know my dad overmedicated for his Parkinson's disease until he died. He wanted to provide for his family. So, understanding the risks, he took the medication necessary to work and provide for us. That was his choice. Right or wrong, in hindsight, makes no difference. A man will step up and do what is needed to take care of his family.<br />
<br />
So here is what I tell all of these geniuses: fuck off. You guys are crazy. All of you. Men don't have to be tough guys, but we can be. I can still throw a punch to knock someone out. I can still wrestle. I can still play soccer. Sure, I am older, but I can still do it. I can run, I can do yard work, I can build something.<br />
<br />
But, I can also cook. I can bake. I can clean. I can hold my daughter when she cries. I can throw on a suit and look better than you. Yep, its true.<br />
<br />
I can do all of those things. I don't have to pick. Nor should I pick. I can go grab a beer with the guys and have discussions that I would never talk about. I can also take my wife to a nice dinner and wine and dine her. I can take her on a date.<br />
<br />If you think we have to pick, you are an idiot who has never had to be a real man. Real men do it all. A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102018976896933730.post-32840334263357568042013-12-18T20:49:00.000-08:002013-12-18T20:49:06.317-08:00I am upsetAnd I don't even know why. Wait, I think I do. It sucks. It just sucks. We aren't like other families.<br />
<br />
I drove my youngest son to band practice yesterday. It was a rehearsal before his first concert. It was near where my oldest son used to live. And I got mad. And sad. And upset. And annoyed. And any other synonym you can come up with.<br />
<br />
Why? I don't know. I am still angry that he ended up in LA. I still harbor some ill will towards the people who ran the prior group home. I still blame them. And so it made me mad. I wanted to cry. I couldn't. How could I explain that to my kids?<br />
<br />
UGH! So I have been grumpy the last two days. And I have no explanation as to why.<br />
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That's it. Back to your regularly scheduled reading.............A Ranterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500702110714234044noreply@blogger.com0