The avalanche of stories linking major league baseball players to steroids has produced a similar torrent of reaction from the media and fans---outrage, indignation, disappointment and character assassination.
My reaction? SO WHAT?
Are records set by “juiced” players now “tainted”?. Only if you say they are.
I say no-and here’s why:
Despite their fame and notoriety, it could be that a great many players were not exactly Mensa society members when it came to the legality of these substances, which, for many athletes was a way of life. Staying “productive” in their businesses –not returning to the minors-required constant attention to their physical performance—after tasting what some of these drugs could do to enhance that performance, there was no going back. I believe that some players were not even aware of what they were being given—and that those who were-weighed the pros and cons and made a decision to stay competitive. So, either guilt by ignorance or guilt from desire to remain “employed”. Take your pick.
Remember that the Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1988 is the first item in baseball’s steroid timeline. Anyone in the habit of using before this date was NOT doing anything illegal.
Imagine if COFFEE were made illegal tomorrow. You might be faced with the same dilemma. Hey, you’ve used coffee throughout your working career to wake you up and start your day. But, someone somewhere decides that coffee is a stimulant, that caffeine creates an unfair advantage in your business (whatever it is) and now---it’s ILLEGAL!!!
What do you do? Well, you could switch to No-Doz and/or caffeinated soda, but you get the idea. Chances are you would continue to drink coffee.
What about weightlifters who use protein powder to bulk up? What about the use of vitamins in mass quantities as athletes the world over do? . If Tiger Woods eats a Power Bar during a round to replenish his blood sugar, is he giving himself an unfair advantage?
I am NOT defending the use of steroids. I am, however, castigating those who have unfairly elevated this practice (commonplace as we have seen) to the level of criminal behavior and/or calculated “cheating of the system”. This judgment is unfair and misplaced.
A closer look at the issue yields one inescapable fact. The denial of use is far worse than admitted usage. The coverup is always worse than the crime. Roger Clemens’ staunch denial of use is worse than if he had admitted taking performance-enhancing drugs.
Sports—and the human species—are constantly developing. Comparing records from one era to another is already an exercise in futility. In baseball alone, there was the “juiced ball” era, where the construction of baseballs themselves caused them to exit stadiums easier. Are home runs using that ball now invalid?
Human beings are bigger, stronger, faster than the athletes of yesteryear. Better diets, food nutrients, etc are sometimes given partial credit for this as well. Is THAT also unfair? Equipment-from baseball to golf--is better and enhances performance as well.
The truth is that steroids will not make your curve ball better-or help you get it over the plate. It will also NOT allow you hit a baseball. While it MAY influence the speed of that fastball or the distance that baseball will fly, the talent needed to “ante up” in the world of professional baseball is not influenced by drugs. I could ingest a tractor trailer load of anabolic steroids and still not be able to even foul off a Josh Beckett fastball.
It was on this date in 1998 that Mark McGuire hit his 62nd homer of the year, breaking Roger Maris’ single-season mark—he ended up with 70 for the year-a record some thought would last for years-but was broken by Barry Bonds with 73 just three years later.
Below is a video clip of Roger Maris’s 61st—and as you can see, even THAT record was “tainted” in the sense that Babe Ruth’s 60 homeruns were hit in a 154 game schedule:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vJnhHdjs0DI
I say let the records stand and defuse the situation by drawing the line in the sand—NO MORE from now on! End the witch hunt-and cease with the character assassination that comes with each new revelation!
Now, as far as Pete Rose’s situation is concerned…DON’T GET ME STARTED! That’s another can of worms altogether!
If you’d like my blog in your box-just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Friday, September 4, 2009
Gilligan's Island Farewell
Of all the TV shows ever produced-and the thousands of “intros” or theme songs that launched an episode, isn’t it likely that “Gilligan’s Island” takes the prize as #1 most memorable, most quoted, most parodied-and most beloved?
I think so.
The “Mister Ed” opener is up there, but “Gilligan’s Island” has to be first.
The final episode of “Gilligan’s Island” aired on this date in 1967- some 42 years ago—and yet it remains part of our collective culture, especially to those of us “north of 40”.
The show itself only ran for three seasons—it was probably difficult to come up with new and different story ideas with that original (and limiting) premise. After so many failed schemes to get off the island, where do you go? Despite its relatively short “first-run” life, it was, however, a HUGE hit in syndication, still airing today as a classic rerun.
If you’re like me, you have fond memories of laughter at the hapless Gilligan, played by Bob Denver, who, like it or not was defined by the role for the rest of his life. A star in the “Dobie Gillis” TV show earlier, he used the Gilligan role as a way to escape from THAT previous stereotype. Little did he know that he—and in fact all of the cast members—would have trouble landing other, more serious roles “post-Gilligan”.
Perhaps the show’s success lay in the character development of each of the players. We each saw a little of ourselves in all of the castaways.
Guys would be defined by their answer to the question: “Ginger or Mary Anne?” The excesses of wealth were personified by Thurston Howell and his wife—and we all wondered why, if the Professor was smart enough to build a radio out of a coconut, why couldn’t he build a boat to get off that damn island?
Here, for your viewing and listening pleasure, is the original opener to the show. As you’ll notice, later versions included in song “the Professor and Mary Anne”, replacing “and all the rest” in the theme. Guess those two felt a bit left out at first!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cfR7qxtgCgY
The SS Minnow is gone (although still a popular name for registered boats the world over). Alan Hale, the Skipper, Bob Denver, Jim Backus (Thurston Howell) and Natalie Shafer (Mrs. Howell) are also gone—but through the magic of reruns, we still get to enjoy their comic genius! In addition to the never-ending reruns, the characters were resurrected in THREE made-for-TV movies.
Not bad for a sitcom that came and went on and OFF the air so relatively fast.
If you’d like my blog in your inbox daily, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Those Who Can't Play.....Watch-and Complain!
With so many sporting events on TV-and so many sports fans watching them, you’d think we’d pick up a thing or two about coordination, balance and grace.
Evidently not.
As the elite athletes of our age fail in the arena of sport, I’m sure they’d be gratified to know that we viewers at home are calling them bums, clumsy idiots and worthless klutzes.
Of course, we need to set aside the bowl of potato chips in order to express our anger appropriately. Some of us may even lumber out of our comfy sofas to stand up in front of the TV in disgust, complete with flailing arms and expletives.
Those among us who perhaps cannot even SEE their own feet will call into question the footwork of our “favorite” NFL quarterbacks. As we make razor-sharp cuts around the coffee table and ottoman (both playing the part of NFL defenders for our demonstration), we declare to those who’ll listen -“THAT’S the way it SHOULD have been done!” Hey, maybe the coach will call you for a tip after the game.
Enjoy the short video below of everyday people caught in sports situations-with hilarious results:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1796OXXdVzs
After watching THAT, I hope you have a new appreciation for those who make the real thing look so easy in competition. In a world where some of us can only post our best time when the finish line is a refrigerator, perhaps it’s time to think twice before calling into question the athletic prowess of even the lowliest professional athlete. He or she is LIGHT YEARS ahead of the general population in coordination and ability.
I’m not feigning a “holier than thou” attitude, mind you. Your truly is as guilty as those I rail against. In fact, I plan on screaming tonight at my favorite target of late, The Boston Red Sox. With beer in hand and spewing pretzel crumbs like lethal projectiles across the family room, I will denigrate their hustle, their ability and even their heart!
And I’ll be waiting by the phone to take Francona’s call for advice.
If you’d like my blog in your box daily, it’s a relatively unathletic move to click the link here to my address and request it-free! Tim.moore@citcomm.com
Evidently not.
As the elite athletes of our age fail in the arena of sport, I’m sure they’d be gratified to know that we viewers at home are calling them bums, clumsy idiots and worthless klutzes.
Of course, we need to set aside the bowl of potato chips in order to express our anger appropriately. Some of us may even lumber out of our comfy sofas to stand up in front of the TV in disgust, complete with flailing arms and expletives.
Those among us who perhaps cannot even SEE their own feet will call into question the footwork of our “favorite” NFL quarterbacks. As we make razor-sharp cuts around the coffee table and ottoman (both playing the part of NFL defenders for our demonstration), we declare to those who’ll listen -“THAT’S the way it SHOULD have been done!” Hey, maybe the coach will call you for a tip after the game.
Enjoy the short video below of everyday people caught in sports situations-with hilarious results:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1796OXXdVzs
After watching THAT, I hope you have a new appreciation for those who make the real thing look so easy in competition. In a world where some of us can only post our best time when the finish line is a refrigerator, perhaps it’s time to think twice before calling into question the athletic prowess of even the lowliest professional athlete. He or she is LIGHT YEARS ahead of the general population in coordination and ability.
I’m not feigning a “holier than thou” attitude, mind you. Your truly is as guilty as those I rail against. In fact, I plan on screaming tonight at my favorite target of late, The Boston Red Sox. With beer in hand and spewing pretzel crumbs like lethal projectiles across the family room, I will denigrate their hustle, their ability and even their heart!
And I’ll be waiting by the phone to take Francona’s call for advice.
If you’d like my blog in your box daily, it’s a relatively unathletic move to click the link here to my address and request it-free! Tim.moore@citcomm.com
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Happy Birthday, ATM!
The Automatic Teller Machine-or ATM was born on this day in…are you ready?
1969!
Don’t worry if you didn’t get to use one until the late 70’s like me. Chances are you didn’t trust the darn things anyway. At the beginning, just about everyone was willing to take cash OUT -and virtually no one was willing to make a deposit.
The first ATM debuted at Chemical Bank in Rockville Center, New York on this date. Clunky and limited in its functionality, it nonetheless started a banking revolution.
So, whom do we have to thank for the ATM? Well, several inventors worked on such a device, but Don Wetzel, an executive at a company called Docutel is generally credited with being the “Father of the ATM”.
Of course, once the banks caught on and found out they could MAKE money (in fees) from dishing it out, then everyone got into the act. ATMs are now EVERYWHERE, from gas stations to convenience stores to even some churches. There is even an ATM at McMurdo Station in Antarctica!
From the start, the advent of the ATM also spawned some creative ways to STEAL from them. Most have been unsuccessful, but the short video below proves that the smaller variety found in places other than banks can just be carted away:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bgOq-TG5zJQ
Of course, would we all like to see the video of this Einstein trying to crack the damn thing open at home! Now, THAT would be entertaining! If you go to YouTube and type in “ATM”, you’ll get videos of all kinds of thefts-from someone backing their pickup truck through the window of a convenience store and dragging one off with a rope-to the garden variety robberies of people preying on those using ATMs, especially after dark.
Today, there are more than 1 million ATMs around the world, with a new one added approximately every 5 minutes. The busiest day for usage? Not surprisingly, on FRIDAYS. The average American uses his/her ATM card 6-8 times a month.
I am probably right in this range of use, but still cannot bring myself to make a deposit in those things. And I still get a creepy feeling if someone is standing around, waiting for me to finish. Is that guy with the ski mask over his face making a deposit to his Christmas Club account?
If you’d like my blog in your box, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
1969!
Don’t worry if you didn’t get to use one until the late 70’s like me. Chances are you didn’t trust the darn things anyway. At the beginning, just about everyone was willing to take cash OUT -and virtually no one was willing to make a deposit.
The first ATM debuted at Chemical Bank in Rockville Center, New York on this date. Clunky and limited in its functionality, it nonetheless started a banking revolution.
So, whom do we have to thank for the ATM? Well, several inventors worked on such a device, but Don Wetzel, an executive at a company called Docutel is generally credited with being the “Father of the ATM”.
Of course, once the banks caught on and found out they could MAKE money (in fees) from dishing it out, then everyone got into the act. ATMs are now EVERYWHERE, from gas stations to convenience stores to even some churches. There is even an ATM at McMurdo Station in Antarctica!
From the start, the advent of the ATM also spawned some creative ways to STEAL from them. Most have been unsuccessful, but the short video below proves that the smaller variety found in places other than banks can just be carted away:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bgOq-TG5zJQ
Of course, would we all like to see the video of this Einstein trying to crack the damn thing open at home! Now, THAT would be entertaining! If you go to YouTube and type in “ATM”, you’ll get videos of all kinds of thefts-from someone backing their pickup truck through the window of a convenience store and dragging one off with a rope-to the garden variety robberies of people preying on those using ATMs, especially after dark.
Today, there are more than 1 million ATMs around the world, with a new one added approximately every 5 minutes. The busiest day for usage? Not surprisingly, on FRIDAYS. The average American uses his/her ATM card 6-8 times a month.
I am probably right in this range of use, but still cannot bring myself to make a deposit in those things. And I still get a creepy feeling if someone is standing around, waiting for me to finish. Is that guy with the ski mask over his face making a deposit to his Christmas Club account?
If you’d like my blog in your box, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Presidential Affairs and Expose' Journalism--1802 Style!
Reports of political infidelity and/or scandalous liaisons are an almost daily affair (pardon the pun!). Talk radio and 24-hour Cable News networks have virtually unlimited resources to track down politicians via cell phone cameras and the web.
There is a sense that this is a relatively new phenomenon, evidenced by the now well- known behavior of President Kennedy, whose White House trysts with women such as Marilyn Monroe were suppressed by a media that chose to look the other way.
Not so.
Well, certainly the 1960’s journalists chose to keep to themselves suspicions of hanky-panky, but perhaps the first journalistic expose was published on this date in 1802.
Yes, 1802!
The Richmond Recorder published a report that Thomas Jefferson, living at Monticello and at the time temporarily retired from politics—had kept one of his female slaves as a mistress. The article gave the woman’s name as only “Sally”, but it was referring to Sally Hemings, who had served as a maid and seamstress to Jefferson's deceased wife Martha. The article was largely dismissed, in part because many people believed the publisher, James Callendar, was exacting revenge for having been snubbed by then-President Jefferson for a political appointment.
The newspaper article correctly stated that Sally Hemings was herself the half-black, half sister to Jefferson’s dead wife-and went on to state that Heming’s son John bore a “striking resemblance to those of the President himself”.
Jefferson chose not to respond to the allegations.
Nonetheless, the rumors persisted-and it is true that although Jefferson never freed Sally, he did free her (his) children at their 21st birthdays.
In 2000, a committee used DNA evidence to conclude that Jefferson did indeed father at least one of Heming’s six children. Watch the fascinating short video below:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AHzHurZjuh8
The author of the Declaration of Independence had his reputation tarnished for keeping slaves, but also for carrying on his affair with someone who appeared to have no free choice in the matter. Hemings left Monticello after Jefferson’s death in 1826. Her family has now been officially welcomed by the more "traditional" descendants of our third President.
As for the journalist who blew the whistle-perhaps another lesson is evident. Critical press motivated by personal revenge tarnishes the source as well as the target. It also proves that at the end of the day, even our Founding Fathers were human---and in this case, “Fathers” of more than just our country!
If you’d like my blog in your box daily, just let me know! Tim.moore@citcomm.com
There is a sense that this is a relatively new phenomenon, evidenced by the now well- known behavior of President Kennedy, whose White House trysts with women such as Marilyn Monroe were suppressed by a media that chose to look the other way.
Not so.
Well, certainly the 1960’s journalists chose to keep to themselves suspicions of hanky-panky, but perhaps the first journalistic expose was published on this date in 1802.
Yes, 1802!
The Richmond Recorder published a report that Thomas Jefferson, living at Monticello and at the time temporarily retired from politics—had kept one of his female slaves as a mistress. The article gave the woman’s name as only “Sally”, but it was referring to Sally Hemings, who had served as a maid and seamstress to Jefferson's deceased wife Martha. The article was largely dismissed, in part because many people believed the publisher, James Callendar, was exacting revenge for having been snubbed by then-President Jefferson for a political appointment.
The newspaper article correctly stated that Sally Hemings was herself the half-black, half sister to Jefferson’s dead wife-and went on to state that Heming’s son John bore a “striking resemblance to those of the President himself”.
Jefferson chose not to respond to the allegations.
Nonetheless, the rumors persisted-and it is true that although Jefferson never freed Sally, he did free her (his) children at their 21st birthdays.
In 2000, a committee used DNA evidence to conclude that Jefferson did indeed father at least one of Heming’s six children. Watch the fascinating short video below:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AHzHurZjuh8
The author of the Declaration of Independence had his reputation tarnished for keeping slaves, but also for carrying on his affair with someone who appeared to have no free choice in the matter. Hemings left Monticello after Jefferson’s death in 1826. Her family has now been officially welcomed by the more "traditional" descendants of our third President.
As for the journalist who blew the whistle-perhaps another lesson is evident. Critical press motivated by personal revenge tarnishes the source as well as the target. It also proves that at the end of the day, even our Founding Fathers were human---and in this case, “Fathers” of more than just our country!
If you’d like my blog in your box daily, just let me know! Tim.moore@citcomm.com
Monday, August 31, 2009
First "Car" Up Mount Washington!
As you know, 94.9 WHOM’s transmitter sits on the summit of New Hampshire’s Mount Washington, the highest peak in the Northeast. At over 6,200 feet of elevation, it’s easy to understand why 94.9 WHOM is “America’s Superstation”-with the largest land coverage of any FM station in North America.
There are several ways to get to the top. One is by hiking on foot. You will never read a blog from ME describing how I accomplished this.
Not a chance.
The Cog Railroad is another way up. A great way to get to the summit.
The oldest-and most popular way—is to drive the Mt. Washington Auto Road. Until you’ve experienced it (and can slap that “This Car Climbed Mt. Washington” bumper sticker on your car), you cannot fully grasp the gravity (get it?) of the journey. Called the country’s first “man made attraction”, the road opened up to horse and carriage traffic in 1861 (those POOR animals!)
It was on this date in 1899, however, that the first automobile made it to the top! Not a gasoline powered car, but a Stanley Steamer—driven by none other than F.O. Stanley himself, one of the twins who founded the company that produced some 11,000 of these steam-powered cars. Deceptively fast, they often beat larger gas-powered cars in races. In fact, a Stanley Steamer would break the world record for speed in 1906 when it reached 127 mph!
Two videos today-one is a nicely produced trip up the Auto Road by foreign tourists. Luckily for us, they typed the narrative in English as well. The other is a short video on Stanley Steamers-both interesting!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XcwXFwm1ebI
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0OtFnnmJtSs
Hearing that the Stanley Steamer didn’t possess BRAKES strikes me as a significant detail when thinking about a Mt. Washington climb. Most definitely needed on the way DOWN, the brakes are a nice little feature to have on those hairpin turns during the way UP as well. Clearly, Mr. Stanley survived the trip both up and down.
I’ll be content to take the Jeep, thank you
If you’d like my blog in your box daily, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
There are several ways to get to the top. One is by hiking on foot. You will never read a blog from ME describing how I accomplished this.
Not a chance.
The Cog Railroad is another way up. A great way to get to the summit.
The oldest-and most popular way—is to drive the Mt. Washington Auto Road. Until you’ve experienced it (and can slap that “This Car Climbed Mt. Washington” bumper sticker on your car), you cannot fully grasp the gravity (get it?) of the journey. Called the country’s first “man made attraction”, the road opened up to horse and carriage traffic in 1861 (those POOR animals!)
It was on this date in 1899, however, that the first automobile made it to the top! Not a gasoline powered car, but a Stanley Steamer—driven by none other than F.O. Stanley himself, one of the twins who founded the company that produced some 11,000 of these steam-powered cars. Deceptively fast, they often beat larger gas-powered cars in races. In fact, a Stanley Steamer would break the world record for speed in 1906 when it reached 127 mph!
Two videos today-one is a nicely produced trip up the Auto Road by foreign tourists. Luckily for us, they typed the narrative in English as well. The other is a short video on Stanley Steamers-both interesting!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XcwXFwm1ebI
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0OtFnnmJtSs
Hearing that the Stanley Steamer didn’t possess BRAKES strikes me as a significant detail when thinking about a Mt. Washington climb. Most definitely needed on the way DOWN, the brakes are a nice little feature to have on those hairpin turns during the way UP as well. Clearly, Mr. Stanley survived the trip both up and down.
I’ll be content to take the Jeep, thank you
If you’d like my blog in your box daily, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
Friday, August 28, 2009
Hey! It's Dog Swim Time!
As a kid, I always hated “adult swim” at the pool. We had to climb out-and watch the lumbering old people EASE their way into the water. Sometimes, rather LARGE old people who, if they did start to drown, would take an entire team of lifeguards down with them. Plastic bathing caps with gaudy yellow flowers glued on and enough fabric in their bathing suits to cover the infield at Fenway Park.
Then, after “adults”, it was “couples swim”. Then “girls only”. Hey, the summer’s almost OVER! Can I please swim now?
Of course, “dog swim only” takes the cake. At my sister’s pool in Northern Virginia, this occurs right before they close up the pool for the season (good move). After all, who wants to take a dip after a hundred hounds relieve themselves?
Not enough chlorine in the WORLD.
That said, I am an animal lover-and since I can’t imagine CATS diggin’ the swim scene, we’ll have to settle for Fido and Friends.
Check out this video of a similar “dogs only swim”!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dTIHamMKdJE
If you’d like my blog in your box daily, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
Have a terrific weekend!
Then, after “adults”, it was “couples swim”. Then “girls only”. Hey, the summer’s almost OVER! Can I please swim now?
Of course, “dog swim only” takes the cake. At my sister’s pool in Northern Virginia, this occurs right before they close up the pool for the season (good move). After all, who wants to take a dip after a hundred hounds relieve themselves?
Not enough chlorine in the WORLD.
That said, I am an animal lover-and since I can’t imagine CATS diggin’ the swim scene, we’ll have to settle for Fido and Friends.
Check out this video of a similar “dogs only swim”!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dTIHamMKdJE
If you’d like my blog in your box daily, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
Have a terrific weekend!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Your Pain Is Funny...But Not Mine
What is it about human beings that we find humor in other people’s pain?
Admit it.
You laugh when people fall down, get bonked in the head or take one in the crotch.
Sometimes when it happens to US, we too, will crack up—only after we’ve checked to see there is no blood--or no body parts sticking out at funny (and by funny I mean unusual) angles.
Usually though, we are somewhat angry and offended when, after getting up from a spill, we gaze into the faces of our “friends”, who are too busy peeing in their pants to ask if we’re OK. Sometimes it’s a stilted, “Wow, are you alright” spoken through the gritted teeth of someone who is visibly suppressing laughter. Other times, your “buddies” are now themselves on the floor, rolling around and laughing like hyenas.
“Thanks for your CONCERN!”
The internet and the proliferation of video recording on cell phones, etc. has provided enough footage of people slamming themselves into walls, slipping on ice and generally making painful fools of themselves to keep us “entertained” for hours.
It’s probably a good thing that we don’t get to see the trips to emergency rooms, hospitals and the morgue that come from these clips.
So, just how good are YOU?
Can you watch the following video and not even crack a SMILE?
Betcha you can’t:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sdAYwMPFDcs
How did you do?
Perhaps we’ll get our just desserts in the next life (“Table for one in HELL, please!”)
I operate with the ASSUMPTION that all injuries for which I have laughed at above were minor—and that the victim was a good sport.
And the next time I wipe out, my first reaction will be to look around and make DAMN sure no one is filming!
If you’d like my blog in your box daily, just let me know! Tim.moore@citcomm.com
Admit it.
You laugh when people fall down, get bonked in the head or take one in the crotch.
Sometimes when it happens to US, we too, will crack up—only after we’ve checked to see there is no blood--or no body parts sticking out at funny (and by funny I mean unusual) angles.
Usually though, we are somewhat angry and offended when, after getting up from a spill, we gaze into the faces of our “friends”, who are too busy peeing in their pants to ask if we’re OK. Sometimes it’s a stilted, “Wow, are you alright” spoken through the gritted teeth of someone who is visibly suppressing laughter. Other times, your “buddies” are now themselves on the floor, rolling around and laughing like hyenas.
“Thanks for your CONCERN!”
The internet and the proliferation of video recording on cell phones, etc. has provided enough footage of people slamming themselves into walls, slipping on ice and generally making painful fools of themselves to keep us “entertained” for hours.
It’s probably a good thing that we don’t get to see the trips to emergency rooms, hospitals and the morgue that come from these clips.
So, just how good are YOU?
Can you watch the following video and not even crack a SMILE?
Betcha you can’t:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sdAYwMPFDcs
How did you do?
Perhaps we’ll get our just desserts in the next life (“Table for one in HELL, please!”)
I operate with the ASSUMPTION that all injuries for which I have laughed at above were minor—and that the victim was a good sport.
And the next time I wipe out, my first reaction will be to look around and make DAMN sure no one is filming!
If you’d like my blog in your box daily, just let me know! Tim.moore@citcomm.com
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Ted Kennedy-A Complex Man Is Gone
I had the great opportunity to work an internship in the Senate offices of Edward M. Kennedy while attending Gonzaga High School in Washington in the early 70’s. The Senator’s death last night after a long battle with brain cancer has sent the memories of that time rushing back into my consciousness.
Some kids at my school worked in soup kitchens, some at homeless shelters-and some, like me, on Capitol Hill. It was the luck of the draw that I got to intern for Teddy.
As much as he is being remembered fondly today, my stint with the Senator was some 37 years ago. Just a couple of years removed from the Chappaquiddick scandal, Senator Kennedy was being treated by some as political kryptonite. His chances for the Democratic nomination in 1972 all but dashed, there was even talk that he would retire.
Of course, all of this was lost on a high school kid who found himself shaking hands with a member of the Kennedy clan, a world-famous (or infamous) family whose stranglehold on the American political culture still endures.
I was nervous, awkward and bumbling I’m sure as I was introduced to the Senator in his expansive office, filled with photos of his brothers and other family members-loaded with mementos of a famous life, alternating between world leaders and shots of sailing off the coast of Hyannis.
Not a huge fan, given his latest scandal, I was nonetheless taken in by his charm, his seemingly genuine manner and easygoing style. Ted Kennedy put me so at ease right away that I found myself “giving him the business” as well. Noting that the “M” initial of his middle name stood for Moore, my last name, he wondered aloud with a wink whether or not we might be related. I said that was OK with me as long as I could use the family compound at Hyannis port while vacationing. Sensing I may have overstepped my bounds, I braced for a bad reaction.
Instead, Teddy laughed out loud-and told me he’d see what he could do! From that point on, our fabricated family relations were sort of a running joke- a way of connecting in the hallways during the several times I ran into him afterwards.
My job in the office was to read and sort through his mail. There were several of us—and we read everything that came to the office.
EVERYTHING.
Didn’t matter if a letter were perfumed and stamped “Personal & Confidential”. I opened and read letters from his then-wife Joan, his kids-everybody—and we all shared the letters that frightened us---and the ones that piqued our curiosity.
The vast majority were really quite boring-issue-oriented letters for pending legislation. Our job was to sort these into bins for future action and response. Health care, urban renewal, crime,---you name it, plus the huge assortment of constituents who needed this or that from their elected representative in Congress.
There were a lot of letters from women.
Most, I assumed, were from crackpots whose Teddy fantasies somehow found their way to a mailbox. There were, however, others whose legitimacy seemed more plausible. Coherent language, details of places and events—and sometimes OTHER details that I’d better not mention here. Suffice it to say that this Kennedy brother really got around-much like his now deceased older siblings.
There were also the death threats.
These also were sorted into a bin, but one that went directly to the FBI and the Secret Service. Less than four years after the assassination of Robert F. Kennedy, there were no chances being taken with the last surviving Kennedy brother.
There is much you can glean from reading another man’s mail-and while I felt uncomfortable about doing so at first, I soon got used to it knowing that:
a) it WAS my job and
b) the Senator was very aware that his staff was reading even the personal stuff.
What I learned about Teddy could probably be extended by DNA to both John and Robert as well. They were all larger-than-life figures. Their triumphs were as big as it gets—and their failings likewise matched the successes in scope and enormity.
Perhaps one of Teddy’s finest moments came in the way he eulogized his fallen brother Bobby in 1969-below is an excerpt:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rkhqTlL2pP0
Teddy was no doubt used to being compared to his brothers-and perhaps that was all so unfair over a lifetime, but the similarities are hard to ignore. Teddy was a complex man of enormous appetites. Those flaws of character often got him into trouble-and trouble for a Kennedy (unlike that for most of us) makes headlines.
Still, a long career in the Senate, a resume that includes passionate work on pressing issues that affected the disadvantaged especially--will be the things he'll be remembered for.
And while I still don’t agree with many of his political positions over the years, it is true that Democrats and Republicans alike found him an engaging leader, a person who didn’t let politics affect personal relations—and an effective Senator---whatever your political persuasion. He got things done—and in a world where gridlock is the norm, perhaps this ability to turn stalemate into compromise through personal persuasion will be Teddy’s lasting legacy.
If you’d like my blog in your box daily, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
Some kids at my school worked in soup kitchens, some at homeless shelters-and some, like me, on Capitol Hill. It was the luck of the draw that I got to intern for Teddy.
As much as he is being remembered fondly today, my stint with the Senator was some 37 years ago. Just a couple of years removed from the Chappaquiddick scandal, Senator Kennedy was being treated by some as political kryptonite. His chances for the Democratic nomination in 1972 all but dashed, there was even talk that he would retire.
Of course, all of this was lost on a high school kid who found himself shaking hands with a member of the Kennedy clan, a world-famous (or infamous) family whose stranglehold on the American political culture still endures.
I was nervous, awkward and bumbling I’m sure as I was introduced to the Senator in his expansive office, filled with photos of his brothers and other family members-loaded with mementos of a famous life, alternating between world leaders and shots of sailing off the coast of Hyannis.
Not a huge fan, given his latest scandal, I was nonetheless taken in by his charm, his seemingly genuine manner and easygoing style. Ted Kennedy put me so at ease right away that I found myself “giving him the business” as well. Noting that the “M” initial of his middle name stood for Moore, my last name, he wondered aloud with a wink whether or not we might be related. I said that was OK with me as long as I could use the family compound at Hyannis port while vacationing. Sensing I may have overstepped my bounds, I braced for a bad reaction.
Instead, Teddy laughed out loud-and told me he’d see what he could do! From that point on, our fabricated family relations were sort of a running joke- a way of connecting in the hallways during the several times I ran into him afterwards.
My job in the office was to read and sort through his mail. There were several of us—and we read everything that came to the office.
EVERYTHING.
Didn’t matter if a letter were perfumed and stamped “Personal & Confidential”. I opened and read letters from his then-wife Joan, his kids-everybody—and we all shared the letters that frightened us---and the ones that piqued our curiosity.
The vast majority were really quite boring-issue-oriented letters for pending legislation. Our job was to sort these into bins for future action and response. Health care, urban renewal, crime,---you name it, plus the huge assortment of constituents who needed this or that from their elected representative in Congress.
There were a lot of letters from women.
Most, I assumed, were from crackpots whose Teddy fantasies somehow found their way to a mailbox. There were, however, others whose legitimacy seemed more plausible. Coherent language, details of places and events—and sometimes OTHER details that I’d better not mention here. Suffice it to say that this Kennedy brother really got around-much like his now deceased older siblings.
There were also the death threats.
These also were sorted into a bin, but one that went directly to the FBI and the Secret Service. Less than four years after the assassination of Robert F. Kennedy, there were no chances being taken with the last surviving Kennedy brother.
There is much you can glean from reading another man’s mail-and while I felt uncomfortable about doing so at first, I soon got used to it knowing that:
a) it WAS my job and
b) the Senator was very aware that his staff was reading even the personal stuff.
What I learned about Teddy could probably be extended by DNA to both John and Robert as well. They were all larger-than-life figures. Their triumphs were as big as it gets—and their failings likewise matched the successes in scope and enormity.
Perhaps one of Teddy’s finest moments came in the way he eulogized his fallen brother Bobby in 1969-below is an excerpt:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rkhqTlL2pP0
Teddy was no doubt used to being compared to his brothers-and perhaps that was all so unfair over a lifetime, but the similarities are hard to ignore. Teddy was a complex man of enormous appetites. Those flaws of character often got him into trouble-and trouble for a Kennedy (unlike that for most of us) makes headlines.
Still, a long career in the Senate, a resume that includes passionate work on pressing issues that affected the disadvantaged especially--will be the things he'll be remembered for.
And while I still don’t agree with many of his political positions over the years, it is true that Democrats and Republicans alike found him an engaging leader, a person who didn’t let politics affect personal relations—and an effective Senator---whatever your political persuasion. He got things done—and in a world where gridlock is the norm, perhaps this ability to turn stalemate into compromise through personal persuasion will be Teddy’s lasting legacy.
If you’d like my blog in your box daily, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Creighton University Gets A Mainer
As soon as my daughter announced her intention to attend Creighton University in Nebraska, her friends and acquaintances –and our friends and co-workers exclaimed, “Omaha?! Are you KIDDING me?”
Nope.
I must admit that Peggy and I both had initial misgivings about the location-and especially the distance—a scant 1,500 miles from Portland, Maine! For me, those fears were largely put to rest in April as I took Christina out to see the campus. Although accepted to a half dozen other schools (mostly on the East coast), she was convinced that Creighton was the place for her. High school placement profiles listed it as her “best fit” several times.
I had to look it up.
National rankings at or near the top in many categories, plus the moniker “The Villanova Of The Midwest” make me think that perhaps Christina was right. Those Jesuits know how to run a school, as I knew from experience in high school at Gonzaga in D.C. After seeing the campus, perhaps Villanova should be called the “ Creighton of the East”.
Christina is a freshman living in Kiewit Hall. An army of upperclassmen were waiting to help us —in fact, they are known nationally for making the dorm move-in an easy thing-below is a video of the 2007 move-in to our daughter’s very building:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e4PKJPUIjnU
Upon landing in Omaha, I must concede that I was very pleasantly surprised-by everything. The city is exceedingly clean—and WAY more cosmopolitan than we snobby east-coasters could admit before being shown. In the same way that I had to convince my family in Washington, D.C. that Maine (particularly Portland) was a vibrant and beautiful place when I moved here 27 years ago, my daughter was essentially putting the same sales pitch together for her parents.
When one thinks of Omaha, my guess is that the top 5 responses are:
1) Corn
2) Omaha Steaks
3) Corn
4) Warren Buffett
5) Corn
All of the above are true, but the people in Nebraska are terrific, unbelievably (and noticeably) friendlier than average-and the terrain is not so flat as you would think. In fact, it is hilly enough to take the wind out of an out-of-shape DJ who visited the Omaha Zoo.
I knew that this blog would write itself, but also that I would procrastinate on the TOUGH PART…….LEAVING HER THERE.
Having gone through this before with her older brother, Peggy and I were no strangers to the last embrace, the laundry list of stuff to do (and NOT do!!!) and all those other parental spewings that cause eyes to roll and then glaze over.
Since we’ve know for some time that Christina is no shrinking violet, we were not at all concerned about her meeting new people or being homesick. This is an asset when dropping your daughter off in NEBRASKA. However, we couldn’t help seeing the little girl in diapers who took her first step, rode her bike for the first time or happily shredded wrapping paper in front of over a dozen Christmas trees.
So, basically, what I am saying is this: I was a mess.
Peggy was emotional too.
Christina?
Not so much, but that’s a good thing (“Mom, Dad, you can go now…I’m OK..really”)
We love you honey—and are SO PROUD of you and HAPPY for you too! Your new life adventure starts in Omaha, Nebraska at a terrific school called Creighton University.
If you’d like my blog in your inbox daily, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
I’ll trade you for a Kleenex.
Nope.
I must admit that Peggy and I both had initial misgivings about the location-and especially the distance—a scant 1,500 miles from Portland, Maine! For me, those fears were largely put to rest in April as I took Christina out to see the campus. Although accepted to a half dozen other schools (mostly on the East coast), she was convinced that Creighton was the place for her. High school placement profiles listed it as her “best fit” several times.
I had to look it up.
National rankings at or near the top in many categories, plus the moniker “The Villanova Of The Midwest” make me think that perhaps Christina was right. Those Jesuits know how to run a school, as I knew from experience in high school at Gonzaga in D.C. After seeing the campus, perhaps Villanova should be called the “ Creighton of the East”.
Christina is a freshman living in Kiewit Hall. An army of upperclassmen were waiting to help us —in fact, they are known nationally for making the dorm move-in an easy thing-below is a video of the 2007 move-in to our daughter’s very building:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e4PKJPUIjnU
Upon landing in Omaha, I must concede that I was very pleasantly surprised-by everything. The city is exceedingly clean—and WAY more cosmopolitan than we snobby east-coasters could admit before being shown. In the same way that I had to convince my family in Washington, D.C. that Maine (particularly Portland) was a vibrant and beautiful place when I moved here 27 years ago, my daughter was essentially putting the same sales pitch together for her parents.
When one thinks of Omaha, my guess is that the top 5 responses are:
1) Corn
2) Omaha Steaks
3) Corn
4) Warren Buffett
5) Corn
All of the above are true, but the people in Nebraska are terrific, unbelievably (and noticeably) friendlier than average-and the terrain is not so flat as you would think. In fact, it is hilly enough to take the wind out of an out-of-shape DJ who visited the Omaha Zoo.
I knew that this blog would write itself, but also that I would procrastinate on the TOUGH PART…….LEAVING HER THERE.
Having gone through this before with her older brother, Peggy and I were no strangers to the last embrace, the laundry list of stuff to do (and NOT do!!!) and all those other parental spewings that cause eyes to roll and then glaze over.
Since we’ve know for some time that Christina is no shrinking violet, we were not at all concerned about her meeting new people or being homesick. This is an asset when dropping your daughter off in NEBRASKA. However, we couldn’t help seeing the little girl in diapers who took her first step, rode her bike for the first time or happily shredded wrapping paper in front of over a dozen Christmas trees.
So, basically, what I am saying is this: I was a mess.
Peggy was emotional too.
Christina?
Not so much, but that’s a good thing (“Mom, Dad, you can go now…I’m OK..really”)
We love you honey—and are SO PROUD of you and HAPPY for you too! Your new life adventure starts in Omaha, Nebraska at a terrific school called Creighton University.
If you’d like my blog in your inbox daily, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
I’ll trade you for a Kleenex.
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