Blog For A Sunday Morning

                        I usually have an idea or subject that I’d like to write about before sitting down to my computer. It’s early Sunday morning and I’m the only one awake in the house. It’s too early to shoot groundhogs on my property so I wandered down to the basement and now here I am. I’m just going to start writing and see where it takes me…it may get strange, it may get bizarre…but I promise you it will never get weird.  

                           I’m hoping to get some river time in today with my new kayak. I recently purchased a new Diesel 75 whitewater kayak and have been eager to test it out. Being a very visual person I tend to make purchases on impulse. If I see something I like I buy it, if it is within (or slightly just outside) my budget. I saw the Diesel at a great little kayak store and bought it on sight. There were many other kayaks but this one called out to me. We connected on a spiritual level. Man and molded plastic together as one on a vision quest that will undoubtedly bash my head against a huge rock in a river somewhere in America.When I got home I went online to read the reviews on the Diesel 75 which is the way I usually do things. I had previously bought an Emotion Glide kayak which was trashed by every person I spoke to or reviewed online…except Emotion of course. I expected the same for the Diesel. I was shocked that it was reviewed very favorably by everyone. It was rated a 9.18 out of 10. That’s almost the score a 16 14…12 9 year old Chinese gymnast received in the recent Olympics. I finally bought something that was made well and everyone liked. I am now 1 for about 1, 236. I feel validated.

                      I’ll be going to the gym soon. My workouts have been going very well in anticipation of an upcoming MMA fight in October or November. I enjoy the solitude of the gym, especially in the morning. I’m fortunate to have the gym in the basement of my Pennsylvania Mixed Martial Arts Academy. Working out alone seems to work for me and I’m very fortunate to have great students and fighters to train and spar with me…but when it comes to running and lifting weights I prefer to go it alone. Most times I feel that people in general don’t spend enough time alone with their thoughts out in nature. Hiking a rough terrain or kayaking down a river gives you a sense of smallness and temporary insignificance which is both humbling and invigorating. 

                      Out here in in PA it’s open season on cars. This is the Deer’s way of revenge against hunters. My daughter just totaled her car to avoid hitting a deer. Did the deer didn’t stick around to see if she was okay? No, she just scampered along on her merry deer way to try and kill someone else. These “Suicide Bomber” Deer are becoming a nuisance. They are like cute furry little kamikaze fighters. They accept that they will die on impact…but at the last second they hope the driver will swerve and they will be spared…only to be killed by the truck coming the other way. 

                              My daughter was banged up pretty good and wound up with a black eye and swollen face. In this area most people just assumed she was recently married. This being her first real accident she also got the experience of dealing with an insurance company for the first time. When I asked her how it was going she just muttered something like, “They suck. I’m moving to Germany.”  Which I assume means it is going well.

                     I’m not much of a baseball fan and I know it annoys some of my students when we get on the conversation of America’s favorite pastime. I haven’t watched one baseball game this year, don’t know which teams are winning, and I have no idea which team won the World Series last year. It just isn’t my area of interest. But when I was a kid I went to Yankee Stadium with my Little League team and saw Mickey Mantle play. How many people can say that? We made a banner that said “Hey Number 7, Hit one to Heaven”…I wrote it. The other kids on the team generally hated me because I was afraid to hit the ball and always struck out. I wondered if I was the only kid who saw this as a very unsafe idea? One kid hurling a ball as fast as he can at you trying to get it into the catcher’s tiny mitt made me nervous. Besides, I knew the pitcher from school and had seen him fall down the stairs twice. Not exactly a comforting thought when he is gazing at you from the mound sneering like some deranged Dr. Seuss character. So needless to say I don’t follow baseball.

                   The former owner of my property told me that his wife lost a ten thousand dollar tennis bracelet somewhere on the property while riding one of their horses. Every so often I walk around with my metal detector like one of those freaks that do it on the beach…but this is much cooler because nobody knows I do it. I don’t wear a hat or carry a whip like Indiana Jones. Just me and Elvis, my more than slightly overweight Jack Russell Terrier. If I detect metal I call Elvis and he starts digging. I told him we would split whatever we find 50/50…I have it on good authority that he’d settle for a Bacon Beggin’ Strip. Stupid dog.

                          Closing thoughts…spend some time alone…aspire for happiness…ask yourself if you want be a Star or work in a Starbucks…because both are cool as long as you’re happy.  

                    I’m off to the gym, to the river and if there’s time, to find that damn bracelet.

Ginger, Mary Ann or Sarah Palin?

                     Ginger, Mary Ann or Sarah Palin? I’m not asking which is the hottest…Mary Ann, no question. I’m asking which is the best woman for the job of Vice President? I know that Ginger or May Ann were never even a consideration but I think in order to find out exactly how strong Sarah Palin is we need to make the comparison. Rather than theoretically placing Ginger and Mary Ann into the political cesspool I prefer to question what Sarah would have done on Gilligan’s Island.  

                     Understanding the dynamic of Gilligan’s Island is essential when exploring the possible influence Sarah Palin would have had on the dichotomy of the castaways. Although the male population on the island each clearly represented a value, the Skipper (strength and leadership), the professor (wisdom and intelligence) and Gilligan (chaos,stupidity, and laziness), the women were never defined by any of their abilities or talents in a worthwhile way.  Ginger couldn’t act or seduce her way off the island. May Ann couldn’t sweet talk her way off and Mrs. Howell couldn’t buy her way off the island. With each of these women bearing absolutely no talent to assist in the day to day survival needs of the castaways it can be assumed that they were there strictly as eye candy…except Mrs. Howell.

                   Enter Sarah Palin…alright…let me give you more of a set-up here. Geez, no imagination. As a baby Sarah was boating near her home with her family when an iceberg hit her boat and all of the passengers were thrown into the icy waters. Sarah is saved by a family of Alaskan Sea Otters who raise her as their own for the next three years of her life. A young couple from Arkansas trekking through the Alaskan wilderness stumble upon young Sarah as she is sliding on her belly into a snow mound by a pool of crystal clear spring water. They strike a deal with the otters and Sarah is taken back to civilization, well Arkansas anyway. Sarah is the pride and joy of her new family and excells in school and at sports. It was the morning of her sixth birthday when the otters came for her. She heard the knock on the door and her mother crying, “It’s too soon, it’s too soon, we had a deal”. Her mothers trembling voice echoed in her head as the otters stood over her small bed and gazed in wonder. She heard her mother’s voice as the otters gathered her up in her blanket. She listened for it as the otters walked out the front door. Looking over their shoulder watching her mother on the front porch clutching a Bible in one hand and a TV Guide in the other. “It’s too soon,” her mother’s voice faded as the otters began their long journey back home with Sarah, “We had a deal”. During the trip home they decided to stop in Las Vegas for some sun and fun. It was there that the otters exposed their weakness for gambling and lost Sarah to a life insurance salesman from Newport Beach, California. Okay, I’m getting tired of this set-up. When he got back home he tossed her in the ocean like a car tire and she washed up on Gilligan’s Island. So that’s how she got there. There’s your stupid set-up. Happy now? I know it doesn’t make sense but this is an important piece of political research and it doesn’t really have to.

                   Let’s skip ahead twenty five years and a thirty-one year old Sarah Palin has matured into a dynamic leader on the island. The following are some of the differences we would have seen if Sarah Palin was on the isalnd:

1. Better sanitation system. There are just so many trees on the island you can go to the bathroom behind.

2. Began drilling for oil under Ginger and Mary Ann’s hut.

3. Instituted a law stating that calling someone “Little Buddy” is sexual harassment. See Skipper vs Gilligan

4. Had everyone pitch in and make Mary Ann some new clothes. The table cloth half shirt and Capri Pants were just done to death by her. Note: My feelings on Capri pants are well documented in other blogs.

5. Started a democratic form of government on the island thereby rescinding all power and authority assumed by the Skipper. Drafted the first constitution beginning, We the people of Sarah Palin’s Island ( she liked the way it sounded better than Gilligan’s Island), do hereby solemnly promise never to eat each other, no matter how hungry or sick of coconuts we get… and it went on from there.

6. Placed Mrs. Howell on a raft because she served absolutely no purpose on the island. The vote was 5 to 3 with Mr. Howell voting to send her wrinkled ass packing. She was lucky considering the vote to temporarily abandon the constitution and eat her was a tie at 4 to 4.

7. Drafted the law limiting one baby per hut. Island over-population was a main concern.

8. Drafted the law that recognizes same sex marriages. Congratulations to Gilligan and the Professor who will be honeymooning on the other side of the island. Come on, you knew.

9. Closed all borders and shorelines to the island preventing illegal immigration…and any chance of rescue.

10. Started the first island beauty pageant which she won second runner up to Ginger. Mary Ann could not participate due to an unspecified skin irritation around her calfs where those stupid Capri pants scrub your flesh off like an Indian burn at summer camp.

11. Passed law banning all beauty pageants.

Back to School Shopping…For Everthing But Gym Class

                     Now that the back to school shopping rush is nearing an end I am reminded of my own back to school experiences when I was a kid. Shopping with my mother consisted of buying pens, pencils, book covers, notepads, and some new clothes. When you’re young it seems a lot can change over a summer so the notion of seeing the schoolmates you haven’t seen for two months was always exciting. Going back to school meant going back to work for us. Attending classes was boring for me but at least I always had gym class to look forward to. A new pair of Pro Keds, I was a little faster than I was last year, and I actually grew a half inch. Oh yeah, I was ready to tear it up in gym class this year.

MY GYM CLASS: Gym class for me was an escape from the boredom of academics. I was bright but was easily bored by certain school subjects. What sometimes made it more difficult was sitting at your desk and watching the gym class in session play in the field. I yearned to be out there proving myself as a worthy athlete rather than sitting at a desk learning cursive. Hey, I already knew how to curse…I did it all summer. From memory my gym teacher’s were: Grade School-Mr. Naimo, Middle School-Mr. Lorenzo, High School-Mr. Johnson, Mr. Shattles, and Mr. Caiazzo. I remember them because they, aside from my father were to be my guides to masculinity and manhood. The gym classes were organized with requirements and well thought out plans to help our young bodies mature into healthy adults…to combat communism. Everyone participated…or they failed and had to repeat the year. No highway option here and no sniveling parents with doctor’s notes and growth-plate nonsense. Gym was not only challenging, it was fun. We took pride in our performance in gym and would usually talk about it during the next few classes via an advanced network of note passing (the predecessor to text messaging). I can still vividly remember running the fifty yard dash in 5.6 seconds which was the new school record and having everyone pat me on the back. Mr. Lorenzo the gym teacher was very impressed. It would serve me well in the future because five years later he would become my soccer coach when I entered high school and I made the varsity as a freshman.

GYM CLASS TODAY: If I was being trained in my gym classes to become a healthy American adult to fight the menace of communism then it stands to reason that kids today should become healthy American adults to fight Islamic fundamentalist terrorists right? Wrong! Drive past most schools and you’ll notice that the bike racks are gone. Most have been torn down, melted, and sent to China as scrap iron to be used in the building of their Olympic stadiums. How is that for irony? Kids get rides to school or take the bus. Most kids don’t walk to school anymore because predators supposedly lurk in every corner and their parents want to keep them safe. Keeping them safe is the number one excuse reason for them to have cell phones. If anything bad happens they can simply call home…or their BFF and talk about that cute boy with the really baggy pants and hat turned sideways…he is sooooo cute.

              Back to school shopping consisted of a new updated cell phone, an iPOD, a GPS, new designer clothes, some video games, and a laminated note to the gym teacher explaining why this unique little snowflake can’t take gym because of carpal tunnel syndrome brought about by extreme text messaging. I’ve personally taught at high schools and have seen more than half the class standing or sitting against the wall in their street clothes. Boys in baggy pants and bling-bling and girls dressed like the shift change at a strip club by the airport. Besides a poor taste in clothes they all have one thing in common. They will all pass gym.

                  This phenomenon was started years ago by the parents of kids with little athletic ability. You know, nerds. These parents had to listen to their future rocket scientist kids complain constantly about the worthlessness of gym classes. Getting hit with a dodge-ball or striking out in kickball was not fun for them nor was it in their future to become an athlete so what was the point?

                   As time went on the parents seemed to garner more and more power over their kids education and they wound up winning the gym battle. It all seems pretty fair doesn’t it. Why should an overweight boy with a puffer for his asthma take a gym class when he knows he is going to work with computers someday? Perhaps for the same reason a boy who wanted to be a martial arts teacher had to take chemistry. Was it fair that I had problems understanding equations yet still had to pass the class to graduate and the future whiz kid of computer technology could skip gym? If you’re wondering, that little boy who wanted to teach martial arts was me, and that little nerd was no other than…Bill Gatesman, who now works in Circuit City as a printer ink salesperson. He is grossly overweight and just suffered a mild heart attack while running to help his daughter who had text messaged him that she was in trouble. It turns out that she had forgotten her password to her laptop and needed it right away to write her essay on why kids shouldn’t have to take gym. Daddy’s little girl, a chubby little chocolate chip off the block with childhood diabetes.