I wrote it, I finished it, I don't like it so I will fix it in the AM.
Sorry folks.
...and now I have replaced it...
…No, You’re Out of Order…
They say that “you can judge a man by the company he keeps,” and again I do not know who “they” are, but “they” seem to make sense. Although in my case I think I have really lucked out, or my friends have lost their minds, or both, but outside of that fact if you take the time to look at some of the more notable people you know in your life, or in the public eye, this statement does seem to have some merit.
The tone, topic and thoughts related to this piece has changed for me dramatically since last night when I just didn’t like what I had produced, and know now that there was a reason.
I have had a typically lazy Sunday morning, not as typical as I would like, but this one was nice and mellow and slow moving. I was watching a baseball game on the internet and hanging out with Bella, decided to check the Sunday headlines on my phone, yes I am slowly giving in to all this technology, and the headline that caught my eye was that the BET Award show was to be completely overhauled to honor Michael Jackson, the “seed.”
As my day progressed I was beginning to get some things done, and for the second time in as many days I decided to listen to “Michael Jackson Radio” on Last.fm because his passing did effect me, not unlike, John Jr.’s, or Diana’s, as they are the three most notable and recognizable people that have passed in my lifetime. From the music I moved to wondering who was carrying the BET Awards tonight and would they stream them live as I do not have cable. This led me to the internet to check CBS.com, which led to clicking on a link to “Ronald Reagan and Michael Jackson Flashback” on the CBS homepage under “Memorable Moments,” or something like that, and unfortunately what I found was a portion of the clip from the White House, that did not include Michael’s words to President and Mrs. Reagan, and a CBS News anchor who not once, but twice, commented/shared, his personal thoughts on Michael Jackson the man, and his life, and how he was not a good example of “what to do with a life,” again referring back to President Reagan’s words.
Walter Cronkite may in fact have turned out to be the last absolute TV “journalist” that was an evening news anchor. With the famous sign-off of “and that’s the way it was…” Walter Cronkite did the job of informing the American people about what was going on in the world, and around the country, and it is not that he did this devoid of passion, or interest, or even opinion, but he seemed to get that his job was to get information to the people. He did not spend the majority of his time trying to “spin” the information, or shape public opinion, he dispensed information in a calm and metered way whenever possible.
The news today, and moreover the networks, seem to believe far more in controlling, shaping, spinning the information we get in whatever way they choose. I have heard a lot of people say that they believe some networks to be Republican and some Democrat, and while I am not sure whether that is entirely true or not, I do think that the news has lost its place in America regardless of political affiliation.
It is simple, newscasters, reporters, the general public should not be prosecutor, judge and jury. Do we have the right to our opinions, of course we do, this is America, land of the free, freedom of speech, freedom of expression. If I didn’t think that we had a right to our opinions then I would have no right to be publishing my views on a daily basis, but I am saying that with those thoughts, views, opinions, we have a responsibility to not speak from the hip, as it were, to not do harm in the process of forming, and much more importantly, sharing our opinions.
I don’t know, didn’t know, Michael Jackson, never spent any time with him, we were not friends. I was also never at his home, never on his property, never visited his zoo, that means that there is no way for me to know for sure what Michael Jackson did or did not do, other than create amazing music, achieve more in music and musical performing than anyone in American history ever did, or will. I know that MTV owes Michael Jackson more than could ever be repaid. I know that endless performers from the sixties, seventies, eighties, and on, owe their careers to Michael Jackson. I know that Michael Jackson, from the age of five, was forced to be the most recognizable face on the planet, not just in music, or performing, but the most recognizable face on the planet, period, why do you think that President Ronald Reagan, in an election year, had Michael at the White House, standing between him and Mrs. Reagan, because Michael was much more recognizable to the world, to the country, to the youth of America than the President was. Does anybody not believe that Michael’s appearance at the White House helped the President pick-up democratic support and votes, especially from la la land.
It is just amazing to me how so many people have just written Michael Jackson off as a despicable human being based on only what they have seen or heard about him, which in actual fact is probably only about one percent of his life. Unless you have grown up in a household with a father like he had, being forced to eat, sleep, practice, perform, think, feel, exactly when and what someone is telling you, you can’t possibly evaluate the result accurately. Unless you have ever been the most recognizable person on the planet, almost from the age of five, 1965, until, ultimately, the day you die, thus 45 years of everything you do, that is not deep inside some fortress, being watched, replayed, analyzed, you cannot possibly evaluate the result accurately. Unless you are the most recognizable, watched, followed billionaire on the planet you cannot possibly know what it is like to have everyone, absolutely everyone, wanting to get a piece of you and, much more, your money, and you cannot possibly evaluate the result accurately.
I look at the friends that Michael Jackson had. I look at the friends that stuck by Michael Jackson day in and day out, year in and year out, and I look at the lengths he had to go to try and live a life away from all the lights and the cameras, and the pressure and the judgments and I realize that all I truly know for certain is that Michael Jackson was an incredibly talented musician, singer, dancer, and performer, who had as friends a who’s who of the music industry, from then and now. If a man can truly be judged by the company he keeps, isn’t that the only true measure, the only “real” information we have about the man that is, was, Michael Jackson, and should we not therefore let the man rest in peace?
Rest in peace Michael, and thank you for leaving us with so much music in our lives.
Thank you again for getting this far with me.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
There Goes the Neighborhood
“The Street” in North Providence is a place that holds all of my holiday and vacation memories from childhood, and all of my early professional memories as well. It is a place where arriving at six or seven or eight PM on Christmas eve was still not too late to see Santa and to get some of “Ma’s” fried dough. It is a place that when the doorbell rang in the middle of the night you jumped up, not concerned over who might be at the door, but knowing that it was someone close to you and something was wrong. This is a place that when someone on the street was hungry they automatically went straight to “Aunt Dollies,” and never left without that feeling of “man I couldn’t eat another thing,” and that was just leftovers.
The “Hill” in downtown Providence, the “North End” in Boston, “North Beach” in San Francisco, anywhere in Europe. These are all places, and there are many more, where you grew up sitting outside in the summer heat, watching kids play stick ball, or “telephone pole” football, I will probably write a thousand words on that one alone someday, where folks said hello to anyone they passed on “the stoop,” where somebody’s mom, or grandmother, or aunt, sister, or occasionally younger brother would periodically make sure that everyone in the “neighborhood” had what they needed, another lemonade, iced tea, cream puff, cannoli. Where you could leave your car open so it would not be too hot when you got back in it, where no one ever felt unwelcome, unless they were truly unwelcome, where if anyone, anyone had a problem, everyone had a problem, and everyone solved it.
I have not even come close to mentioning all of the places like this across this country, and across the world, all of NY, NY is like this, as is Chicago, and so on, but the problem is, not so much that these places aren’t still like this, although some of them have changed quite a bit, rather that so many other places, and so many people around not only don’t have a clue about this way of life, but they find this behavior somehow inappropriate, like everyone should stay inside and keep to themselves, and not “bother” people. Bother people??!!
I realize that much of what I write is about things that have changed, that are different, that no longer happen or exist, but this is not because I want people to feel bad about these things being gone, or depressed, but because I still believe that the we can in fact “teach the world to sing in perfect harmony,” my favorite all time commercial, Coca Cola 1970 something holiday add, which they still pull out every year.
I stopped in just after lunch today to visit one of my favorite people, a good friend, a “little old Italian,” he hates when I say that, to check in on him, see how he was doing. One of his oldest friends was there, a gentleman, and I use the term very loosely, that he was roommates with in college almost exactly 40 years ago, and then another friend of theirs came in, someone they have only known for about 30 years, and one of his customers stuck around, and so there we were, “the board or directors,” hanging out, telling, and listening to, old “war” stories, and “new” war stories. We had some food, some consumed a little alcohol, and sat and talked, yelled, and laughed for an hour and a half. No one there was having the greatest day when we started, but everyone left happy. I was sitting there one, wishing that I had this on video, and two, thinking back to when my father would occasionally take me into the barber shop, and then one day he brought a cassette recorder, and recorded some of the funniest material ever recorded, and not made for general consumption, but not mean, just really, really funny.
Again, I go back to what one of my “hippie” friends would say, “it is not about you,” and I now know, at least I think I know, that what he is saying is that all we can be is be ourselves, and how people react, see us, view us, judge us is on them, not us. My point is that I feel bad for these people, and for all people, as “the neighborhood” goes bye bye. If this happens, if we allow this to happen, what we have lost, is a way of life, a way to “raise the child,” a way to be a society that has the ability to make everything better over time. We go to a society where “look out for number one” wins out over all other ways of life, all other ways of living with each other, and that is sad.
I am not an observer of life, I am observant. I am not just a people watcher, but I see people, and acknowledge them, help them, am there for them, but the neighborhood, and the neighborhood way of life is still in me, and I would like it to be in everyone, for better or worse, but I think much more for the better.
Thank you again for getting this far with me.
The “Hill” in downtown Providence, the “North End” in Boston, “North Beach” in San Francisco, anywhere in Europe. These are all places, and there are many more, where you grew up sitting outside in the summer heat, watching kids play stick ball, or “telephone pole” football, I will probably write a thousand words on that one alone someday, where folks said hello to anyone they passed on “the stoop,” where somebody’s mom, or grandmother, or aunt, sister, or occasionally younger brother would periodically make sure that everyone in the “neighborhood” had what they needed, another lemonade, iced tea, cream puff, cannoli. Where you could leave your car open so it would not be too hot when you got back in it, where no one ever felt unwelcome, unless they were truly unwelcome, where if anyone, anyone had a problem, everyone had a problem, and everyone solved it.
I have not even come close to mentioning all of the places like this across this country, and across the world, all of NY, NY is like this, as is Chicago, and so on, but the problem is, not so much that these places aren’t still like this, although some of them have changed quite a bit, rather that so many other places, and so many people around not only don’t have a clue about this way of life, but they find this behavior somehow inappropriate, like everyone should stay inside and keep to themselves, and not “bother” people. Bother people??!!
I realize that much of what I write is about things that have changed, that are different, that no longer happen or exist, but this is not because I want people to feel bad about these things being gone, or depressed, but because I still believe that the we can in fact “teach the world to sing in perfect harmony,” my favorite all time commercial, Coca Cola 1970 something holiday add, which they still pull out every year.
I stopped in just after lunch today to visit one of my favorite people, a good friend, a “little old Italian,” he hates when I say that, to check in on him, see how he was doing. One of his oldest friends was there, a gentleman, and I use the term very loosely, that he was roommates with in college almost exactly 40 years ago, and then another friend of theirs came in, someone they have only known for about 30 years, and one of his customers stuck around, and so there we were, “the board or directors,” hanging out, telling, and listening to, old “war” stories, and “new” war stories. We had some food, some consumed a little alcohol, and sat and talked, yelled, and laughed for an hour and a half. No one there was having the greatest day when we started, but everyone left happy. I was sitting there one, wishing that I had this on video, and two, thinking back to when my father would occasionally take me into the barber shop, and then one day he brought a cassette recorder, and recorded some of the funniest material ever recorded, and not made for general consumption, but not mean, just really, really funny.
Again, I go back to what one of my “hippie” friends would say, “it is not about you,” and I now know, at least I think I know, that what he is saying is that all we can be is be ourselves, and how people react, see us, view us, judge us is on them, not us. My point is that I feel bad for these people, and for all people, as “the neighborhood” goes bye bye. If this happens, if we allow this to happen, what we have lost, is a way of life, a way to “raise the child,” a way to be a society that has the ability to make everything better over time. We go to a society where “look out for number one” wins out over all other ways of life, all other ways of living with each other, and that is sad.
I am not an observer of life, I am observant. I am not just a people watcher, but I see people, and acknowledge them, help them, am there for them, but the neighborhood, and the neighborhood way of life is still in me, and I would like it to be in everyone, for better or worse, but I think much more for the better.
Thank you again for getting this far with me.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Crazy Little Things We Do
When I was younger I used to be somewhat hyperactive, and as I say this people who know me are throwing things at their computers, screaming and swearing and saying out loud “what do you mean used to be, and somewhat.” Ok, so they are right, I am still hyper active and there is no somewhat about it in any way, but I have mellowed a little. The problem is that as I have gotten older, now squeaking past the mid-forties mark ever so slightly, I have truly become the strangest combination of my mother and my father, with strangest being grossly redundant, and as I woke up early this morning and the adrenaline kicked in from having worked late, or early into the AM, and then three hours later feeling as though it was time to get up and start working, I chose to call my mother to say good morning, which is ok because she is three hours ahead of me these days. The rest of this rambling will all be from one split second thought at the end of that very interesting, sleep deprived conversation.
Whenever I speak to my mother she tends to sign off with “I love you very much,” which most people would not find odd at all, and I never have until this morning, not really odd as just plain funny. It is not that she loves me that I find funny, although someone I know out here will tell you that you don’t love other people, you are love and it is everywhere, but that is a very different conversation entirely. What struck me as funny is that I have never heard anyone say “I love you a little,” or “I love you once in a while,” or “I love you sort of,” “I love you on Tuesdays.” Actually now that I think about it, the middle of the three relationships that seem to have gotten me from college to where I am now, had a funny, cute, romantic comedy kind of moment in it when, as we walked up the stairs and reached the landing in the middle of the climb, I stopped her and said “------ I think I am in love with you,” and her reply was “I think I am in love with you too.” It was then some period of time, the exact length of which I cannot remember now, before we actually said I love you to each other without the qualifier or disclaimer. Sorry but just had to share that flashback with you.
Anyway, the whole I love you thing just made me laugh as it seemed not quite redundant, but at the very least “Blue Collar Comedyish.” I love you very much, I love you a lot, I love you completely and with all my heart, and on and on. I am a complete and total hopeless, helpless romantic, and I know I have used all sorts of “love additives” along the way to add more meaning or punch to those three little words, and it has never struck me as odd until just now, but it really just amuses me because again what else would you say.
Just thought I would share.
Thank you again for getting this far with me.
Whenever I speak to my mother she tends to sign off with “I love you very much,” which most people would not find odd at all, and I never have until this morning, not really odd as just plain funny. It is not that she loves me that I find funny, although someone I know out here will tell you that you don’t love other people, you are love and it is everywhere, but that is a very different conversation entirely. What struck me as funny is that I have never heard anyone say “I love you a little,” or “I love you once in a while,” or “I love you sort of,” “I love you on Tuesdays.” Actually now that I think about it, the middle of the three relationships that seem to have gotten me from college to where I am now, had a funny, cute, romantic comedy kind of moment in it when, as we walked up the stairs and reached the landing in the middle of the climb, I stopped her and said “------ I think I am in love with you,” and her reply was “I think I am in love with you too.” It was then some period of time, the exact length of which I cannot remember now, before we actually said I love you to each other without the qualifier or disclaimer. Sorry but just had to share that flashback with you.
Anyway, the whole I love you thing just made me laugh as it seemed not quite redundant, but at the very least “Blue Collar Comedyish.” I love you very much, I love you a lot, I love you completely and with all my heart, and on and on. I am a complete and total hopeless, helpless romantic, and I know I have used all sorts of “love additives” along the way to add more meaning or punch to those three little words, and it has never struck me as odd until just now, but it really just amuses me because again what else would you say.
Just thought I would share.
Thank you again for getting this far with me.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Somewhere Over the Rainbow
One of the most difficult parts of the journey I have been on in this lifetime, or over the course of the three lifetimes I have had thus far, has been to try and decide where I would live if I could live anywhere. I have thought about this often, and there have been times when I was in a position to settle pretty much anywhere I wanted, but I have never been able to choose a place.
Yes, I am at times somewhat indecisive, but that is not a significant part of why I cannot choose a place, the ultimate reason is that this is too amazing a planet we live on, leaving out for now the possibility of living in outer space. There are so many places I have been that I have truly enjoyed, a bunch I have not enjoyed, but so many that I have truly enjoyed, whether for a weekend, years, or somewhere in between, how can a person possibly choose.
Of course I am always amazed by people that have had the same job for twenty or thirty years, and by people that have had the same spouse for thirty or forty years, and by people that have lived in the same house for forty or fifty years, let alone those that grow up in a house and then took it over from their parents, and just perpetuate that cycle. I just don’t know how, I am amazed and somewhat envious of such people, but I just don’t know how.
I have lived in the same place for three years, but I have been so hyper focused on the professional goals for those three years that I have barely ventured outside the eight block downtown area, let alone the sights and activities outside the center.
I consider myself fortunate to have been so many places and seen so much of this country and the world. There are still a number of places I have not been; Australia, New Zealand, Africa, Asia, but when you think on that for a minute that is a lot of territory covered in the UK, Europe, I distinguish those two because they do, North America, South America, and there really are not that many places left that I feel the need to visit, which is not entirely true because I think I will have done myself, and the planet, a disservice if I don’t see all points of destination outside of where I am by the time I actually leave the planet, and again I am not speaking of the space mission here, but the afterlife.
I do really want to see Australia, and always have, especially Sydney, for some reason that city just seems to be calling me, the same is true for New Zealand. Aisa, I very much want to experience the culture, the architecture and the scenery. Africa is a place that is just amazing to me because of the beauty of the animals that are there in the spaces they belong. I realize that some of my reasons for seeing these places overlook other obvious points of learning that I should consider, but still to see them at all I think will be magnificent.
As I expand on the places I have already seen I think I am just going to create more of an issue with where is the ultimate destination, prior to my ashes being scattered at the base of the Matterhorn, this is the first time I have said this out loud, and I have said it because it sounded good in my head at the time. I truly love so many places on this planet, and could see myself living in many of these places, which leaves me not wanting to pick one.
I would live in Switzerland, for example, in a second. I love Bern, it is a very inviting and exciting place to be, the climate there is great, to me, and the cycling, hiking, skiing, in and around Bern is magnificent. The drive from Bern to Zermatt, to do all of the above, is simply breathtaking, and includes twenty minutes on an “autotrain,” that I swear is left over from World War II, and really “cool.” At the same time I would be very happy moving to Boise, Idaho, and enjoying much of the same in the Boise area. The climates are completely different, and Switzerland is much more plush and green as a result, but both areas, climates, people make these places I would live given the right opportunity or reason. If the decision were down to these two places that would be pretty easy to work through, unfortunately, or fortunately really, there are so many other possibilities.
Let’s see, Zurich, Boulder, Steamboat Springs, Brussels, Tuscany, Theale, Chicago, Denver, Washington D.C., Seattle, San Francisco, NY, NY, Hartford, just kidding, New Orleans, Dallas, not so much London, Toronto, in a heartbeat, or in a New York minute, Sydney, and I haven’t even been there, call it a hunch, Charlotte…I am getting tired, but you get the point.
If nothing else, please see as many of these places, and many, many more, along your journey. The reason I wanted to write about this, and this is very much the abridged version, is because I would like to inspire people to get out and see this country first, and as much of it as you can, and as much of the world as you can thereafter.
Thank you again for getting this far with me.
Yes, I am at times somewhat indecisive, but that is not a significant part of why I cannot choose a place, the ultimate reason is that this is too amazing a planet we live on, leaving out for now the possibility of living in outer space. There are so many places I have been that I have truly enjoyed, a bunch I have not enjoyed, but so many that I have truly enjoyed, whether for a weekend, years, or somewhere in between, how can a person possibly choose.
Of course I am always amazed by people that have had the same job for twenty or thirty years, and by people that have had the same spouse for thirty or forty years, and by people that have lived in the same house for forty or fifty years, let alone those that grow up in a house and then took it over from their parents, and just perpetuate that cycle. I just don’t know how, I am amazed and somewhat envious of such people, but I just don’t know how.
I have lived in the same place for three years, but I have been so hyper focused on the professional goals for those three years that I have barely ventured outside the eight block downtown area, let alone the sights and activities outside the center.
I consider myself fortunate to have been so many places and seen so much of this country and the world. There are still a number of places I have not been; Australia, New Zealand, Africa, Asia, but when you think on that for a minute that is a lot of territory covered in the UK, Europe, I distinguish those two because they do, North America, South America, and there really are not that many places left that I feel the need to visit, which is not entirely true because I think I will have done myself, and the planet, a disservice if I don’t see all points of destination outside of where I am by the time I actually leave the planet, and again I am not speaking of the space mission here, but the afterlife.
I do really want to see Australia, and always have, especially Sydney, for some reason that city just seems to be calling me, the same is true for New Zealand. Aisa, I very much want to experience the culture, the architecture and the scenery. Africa is a place that is just amazing to me because of the beauty of the animals that are there in the spaces they belong. I realize that some of my reasons for seeing these places overlook other obvious points of learning that I should consider, but still to see them at all I think will be magnificent.
As I expand on the places I have already seen I think I am just going to create more of an issue with where is the ultimate destination, prior to my ashes being scattered at the base of the Matterhorn, this is the first time I have said this out loud, and I have said it because it sounded good in my head at the time. I truly love so many places on this planet, and could see myself living in many of these places, which leaves me not wanting to pick one.
I would live in Switzerland, for example, in a second. I love Bern, it is a very inviting and exciting place to be, the climate there is great, to me, and the cycling, hiking, skiing, in and around Bern is magnificent. The drive from Bern to Zermatt, to do all of the above, is simply breathtaking, and includes twenty minutes on an “autotrain,” that I swear is left over from World War II, and really “cool.” At the same time I would be very happy moving to Boise, Idaho, and enjoying much of the same in the Boise area. The climates are completely different, and Switzerland is much more plush and green as a result, but both areas, climates, people make these places I would live given the right opportunity or reason. If the decision were down to these two places that would be pretty easy to work through, unfortunately, or fortunately really, there are so many other possibilities.
Let’s see, Zurich, Boulder, Steamboat Springs, Brussels, Tuscany, Theale, Chicago, Denver, Washington D.C., Seattle, San Francisco, NY, NY, Hartford, just kidding, New Orleans, Dallas, not so much London, Toronto, in a heartbeat, or in a New York minute, Sydney, and I haven’t even been there, call it a hunch, Charlotte…I am getting tired, but you get the point.
If nothing else, please see as many of these places, and many, many more, along your journey. The reason I wanted to write about this, and this is very much the abridged version, is because I would like to inspire people to get out and see this country first, and as much of it as you can, and as much of the world as you can thereafter.
Thank you again for getting this far with me.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Technical Difficulties
This topic comes up now because I have had “issues” getting the last two posts out because of what I am referring to here as “technical difficulties.” What are technical difficulties? I am glad you asked. “Technical difficulties” are people that can’t find honest work, can’t find a life, have nothing better to do with their time, or their energies than feed of people through technology either for kicks, or money or both.
I would not exactly say I am a pacifist, but I have been in only one fight in my life, and that was under the influence of peers and rocket fuel and not something I am proud of in general, it was also almost thirty years ago. Most of the time I believe that reasoning with people is the way to go, but it seems more and more there are unreasonable people on this planet. “Spammers,” and internet “pirates,” are to me unreasonable, despicable, unwanted people.
I realize this is strong, but when you think about what these people do, and then you begin to think about the scale at which they do these things and it does start to make the blood boil. How many hours was I unable to work yesterday because of the amount of spyware that appeared almost instantly. Take that amount of time and then multiply it by millions of people every day, and even if the internet pirates are not getting any money from this, you are talking about millions of dollars, or probably billions of dollars lost every day by individuals that are just trying to make a living in a very uncertain economy. Then add to this the people that are not computer “savvy,” and you will find millions of people that have lost more than a few hours jumping through the hurdles that you need to in order to get your computer back to operational, but then hours, days, weeks, or months for some people to recreate what that do not have backed up, and in many cases you are talking about people’s lives and their livelihood lost to utter stupidity.
If Bill Gates and company, and the “Google boys,” and the rest of the billionaire clan that have built their empires, and their islands, and their castles, from the money that you and I spend every day on their products, can find the time to do the things they enjoy with the billions we have given them, then why can’t they dedicate some of those resources, and brainpower, to finding a way to put these ------- out of the “pirate”/spyware business forever, or is it because no one knows where this stuff is coming from and who the good guys and bad guys are? Has the internet become some crazy, perverse, cyber version of the old west where everyone was good and everyone was evil, it just depended on the day and who you asked.
Yes today I have played the role of angry blogger, but I just thought I should put this out there for people to think about. After I post this I will try to find reasonable e-mail addresses at Microsoft and Google to which I can send this post.
Thank you again for getting this far with me.
I would not exactly say I am a pacifist, but I have been in only one fight in my life, and that was under the influence of peers and rocket fuel and not something I am proud of in general, it was also almost thirty years ago. Most of the time I believe that reasoning with people is the way to go, but it seems more and more there are unreasonable people on this planet. “Spammers,” and internet “pirates,” are to me unreasonable, despicable, unwanted people.
I realize this is strong, but when you think about what these people do, and then you begin to think about the scale at which they do these things and it does start to make the blood boil. How many hours was I unable to work yesterday because of the amount of spyware that appeared almost instantly. Take that amount of time and then multiply it by millions of people every day, and even if the internet pirates are not getting any money from this, you are talking about millions of dollars, or probably billions of dollars lost every day by individuals that are just trying to make a living in a very uncertain economy. Then add to this the people that are not computer “savvy,” and you will find millions of people that have lost more than a few hours jumping through the hurdles that you need to in order to get your computer back to operational, but then hours, days, weeks, or months for some people to recreate what that do not have backed up, and in many cases you are talking about people’s lives and their livelihood lost to utter stupidity.
If Bill Gates and company, and the “Google boys,” and the rest of the billionaire clan that have built their empires, and their islands, and their castles, from the money that you and I spend every day on their products, can find the time to do the things they enjoy with the billions we have given them, then why can’t they dedicate some of those resources, and brainpower, to finding a way to put these ------- out of the “pirate”/spyware business forever, or is it because no one knows where this stuff is coming from and who the good guys and bad guys are? Has the internet become some crazy, perverse, cyber version of the old west where everyone was good and everyone was evil, it just depended on the day and who you asked.
Yes today I have played the role of angry blogger, but I just thought I should put this out there for people to think about. After I post this I will try to find reasonable e-mail addresses at Microsoft and Google to which I can send this post.
Thank you again for getting this far with me.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Our Father
Today was Father’s Day and so what else is there to write about, well actually a lot, but for Dad this is the only thing today.
I will start by telling you that I had a great Father’s Day. I got to watch two Red Sox games, the baseball I have watched all year, I watched The Fugitive, I told you that being able to download movies from Blockbuster was very dangerous, I hung out with Bella the whole time, she even made breakfast this morning…just wanted to see if you were paying attention. I had a chance to text my Father friends, or friends of mine who were fathers, to wish them a good day.
As for my Father, I spoke with him this morning, and then about half a dozen times after that, I also tried to give him his Father’s Day present, with my littlest sister, actually youngest, not littlest, she is seventeen, and something like 5’ – 7” tall, and an actress, a topic for another day. Anyway, I spoke with my Father and he was just starting to load the crock-pot. I was hoping to tell my sister of our crock-pot days, but did not get the chance, so here goes. When I was in high school I had moved in with my father and we were just a couple of bachelors living in a bachelor pad, and no this is not an understatement. To give you an idea of the time we are talking about and just how bad an idea this was, to start 8th grade my father took me out to get some new close and yes I did in fact go to school for the first day in a rust colored corduroy leisure suite and a very flammable and very loud polyester print shirt, complete with the seventeen inch wide collar, not my finest hour.
The house had a space we very cleverly called the pit because there were three brick steps, painted white of course, leading into this living space. The pit was a large square space with deep pile carpeting, and amazing sound system, an open fireplace in the center with a ceiling vent and just a screen around it, and just to the left of the stairs was the entrance to the steam room. Like I said bachelor pad, I only wish I had truly realized how cool this place was at the time, but as the old man says to Jimmy Stewart, “ah, youth is wasted on the young.”
Anyway, back to the crock-pot. My father and I were not exactly the nuclear family, but every once in a while he would make a concerted effort to do more traditionally things such as sit down meals, and the crock-pot was his favorite approach, or at least the one that I remember most. It is memorable because it is actually amazing we lived through the process, or at least when I think about it now it seems that way. Pops would start out with the chopping of, honestly, whatever was in the fridge, but usually, with some planning, there were carrots and potatoes, and a meat substance, onions and so on, and then after all the chopping all the ingredients would be “loaded” into the crock-pot and turned to low. I would ask roughly one hundred times over the next three days, plus or minus, mostly plus, if it was ready and the answer was the same every time, not quite. Three days??!! It was a process, and quite amazing, but to his defense, we never got sick, and it was always very good, of course my patented answer, to this day, was “its ok.”
I know now, what I definitely did not know then, most of what he did was “ok.” I have mentioned before that it is turning out that everything my father ever said was true, and/or accurate. It never seemed that he was as much of a dad as a pal, and I have given him a pretty hard times over the years, but as it turns out, when I look in the mirror these days I see him, when I listen to myself, or worse yet my sisters listen, they laugh at how much I am sounding more and more like him, and most of all he was not a pal all those years, but my best friend. We have gone at it quite a bit, but only because I was so stubborn and so frustrating that he just did not know what else to do.
When I was applying to schools I refused to apply to Brown University, why, because my father wanted me too. I dated women that, as I have said before, were a challenge because he warned me about them. I have taken trips in snowstorms, changed jobs, gotten in fights, just to prove him wrong, and each time he has been there for the aftermath, and he has been right. It is just dumb luck that I am still here for all the stupid things I have done in doing battle with this man I am turning into. The difference between us however, is that he is smarter, funnier, wiser, and more patient, and much, much more.
I have accounted for at least 80 % of his grey hairs, but it has been a fun ride. At least I no longer call him at 2:00 AM just to wake him up. Thanks pops.
Thank you also to the man that said “you need to pay for five nights stay…and their horses,” to the Coach that once told his assistants to follow him once he was done and then proceeded to calmly speak with his team, building to an amazing crescendo and then spun and walked away, waiting for us to be far enough away before asking “how was that,” with a wry grin, to the man that gave up a fortune, and early retirement because he wanted to “cook” for people not just fling pizza and make cappuccino. Thank you to all the friends to whom I sent the text this morning, truly an amazing bunch of dads, and people.
Thank you again for getting this far with me.
I will start by telling you that I had a great Father’s Day. I got to watch two Red Sox games, the baseball I have watched all year, I watched The Fugitive, I told you that being able to download movies from Blockbuster was very dangerous, I hung out with Bella the whole time, she even made breakfast this morning…just wanted to see if you were paying attention. I had a chance to text my Father friends, or friends of mine who were fathers, to wish them a good day.
As for my Father, I spoke with him this morning, and then about half a dozen times after that, I also tried to give him his Father’s Day present, with my littlest sister, actually youngest, not littlest, she is seventeen, and something like 5’ – 7” tall, and an actress, a topic for another day. Anyway, I spoke with my Father and he was just starting to load the crock-pot. I was hoping to tell my sister of our crock-pot days, but did not get the chance, so here goes. When I was in high school I had moved in with my father and we were just a couple of bachelors living in a bachelor pad, and no this is not an understatement. To give you an idea of the time we are talking about and just how bad an idea this was, to start 8th grade my father took me out to get some new close and yes I did in fact go to school for the first day in a rust colored corduroy leisure suite and a very flammable and very loud polyester print shirt, complete with the seventeen inch wide collar, not my finest hour.
The house had a space we very cleverly called the pit because there were three brick steps, painted white of course, leading into this living space. The pit was a large square space with deep pile carpeting, and amazing sound system, an open fireplace in the center with a ceiling vent and just a screen around it, and just to the left of the stairs was the entrance to the steam room. Like I said bachelor pad, I only wish I had truly realized how cool this place was at the time, but as the old man says to Jimmy Stewart, “ah, youth is wasted on the young.”
Anyway, back to the crock-pot. My father and I were not exactly the nuclear family, but every once in a while he would make a concerted effort to do more traditionally things such as sit down meals, and the crock-pot was his favorite approach, or at least the one that I remember most. It is memorable because it is actually amazing we lived through the process, or at least when I think about it now it seems that way. Pops would start out with the chopping of, honestly, whatever was in the fridge, but usually, with some planning, there were carrots and potatoes, and a meat substance, onions and so on, and then after all the chopping all the ingredients would be “loaded” into the crock-pot and turned to low. I would ask roughly one hundred times over the next three days, plus or minus, mostly plus, if it was ready and the answer was the same every time, not quite. Three days??!! It was a process, and quite amazing, but to his defense, we never got sick, and it was always very good, of course my patented answer, to this day, was “its ok.”
I know now, what I definitely did not know then, most of what he did was “ok.” I have mentioned before that it is turning out that everything my father ever said was true, and/or accurate. It never seemed that he was as much of a dad as a pal, and I have given him a pretty hard times over the years, but as it turns out, when I look in the mirror these days I see him, when I listen to myself, or worse yet my sisters listen, they laugh at how much I am sounding more and more like him, and most of all he was not a pal all those years, but my best friend. We have gone at it quite a bit, but only because I was so stubborn and so frustrating that he just did not know what else to do.
When I was applying to schools I refused to apply to Brown University, why, because my father wanted me too. I dated women that, as I have said before, were a challenge because he warned me about them. I have taken trips in snowstorms, changed jobs, gotten in fights, just to prove him wrong, and each time he has been there for the aftermath, and he has been right. It is just dumb luck that I am still here for all the stupid things I have done in doing battle with this man I am turning into. The difference between us however, is that he is smarter, funnier, wiser, and more patient, and much, much more.
I have accounted for at least 80 % of his grey hairs, but it has been a fun ride. At least I no longer call him at 2:00 AM just to wake him up. Thanks pops.
Thank you also to the man that said “you need to pay for five nights stay…and their horses,” to the Coach that once told his assistants to follow him once he was done and then proceeded to calmly speak with his team, building to an amazing crescendo and then spun and walked away, waiting for us to be far enough away before asking “how was that,” with a wry grin, to the man that gave up a fortune, and early retirement because he wanted to “cook” for people not just fling pizza and make cappuccino. Thank you to all the friends to whom I sent the text this morning, truly an amazing bunch of dads, and people.
Thank you again for getting this far with me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
