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A net loss

May 9th, 2007

Today, my brother-in-law, Bubba, emailed me with this question: “What is humankind’s greatest contribution to earth?”

I paused for a moment or two and gave it some thought. Not surprisingly, I came up blank. It seemed to me that the only positive contributions on our part have been band-aids to fix the things that we’ve already destroyed. I thought for sure Bubba would come back with an answer, since he is an Environmental Science/Geology professional of sorts. But he drew a blank, too. That’s when Ray Manzarek’s organ intro and John Densmore’s high-hat started playing in my mind. The Doors’ ‘When the Music’s Over’ is about many things – anarchy, social unrest, death – but I’ve long held firm that it’s the first song to tackle the theme of environmentalism. I didn’t live through the 1960s, so I could be wrong. Maybe Country Joe & The Fish broached the subject. Maybe Peter, Paul & Mary did. However, I don’t recall ever hearing an environmental plea set to music until a friend turned me on to The Doors when I was 14 (Mike Dunlop, if you’re out there, drop me a line here on The Diatribe). Here’s the reply I wrote Bubba, which (pardon the egotism) I thought took care of my blog posting for tonight…

We cut down trees. We pave over grass. We eradicate the rain forests.
We eat or kill (for sport) every animal we find. We poison the soil.
We poison the water. We poison the sky. Listen to ‘When the Music’s
Over’ by The Doors. Jim Morrison wrote the first ever song about
environmental awareness (well, it includes a section about that topic
anyway).

What have they done to the earth?
What have they done to our fair sister?
Ravaged and plundered and ripped her and bit her
Stuck her with knives in the side of the dawn
And tied her with fences
And dragged her down!

2 comments »

Posted in Life, Screwed, Social Studies

Wronged

May 6th, 2007

It’s Sunday evening and that would usually entitle me to a couple of frosty pops as I try my damndest to stave off the fast-approaching Monday work day.  But this Sunday evening, I’m knocking back the cold ones with a bit more intensity and fervor.  I’ve been wronged in one of the most egregious ways a man can be wronged.  I was the victim of a hit and run “accident.”  I walked out this afternoon to find that, while my car was parked on the street outside my apartment, someone had crashed into it.  No note.  No witnesses.  No hope.  I’m just now starting to break out of my day-long near-catatonic state.  I feel utterly and miserably maligned. 

It’s not even the $500 insurance deductible and the fact that I’m going to eat the cost of repairs.  It’s the fact that my beloved car is crumpled and someone out there got away with it.  It’s an awful feeling.  Something similar has happened to me before, but that doesn’t help make this any easier to swallow.  Nothing makes this easier to swallow.  It’s as if I left my poor, defenseless car out on the vicious jungle of a street and it was sodomized.  My car was sodomized and there’s nothing I can do about it.  Just an awful feeling. 

That birthday money I just got from my parents?  Oh, that’ll make a slight dent in my body work bill.  No fun purchases for Cool Jesus.  So, I’m here as the evening relays the baton to the nighttime and I’m relying on some good music to sooth my pain.  Happy birthday to me.

2 comments »

Posted in Angst, Screwed

Keep on going deep, Dougie!

April 19th, 2007

Last two games for Doug Mirabelli:

* 4-8

* 2 runs

* 4 RBI

* 2 home runs

Dougie is on pace to demolish his career high in home runs, which should be 10, but those fucks in Toronto cheated him out of #10 at the end of 2004.  Clearly, Dougie remembered that last night at SkyDome, Rogers Centre, or whatever they’re calling it this week.  Then he went to high-five Manny Ramirez and Manny thought Doug was cocking his arm to punch him, so he hid under the bench for the rest of the inning. 

Anyway, as Dougie goes, so go the Red Sox.  Doug had a sub-par year in 2006 and the Sox wilted.  Doug is on fire this year (as is his boss Tim Wakefield) and the Sox are looking good.  Just one question, with Nomar gone, does that leave Coco as Dougie’s de facto urine recepticle?

2 comments »

Posted in Red Sox

Manny Being Manny

April 17th, 2007

I am thoroughly excited to read the new ‘New Yorker’ article about Manny Ramirez. I need to track it down ASAP. I can’t remember the last time I even picked up a ‘New Yorker,’ but the old rag has my attention now.

I was watching TV earlier and a commercial for Heelies, or some competitor, came on and it struck me that Manny Ramirez seems to me like the type of guy that wears Heelies. I can totally picture him wheeling around The Home Depot, the supermarket, the Red Sox clubhouse, or wherever he goes. I would bet money that Manny owns some Heelies. And it they’re not made in his size, then he plunked down $5,000 to get a pair custom-made.

It would be just fascinating to spend some time with the enigma wrapped in a riddle, infused by madness that is Manny Ramirez. I mean, this is a guy that was selling an autographed grill on eBay for a neighbor. Wha…? Paraphrasing David Ortiz, as quoted in that article, ‘Manny is just a crazy shit. He lives on his own planet.’ I love it. From a sneak preview of the article, I learned that Manny watches The History Channel and wants to visit the Forbidden City in China. No doubt he’d be wheelin’ around on his Heelies hip hoppin’ down the Great Wall of China with his iPod cranked up and his dred locks blowing in the breeze.

When his Washington Heights high school baseball team was chronicled by the ‘New Yorker’ about 16 years ago, the world learned that Manny got up early in the mornings and ran up hills dragging a tire on a rope tied to his waist. We know that he still works very studiously at what he does, with a fierce dedication. However, he’s also a space case. I can’t wait to find out more idiosyncracies about him. Until then, I can only imagine that he sleeps with a teddy bear, watches the Teletubbies, probably speaks fluent Italian, has season tickets to the Boston Symphony Orchestra, has never written or cashed a check, thinks Curt Schilling is the assistant manager, probably loaned Theo Epstein that infamous gorilla suit, thinks the Green Monster speaks to him between innings, is deathly afraid of Wally the Green Monster mascot, probably calls Mayor Menino from time to time, can’t remember his shoe size, refuses to shower until Doug Mirabelli is out of the shower room, and thinks the show ’24′ is a reality show.

Manny is the Syd Barrett of baseball. Gifted by God with immense talent, yet fragile and introverted. The miraculous thing is that Manny has been able to stay focused enough to keep doing what God put him here to do. Why, you ask? That’s just Manny being Manny.

4 comments »

Posted in Bizarre, Red Sox

The Power of Persuasion

April 16th, 2007

Several years ago, when my friend “Vandelay Industries” was still working in my office, we shared a cube wall for a while. I don’t know how we got any work done, because the days were filled with conversations, cracks, and office pranks. One day, I happened to make a comment about Hilary Swank and Vandelay just snapped. He made it clear that he did not find her attractive and could not stand to even hear her name. I had definitely tapped into something and I kept pressing. I would email him pictures of Ms. Swank and gush about how hot she is.

Note: I was not at all enamored with her at the time, but neither did I feel the distaste for her that Vandelay did. I merely felt that she was attractive, but had a overly toothy smile.

Over the last three years, I’ve made it a point to bring up Hilary Swank in conversation with Vandelay. It’s not as fun as it was then, because I can’t see his disgusted reaction in person. However, a couple of weeks ago, we were at a convenience store and I made a point of showing him Swank’s Esquire cover and the spicy pictorial inside. He just looked away.

Here’s the point, and this is an admission to Vandelay: I did not have nearly as high an opinion of Hilary Swank back then as I let on, but it was just too much of a comedy goldmine to let go. So I artificially amped up my love for Swank and it just grossed him out. The funny thing is, I ended up convincing myself that I think she’s mighty attractive (as long as she’s not smiling that giant toothy grin). I wasn’t sure when I would ever let Vandelay in on this gag, but this is as good a time as any. Why? you ask – because he emailed me a Howard Stern Show-induced admission a few days ago. I’ll save him the indignation of the exact quote, but let’s just say he’d have a date with Hilary.

So, the gag is kind of over, which is sad. But I feel that I’ve won a major victory. Happy Belated April Fools’ Day (for 2004-2007), Vandelay!

5 comments »

Posted in Friends, Nonsense

Sunday Dreary Sunday

April 15th, 2007

It’s a Sunday during baseball season.  Ordinarily, these are the days I live for.  Now that I’ve finally managed to purge from my system the feeling of dread that came from two decades of school following Sunday, I now treasure this day.  Especially during baseball season.  I don’t necessarily have a set routine, but it usually includes sleeping late, making some coffee, hopping on line for a bit, and then settling in with the Sox day game, some lunch, and a few beers.  Proper.

But the entire country is dealing with the worst April, weather-wise, in quite some time.  Snow-outs and rain-outs are affecting the entire MLB schedule.  Ahhh, if only the Sox were playing in a city with a domed stadium today.  Side question:  if Messrs. Henry, Werner, Lucchino, or Epstein are reading, when you’re done trying to put lipstick on a 95-year-old dame, how about giving Boston a domed stadium like the new one in Milwaukee?  Please.

Spring means rebirth and baseball is intrinsically and psychologically tied into that.  Baseball has just as much power on our collective psyche as the flowers blooming and the grass turning green again.  And I’d wager that most of our country is heavily bummed out right now. 

With no baseball, what is supposed to compliment my Sunday beers?  What will be my excuse to Swedish Girl from having to clear up my desk?  How will I extricate myself from antiquing and store-hopping?  I’m just about finished this blog entry, so the time on this excuse is expiring. 

Wish me luck.  I’m about to brave a world that consists of no baseball on a springtime Sunday.  It’s just not right. I might actually have to tune in to the Stanley Cup Playoffs. Talk about a bunt when you needed a grand slam.     

2 comments »

Posted in Angst, Baseball

Cool Jesus Rising

April 8th, 2007

It’s Easter and Cool Jesus is back.  Just felt right.

I’m about to turn 30, and no, I’m not happy about it.  I don’t feel 30, but I sure as heck am starting to look like it.  I’ve always been mistaken for being older than I am, and that’s cool when you’re a kid, but not so cool when you’re not getting carded anymore.  That stings.   I remember having a hard time turning 20 and kissing my teenage years goodbye.  It was the first birthday that was hard for me to swallow.  After that, 21 was a celebration and I was on cruise control for the next few years.  But hitting the official mid-20s, then later the official late-20s, were both bitter quasi-milestones.  I realize that 30 isn’t quite over-the-hill, but still…

I was a youngster when I first starting working for my current company.  Now, there is a whole crop of recent college graduates who are looking at this 29-year-old like a graybeard.  And I do feel like their elder.  It’s such a strange feeling.  They’re so hyper and bubbly and flirty and rambunctious and I just get the feeling they’re looking at me as the old guy.  I don’t suppose the gray hairs are helping much.

Anyway, it’s 9:14 and past my bedtime.  Got to take my Geritol and soak my dentures.  Good night!

2 comments »

Posted in Life