My Sunday Feeling

I have an African-American friend named Sharon. Sharon would die if she ever saw this but she is traffic stopping beautiful. (Or maybe I would die if she saw this. By her hands.) Anyway, Sharon used to model a little bit and she still carries herself with that you-would-never-get-to-see-me-naked-in 2-lifetimes-hauteur that some women have. So you get the picture.



Sharon has told me that she cannot shop in some of the more high end clothing stores without sales personnel following her every step. They aren't necessarily trying to sell her stuff either. They are making sure that she doesn't steal anything. She says they don't treat the white customers that way. And it infuriates her. As well it should. The only reason they dog a well-dressed, attractive woman with a purse full of money is because of the color of her skin.



Now THAT'S racial profiling.



Contrary to the hyperthyroid accusations of Harvard professor Henry Louis "Skip" Gates, it isn't racial profiling when the police answer a burglary call as the Cambridge cops did the other night when a neighbor made a report that 2 men with backpacks seemed to be attempting to break in Professor Gates' house. It was actually Skip Gates himself trying to unstick his jammed front door. And what should have been a trifling matter soon escalated into national news and Presidential politics.



By any reasonable standard, Gates' behavior was unnecessary. According to the police report, Gates was completely uncooperative. He refused to step outside when the officer asked him to. Indeed, the police report says that he told the officer, some poor bastard named Crowley, that he would "talk with your mama outside." Gates also attempted to call the police chief to complain abut the racist police officer that had been sent to his home. And unlike what you read on the Internet, the police report states that Officer Crowley identified himself twice.



Finally, the report states that Gates followed the officer out to the porch telling him that the police officer "had not heard the last of him." By then a group of people and other police units. Gates continued to run his mouth. Officer Crowley warned him to calm down. He did not. So he was arrested for disorderly conduct.



On Wednesday night at the close of President Obama's press conference about his health care legislation, someone asked him about the incident involving Professor Gates. After a disquisition about the problem of racial profiling, Mr. Obama proclaimed that the "police acted stupidly" in the Gates matter. Obviously, the President had not read the police report before he made that particular pronouncement, a particularly egregious error by a man not known for straying far from the script.



The Little Rock police have had the occasion to call upon me at my home on a couple of occasions for reasons that are not germane to the present discussion and need not be recounted in this space. In any event, each time I have been asked to step out to the porch. There is a very good reason for this. That is because being a cop is a dangerous line of work. And their first instinct is to protect themselves. They may not have thought that there were 5 guys with automatic weapons hiding in my kitchen. But they didn't KNOW that. Better to exert control over the subject of the interview than to run the risk of getting jumped.



I know this and I was not offended by the instruction to "step outside, please." I complied with the instruction, answered their questions to the best of my abilities and "yes sirred" and "no sirred" them. When they were through with their business we shook hands and they departed.



Which is how the Gates incident should have gone down. There was absolutely no need for Gates to behave in such an unseemly fashion. By going ballistic over nothing he casted a pall upon the distinguished body of his work in African American studies. His reference to the officer's mother was boorish and needlessly provocative. Indeed, Crowley showed admirable restraint in an unexpectedly tense situation that was being escalated by a belligerent man with a chip on his shoulder. If Gates were a younger man and/or not a professor at Harvard (he did produce that ID eventually) he might have gotten braced inside the house and told to STFU. Cops do that to excessively mouthy people you know.



Skip Gates' equating the investigation of a report of a break-in to a residence in Harvard Yard to "racial profiling" is as ludicrous as O.J. Simpson's attempts to attain class consciousness with victims of gun drops in Compton years ago. And President Obama? He is backpedalling as fast as he can. He has gone so far as to invite both Gates and Officer Crowley over for a beer.



Sounds like a good idea. Because folks HAVE been acting stupidly. And it doesn't much sound like the ones wearing badges either.



For a look at the police report of the incident hit the link:http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2009/0723092gates1.html .



Judge for yourself. And as far as I know, Gates hasn't denied any of the stuff in the police report.

My Sunday Feeling

Lucille Marie Hamilton died a week or so ago. She was only 20. Her obituary in the local paper set out the usual information common to these notices: her place of employment, her relatives, the church she attended. The name of her father was omitted, which strongly suggests an estrangement.


What the obituary also did not disclose was that Lucie-that's what her Facebook friends called her- was a transgendered man living as a woman here in Little Rock. The obituary did not reveal that she died after attending a "voodoo cleansing ritual" in Gloucester Township, New Jersey. Which might explain the estranged father. Or it may not.


As if this story were not unusual enough as it is, the initial comment from the police was to the effect that her death was not considered suspicious. Let's see, transvestite Arkansan dies in a suburb of Philadelphia after a voodoo ritual. Ok, maybe that's not in and of itself to render the circumstances of her death "suspicious" in the official parlance of the cops. But it is damned unusual to say the least. For any of a number of reasons.


The stories that I have read from the media up there yield a few more bits of information than what was unearthed by the paper here. Her mother told a TV station up there that Lucie was interested in different religions and that she saved up 1500 bucks for the trip. The story is that about 6 other people took part in the ritual at the home of a voodoo priest.


And you think your neighbors are strange.



Evidently, Lucie went to sleep afterwards and never woke up. Her body was shipped to the crime lab for toxicology tests. One story said that this tragedy shows that there needs to be tighter regulation of voodoo priests. No kidding. Which leads me to wonder just how a big a problem this sort of thing is in New Jersey. You don't hear calls for the tighter regulation of Presbyterian ministers. But then again, you don't hear of many folks dropping dead after going to a Presbyterian service. I didn't the last time I visited the Calvinists.


I don't know much about transgendered folks. I knew in passing a psychiatrist who examined guys who wanted to change their sex through surgical means. I guess the thought was that they didn't want to do the surgery on anybody that was way depressed or floridly psychotic. About all she told me was that transgendereds were "extremely complicated."


I can believe that.


I don't know what Lucie's sexual orientation was. A person's sex life might not be as simple as you think. We in the straight world ought to know that. Right, Mrs. Sanford? Anyway. and for example, the comedian Eddie Izzard performs in drag all of the time, although he seems to be butching it up a little more on his website nowadays. Izzard's a genius. And he likes girls. Go figure.


But I would have to think that being a transgendered person would be a complicated and sad way to run a life. I know that 20 is too young to die. And I can't think of a less dignified and ridiculous way to spend your last night on this planet. Something caused that kid to go looking for something more.

And she never came back.

You can find her obituary on the link. Play the video if you want to see her transformation from little boy to a young woman. It is interesting to say the least. http://www.rollerfuneralhomes.com/services.asp?locid=17&page=odetail&id=17375

A reliable source close to the situation sent me a message this morning saying that the authorities in New Jersey are now investigating the case as a homicide. I'm not surprised. 20 year olds don't die from natural causes. In any event, you don't hear many stories like this coming out of anywhere, much less Little Rock.

This Was After Just The 5th Pitch In The Game

Years ago, I helped my brother John coach Little League. We were having a bad night one night and I was sent out to coach first base to "reverse the polarity" as John put it. While I loved the kids I didn't take managing a game with little boys seriously.

Anyway, I sent a kid down to second just because he thought it would be fun. When the inning was over the 'manager" said, " I don't recall putting on the steal sign." To which I replied " I don't recall looking over there and seeing Earl Weaver."

This is Earl Weaver in his glory. And they don't let the umps talk back like that although the ump says something reeeeeaaaallly funny when Weaver tells him he will be in the Hall of Fame someday.

Language Alert!

My Sunday Feeling

A buddy of mine works for a local radio station. They play a little music but mostly they take calls from listeners about whatever is the topic of the day. As he put it to me "we talk about what people want to talk about." The talk is not totally confined to the airwaves. As you might imagine the conversations tend to wander over to his Facebook page.



After the Micheal Jackson Memorial Show(I hesitate to call it a "service")- And technically speaking it wasn't even a memorial service since the earthly remains of the One Gloved One were present and resplendent with floral arrangements of sufficient extravagance to cause a mob boss to blush.-folks were invited to discuss their thoughts about the show. The consensus was that the children were heart rending, which they were. One lady liked Jermaine's song. Another person thought Brooke Shield's comments were moving and so on.



Being the helpful sort that I am, I allowed that this was certainly quite a sendoff for a child molesting deadbeat. For my two cents worth I was admonished not to deal in rumor and was reminding that only God can judge. True enough, I suppose. Except that Jackson admitted that he liked to sleep with children during an interview on 60 Minutes. And he supposedly paid one family 20 million bucks to make a civil case go away.



I just don't get the collective amnesia that produces what one commentator described as "ersatz grief" on a large scale such as what we witnessed last week. Stephen Colbert might describe it as "griefiness." Whatever you want to call it, I simply do not understand such an outpouring of attention, if not genuine affection for a truly strange ranger who gave creepiness a bad name.



Still, I confess to watching at least part of the show on the Internet for no other reason than it was "just completely fucked up" as my friend Don put it. And I'm glad that I did because it produced some moments of hilarity, such as:



Barry Gordy testifying to his love and affection for the departed entertainer. That's a good one. They had pretty much been in litigation since the Jackson 5 days.



Jackson as Christ Figure: " He taught us all how to love."



Al Sharpton assuring the children that their father wasn't strange. Noooooo. It is a normal thing for an African American man to want to alter his physical appearance in order to resemble a white woman.



The family wearing sunglasses indoors. Perhaps it's a California thing. I've seen Jack Nicholson in shades at Lakers games. I'll give them that.



The fact that they proceeded with this spectacle despite ever figuring out who was going to pay for the police security such an event would require. A civic event such as the visit from the Pope or a State Funeral is one thing and the taxpayers properly pick up the tab for these events. Despite the ludicrous comments from the family and Al Sharpton concerning Jackson's alleged contributions to mankind, this was not a State Funeral. When my Dad died we paid the police department to provide an escort as is the common practice. The Estate ought to have the common decency to pick up at least a portion of the tab for this unmitigated cluster. It says here that they won't.



Enough of all of this. We have not heard the last of MJ. His tangled affairs will keep lawyers employed for years. Depending on how hot the toxscreens come back, doctors may lose licenses, folks may wind up indicted. No. We have not heard the last of all this.



And to my Facebook friends who castigated me the other day, I close with the following rhetorical question:



Would you leave your kids alone with a guy that even remotely resembled Michael Jackson?



Try not to be judgmental.

Vox Populi: The Dreamer

NV were out to dinner the other night. One of her girlfriends came to your table. NV introduced Victoria to me. After the usual small talk, Victoria went back to her table.

NV: I almost couldn't recall her name.

Me: Oh, I know. I'm terrible at remembering names.

NV: No, I'm good at names it's just that Victoria wasn't her name originally.

Me: I'm not following you.

NV: Yeah. Her birth name was Janelle. She had it changed legally to Victoria.

Me: Why did she change her name?

NV: She was told to in a dream.

Me: She changed her name from Janelle to Victoria because she was told to in a dream?

NV: Yeah. That's pretty much it.

Me: You're kidding.

NV: Noooooo.....

Me: But......that's insane.

NV: Yes!

I suppose that's more interesting than a need to defraud your creditors or something. But still.

That's crazy.

My Sunday Patriotic Video

In keeping with the spirit of the holiday and also because I am too lazy to write anything for today I offer instead a video of Great American Randy Newman doing "Political Science."

Enjoy. I'm off to watch Andy Roddick, another Great American, get clobbered most likely at Wimbledon.

The More You Hear, The Weirder It Gets

If there was any tiny portion of my brain that didn't not think that Michael Jackson was a whack job, that portion blew up when the news came out that psychic Uri Geller was once one of MJ's confidantes.

Geller, who according to the James Randi Educational Foundation, claims he acquired his psychic powers from a UFO from the Planet Hoova, is famous for allegedly bending spoons with his psychic powers. Randi, who refers to himself as The Amazing Randi, is a professional magician and escape artist. He is also a recipient of the McArthur Foundation prize and has devoted his life to debunking psychics and faith healers. In fact, the JREF has offered $1,000,000 to anyone who can prove that supernatural phenomena are "real." So far, they haven't paid any money to anybody.

When Randi turned his gaze to Geller, Geller didn't like it. Rather than bend Randi in half with his psychic powers, Geller sued for libel. He eventually withdrew his suit. Having to stand up to discovery will cause that result from time to time. To read more about MJ's confidante click here. It will take you to an encyclopedia on the JREF website. Click on G to get to the piece on Geller.

It is one thing to enjoy a magic act like Penn and Teller. Like everyone else, I sit in amazement and wonder "how the hell did they do that?" Only the childlike and week-minded actually believe that magic is real.

Which, unfortunately, describes MJ to a "T." Besides, everybody knows Hoova is not a planet. It's a town outside of Birmingham.

My Sunday Feeling

I know. Mark Sanford is old news. Michael Jackson, the so-called King of Pop, checked out under appropriately mysterious circumstances last week, pushing Sanford and his marital and political woes off the front page. At least for now.

From my perspective, the Sanford affair is more interesting than the death of Wacko Jacko. It is not unusual for crazy people to come to a bad end. And one had but to gaze upon Jackson's bleached out and oft retrofitted face to come to the inescapable conclusion that he was palpably insane. And so, MJ predictably snuffed it under the care and supervision of some shady cardiologist from Vegas while preparing for a world tour to try to put a dent in the ruinous debt load he had accumulated.

Crazy people come to bad ends. Not every Bible banging fiscal conservative Presidential aspirant has an Argentine hottie on the side. Now THAT'S interesting.

But let's not make too much of this. Most of us have done something stupid with our pants off. At the very least, we all have secrets we would just as soon nobody ever finds out about. Maybe we didn't do anything criminally stupid as did the aforementioned KOP, but we have all done stupid. Over sex. With money. In our professions. Sometimes stupid just pops up and knocks on the door. And we let it in.

But not all of us are in the public eye. And not all of us have staked out moralistic positions about our fellow human beings to induce the electorate to vote for us. Even still, my position is that if Mrs. Sanford can live with it, the good people of South Carolina ought to live with it as well. Sure, the fact that the Governor was catting around with a Latina version of his soul mate is plenty creepy. But if she can live with it, who are we to substitute our judgment?

Except for one thing. If I decide to blow the country it is pretty much nobodies business. But I have not opted for a public life with a public schedule. Mark Sanford up and blew the country leaving the entire apparatus of state government in the lurch. What possessed him to leave the country? I mean, those planes go both ways. Surely, he could have been sufficiently clever to somehow bring her over if he just had to see her. Poorer judgment cannot be imagined. And just because he paid the money back to the state coffers that financed one of his junkets doesn't mean that he didn't violate the criminal laws.

The affair it self is not that interesting. But the circumstances surrounding it and the fact that Mark Sanford thought he could keep this quiet are.

No. It is not unusual for insane people to have a bad end. Come to think of it, maybe Michael Jackson isn't the only whack job to go down in flames last week. He's lucky. He's dead.

My Sunday Feeling

I tend to forget Father's Day. I was 21 when my own father died. That was a long time ago. I don't tend to remember it until I walk into a clothing or sporting goods store this time of year. Then I kind of go "ohhhhh yeah." Then I go see what's on sale.


As I have said before, most Dads I know could pretty much take Father's Day or leave it. I mean, they appreciate being with the family and all, but most guys I know are not terribly comfortable being fussed over.


But that's the way Dads are for the most part. God knows, men and women think differently. And when it comes to family life, it has been my impression that Moms are like drill instructors whereas if Dads show up on time, pay the bills, do the yard and reach the stuff on the top shelf they have got it about halfway licked. Of course, I simplify. But it is a low bar from what I hear.

And I have heard a lot in my day. I have heard a lot fairly recently.

Two of my brothers are Dads. And from what I can see, they are both alike in that they take a pretty laid back approach to their respective jobs. One has an Aspergers kid that requires a little more "hands on" work than the other two nephews still in the house with my brother in Conway. But they are both pretty patient and calm. The one in Conway takes after mother in that he is something of a worrier. But that's OK. The one here in Little Rock is like me in that we tend cause a lot more anxiety than we experience personally. That's OK too.


I don't much think about how I might have turned out as a parent. Mainly, there's no point to such idle ruminations. And furthermore, I am more interested in concentrating on the second part of my life rather than thinking of what might have been.

But as I have said before, I think I would have been OK.

I got a Facebook "friend request" the other day from a kid who used to hang around over here. R was all of 5 when I first met him. Now he's 10. And he has a Facebook page. Oh brave new world that has such people in it.

It was a pleasant surprise to hear from him. It's a small gesture, but it's nice to know the kid still likes me.

I must have done something right. I got that going for me. It's a small gesture but life is made up of small gestures. I will take it.

Good to hear from you son.

Shameless Plug Department: "Tales From The South" airs next Thursday night on local educational station KUAR FM 89.1. The show starts at 7pm CDT and is simulcast on the Internet at http://www.kuar.org/ . This will be the "Father's Day Show" and I will be one of the authors reading a story. Hope you enjoy it.

You Know You Have Done Screwed Up When....

The Securities and Exchange Commission thinks they can prove that you stole 8 billion dollars by a preponderance of the evidence. The prosecutors, have a tougher standard. They have to to prove your guilt beyond the shadow of a reasonable doubt. Faced with the more stringent proof requirements the prosecutors were forced to indict you for stealing an amount less than the 8 billion the SEC is suing you over.

They indicted you for stealing 7. That's when you know you have done screwed up.

Oh. Those depositions they are going to Notice you up for in the civil case? They are taken under oath. Which gives you the opportunity to do two things: You can tell them your side of the story and expose yourself to additional charges of perjury or at the very least provide really juicy fodder for cross examination. Or you can take the 5th which, while it can't be used against you in the criminal case, creates an adverse implication that answering the question would be against your best interests in the civil case.

Hell, the money's probably been all pissed away by now. Accordingly, the prosecutors will be lookin' to get it out of your ass, as they say.

I bet you take the 5th in the civil case.

Boy. You have done screwed up.

My Sunday Feeling

" I know there are many other similar events planned around the country as long as abortion remains legal." Scott Roeder, accused of murder of Dr. George Tiller.

"I do feel I'm not guilty. I don't think it was murder because murder is when a person kills another person without justified reason." Abdul-Hakim Mujahid Muhammed, accused of the murder of Pvt. William A. Long, USA, reportedly in retaliation against the U.S. military's action in the Middle East.

I am not exactly in my element when I discuss the criminal law. But I did happen to pass that section of the bar exam in the process of obtaining a license. And I happen to know the telephone numbers of a number of practitioners on both sides of the aisle as well as investigators if I have a question.

In any event, I know a hell of a lot more about the defense of legal justification than either Messeurs Roeder and Muhammed. And you can add to that list elderly whack job James Von Brunn who evidently decided the best way he could call attention to the plight of disenfranchised white Christians was to walk into the National Holocaust Museum with a rifle a' blazin'.

I leave to others the question of whether this uptick in violence-for lack of a better word spurred by political ideology-represents a trend. As suspicious as 3 events in a short timeframe may be, I don't think we can know that just yet. Further, I have read certain otherwise sane commentators express that perhaps certain hate speech should be investigated and/or regulated. I'm sorry. Even nuts have a 1st Amendment right to say or think any damn fool thing they want.

No. Today I'm going to confine my remarks to the defense of legal justification. And why it isn't applicable to the 3 crimes mentioned above. And if that's the best they got-and I suspect it is-these 3 mutts have got a major league problem insofar as their immediate future as free men is concerned.

Boiled down to its simplest, legal justification is when you commit an otherwise illegal act in furtherance of a ostensibly legal purpose. The defense of self-defense is the most common example of the defense of legal justification. I am not permitted by the law to strike you in the head with the 3 iron I have sitting by my front door. That would be assault with a deadly weapon except that a 3 iron in my hands is pretty useless. However, if you are breaking into my house, I am entitled to defend myself.

Here's another example: Suppose you are walking down the street and see a man beating a woman. The law does not allow you to walk up and punch somebody in the nose just for the heck of it. However, if you assault somebody in the process of helping a victim of a crime, you may invoke the defense of legal justification.

You may be saying to yourself at this point of the lecture, " Gee. You hardly ever see anybody raise legal justification as a defense." You would be correct. This is because if I brain some asshole while he is breaking into my house I will not be charged with anything in the first place. Which brings us to the larger problem that the 3 legal scholars who are the subject of this dissertation have before them.

You have every right not to like African-Americans and Jews. This does not mean that you get to open fire in a museum. You may oppose American military action in the Middle East. This does not mean that you can shoot a couple of Army buddies taking a smoke break outside a recruiting station.

Finally, you may sincerely and fervently oppose abortions. Millions of God-fearing and law abiding people do. You may believe in your heart that abortion is murder. It is not. As Mr. Roeder candidly and stupidly admitted to the press, he knew that it is legal to obtain and perform abortions. If abortion is legal it is by definition not murder. And he was not justified in taking his perverse interpretation of "the law" into his own hands.

The fact that you are disaffected, have an unusually exalted sense of your status a tool for a higher religious or political purpose, or are just plain mean as hell may provide you with a reason for committing acts of violence that the real world rightly regards as completely off-the-charts insane.

Your belief that you are special will not provide you with much in the way of a legal defense.

Sorry.

Where The Hell Was Security?

Some idiot who calls himself Jimmy Jump injected himself into the 2nd set of today's French Open Finals between Roger Federer and Robin Soderling. This could have been really scary.

Watch how the chair umpire gets to the court before security shows up. And watch Soderling's "You OK?" gesture he gives Federer after Jimmy is carted off.

Again, this could have turned out really badly. French Open security isn't talking as of this writing but you have to figure that head's are gonna roll just like they did at one time in French history not too far from Stade Roland Garros.

My Sunday Feeling

One of our more prominent local "life coaches" was on the radio the other day. I guess he is relatively prominent. He was on the radio and I was not. He was talking personal finance in his capacity as a Dave Ramsey certified financial counselor.

Is this a great country or what? You can make money by obtaining-or hell-giving yourself semi-fake credentials. Dave Ramsey, as you may know, has made quite a name for himself as a TV and radio financial advisor. From what I can tell, his advice tends to be sound but not terribly nuanced. Debt bad. Savings good. Hard to argue with that.

And, unlike the crooks who try to sell "one size fits all" investment products to the elderly at luncheons, Ramsey's not peddling snake oil. In any event, if you have a mind to, you can pay to attend a seminar put on by his organization and become a "certified" financial counselor. Not exactly snake oil. Not exactly an MBA or a Certified Life Underwriter either.

Anyway, I got to the broadcast just as the Dave Ramsey certified life coach was winding down his segment. And he told the listening audience that the wise guru actually said that a Depression would not be such a bad thing because it would build character for modern folks just like it did for those folks back in the Twenties.

In my history book, the Great Depression was a calamity of the highest magnatude. Banks failed. People lost businesses and farms. Soup kitchens and bread lines provided subsistence to countless families. Stockbrokers jumped out of windows. There was no more romantic witness to this time than Studs Terkel. Studs Terkel did not look back on the Depression with wistfulness. Anybody that doesn't realize that needs to spend some time with the works of John Dos Passos, Steinbeck, Nelson Algren and the aforementioned Mr. Terkel.

But Ramsey can say with presumably a straight face that a Depression wouldn't be such a bad thing because a) we're not in a Depression b) we're not going to be in a Depression and c) he's got a product to sell. Which makes such a statement merely irresponsible and cynical. And that's where the financial planning aspect of the Dave Ramsey phenomenon becomes like unto the revival tent where the faith healer is working the crowd. The history of American junk culture is replete with cultural icons who spew such unadulterated nonsense without fear of contradiction from the acolytes in their listening audience. Twas ever thus. They just get better market share in the age of cable and the Internet than Oral Roberts ever did.

In this great land of ours, you can call yourself anything you want. Indeed, I have long referred to myself as a "life coach" but only because it amuses me and my little friends. I may start referring to my self as an aromatherapist for the same reason.

But if I am going to seek financial advice I will go to somebody who is bonded and holds a certification that is actually subject to a regulatory body which I strongly suspect none of Ramsey's "certified" disciples are.

And I will also retain one who doesn't think a global financial disaster builds character.

Think You Got Problems?

You don't have problems. This is a problem.

My Sunday Feeling-Mailing It In

After Miracle League and horsing around last night at a swanky party I am not at the height of my powers today. So I will instead share a link to a piece that ran on Mother's Day in the local paper.

I hope you enjoy it. I'm going to get some coffee.

http://epaper.ardemgaz.com/Repository/ml.asp?Ref=QXJEZW1vY3JhdC8yMDA5LzA1LzEwI0FyMDgxMDI=&Mode=HTML&Locale=english-skin

Kris Stole It Fair And Square

The New York Times reports that Kris Allen's victory over the guy with the nail polish and eye liner may have been tainted by voting practices that violated the rules of the show.

After all, Kris got 38 million votes out of Arkansas. Last time I looked, the Natural State only had a population of 4 million or so.

This is ballot stuffing that would shame politicians in Louisiana and Illinois even.

Hit the link: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/27/business/media/27idol.html?_r=1&ref=business

Just When You Think You Have Seen It All-Joe Mauer of the Twins

I have been watching baseball all of my life. This is the damndest play I think I have ever seen a catcher make.

My Sunday Feeling

"Where are you?" was the peevish message that popped up on the cellphone. National Velvet had locked her keys in the Mommyvan after running to the store to-no lie-buy cigarettes for her sister who is in town. I was dispatched to the store to pick her up. Guess I wasn't making sufficient time.



I found her van and pulled in next to it. She was sitting in a lawn chair staring into her IPhone. She was pissed. Not at me particularly, or so I surmised being the narcissist that I am. But she was pissed. That much I could tell from 50 paces.



" Right next to your goddamned Chrysler product," I typed back, trying to be helpful. I saw her pull the IPhone closer to her face. She then looked up toward me with a sheepish look on her face and started walking toward my car.



If you are anything like me, you send and receive text messages constantly. Between my law school buddies, my brothers and nephews, not to mention a certain forgetful Episcopalian lawyer I bet I get 25 or 30 a day. Occasionally, I get useful information even. But then again, my brother Bob's messages, sent when he is bored over at the Nervous Hospital, the intellectual equivalent of a monkey flinging his own shit. Today he sent me a picture of our Uncle Ralph.



Thanks, Bob.



Due to this proliferation of messages, pushed over the edge by Bob and NV, I had to go to the AT&T store to get my rate changed. It was either that or file a Chapter 13. The kid at the store needed to take my phone away to perform some ministration to it. He invited me to go look at an IPhone for myself in the meantime.



My buddy Chris showed me all the stuff his IPhone will do and it is pretty amazing. I think that he and NV would both cease to exist without the goddamned things attached to them. Indeed, I have said repeatedly that NV likes me OK, or she does so far. But she loves her I Phone.



Who can blame her? The IPhone has more apps than I do.



But my God. Do I need a dictionary on my cellphone? Do I need the instant ability to find a sushi restaurant in the proximity of wherever I am? Do I need to play Internet Poker on the damn thing? Do I need 2/3 of the crap Chris and NV have loaded on their IPhones?



No. Hell, I didn't even know how to text until 5 years ago or so. The first text message I ever got was from my brother John. We were playing golf at the family reunion. I was in the first foursome and evidently was being coached on some fine point by other brother Dave. John must have noticed this from way back on the tee box. My cellphone beeped. I looked at it. There was a message.



"Don't listen to a word he says."



Not exactly, "What hath God wrought." But it was a seminal moment in my development.



The kid came back with my humble little Samsung as I was standing there shaking the display IPhone next to my ear to see if I could make it work. He said I am eligible for an upgrade. He says I can get an IPhone.



I don't think so. I am sufficiently wired up. I have all of the technology I can stand.



Back to the parking lot. My phone buzzed as NV got in the car.



"Thanks."



"Couldn't that have waited?" I asked. "Did you have to send a text?"



She kissed me on the cheek.



"My IPhone will never be able to do that, buddy" she said.



Not yet it can't. But give Apple time. Give the clever bastards time.

Vox Populi: The Man At The Music Store

MR: You know, if you had told me this morning that a man would come in off the street on Memorial Day weekend and buy a capo, a pitch pipe and a Korg tuner I would not have believed you.

tmfw: You might as well go home.

MR: I'm marking this day down, that's for sure. Now, the odds are that just as soon as you get home you will find your old capo and pitch pipe. You can just bring them back.

tmfw: I think my brother Bob stole my capo and the former choirmaster at St. Andrew's stole my pitch pipe. You know how musicians are.

MR: I do indeed. How about a guitar to go with that capo?

tmfw: Don't push your luck Marty.

MR: Good point. It's already a red letter day. Come on back if you need me to walk you through the Korg.

tmfw: I will. See ya.

MR: See ya.

Replacements - Talent Show

The hell of it is that real talent like Paul Westerberg would never make the cut on the rigged game that is the national "talent" show known as American Idol.