Blind Justice

Well, kids, we now have Man-Without-History-Or-Opinions John Roberts as Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. I've tried to be open-minded about this appointment* and give him the benefit of the doubt...on paper, he seems to be well-educated and well-qualified...but there's something about the complete obfuscation of his background, his essence, and the way he parried every question directed his way that is unnerving. Like we've all been sold a bill of goods as to how he has no agenda and will simply interpret the Constitution. I fear that he will show up on the bench next Monday and pull off his mask to reveal that he is really our esteemed junior Senator Rick Santorum, with whom he shares that smug, far-right-wacko-white-guy-in-pretty-Trojan**-horse-exterior look:

Part of this, of course, is my natural skepticism of any action of the Bush administration, which is totally indebted to its similarly right-wing, "religious," big-money base and isn't beyond hiding the truth behind its actions. It's my theory* that they never would have gotten Roberts a second sniff as a Chief Justice candidate were he nominated for this position initially, but that the whole episode was carefully choreographed by Vice President and Chief Puppeteer Cheney, who, pulled the plug on ailing Chief Justice Rehnquist just in time to deflect criticism of Bush post-Katrina, and to support making the case to appoint Roberts as Chief Justice as there simply wouldn't be enough time to appoint TWO justices before October. Brilliant!

OK, perhaps I'm taking this theory a little too far. But when it comes out in the papers in a couple of years, remember you heard it here first.

(Sarcasm alert!)

* as if my opinions or theories count in this country, as I am a Democrat and a liberal Christian.

** not a reference to Trojans, a form of birth control that encourages sex without procreation, which is, of course, just wrong, wrong, wrong.

Another Reason to Love NPR

I'll admit it: I'm an NPR addict. In these days where news is increasingly manipulated, spun, and dumbed-down so as to be entertaining (do we need to see the latest "American Idol" results on news programming? And isn't "Fox News" an oxymoron?), it is refreshing to listen to news and talk programming that is consistently well-thought-out, insightful, entertaining, and that covers not only current headlines, but also less-mainstream stories, with depth, journalistic commitment, and purpose.

This morning, on Morning Edition, something subtle yet absolutely brilliant was broadcast, following a long story on a new blood test that purportedly can tell the sex of a fetus with 99.9% accuracy...the musical interlude following the story, leading up to the half-hour, was just a few bars of harmonica...which those of us of a certain age group recognize as the opening bars to the 1962 hit "Hey! Baby (Will You Be My Girl?)."

Top that, Bill O'Reilly.

Picture This

While opening a container of organic half-and-half (hey, I said I was a Whole Foods Market snob) this morning, my eye caught something interesting on the side of the container: "Grass-Fed Half-and-Half." Now, one could argue the accuracy of this description, but I was taken with the mental image of a grassy hillside, probably somewhere in Vermont, where a herd of pint containers grazes contently..."

Two totally unrelated items:

- As a follow up to the pedophilia priests post, the Philadelphia Inquirer noted yesterday in its editorial page that there is no statute of limitations on unpaid parking tickets -- as the City of Philadelphia is aggressively pursuing decades-old violations -- but that there is a statute of limitations on the crimes outlined in the grand jury report. Say, Father, how about next time you perform an act of God on a child, make sure you feed the meter first...

- Phillies playoff and World Series tickets available, cheap. Inquire within. A couple of cardinal (not St. Louis) rules of baseball for playoff contenders:

(1) Good teams don't come up small in big games.
(2) Good teams simply MUST feast on shitty teams in September, if they want to play in October.

Tonight is the last home game of the year, Fan Appreciation Night. I suspect the fans will not feel appreciative or appreciated. I entertained thoughts of going down, mostly to participate in adverse crowd reaction, but there are so many things that are a better use of my time, such as watching grass grow, reading to the dog, or posting to this blog...

Third baseman David Bell will most likely not make it to tonight's game, as he will be running to catch a parked taxi and will miss it by 30 feet.

City of Fatherly Love

Preface and Disclaimer: There's Nothing Quite Like A Convert.

Hot news from our fair city last week was of the grand jury investigation into pedophilia and child abuse in the Diocese of Philadelphia, including the juicy tidbit that one priest brought an 11-year-old girl he had impregnated for an abortion.

OK, folks, the number of levels on which this is wrong simply boggles the mind. List 'em off, kids! Ready, set, GO!

It's Hard Work

I don't want to sound like our esteemed Commander-in-Chief, but it has been tough...hard work... to keep up with posts here...I'm trying not to fall into the blogger trap of feeling the need to chronicle every event (which would be way boring) and thought (which might not pass through adult-content filters) of my day. So there will be days here without content. It is, truly, hard work. Maybe I need to take a five-week vacation.

But anyway, I had a moment the other night that begged for a camera phone...while at a dance class (more later) in a local private school gym, I notice the fire evacuation instructions posted by the door: In Event of Fire, exit straight to Graveyard. Guess they anticipate that sucker is really going to burn quickly?

Now, why are we going to dance class? Let me unequivocally state that it has absolutely NOTHING to do with "reality-television" dance shows...we watch so little television, and particularly not any of the ridiculously-pathetic "reality" shows that have so captivated our intelligent populace. (Mrs. Po thinks that the worst offender of this genre should be called "Americans Idle" due to the overwhelming attention it enjoys.) No, going to a dance class has everything to do with always wanting to be able to do more than the Elaine Benes two-step, and frankly, anything that allows two consenting adults to spend time together and enjoy some physical activity is a good thing. And at least dance class happens once weekly.

Another observation. Why do people feel no shame at hanging cardboard auto air fresheners, much less multiple ones, from their rear-view mirrors? Yes, I recognize that some people have aroma problems in their automobiles. But why advertise it? Why not post a sign there that says, "I Eat Lots of Cabbage?" Is it possible that, owner's lack of pride aside, the air freshener might make the car more attractive to thieves? "Hey, Bob, hold on -- don't break into that Taurus, the Camry over here has Fresh Vanilla scent!" What's next in this troubling trend of self-disclosure? People putting signs on their homes, saying "Cat Box Inside, House Smells Like Urine Factory?"

Disclaimer: the author has an Aura Cacia auto aromatherapy thingie inserted into his car's cigarette lighter, and carries a couple of different kinds of aromatic oils in the glove compartment. "Aha," you say, "a Whole Foods Market snob!"

Fun Quote of the Day

"As we clear away the debris of a hurricane, let us also clear away the legacy of inequality."
- President Bush at a national prayer service today.

(Just as soon as I pass a few more tax breaks for the rich...then, and only then, we'll address this inequality thing. I promise.)

Just Walk Away, Renee

FINALLY, a ray of light among all the clouds of devastation, war, and typical governmental stupidity: Renee Zellweger has come to her senses and filed for annulment of her marriage to country "music" performer Kenny Chesney. Renee, darling, I don't know what you were thinking...I just don't picture YOU, object of my lust, as thinking anyone's tractor is sexy. Guess the air was a little thin up on Cold Mountain.

Now, go back to blonde and put on a few of those Bridget Jones pounds again, and all will be right with the world...

Another FEMA Confidence-Builder

And in other news, it was announced that Michael Paulison would become the new head of FEMA...yes, the same Paulison who once suggested that, in the event of a chemical or biological attack, we could protect ourselves by using duct tape to seal our homes.

You're doing a heck of a job, Paulie.

Sucker!

Main Entry: 1 suck'·er
Function: noun
1a : one that sucks especially a breast or udder : SUCKLING b : a device for creating or regulating suction (as a piston or valve in a pump) c : a pipe or tube through which something is drawn by suction d (1) : an organ in various animals for adhering or holding (2) : a mouth (as of a leech) adapted for sucking or adhering
2 : a shoot from the roots or lower part of the stem of a plant
3 : any of numerous chiefly No. American freshwater bony fishes (family Catostomidae) closely related to the carps but distinguished from them especially by the structure of the mouth which usually has thick soft lips
4 : LOLLIPOP 1
5 a : a person easily cheated or deceived

Example: me and a surprising number of friends who, despite statements as late as Monday of this week that we were giving up on the Phillies this year and wouldn't even consider purchasing playoff tickets, ponied up our credit card numbers on or before the Tuesday night deadline to ensure that we'll have tickets should the Phils (now tied in the NL wild-card playoff race) actually make it to the playoffs.

If not, I will request that the non-refundable transaction fee be applied to the procurement of a new third baseman, or a reliable starting pitcher.

And each of us came clean with each other in similar fashion: "I know I said I wasn't going to do it, but I couldn't help myself..." Ahh, baseball and the subtle yet deep addiction it creates, says the man who called this team "most sincerely dead" less than a week.

Heard and Seen...

A few things that make one think:

• Heard on NPR this morning, an interview with a physician who criticized lax environmental requirements by -- everyone join in, now, big surprise -- the Bush Administration on mercury pollution levels, in which the speaker made the point that allowing such high levels of mercury in the environment is bad especially for children, saying that children would have impaired "ability to compete in the global marketplace" and referring to them as our future "intellectual capital." Guess he doesn't give a damn about whether they become thoughtful, intelligent, artistic, caring, peace-loving, well-rounded adults and members of society. Just not important.
• Saw a bumper sticker that identified the driver as a "Lifetime Member of (university name withheld) Alumni Association." Correct me if I'm wrong, but once you graduate, aren't you forever and ever an alumnus/na? Can someone be excommunicated or delumnified? I'm guessing the message is simply a nicer way of saying "I Got Conned Into Making A Huge Donation, And All I Got Was This Dopey Bumper Sticker."
• IMHO, big-ass SUVs and the people who drive them are the perfect symbol of greed, waste, arrogance, and self-centeredness. Regrettably, those of us who drive size-appropriate automobiles have to co-exist with these behemoths. But can someone explain to me why, in a parking lot, we often have to wait for these monstrosities to back into parking spaces, usually by executing a perfect 14-point turn? Isn't it simpler to pull straight into a small space, and back out into a large one (i.e. a two-lane parking lot aisle)? Extra discredit points for those with any Bush stickers (I find "W Stands for Women" particularly amusing...how do you like John Roberts as the next Sandra Day O'Connor, ladies?) or ridiculous ribbon magnets (God Bless America, implying no one else, another symbol of the Urban Assault Vehicle crowd)...
• At BJ's Wholesale Club, the large-size (quantity, not volume, presumably) Trojan-Enz Lubricated Condoms on the shelf right next to the EPT Home Pregnancy Test Kits.

Hope in a Hopeless World

Sitting down at 8:45 on a Monday evening, at half-speed after a day at work and an evening yoga class, there is indeed hope and inspiration that Braves' first baseman Julio Franco is nearly as old as I am. Old guys rule!

Is Our Adults Learning?

Some language pet peeves that simply drive me f'ing crazy:

• The incorrect use of terms such as "only" or "just," where they are intended to emphasize a small number. For example, most people would say "I only ate one piece of pie" when the clear meaning is "I ate only one piece of pie"...where "only" is supposed to apply to the number, not the verb. In the former case, did the speaker do anything else but eat a piece of pie? Breathe? Blink? Watch reality television? I would think so.
• "Presently" does not mean "at present." It means "in the near future," save for those dictionaries which routinely set their standards based on lazy-usage bastardization of the language. Look it up.
• Egregiously-lame understanding of when to use apostrophes, even in the simplest of situations (pluralization), such as when persons who should know better have a sign in front of their McMansions (not McMansion's) saying "The Smith's."
• "Premiere" means "first public performance." "Premier" means "first in order or importance." Examples: "President Bush is the premier a-hole in the land." "The premiere of President Bush's performance of Mangling the English Language, Thereby Causing Embarrassment for All Thinking Citizens will be Tuesday, September 13."
• The response to the phrase "Thank You" in any polite conversation is "You're Welcome," not "You Bet," "No Problem," "Uh-huh," etc. I can completely understand this happening on Fox News, but regrettably, it happens all too often on NPR as well. Go figure.

You're welcome.

Coincidence...or Tripe?

Interestingly, a day after I dip my toe into the ocean o' blogs for the first time, we see this entry from the comic strip "Helen, Sweetheart of the Internet:" (as I'm still trying to figure out the whole composition thing, you may have to click on the strip to be able to read it without an electron microscope):








I harbor absolutely no illusions that I'll be in the 0.001%...

Today's news item: FEMA Director Michael Brown Sent Home.

Where his Medal of Freedom, the symbol of outstanding achievement in the Bush adminstration, surely awaits.

On baseball

I am a fan of the Boston Red Sox, having found this particular, intense brand of religion after moving to New England from the NY metro area 24 years ago...I was never a fan of George Steinbrenner, so renouncing the Yankees was much easier than I expected, and I now hate them, their "mystique," and their fans with the heat of a thousand suns. Last year, needless to say, was sheer Nirvana, tempered only by the fact that I wasn't sitting in a bleacher seat at Fenway (which cost only $1.50 my first summer up there...sigh). Set me up with a game on radio, and the latest oeuvre from Roger Angell, and I'm happy.

However, having moved to the Philadelphia area about 10 years ago, I also follow the local entry, the Phillies, who have a long and rich tradition of losing. Usually by the Fourth of July, the Fightin' Phils have removed all the stress of a potential pennant race from our lives, and this year, early on, was looking like no exception. I had commented to a friend with whom I share partial season tickets, with reference to the Phillies' lack of improvement activity in the off-season, that it would be a relaxing year at the ballpark, watching the best players in the National League (who are on other teams' rosters), and enjoying Italian roast pork sandwiches (with sharp provolone and broccoli rabe, naturally) from Tony Luke's and the occasional beer or three.

Surprisingly, the Phils were in it until this week...I suppose statistically they still have a chance, but realistically, they're toast after coming up REALLY small in some big games. The capper was a three-game sweep at home, the worst being the game on Wednesday, when they wasted an 8th inning rally (courtesy of a truly Charlie Manuel-esque and uncharacteristic managerial blunder by Phil Garner, removing a lefthander with Chase Utley, Bobby Abreu, and Ryan Howard as three of the next five hitters) and totally blew the game in the 9th inning. Losses are bad enough, but most of the players simply don't appear to care. They show no emotion when they fail to hit in clutch situations, strike out, etc...it's simply walk back to the dugout and, well, whatever, we'll get 'em next time. Some of the players simply don't have a good grasp of the fundamental things you need to do...e.g. working the count when a pitcher is struggling...to win games. Columnist Frank Fitzpatrick in today's Inquirer puts it best:

Dear Phillies:

I've got a new nickname for you.

The Tin Woodsmen.

Oh, I know in the past others have suggested name changes. One owner briefly called you the Blue Jays. Another tried the Live Wires. And, frankly, I've called you much worse during a half-century when you've treated my psyche like a piñata.

But after watching you surrender to the Astros this week, I'm convinced Tin Woodsmen is perfect.

Perhaps you're too young to comprehend the reference. Let me explain: Back in 1939 - a year, by the way, in which your Phillies forebears went 45-106 and finished 501/2 games back - there was this movie called The Wizard of Oz.

One of its main characters was the Tin Woodsman. He lacked a heart.

See the connection yet?

He eventually traveled to Oz to get one.

Need directions?

Yes, Totos, it's clear you need a heart. How else could you remain so collectively meek as the Astros and Marlins continue to bedevil you like Flying Monkeys? If there were anything beating inside your chests, you'd have to fight back, throw a brushback pitch, knock over a shortstop, drop a house on Jack McKeon.

It's true you guys aren't the first Phillies team to be missing a heart. The 1976-78 Phils were more talented than you, but equally as inept under pressure.

They could win anytime they wanted - as long as it wasn't a big game against the Pirates, Reds or Dodgers. "Lions and Tigers and Bears, oh my!"

So in 1979 they visited the Wizard. They came back with Pete Rose - which kind of suggests the Wizard must have had an office at the dog track in Oz.

Rose lent the Phillies a snarl. An attitude. A heart. (He has since asked for them back so he can autograph them at a forthcoming card show, but that's another story.)

Anyway, the Phillies got a heart. And a year later they won their first, and only, World Series.

If ever there was a time when heart was demanded, it was in those three excruciating losses to the Astros. Instead, you looked ready to lose. The curtain was pulled back on your character and we all were forced to pay attention to the unpleasant reality behind it.

And now, to paraphrase what the Munchkin Coroner said of the squashed Wicked Witch, you're not only merely dead, you're really most sincerely dead.

So you can follow that yellow brick road, my pretties, and click your spiked red slippers for as long as you want.

But until you find a heart, you're going to be stuck on this side of the rainbow, forever.

Baseball season is SO most sincerely dead in Philadelphia. I should just drive to Tony Luke's when I need my roast pork fix, and save the aggravation.

Welcome...

...to you and to me as well, for joining the community of folks who feel that what they have to say is important, witty, and/or entertaining enough to take up space on the Internet. But I figure, with only a modicum of conceit, that if my high-school-age daughters and their friends can do the same on Xanga, that I should be able to contribute something more weighty to the world of discourse. Time will tell.

A few quotes will give a snapshot of me, for those of you who may be interested:

- "...what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?" (Micah 6:8)
- "Baseball is boring only to boring people." (Prof. Richard Brockhaus)
- "Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no!" (Bluto Blutarski)
- "Don't you feel like desperadoes under the eaves?" (the late, great Warren Zevon)

Well, OK, I don't know what the third one has to do with anything, but it is a classic movie moment.

But on to content. I'll start with a thought I had this morning. (NOTE: if you're a fan of the Bush Administration, please move along...there is nothing for you to see or enjoy here, largely because their thoughts, words, and actions are so maddeningly contradictory to quote #1 above.) With all due respect to the tragic losses suffered by those families of 9/11 victims, why is it our administration saw fit to reward them with settlements in the hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of dollars, while widows/widowers of our brave soldiers (regardless of the validity of the "war" they're fighting) get a figuative pat on the head and a check for $12 grand? And those lucky enough to survive Hurricane Katrina after days of governmental neglect get a $2K debit card? Just asking...

And this news item, gleaned from today's Philadelphia Inquirer: while many Gulf Coast residents waited out the storm and its aftermath in their attics, with relatives, or in squalid shelters with minimal supplies, the Tulane University football team was housed comfortably at a Doubletree Hotel outside of Dallas. Hopefully, I'm not the only one asking why, if the University is closed, it's business as usual for the athletic department? Do you suppose Tulane is providing the same level of support for its choral music groups, for instance? Where are the priorities?