Albie Cullen's Blog

Hey Faithful, it’s been a long, long while, not sure if there is anyone left to read.  That must be how President Obama is feeling on this whole Syria thing.  Hey Odumba, Syria is a civil war.   As in between the Syrians, their problems have nothing to do with us.  Our sole interest, the continued importation of Syrian bread for sandwich wraps, does not warrant our involvement.  We eat too much bread anyway.

“This is an attack on human dignity.  This menace must be confronted.”  That is what Odumba said Saturday.  Really?  How about Darfur?  What’s that been?  An acceptable five-year genocide?  Yet the words, “Darfur” have never crossed the “Commander in chief who cries wolf” lips once.

The President is worried that “his” failure to act will affect “his” credibility after he said the use of chemical weapons would cross a line. Remember when Odumba was first elected and was going to hold Wall Street accountable.  He then re-appointed all of the Bush Treasury members who were responsible for the mess.  Not one bank or banker has been held accountable.  How about holding firm on the expiration of the Bush tax cuts for the wealthy?  Extended in exchange for six months of unemployment.  Who can forget his vow for gun reform?  Even after the Newtown shooting he sat idly by as Congress failed t0 act.  So what “credibility” is he worried about, again?

To assist him with persuading us he’s employed Secretary of State Ketchup (D (Dimwit) -Mass).  You remember the former Senator from Massachusetts?  Ketchup thought Secretary of State was a nine to five job.  He probably wondered how Hilary aged twenty years in such a cushy post.  He was sailing in Nantucket over the Fourth when Egypt was burning.  In order to deflect criticism his wife Teresa Heinz (of the ketchup fortune) feigned sick.  She spent ten days in Mass General with no verifiable illness.  (The same amount of time it took for the heat to blow over).  Weird, most insurance doesn’t cover extended hospital stays even when your actually sick.  Thank God for Odumba Care.

A couple years ago I wrote in this space that getting involved in Egypt was a mistake.  The imminent rise of the Muslim Brotherhood would not be in the United States’ interest.  At that time Senator Ketchup said that,”I didn’t understand the complexity of the situation” and “it wasn’t that simple.”  Turns out that it was pretty simple.  The Muslim Brotherhood was not interested in working with the US.  Didn’t need to be a Senator to figure that out.

As Ketchup beats the drum for military action in Syria, the UN changed it’s position today.  ”It’s not the UN’s responsibility to determine who’s responsible for the use of chemical weapons.”  British Prime Minister Cameron said he couldn’t be “100% certain the Syrian government was responsible.”  I guess everyone’s forgotten the Bush Weapons of Mass Destruction lie that cost thousands of U.S. Servicemen and women their lives.  Those who forget the past are condemned to repeat it.

Further not Ketchup, not Odumba, not one Congressmen has a family member in the military.  As elected officials Odumba and Ketchup are obligated to represent the interest of the people.  Us, the people who are effected by wars based on lies.  Syria is not now, never was and never will be our problem.  God willing in two years Odumba and ketchup won’t be either.

KOKO

“Live for the moments, not for the days” –  That was a mantra of those fortunate enough to spend time following The Grateful Dead.  Of course the days were largely spent recovering from the cocktail of Schedule I, II, III & IV drugs (all together) with a straight  whiskey chaser.  About 5 PM when you finally figured out whether you were coming or going and the answer was coming, you were then going to do it all over again.  Like Jerry Garcia said, “Anything worth doing, is probably worth over doing”.

The older I get I see more days and fewer moments.  Funny thing, I don’t remember the moments nearly as well as the disappointments.  You would think in a life that has had so few victories they would be etched in stone somewhere in my cranium.  But the opposite seems to be true.  The hard lessons rear their ugly heads daily.  Some deaths hit hard and I miss those people everyday.  Life never really seems what I thought it was going to be.  (Then again not sure exactly what I contemplated my life being but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t this.)   Don’t misunderstand. I am grateful for the people in my life and the many, many opportunities I’ve been given.  I just never thought being me would at times end up being so hard.

As I once told Mike Barry of “Pooka Stew”, “Don’t talk to me about disappointment, I know disappointment, I’ve been disappointing people my whole life.”  (Although President Obama looks like a lock for most disappointing person ever.)    But if your from Boston you know disappointment.  Unlike New York or LA this is not a town where you might get rich quick.  To the contrary Bostonians work their fingers to the bone.  Ten months of salary goes directly to the banks, government, and insurance companies.  I’m not saying Bostonians are better than other people because its obvious we are, there’s no need to state the obvious.

Somehow winter in Boston now goes from November 1, to May 31.  Today, June 26, summer (or road work season) is half over.  Just think Christmas is six months away.  After next week July 4, always seems twelve months away.

How about sports’ disappointment.  If you go up to a Boston sports fan and say, “too many men on the ice”, “David Tyree” or “Grady Little” you’ll at a minimum ruin their day.  If you say “Bill Buckner” he or she will instantly time travel to a very, very bad place.

However, even when you know something painful is coming, like say a vaccination, the needle stick is no less painful.  All of which is a long, circuitous route to my topic: the Boston Bruins.  By now you are well aware of Boston’s latest disappointment.  A collapse of tragic Greek proportions last night on Causeway Street.  However, the loss and the means and manner of the decision somehow seem greater then the result.

There is nothing in sport like play-off hockey.  For essentially two months teams battle every other night as if they were staving off lions in the Coliseum.  Exhausted, playing with broken bones its as if their own personal survival depends on the outcome.    Over the past two months I have spent more time watching the Bruins then with the Lovely Old Lady (LOL).  A fact which makes both the LOL and TV Networks both happy.  The Bruins were a reason not just to be proud of Boston, but a personal reason to live to see another day.  In light of both the Newtown and Marathon tragedies the Bruins and their quest were not just a positive alternative, a rallying point, but the materialization of hope itself.  With no superstars or egos and a sum far greater then the combination of the individual parts, the team was a real life metaphor for the city of Boston.  Boston Strong.

The Blackhawks were the better team.  But Pittsburgh and maybe Toronto were better and the Bruins found a way.  For over 58 minutes this team found another way to force a game 7 where anything could happen.  And then in a minute that seemed like it was played in slow motion the reality of life in Boston came crashing back in: the struggle, the weather, the bombings, Aaron Hernandez, White Bulger, the ball bouncing through Buckner’s legs.  Like a series of bad movie previews the dreaded loop began to play.

The biggest disappointment of all was knowing this team wanted so badly and tried so hard not to disappoint this city.  In professional sports most players would be in jail if not athletically gifted.  Hockey players in general and this Bruins team in particular are true gentlemen.

One lesson I have finally learned is that you need to appreciate the few moments.  Not just the accomplishment but also the commitment, effort, hard work and good fortune that allowed a goal to be achieved, a dream realized, or wish fulfilled.  After all you may go days and days and never have another moment.

KOKO

“I hate this country” was Adam Levine’s comment a few weeks back on national TV.  Who is Adam Levine you ask?  He is the gay singer of the even more gaily named band Maroon 5.  (I am using the term “gay” facetiously.  Not in a good way.  As opposed to say “the twenty-first century was a great time to be gay.”)  Maroon 5 (whatever that is) has written and recorded some of the worst music ever released.  If you’ve listened to rap that’s saying something.  Without his band’s success the at best, marginally talented Levine would be working at McDonald’s.   As Levine has literally lived the American Dream, even a no-talent can sleep with Victoria Secret models, my blog was going to advise him not to let the customs officers hit his perfectly toned fanny on his way out of the country.

But like a broken clock that is right twice a day, Levine actually has a point.   Today at the Whitey Bulger trial one of the government’s star witnesses, John Martorano testified.  The mob hit man who plead guilty to 19 murders but is believed to have killed significantly more revealed the following fun facts.  Despite being an admitted serial killer he served only twelve years in prison.  While in prison the government paid $6,000 into his canteen account.  Upon his release he was given another $20,000 to get started.  He has been paid over $300,000 for the rights to his story.  He says he never killed for money.  While I’m sure that is great solace to his victims’ families what did the checks Whitey gave him upon delivery of the body bag represent?  He now collects social security.  My guess would be unlike you and I who pay 14% of gross he never paid a dime into social security.  So he basically served 1 and a half years for each murder and has been paid $500,000 for his trouble thus far.  Makes you wonder why US Attorney Carmen Ortiz (and her senior advisor her unemployed husband) insisted on significant jail time for computer hacker Aaron Swartz.  Swartz unable to do the time killed himself.

This is the same government who successfully fought to insure Martorano’s and Whitey victims didn’t get a single dime.  This despite the fact that some were innocent and all were killed with the government’s assistance.   And Whitey is a bad guy?   Like any government the United States’ is not immune to incompetency and corruption.  However, one of the few things that distinguished the United States from all others was the government protected its citizens.  The First Circuit Court of Appeals in upholding the government’s right not to compensate the families despite the complicity of the FBI in the murders condoned the government’s right to murder its own citizens.  (Despite public appeal Ortiz has faced no consequence for either her aggressive handling of the Swartz case or Swartz death.)   With that freedom the government in general and the United States Attorney in particular is now in business with serial murderers, corporate interests and corrupt governments.

The “liberal” Obama administration policies now make Russia, Venezuela and Darfur look like law abiding republics.  Innocent US soldiers continue to die for no reason in Afghanistan.  There is no US interest, no financial interest, no worldwide interest.  The so-called Afghanistan government continues to steal hundreds of millions of aid dollars with the knowledge and assistance of the Obama administration.  Every phone call you make, every website you visit, every where you go the government is following; all without a warrant.  (I am surprised at the “outrage” of civil liberty groups.  When you buy a smart phone you are in essence consenting to the retrieval of this information.  Apple knows more about me then I do.  Finally, the most powerful institution in the world, the Internal Revenue Service targets people.  As someone who has been targeted by the Mass Department of Revenue (again I am surprised people believe these institutions and the people in them are “fair”) I can tell you it is pure mental torture.  Think Theon in Game of Thrones but on a financial level.  The inquiry is forever probing, never ending and without recourse; not to mention expensive.

Almost makes you long for the good old days of George Bush.  So you know what face lifted, pretty boy, one hit wonder, Adam Levine?  I agree I hate this country and its government in particular.  However, I love the people.  And someday, somewhere, some way we will reclaim this country.  We must remove hose in power who abuse this democracy to protect the interests of a few.  We must return to protecting those who cannot protect themselves; each other.

KOKO

When I was in kindergarten we learned our letters, studied arithmetic and were taught manners.  We even had contests where there were winners and losers.  I still remember losing the school-wide third grade spelling bee to Sue Driscoll on the word “cemetry”.  She got a trophy and I was embarrassed in front of a whole grade school.  You may not know it but I learned how to spell.

Now a days I think kids get an Ipad and a pat on the back in grades K-7.  Starting with day care there is an annual graduation party as if they had graduated summa cum laude from Harvard.  As for contests, no, no, absolutely not.  They are all winners.  Everyone gets a trophy.  Don’t question anyone or anything, accept everyone everywhere; be politically correct at all times.  Don’t have an independent thought much less voice a criticism or a suspicion.   As a result of the PC police our children are now less prepared then ever to deal with the real world and that’s just the half of it.

Since the marathon bombing there has been a lot of sympathy for white hat or since I am unable to pronounce his name, let’s call him “doorknob” (as in dumb as a doorknob).  The media has interviewed classmates who all say he was a “great kid”.  ”His evil brother forced him to do it” is another common refrain.  Hey folks, the video clearly shows Doorknob looked at eight year old Martin Richard and then exploded the bomb that killed Martin.  He ain’t no good guy, he’s not a follower he’s a cold blooded, child murdering, coward.  No matter how hard you try (Boston Globe) to humanize him there’s nothing politically correct about killing innocent women and children.  More accurately there’s nothing politically incorrect in calling this Chechnyan trash and his family for the scum they really are.

How about Katherine Russell, Door Knob’s sister-in-law.  Why hasn’t she been charged? After her husband’s ugly mug hit the airwaves (talk about a couple hit with the ugly stick) Russell called him.  There is no subsequent call to 911.  At a minimum for failing to alert authorities to his true identity she is an accomplice after the fact. (Not to mention the blood of an MIT police officer whose death could have been averted had she done something.  Her first public statement was about losing her husband and father of her child.  Not a word about the victims.  Despite living where the bombs were made “she had no knowledge” of any of her husband’s plans.  Funny, every wife or girlfriend I know, knows what her man is going to do before he does it.  Why?  Because men can’t be trusted.  As this excuse was not plausible she then stated “she worked 80 hours a week”.  So then how did she qualify for welfare benefits?  She lied on the application another felony.  But again apparently its politically incorrect to accuse a widow and mother of being the terrorist sympathizer and criminal that she really is.

The breaking point was the debate over Door Knobs brother’s body.  Most people thought letting rats devour him was too good an end.  Numerous media types local and national claimed this type of insensitivity gave Bostonians a black eye in the wake of the tragedy.  First, none of these people offered to bury the elder door knob in their back yard.  Second, because I don’t think a child murdering, cop killer deserves a publicly funded send-off to the great beyond I’m a bad person?  F-me??? No F-you PC media police.

We know that Saudi Arabia is the biggest financier of terrorism.  We know that Muslims from extremist regions such as Pakistan and Chechnya are more likely to be terrorists.  Does this mean every Saudi Arabian supports terrorism? Not necassarilly there are probably a few who don’t.  Does this mean everyone Muslim is a terrorist? Absolutely not.  But in the name of political correctness we are now not allowed to question or criticize people who either are suspected of or  have admitted to horrendous crimes.

Even worse we are teaching our children to give them trophies.

KOKO

“They got me on accessory/Thirty days in jail/One headlight in a Louisville night/Without a chance at bail

But I’ll be home by derby time/So please save me a seat/Mint Juleps on the outfield grass/

The old south tastes so sweet” – Band of Heathens

Despite hitting for $736 on a ten cent bet in last years’ Belmont, the financial success at Kentucky Derby has always eluded me.  With twenty horses (almost double the entries of any other major stakes race) the day more closely resembles a demolition derby than the “sport of kings”.

Unlike other sports betting which is pure chance, in horse racing the winner is actually provided so long as you are both smart and patient enough to decipher the racing form.  Short on knowledge, diligence and discipline I have resorted to three other handicapping methods.  I refer you to Jay Cronley, ESPN and America’s premiere handicapper. Mr. Cronley has almost made me as much as I have lost.

Second I look for signs from above.  Like last year the day before the Derby the MBTA number 9 bus almost took out both me and my motorcycle.  Just before giving the finger I realized God, knowing I’m not too quick on the uptake, was just making sure I knew the nine horse would be the winner.

Living with the Lovely Old Lady (LOL) the number six (as in 666) is in play every year.

You may have seen that rapper Chris Kelly Od’d this week.  As one half of Kriss Kross his stage name was Mac Daddy (the other half was Daddy Mac).  What do you know, the number 8 horse is named “Frac Daddy”.

Finally, I try and do a good deed on Derby day.  For example one year a cashier forgot to charge me for an item.  I went back in the store and paid.  Not out of any altruistic characteristic but because me honesty would be rewarded.

First : Revolutionary.  Handicapping the race for the roses is normally a riddle, wrapped in a conundrum, hidden at the bottom of a quagmire.  To quote Mr. Cronley, “rare things happen, well rarely”.  Rarely does a horse’s running style, post position and mount align for a particular race.  Revolutionary is perfectly positioned with living legend Calvin Borel driving.  When he wins it will feel like stealing.

Second:  Mylute.  Horse has done nothing exceptional but has steadily improved.  ”Slow and steady wins the race” ring any bells?  Should be good enough for second here.

Third:  Goldencents.  Normally, I feel the California horses are too soft for the roller derby character of this race.  However, he is a decent horse and whatever the equivalent is for HGH for horses he’s on it.  Remember Trainer Doug “Drug” O’Neill coming out of nowhere with “I’ll Have Another?”  The horse who then returned to no where rather than submit to a drug test.  I’m not a big fan of cheaters, unless I know in advance they are cheating.

For Mr. Cronley’s picks click here.

You’re probably wondering how my picks selected with divine intervention have worked out?   Apparently God doesn’t play the ponies.

KOKO

The first Saturday in May in addition to being Christmas for horse players marks the end of a long, trying winter in Boston.  Those of you smart enough to follow my last bit of equine  investment advice were rewarded with $736 payout on a 10 cent superfecta bet. For those of you who think that falls into “even a broken clock is right twice a day” category, I would refer you to Jay Cronley, ESPN and America’s premiere handicapper. Mr. Cronley has almost made me as much as I have lost.  But I digress let’s get to the picks:

First : Revolutionary.  Handicapping the race for the roses is normally a riddle, wrapped in a conundrum, hidden at the bottom of a quagmire.  To quote Mr. Cronley, “rare things happen, well rarely”.  Rarely does a horse’s running style, post position and mount align for a particular race.  Revolutionary is perfectly positioned with living legend Calvin Borel driving.  When he wins it will feel like stealing.

Second:  Mylute.  Horse has done nothing exceptional but has steadily improved.  ”Slow and steady wins the race” ring any bells?  Should be good enough for second here.

Third:  Palace Malice.  Honestly, I have no idea why other than a hunch which in the Derby is equal to two days studying the racing form.

Fourth:  Goldencents.  Normally, I feel the California horses are too soft for the roller derby character of this race.  However, he is a decent horse and whatever the equivalent is for HGH for horses he’s on it.  Remember Trainer Doug “Drug” O’Neill coming out of nowhere with “I’ll Have Another?”  The horse who then returned to no where  rather than submit to a drug test.  I’m not a big fan of cheaters, unless I know in advance they are cheating.

For Mr. Cronley’s analysis click here.

“The Race is On” was one of the recently departed George Jones many hits.

They got me on accessory

Thirty days in jail

One headlight in a Louisville night

Without a chance at bail

But I’ll be home by derby time

So please save me a seat

Mint Juleps on the outfield grass

The old south tastes so sweet

Band of Heathens

Not sure why women seem to be synonymous with cats.  Maybe its the whole Cougar thing? Or the fact that single woman love to surround themselves with felines, the whole cat lady stereotype.  Personally, I think it may be because felines and women are the only two species that will both without warning and repeatedly turn on those most supportive.  Think about it.  You never hear of anyone or anything else biting the hand that feeds, do you?

Ironically, I’ve found the Lovely Old Lady (LOL) to be more like a dog, a snoop dog that is.  Women are very concerned with anything that is going on around them regardless of whether or not it effects them.   It goes beyond curiosity. Also they are generationally immune to the least bit of guilt.  Let me give you an example.  ”Honey, do you have any quarter’s in your purse?”  ”Why dear you have $38.21 in loose change on your dresser including 18 quarters.”  Living with a woman is like being physically and mentally stripped searched constantly.  And no cavity goes untouched.

Guys aren’t real good at hiding things to begin with, but if you live with a woman what difference does it make?  Had a friend who hid something in his desk drawer.  Yeah, I said to myself, his wife will never look there.  He was caught in less than 10 minutes of getting home.  ”What?” he said in disbelief. Like the item wasn’t his and had got in the drawer by immaculate drop off.  The universal guy response when getting caught red-handed.

Part of the reason women need to do this is so they can move anything that’s not in its proper place.  Hid something in the medicine cabinet.  Came back the next morning.  Was like I had climbed Everest; vanished into thin air.  As I get older my not so good memory, the LOL’s snoop doggedness, and secrets become more problematic.  She constantly accuses me of “misremembering”.  Further by accusing her of taking stuff I’m not supposed to have in the first place, I constantly inculpate myself.  When she asks why was I hiding it in the first place, I try the above mentioned, “What?”.

Nothing is too inconsequential.  Had a favorite shirt that the LOL hated.  Would wear it on special occasions, like going out alone.  Otherwise would hide it deep in the closet.  Recently was a headed to a concert and went looking for the shirt.  Turned around LOL said. “Looking for this?” As she ripped the red silk/satin button down into shreds.  It’s a game I now refer to as “Hide Your Outfit”.  That’s why all of my vintage rock t-shirts are now carefully stowed.

Funny, though with their concert approaching I asked the LOL if she’d seen my Black Crowes, 1992 European Tour shirt.  She calmly answered, “No dear, I don’t remember you ever having one.”  Figured probably got lost over the years between all the moves, 1992 was a long time ago.

Weird, though her son despite being half my age and living in California seems to have most of the same t-shirts.

KOKO

Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, it’s your 2013 Boston Red Sox!

Carpet bagging owner John Henry and his two accomplices Larry Luchinno and Tom Werner are saying we’re in for a real treat this summer.  Things are going to be different this year (now I know why my Mother tired so quickly of hearing that phrase).  Every baseball scribe in Boston seems to concur (I’ve learned you can not rationalize irrational thought).  The current state of the holy trinity of Boston baseball could best be described as the broke rich guy, the Italian muscle, and the Hollywood marketing guy.  Notice there is nothing about the Nation’s past time much less the religion that is Red Sox baseball  in those descriptions.  First off, dumb (Werner), dumber (Luchinno) and just really weird (Henry) adamantly deny former manager Terry Francona’s book detailing the three idiotas (think “amigos” with no common sense) complete lack of baseball knowledge.  If Francona is lying why change anything?

By the way wouldn’t Henry look more comfortable attached to a stick in a field in new Hampshire?  At least the crows would be afraid of him.  As it stands now after the stellar job he’s done he’s afraid to be seen at Fenway much less walk to his front row, dug-out seat.

In 2004 these three incompetentes (think Musketeers without the looks, charisma or success) inherited a team one player from being World Champions.  Theo Epstein to his credit and  proving a broken clock is right twice a day went out and signed blowhard (but at least at that time hard throwing) Curt Schilling.  The end result being two long awaited (as in 86 years) World Championships.   Henry et al’s success was the sole result of being able to write a big enough check after Major League Baseball railroaded prospective local owner Joe O’Donnell out of the running.  Had Henry sold the team in 2007 he wouldn’t be broke today and Theo would be headed to the Hall of Fame.  However, Henry believed the Championships were a result of his and his management teams’ ability.  So over the next four years, ownership faced with a choice from personnel to public relations has consistently made the wrong decision.   Every major free agent signing (Carl Crawford, Edgar Renterria, JD Drew, Julio Lugo and Mike Cameron just to name a few) was an unmitigated bust.  In 2011, the players were upset about some fans actually calling them out for their lack of effort.  They were invited to a meeting on Henry’s yacht.  Henry and his two henchman assured the players that the fans’ (all to reasonable at $150 a ticket) expectations would be immediately lowered.  The Boston press was immediately employed writing either puff or excuse pieces depending on the player.

By addling and coddling this group of horses asses the owner also assured the inmates that the asylum in the form of the lyric, little band box of Fenway was firmly in the players’ control.  The players then proceeded to eat fried chicken and drink beer.  Ultimately the team lead by closer Jonathan Papelblewanotherone ended up pissing away not just the Bud Light but two series to the last place Orioles and the entire 2011 season.  The inmates’ leader, the perennial underachieving, need more than 5 off days in a week, take no responsibility Josh Beckett was unconditionally defended by ownership.

Now it would be difficult to exceed the incompetence of Theo’s free agent signings (signings which Theo now in Francona’s book claims he was forced to make at gunpoint) but Henry had the brilliant idea to blame Francona for the collapse.  Henry is out of touch with pretty much everything (as a billionaire he married a waitress).  But the Francona axing was ludicrous.  Apparently unaware that Francona had reached Brady, Ortiz, Orr, Belicheck status in this town the move backfired, horrendously.

We now have what was once unthought of in Boston: a glorified minor league baseball team.  They paid Ortiz $20 million more than any other team was prepared to offer him.  He rewarded them by emphasizing the “off” in off season.  He is now in  need of a handicap parking spot because he suddenly can’t walk. While they’re at it they should get two placards one for the “big” free agent acquisition Mike Napoli.  Often injured at the peak of his career he now has degenerative hip disease.  In the “those who forget the past are condemned to repeat it” category, JD Drew’s brother was signed.  He’s missed the bulk of spring training with an injury that cannot be scientifically confirmed: a headache.

100, as in wins used to be the benchmark in this town.  This team is a lock for 100 losses.

“Meet the new boss, same as the old boss . . . .”

KOKO

Woke up in South Boston on March 14, and the thermometer read a balmy 18 degrees. At least thanks to Daylight Savings it was pitch black at 7 AM. My SDS (Seasonal Depression Syndrome or Someone Dying Soon) has been well documented here. Freezing, angry and with the South Boston Saint Patrick’s Day parade a few days away something needed to be done. You may be surprised that I am not supportive of Southies’ biggest “family event”. Nothing says “family” quite like drunk kids falling from roof decks with more regularity than the St. Monica’s church bells. Or how about total strangers knocking on your door and asking if they can use your bathroom. Upon being told “no” they then preceded to piss on your porch and that’s just the classy broads. The day ends with Southie on Southie physical violence. The weapon of choice being hockey sticks (big Bruins’ fans) unfortunately no one gets seriously injured. It’s so “family oriented” I’m surprised Disney hasn’t gotten involved.

Road trip, I decided. But where? The Lovely Old Ladies (LOL’s) sisters (one blood and one in law) have a beautiful spot on the Cape. Plus they generously offer it to me anytime (between January 1, and February 28). But since the heat wasn’t working my invitation period extended into March. It would be quiet and maybe I’d catch a couple of waves before the Great Whites mosied up from Florida. We had trouble from the get go. Loading the surf gear resulted in a “sand dune” in the front seat. In a ten minute soliliquy on how the “sand dune” was a metaphor for my lack of concern for her overall well being the LOL refused to get in. I tried to explain that cleaning car before going to the beach didn’t seem to make much sense. LOL, arms crossed, voice raised wasn’t interested in logic.

Finally underway, the surfboard began to rattle. I told the LOL that the new car did not accommodate the old surf rack. She demanded that the car be stopped on the Mass Pike and I put a “towel” around the board. Given that I had loaded hundreds of surfbaords and she had loaded exactly zero, a ten minute argument ensued. Threatening to wrap the towel around her neck I finally closed the sunroof and turned up the radio. Didn’t do much for the rattling but drowned out the LOL rather effectively.

As we approached her sisters’ house, she said, “Don’t you need to get over?” I explained that I think that the exit had changed due to recent construction. Wrong answer. “I come here three f-ing times a month you come here never and you think I don’t know the god damn traffic pattern. Just do what I tell you.” I did, the exit was changed and we missed it. After a brief pause, I heard “If you knew the exit was changed why did you listen to me? Seriously? I want to know? WHY?!?!”.

Believe it oor not we actaully made it to the Cape. I asked what she wanted for dinner. “Dinner? dinner? now you want to blow my diet?”

Pretty sure nothing and no one going to get blown around here, not even the waves.

KOKO

Was at a surprise party this past Sunday.  I enjoyed seeing Kevin from Chicago; an avid supporter of this blog.  He requested that I write a blog about the occasion.  Given his dedication it was the least I could do.   So whose party you ask?  My ten year old nephew?  A kindergartner maybe?  No Matt’s fiftieth.  I’m not really into birthdays but Matt is one of those guys who takes it to a new level:  Birthday week ski vacation in Colorado, then birthday dinner with family, then birthday dinner with friends, then surprise birthday brunch.  If you asked him what he did for his fiftieth birthday he would say, “not much”.  He puts the “hi” in high maintenance.

I started thinking about surprises in general.  Most people claim to enjoy surprises but I don’t think that’s really true.  Surprises can be a very bad idea.  I remember in college a girlfriend from home decided to pay me a surprise visit.  Well, I was surprised, the girl in my lap was really surprised my then ex-girlfriend was the most surprised of all.  On the other hand surprises can be the best defense.  I just bought a new surfboard.  Rather than ask permission I thought it best to leave it as a surprise.

We often say we are “surprised” but in reality most things really aren’t a surprise at all.  ”We were surprised when my wife got pregnant.”  Well it wasn’t an immaculate conception, what did you think was going to happen?  As my buddy Donovan Frankenreiter says, “They say things happen for a reason, you don’t do them they won’t”.  Every action has a reaction, it’s not magic, it’s not a surprise, it’s simple logic.

Lack of action also has consequences.  Obama did nothing the first four years he was in office.  Don’t be surprised when the next four remain wholly uneventful.  President Cheney lied to Congress about Iraq’s weapons of mass destruction.  So why be surprised when President Cheney spent eight years lying to the American public on an hourly basis about the economy and pretty much everything else.

Notwithstanding the above the Lovely Old Lady (LOL) is almost in a constant state of bewilderment.  Was in Narragansett surfing for three days.  She was shocked (and not in a good way) that there was “sand in the car”.  Despite my expert analysis she is incredulous when either the Bachelor or Bachelorette don’t end in true love.  As an aside this years Bachelor was a “born again virgin”  So he banged everything that moved and then some but re-virginized just in time for the show.   Actually, I do believe you can have your virginity reinstated, it’s not called being “born again”, however, its called “getting married”.

What surprises me?  If my hat, keys, glasses, or gloves are where I left them.  Actually, I’m surprised at how much my breathing, chewing, and actually my whole existence seems to continually annoy the LOL.

KOKO