"I met the man I call my dad,
When I was five years old.
He took my mom out to a movie,
And for once? I got to go.
A few months later? I remember
Lying there in bed,
I overheard him pop the question --
And I prayed that she'd say yes.
And all of a sudden?
It seemed so strange to me,
How we went from something's missing
To a family ...
Looking back? All I can say about,
All the things he did for me?
Is I hope I'm at least, half the dad ...
That he didn't have to be."
-- "He Didn't Have to Be" by Brad Paisley.
--------------------
If you live in the greater KC area, you no doubt heard the tragic story yesterday afternoon, about how a car, driven by an 80 year old man, at a very high rate of speed, crashed into a power line, plowed into a Cadillac, which then plowed into a daycare center near 27th and Indiana, pinning three kids underneath, and damned near destroying said daycare center.
The outrage at first, focused on the driver. And that's understandable -- he's 80, possibly senile, probably shouldn't have the keys in the first place. After last year's tragic killing of a parishioner in her church's parking lot, because an 87 year old man shifted into D instead of R, it's a natural reaction.
And then comes the news today, that the 80 something year old gentleman yesterday wasn't flying through a residential street at excessive speeds because he was senile ... but because he was completely lucid and coherent.
He was fleeing a rolling shootout between the two cars next to him.
--------------------
Kansas City ranks as the sixth deadliest city in America. Our homicides per capita are worse than Chicago, worse than Detroit, worse than Oakland, worse than New York, Los Angeles, Houston, or Dallas.
We're worse than the District, for Christ's sake.
12.2 homicides per 100,000 residents, as of this date in 2012.
As of today -- Wednesday, July 31, 2013 -- 82 KC residents have been murdered, compared to 56 at this date last year.
Meaning the 12.2 rate?
Is now 17.8.
And that 17.8 rate doesn't account, for those shot, who survive.
--------------------
The sad truth, is that of those 82 homicides, virtually all of them occur within a twenty five mile square radius -- roughly from I-70 to Cleaver II Boulevard, from Troost to Prospect. And even more narrowed down, most homicides in this town occur between 18th and 36th, Troost to Prospect.
In the heart of our war zone? Is the daycare center that elderly gentleman, literally fleeing for his life, plowed into yesterday.
--------------------
So let's address this, by stating a few inconvenient truths up front -- all obvious, but not necessarily "politically correct".
We're in this mess, because of three reasons:
(a) the residents in the urban core feel hopeless, defeated, and abandoned, because
(b) the "white flight" to the suburbs has left the remaining residents of the urban core feeling hopeless, defeated, and abandoned, because
(c) City Hall and the "powers that be", have done nothing to address the problems of the urban core.
We're also in this mess, because of three other reasons, that like it or not, must be mentioned:
(a) the residents in the urban core don't give a sh*t, by and large, about their plight, because
(b) they know they don't have to lift a finger to help themselves, because
(c) the Democrat run leadership of this community, will pay for their existence.
The second set of reasons, is far, far, far more damaging to what used to be a vibrant heart of the city, than the first set of reasons.
If you doubt me? See Detroit.
--------------------
I don't live in the greatest area of town.
I live out by where Bannister Mall used to be. I've been out here for four years; I've been in South KC off of Bannister for six, dating back to what I (not so) affectionately refer to as "The Stubbs Experience"*. Personally? I have never once felt threatened, frightened, or scared for my existence. I don't fear jogging the trail near O'Hara on James A. Reed. I've never been so nervous that I couldn't enter Barnyard Liquors or the (fairly new) Cloud Nine liquor store at 10:30 for a bottle of something to get me through the second half of whatever mid-February NBA game TNT or ESPN had on. I've never been scared (when the damned thing was functional), to park my car in the parking lot, or to fill it up before the sun came up at the QuikTrip on 87th.
I feel so relatively comfortable around here, that I've walked to the B of A ATM at 5am to get some cash for whatever I needed that day ... and never once worried for my safety.
At an ATM. At 5am. In District 6. Across from an abandoned Gordman's, across from a virtually deserted strip mall that only boasts a Little Caesar's, a horrific Subway**, and some nail salon place that you couldn't pay me to enter.
There aren't a whole lot of white people out my way. You can count on about four fingers, the number of white people you'll see in an average trip to the Price Chopper, and the cashier, security guard, and manager are three of the four.
Most businesses fled here over the last decade. What hasn't left? Bannister Mall is a heaping pile of rocks, its parking lot now used as a gated parking lot for the park-and-ride folks who head downtown every day. It's so damned depressing to walk Hillcrest -- the strip mall to the west that used to house Best Buy and other assorted department chains, literally has zero tenants, and the entrance to the lot is barracaded by K-rails. To the east? The Wal-Mart sits abandoned, as of seven years ago. Circuit City is gone. Petsmart is gone. Every bar and restaurant is gone. Jesus -- even the strip club was tore to the ground.
When a strip club can't make it work? That ain't good.
And yet ... in six years out here? I've never once heard a gunshot. I've never once lived through a neighbor or a fellow area resident, being carried out underneath a sheet on the way to the county morgue.
And I've never once been the victim of a crime.
Hell, I'm typing this with my patio door wide open, since it's so decent of a night out ... and that door won't close, until I leave for work tomorrow. (Since we're approaching 90 again. Hallelujah! Maybe my Benadryl bill won't be pushing $40 this month, like July, when these "unseasonably cool conditions" made me congested like I haven't been since college ...)
--------------------
(*: hypocrisy! A certain someone's lifestyle of choice for (at least) six years and counting ...)
(**: every time I go to that place, I get sick. And yet, I keep going back, because I love the Meatball Marinara that much. I'm telling you -- a footlong meatball, on the asiago bread thingy, toasted with provolone, onions, green peppers, salt, pepper, parmesan cheese, and a side of pickles ... mmm ... pickles ...)
--------------------
Since the demise of "the worst purchase of my life", I take the same route in and home from work every day, and you get to know the people you ride with.
Since my place of employment is within sight of the Sprint Campus, there's a solid 5, 6, 7 people I see every day, either to, from, or both, who work at Sprint, and we've struck up many a friendly conversation over the last 18 some odd months. One guy, his name is Tim, looks like a reject from the 1960s. Long, stringy hair; beard that puts the Oak Ridge Boys to shame, but cool as hell, is a freaking genius (yup, IT dude), and the friendliest dude you could ever meet.
The route in, is always on time. The route home, is a crapshoot. For me, I don't care in the evening -- I have a ten minute walk home, or if we're delayed, I'll catch my connector, knock the trip down to 90 seconds, and be lazy. For Tim? He has to catch his connector at 75th and Prospect, to head to the Northland.
If he misses the 5:20 connection, or is sure to miss it due to delays? He gets off in Waldo every day at Wornall, and pays for a cab. Because "there isn't a chance in hell I'll risk a night trip through that part of town."
Meaning, the heart of KC's issues.
--------------------
Another guy on my route, Jason, really nice dude. He also times his trips home.
He lives just north of the Plaza. It's faster for him, to take the Prospect route ... but like Tim, only if it's 5:20 or earlier.
If he has his doubts, he gets off at Ward Parkway, and catches the alternate Wornall route. "I'd rather risk the half mile walk, than risk two minutes on (a post 5:20pm) bus route".
In case you missed it lately, the Prospect route has seen a lady literally chuck gasoline on her fellow passengers and try to light them on fire ... and a gang fight gone ugly, resulting in three wounded riders.
At 11:30 ... in the morning.
At 31st ... and Prospect.
Right in the heart of KC's biggest crime area.
--------------------
What I don't get is this.
We KNOW where the heart of this city's problems lie.
Why aren't we -- and by "we", I mean not just us citizens of this awesome community, but our elected leaders as well, standing up, and demanding the KCPD do what needs to be done, and saturate that twenty five square mile of rotted people and dreams, and bringing some peace, civility, and safety, to the area that needs it the most?
Where is the 3rd District representative Cindy Circo, demanding beefed up patrols, demanding that the police, whose mission last time I knew was to "preserve and protect", where is Ms. Circo demanding that the cops stand up for the 97% of the people in her district that are decent, good folks, just trying to get by, and survive the gang, drug, and crime zone, her district has become?
Or, perhaps a better question, is this ...
--------------------
For any elected leader, especially the elected leader of the free world, of the greatest nation in the history of mankind, of the most prosperous, innovative, forward-thinking country the world has ever known (the last five years notwithstanding) ...
You always search for a legacy, in a second term.
In recent history? Every second termer has secured a legacy, but not all of them good:
* Mr. Bush's legacy, was the war on terror. (I'd argue he failed).
* Mr. Clinton's legacy, should have been the "dot com" boom of the mid to late 1990s, to say nothing of being the first President since Jimmy Carter to submit a budget with a surplus in it. Then Lewinsky happened.
* Mr. Reagan's legacy is the economic boom of the mid to late 1980s ... and what happened barely a year after his forced retirement, because of his agenda and policies -- the collapse of the Evil Empire. Solid.
* Mr. Nixon's legacy, is Watergate. Not something to aspire to.
* Mr. Johnson's legacy, is the Great Society ... (note: this assumes you count his fulfilling JFK's final year, as a first term, and I do) ... and Civil Rights. One was epic. The other has led to the collapse of the urban core we are paying dearly for today.
* Mr. Eisenhower's legacy was the interstate highway system. Rock solid.
* Mr. Truman's legacy, was saving the world from a third world war in forty years, by defending South Korea successfully, and standing the ChiComs and Soviets in the face, and calling their bluff. To say nothing of the bill that rebuilt Europe and Japan, the Marshall Plan. Epic.
* Mr. Roosevelt's legacy was defeating "tyranny in our time", defeating the Axis Powers and saving the world from Fascism, Imperialism, and Nazism.
Mr. Obama? If you want to secure your place in history amongst the giants of this country, the "issue of our time" is staring you right in the face. And no -- it's not equal rights regardless of sexual orientation, although your leadership on this issue (at least since Vice President Biden forced your hand last year) is commendable.
But Mr. Obama? Noone -- I would argue not then, not now, and possibly not ever -- is in a better position, to save this nation from it's greatest crisis.
--------------------
It is not exactly a closely guarded state secret, to anyone who reads this site regularly, or who knows me personally, that I despise the fact, that Barack Obama is my President.
I am from the Clinton wing of the party. (AKA "the wing with a functioning brain".) I voted for Mr. Romney in 2012, voted for Mr. McCain in 2008. If he had nominated anyone other than sleazy ambulance chaser John "The Breck Girl" Edwards in 2004, I'd have voted for Mr. Kerry. (I swallowed hard and chose Mr. Bush ... and I regret it to this day. Mr. Kerry was the better choice, and would have done a better job. This is one of only two votes I've ever cast, that I've regretted, the other being for Mark Funkhouser for KC Mayor in 2007.)
I have never backed a candidate more than I did Mr. Gore in 2000, and my first vote ever cast for President was for Mr. Clinton, despite casting it in Johnson County, Kansas, the year Kansas' favorite son, Bob Dole, was running against Mr. Clinton.
But despite my personal (political) opinions of the President, I respect the man immensely. Mr. Obama restored a sense of dignity, honor, and integrity to the Oval Office that we haven't seen since January 20, 1993. Whatever I may think of his politics, he's a good, decent, honorable man. He's the perfect role model for the African-American community that dominates our urban cores, which are crumbling at a frightening pace.
Sometimes, and man, I hate to say what I'm about to, but it's how I truly feel about Mr. Obama -- sometimes, God acts in mysterious, amazing, "what the f*ck?!?!" ways.
Mr. Obama?
Embrace your legacy.
--------------------
There isn't any person alive more qualified, to reverse the decline of the urban core -- not just here in KC, but across our nation -- than Barack Hussein Obama.
Skip the crude jokes Senator Reid made, Senator Biden made, even the LA Times editorial that labeled him "Barack the Magic Negro" made.
What we have in this President, is an African-American man not embarrassed to be a loyal, dedicated husband. Not afraid, nor ashamed, to stand up for and defend his wife, and his daughters, and his beliefs about what they should have in terms of personal freedoms. (Note to those who don't know me: I am not pro-choice ... but I would not overturn Roe v Wade, as originally written by Justice Brennan. It is the most painful decision a person could ever make, and usually, there isn't a right or wrong decision; there's just a decision you have to live with. I'll leave it at that.)
What we have in this President, is someone that (correctly) the African-American community looks up to, and aspires to be. As well they should! We live in a nation, that when the President was born, his parents could not legally marry -- regardless of the fact his father was already married to another woman. (Inter-racial marriage was illegal fifty years ago.) Mr. Obama rose from a tough upbringing, overcame giving in to his inner demons, so to speak, in his college years, and emerged as a brilliant Constitutional lawyer, an engaged community organizer, a dynamic state and national Senator, and as the candidate who shattered the ultimate "glass ceiling" in American politics. The progress of the last seventy years, begun by Harry Truman integrating the armed forces, carried on by LBJ ramming JFK's Civil Rights legislation through the Senate, to the first President Bush signing the Americans with Disabilities Act into law, through the Supreme Court (correctly, in my opinion) overturning DOMA last month, is remarkable to behold.
And Mr. Obama now has the chance to truly transform this nation, once and for all, for a greater good.
By simply encouraging African-American men ... to be him.
--------------------
I will grant you, I grew up in a relatively affluent household, in the "Golden Ghetto" known as Johnson County, Kansas. When I was born, my folks owned a ranch off 72nd and Antioch. Then we moved across the street from Mid-America off 139th and Cottonwood for a few years, before winding up where my folks still are, in sight of Shawnee Mission Park, at the bottom of the hill on 79th Street. I have not wanted for anything in my existence, that I haven't chosen to want. I won life's lottery, so to speak.
Sadly, so many people left in the urban core, have done anything but. Look it -- we can debate all day whether the Great Society relegated a segment of our society into a permanent "underclass" role (I argue it did), but at least LBJ tried.
What have you done, Mr. President?
--------------------
I believe Barack Obama holds in his hands, the future of this country -- not just as we know it, but what it should be.
Detroit? Tragic. Sad. But gives us, as Americans, a chance to say "no, we won't accept this!" In the words of my preferred candidate five years ago: "No Way. No How. No McCain!"
Mr. Obama can lead on our issues in the urban core. He can stand up, as Bill Cosby has so courageously* done, and say "the biggest problem (African-American men) face, is us". He can stand up, and say that he'd never tolerate his daughters being denied the basics of life, based on the color of their skin.
Or better yet, he can stand up, request a special address to the Congress, as he has done twice before, to address a "grave" issue of our time. Because violence in the urban core -- 99.99% of the time, "black on black" crime?
IS the "biggest problem of our time".
And it's the graves filling up with the victims, that needs to be addressed.
--------------------
(*: you have to admire people willing to stand on the courage of their convictions, regardless. Especially when they're right, and everyone else is 100% wrong, no matter what the Reverend's Sharpton and Jackson of this world, have to say.)
--------------------
82 dead. At a little over the midpoint of the year. In the city I call home.
A 1.7% chance, based on the homicide rate, that I could step outside on any given day, at any given moment, and be killed, simply because of where I live.
Sadly, we all know, if I lived about five miles to the north and east of where I live?
That number would be far closer to ... what, exactly? 15%? 20%? 30%?
--------------------
The third dude I never fail to talk to on the ride in, is Andre. He's in culinary school, is working at the Cheesecake Factory on 119th, while putting himself through said culinary school. I see him damned near every morning, but never on the ride home, save for very rare occasions.
He's the friendliest dude on the ride in. He's one helluva guy. The only Royals game I've made all year? I went with him. (He takes the bus because his mom uses the car to get herself to work each day.) Me and Jason at one point, even convinced our fellow rider and friend Monica to give Andre a chance. (It didn't work out, sadly.)
He rides that Prospect line every morning to 75th Street, then catches the 175 out to where we all work.
Because he wants to get ahead. He wants something better. As does his mom.
As do 99.99% of the people trapped in the urban core.
What are we gonna do about it, Kansas City? Are we going to keep throwing wasted money on Power & Light, on streetcars that move two miles in ten minutes, on expanding the freeway arteries to the suburbs? Are we going to continue to pretend like nobody in that twenty five mile square that harbors 99.99% of the city's problems, doesn't exist to us?
Or, are we going to forget, that the original Gates, is barely north of the war zone at this point (12th and Brooklyn). Or forget that the original Arthur Bryant's, is on the perimeter of the war zone (18th and Brooklyn).
Or forget that when this city hit "major league" status, when MLB and the NFL moved here ... they played in the northwest quadrant of our city's war zone (22nd and Brooklyn)?
I hope Mr. Obama recognizes the opportunity he has, to truly transform this nation into what God intended it to be, through the words of Mr. Jefferson -- that ALL are created equal.
That ALL have certain unalienable rights.
Among them life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
The thugs that incompetent KCMO cops, and an uncaring public, have allowed to take over twenty five square miles of our city?
Have to be dealt with.
@MayorSlyJames? @BarackObama? @VP Joe Biden?
What is your plan, to seize the opportunity history has given you, to not just build this nation from the "middle out", but from the "top down" and "bottom up", as well?
What is your plan, to address the greatest "evil in our time", and finally deal with the collapse of the urban core, and African-American family unit, over the last 50 years?
Mr. President?
Seize your legacy.
Before Hillary does ...
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
big brother 15 power poll 4.0
"Baby, do you understand me now?
Sometimes I feel a little mad.
But don't you know that noone alive,
Can always be an angel?
When things go wrong?
I seem to be bad.
Well I'm just a soul whose intentions are good --
Oh Lord! Please don't let me be misunderstood!"
-- "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood", by the Animals.
--------------------
I have three friends that are as addicted to "Big Brother" as I am. Which, truth be told, is probably a good thing -- this show is something else this season.
Every Friday, one of those friends, my former boss at "Stevo's Former Employer", and I exchange an email or five regarding the live eviction the night before, as well as the HoH results, and what it'll mean for the house.
This was my email to open the day last Friday:
"It's Aryan Nation Week! Racists, Klansmen, Bigots, Unite in Pride! White Power! White Power!
Well, actually I meant Aaryn Nation week, but it still works, right?"
Yes, America's least beloved racist won HoH this week, becoming our first repeat head of the household of the season ... and, well, that led to this exchange, between me and "The Voice of Reason", later that morning:
"How great would it be if Aaryn put up Candice and Howard? White Power! White Power!"
Somewhere, former Senator Robert "Sheets" Byrd (D-WV), a former Grand Leader of the KKK, must be looking up with pride, as -- (pause). What? (Pause). Well of course I know Sheets is dead! Why the hell do you think I said he's looking up? Sheets did all his looking downward during his 97 years on this earth, usually at an African-American, while wearing a pillowcase to cover his face! Good grief, does the official Stevo's Site Numero Dos Non-Existant Editor not understand sarcasm and irony?
Anyways, our Ol' Buddy, Ol' Sheets Byrd (again, Democrat - West Virginia ... emphasis on the word "Democrat", because clearly, the Republican Party is the home of the racists, sexists, bigots and homophobes, like Ol' Sheets Byrd, George Wallace (D-AL), Strom Thurmond (R-SC ... but he started as D-SC), the champion of liar Tawana Brawley, the Reverend Al Sharpton (D-NY), a man who once said he wanted to "cut (President Obama)'s nuts off", the Reverend Jackson (D-IL), a man who once called President Obama a "light skinned black man with no Negro dialect ", Senate Majority Leader "Dingy" Harry Reid (D-NV), and of course the man who once claimed that "In Delaware, the largest group in population is Indian Americans, here from India. You cannot go to a 7-11 or a Dunkin' Donuts, unless you have a slight Indian accent. And I'm not joking!", our Vice President, Joseph Robinette Biden Junior!!!!)
Sorry, got off on a tangent there. Anyways, I was 100% correct, as (sarah palin voice) you betcha! ... that the two African-American players in the game are up on the chopping block as Aryan Nation Week reaches its climax! The only way it could have been topped, is if she'd nominated the "token flaming gay guy", Andy, as well, to target every minority in the house.
Oh, and America's Least Favorite Racist also got off on an incredible rant against people who were adopted last night. I mean, seriously? If EVER there is a poster child for NARAL and Planned Parenthood (founded by a virulent racist who wanted every black baby to die) in support of killing your kid, Aaryn is that poster child.
As always, rankings are determined by two things, and two things only:
a. how much I like the houseguest, and
b. how entertaining the houseguest is.
(B) will always trump (A).
Let's do this.
Key: Rank. (3.0 ranking, 2.0 ranking, 1.0 ranking). Reason.
And if you're a glutton for punishment, here are the prior editions:
Big Brother 15 Power Poll 3.0
Big Brother 15 Power Poll 2.0
Big Brother 15 Power Poll 1.0
16. David. (16, 16, 1). GinaMarie entered into a $100 bet with a houseguest this week, that she would "f*ck David" when she's evicted. Yo, Dave -- run dude! Run! Run like the wind!!!
15. Nick (15, 15, 8). One of the most forgettable contestants in this show's history. And given that I couldn't name even 30% of the houseguests over the years, that's saying something.
14. Jeremy (14, 14, 5). I did like the virtual Indy Motor Speedway tat that covered his upper chest. Other than that? (jose voice) I got nothin', yo.
13. Kaitlin (13, 10, 13). Our most recent evicted houseguest, and she went home by a 9-0 vote. She has a lovely future ahead of her tending bar in the greater Minneapolis area.
12. Jessie (10, 6, 4). Yes, she's attractive. Yes, she's possibly the dumbest contestant in this show's history, and again -- (Pause). What? (Pause). Oh -- absolutely, yes! Sorry about that. Mr. Voice of Reason, care to explain why calling Jessie "possibly the dumbest contestant in this show's history", has meaning? You do? Spectacular! Fire when ready, sir!
("the voice of reason" voice) IT'S BIG BROTHER!!!
Thank you sir. And you have no idea how much I am jonesing to hear one of your three best phrases ever*, a week from Friday.
(*: those phrases are, in order according to me: (3) IT'S PRESEASON! (2) You can never go wrong with monkeys and/or midgets. And (1) I HATE YOU FRED!!!!! I'd give you credit for shouting "Sweet Jesus, Ed Hochuli!" to him, and getting the classic "Is that a problem?" laughing response from him ... but I coined the "Sweet Jesus, Ed Hochuli!" line in "The Poem" back in the day. (Pause). What? (Pause). Oh absolutely, I'm thinking of resurrecting that bad boy every week as part of the picks column! Consider it done!)
11. Spencer (9, 11, 12). I hope he goes home this week. I'm betting it'll be Howard, but I hope this dolt is the goner.
10. Elissa (6, 9, 16). The step back is a good thing for her. For the first time, she's not nominated. For the first time, she's not MVP. For the first time, she's been able to lay low and work to develop alliances and play the game. And she's doing it quite well. Big sis Rachel taught her well. (Or she taught Rachel really well. Either way, look out America -- in the words of the late, great American Idol judge Randy Jackson: "yo yo yo dog! She's in it ... to win it! That was hot!" God I'm gonna miss Randy this winter and spring.)
9. Howard (12, 13, 7). If he survives the live eviction (and I don't think he will), with HoH highly likely to be endurance based (since the last three have been trivia / random luck events that end while the show is still live), he could move up rapidly next week. He'd be smart to target Helen, if it works out.
8. GinaMarie (5, 5, 11). Didn't do much this week, but when it's Aryan Nation Week, and you're one of the three confirmed bigots in the house, and one of the two houseguests who will exit to find out they've been fired from their real world jobs due to their racism, that's not a bad thing.
7. McCrae (8, 8, 14). Look it, I know he's Dingo's guy over at Hamsterwatch, but good grief, this guy annoys me. At the risk of revealing too much about myself ... this dude has to be the only guy under the age of 40 who doesn't get more excited, more turned on, and finish faster when the camera is on him during intercourse. Kudos to him for landing Amanda damned near every night. But for God's sake dude, live it up! The moment you start to hook up, odds are your family's gonna be at least mildly upset, so just go for it and enjoy the moment! (Pause). What? (Pause). Are you kidding me, Mr. Non-Existant Site Editor Dude? I'd finish so fast on live television, Anthony Weiner would be mocking me!
6. Amanda (11, 12, 3). She has emerged as the house's Voice of Reason, which is either awesome, or horrific. I'm not sure which yet. On the one hand, she has no problems whatsoever with living life normally with 50 some odd cameras on her at all times. On the other hand, that's kind of frightening.
5. Judd (2, 1, 10). Look it, he's my pony / puppy / rooster / rubber chicken in this contest, and I have no problem admitting that ... but his HoH week was a disaster for him. His rule was hijacked by others who created the consensus eviction. He's not good enough to win an endurance, and probably not smart enough to win a memory comp. But -- he did ask for (and receive) fried chicken, cold beer, and Hootie and the Blowfish music as part of his HoH package. No wonder he's my rubber chicken in this thing, right Zeus? (zeus voice) Bark! Bark! Bark!
4. Candice (7, 7, 6). OK, I know exactly one person who was addicted to this show (brantley gilbert voice) back in the day, and that was (go figure) "The Voice of Reason", but if you remember the original "Mole" season twelve years ago? This chick is like Kathryn (who was the Mole, and the winner and runner up (Steven and Jim) knew it almost immediately ... but liked her so much, they protected her. Candice? Strikes me like Kathryn. I know she's supposed to be the "token angry black chick" ... but I like this chica. I don't know why ... but I do. She's my second place hopeful, and my rooting interest if ... ok, fine, when ... Judd is shown the door.
3. Helen (1, 3, 15). Lost some of her mojo this week, as the other alliance has ruled the game, but avoid nomination, her closest ally (Elissa) is safe, her second closest ally (Candice) is not going to draw a vote tomorrow night, so her coalition looks good at the midpoint. It'll look really good if Howard can avoid eviction, and win HoH. Then they can target one of the other two alliances, and boot out McCrae or Aaryn, and truly have the upper hand headed into the home stretch.
2. Andy (3, 4, 9). My favorite gay guy not named Donnie, or nicknamed Joe Knows Football. This dude is hilarious. Every time he opens his mouth, the viewer winds up laughing, because he's absolutely perfect with the one-liners, and at pulling something off that is far more difficult than it sounds -- perfectly stating the obvious in a way that's funny, not condescending.
1. Aaryn (4, 2, 2). Her funniest moment of the week, came via the Friday email chain with me and "The Voice of Reason". Mr. Reason noted "she's definitely a low information voter", and figured she voted for Mr. Obama. My response: "she's from Texas, and she hates black people. She most definitely did not vote for that man." It doesn't happen often ... but I left Mr. Reason virtually reply-less.
I'm guessing it won't happen again for another six, seven, maybe eight years.
But Aryan ... I mean, Aaryn? That's how magical your run has been. I love you girl. In a completely, purely, "I'd have sex with you -- anytime you wanted it -- but we'll never be anything more than that, because you're a scary white supremacist that frightens the sh*t out of me", kind of way. Hell, you scare me in a "just to be safe, because I totally don't trust you took the pill, and I totally don't trust it isn't your happy time of the month -- I'm putting two on, and possibly three" kind of way.
White Power! Week concludes tomorrow with the live eviction. As a racist HoH is likely to successfully target, and remove, a minority player from the game.
Where's Zingbot 3000 when you truly need him ...
Sometimes I feel a little mad.
But don't you know that noone alive,
Can always be an angel?
When things go wrong?
I seem to be bad.
Well I'm just a soul whose intentions are good --
Oh Lord! Please don't let me be misunderstood!"
-- "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood", by the Animals.
--------------------
I have three friends that are as addicted to "Big Brother" as I am. Which, truth be told, is probably a good thing -- this show is something else this season.
Every Friday, one of those friends, my former boss at "Stevo's Former Employer", and I exchange an email or five regarding the live eviction the night before, as well as the HoH results, and what it'll mean for the house.
This was my email to open the day last Friday:
"It's Aryan Nation Week! Racists, Klansmen, Bigots, Unite in Pride! White Power! White Power!
Well, actually I meant Aaryn Nation week, but it still works, right?"
Yes, America's least beloved racist won HoH this week, becoming our first repeat head of the household of the season ... and, well, that led to this exchange, between me and "The Voice of Reason", later that morning:
"How great would it be if Aaryn put up Candice and Howard? White Power! White Power!"
Somewhere, former Senator Robert "Sheets" Byrd (D-WV), a former Grand Leader of the KKK, must be looking up with pride, as -- (pause). What? (Pause). Well of course I know Sheets is dead! Why the hell do you think I said he's looking up? Sheets did all his looking downward during his 97 years on this earth, usually at an African-American, while wearing a pillowcase to cover his face! Good grief, does the official Stevo's Site Numero Dos Non-Existant Editor not understand sarcasm and irony?
Anyways, our Ol' Buddy, Ol' Sheets Byrd (again, Democrat - West Virginia ... emphasis on the word "Democrat", because clearly, the Republican Party is the home of the racists, sexists, bigots and homophobes, like Ol' Sheets Byrd, George Wallace (D-AL), Strom Thurmond (R-SC ... but he started as D-SC), the champion of liar Tawana Brawley, the Reverend Al Sharpton (D-NY), a man who once said he wanted to "cut (President Obama)'s nuts off", the Reverend Jackson (D-IL), a man who once called President Obama a "light skinned black man with no Negro dialect ", Senate Majority Leader "Dingy" Harry Reid (D-NV), and of course the man who once claimed that "In Delaware, the largest group in population is Indian Americans, here from India. You cannot go to a 7-11 or a Dunkin' Donuts, unless you have a slight Indian accent. And I'm not joking!", our Vice President, Joseph Robinette Biden Junior!!!!)
Sorry, got off on a tangent there. Anyways, I was 100% correct, as (sarah palin voice) you betcha! ... that the two African-American players in the game are up on the chopping block as Aryan Nation Week reaches its climax! The only way it could have been topped, is if she'd nominated the "token flaming gay guy", Andy, as well, to target every minority in the house.
Oh, and America's Least Favorite Racist also got off on an incredible rant against people who were adopted last night. I mean, seriously? If EVER there is a poster child for NARAL and Planned Parenthood (founded by a virulent racist who wanted every black baby to die) in support of killing your kid, Aaryn is that poster child.
As always, rankings are determined by two things, and two things only:
a. how much I like the houseguest, and
b. how entertaining the houseguest is.
(B) will always trump (A).
Let's do this.
Key: Rank. (3.0 ranking, 2.0 ranking, 1.0 ranking). Reason.
And if you're a glutton for punishment, here are the prior editions:
Big Brother 15 Power Poll 3.0
Big Brother 15 Power Poll 2.0
Big Brother 15 Power Poll 1.0
16. David. (16, 16, 1). GinaMarie entered into a $100 bet with a houseguest this week, that she would "f*ck David" when she's evicted. Yo, Dave -- run dude! Run! Run like the wind!!!
15. Nick (15, 15, 8). One of the most forgettable contestants in this show's history. And given that I couldn't name even 30% of the houseguests over the years, that's saying something.
14. Jeremy (14, 14, 5). I did like the virtual Indy Motor Speedway tat that covered his upper chest. Other than that? (jose voice) I got nothin', yo.
13. Kaitlin (13, 10, 13). Our most recent evicted houseguest, and she went home by a 9-0 vote. She has a lovely future ahead of her tending bar in the greater Minneapolis area.
12. Jessie (10, 6, 4). Yes, she's attractive. Yes, she's possibly the dumbest contestant in this show's history, and again -- (Pause). What? (Pause). Oh -- absolutely, yes! Sorry about that. Mr. Voice of Reason, care to explain why calling Jessie "possibly the dumbest contestant in this show's history", has meaning? You do? Spectacular! Fire when ready, sir!
("the voice of reason" voice) IT'S BIG BROTHER!!!
Thank you sir. And you have no idea how much I am jonesing to hear one of your three best phrases ever*, a week from Friday.
(*: those phrases are, in order according to me: (3) IT'S PRESEASON! (2) You can never go wrong with monkeys and/or midgets. And (1) I HATE YOU FRED!!!!! I'd give you credit for shouting "Sweet Jesus, Ed Hochuli!" to him, and getting the classic "Is that a problem?" laughing response from him ... but I coined the "Sweet Jesus, Ed Hochuli!" line in "The Poem" back in the day. (Pause). What? (Pause). Oh absolutely, I'm thinking of resurrecting that bad boy every week as part of the picks column! Consider it done!)
11. Spencer (9, 11, 12). I hope he goes home this week. I'm betting it'll be Howard, but I hope this dolt is the goner.
10. Elissa (6, 9, 16). The step back is a good thing for her. For the first time, she's not nominated. For the first time, she's not MVP. For the first time, she's been able to lay low and work to develop alliances and play the game. And she's doing it quite well. Big sis Rachel taught her well. (Or she taught Rachel really well. Either way, look out America -- in the words of the late, great American Idol judge Randy Jackson: "yo yo yo dog! She's in it ... to win it! That was hot!" God I'm gonna miss Randy this winter and spring.)
9. Howard (12, 13, 7). If he survives the live eviction (and I don't think he will), with HoH highly likely to be endurance based (since the last three have been trivia / random luck events that end while the show is still live), he could move up rapidly next week. He'd be smart to target Helen, if it works out.
8. GinaMarie (5, 5, 11). Didn't do much this week, but when it's Aryan Nation Week, and you're one of the three confirmed bigots in the house, and one of the two houseguests who will exit to find out they've been fired from their real world jobs due to their racism, that's not a bad thing.
7. McCrae (8, 8, 14). Look it, I know he's Dingo's guy over at Hamsterwatch, but good grief, this guy annoys me. At the risk of revealing too much about myself ... this dude has to be the only guy under the age of 40 who doesn't get more excited, more turned on, and finish faster when the camera is on him during intercourse. Kudos to him for landing Amanda damned near every night. But for God's sake dude, live it up! The moment you start to hook up, odds are your family's gonna be at least mildly upset, so just go for it and enjoy the moment! (Pause). What? (Pause). Are you kidding me, Mr. Non-Existant Site Editor Dude? I'd finish so fast on live television, Anthony Weiner would be mocking me!
6. Amanda (11, 12, 3). She has emerged as the house's Voice of Reason, which is either awesome, or horrific. I'm not sure which yet. On the one hand, she has no problems whatsoever with living life normally with 50 some odd cameras on her at all times. On the other hand, that's kind of frightening.
5. Judd (2, 1, 10). Look it, he's my pony / puppy / rooster / rubber chicken in this contest, and I have no problem admitting that ... but his HoH week was a disaster for him. His rule was hijacked by others who created the consensus eviction. He's not good enough to win an endurance, and probably not smart enough to win a memory comp. But -- he did ask for (and receive) fried chicken, cold beer, and Hootie and the Blowfish music as part of his HoH package. No wonder he's my rubber chicken in this thing, right Zeus? (zeus voice) Bark! Bark! Bark!
4. Candice (7, 7, 6). OK, I know exactly one person who was addicted to this show (brantley gilbert voice) back in the day, and that was (go figure) "The Voice of Reason", but if you remember the original "Mole" season twelve years ago? This chick is like Kathryn (who was the Mole, and the winner and runner up (Steven and Jim) knew it almost immediately ... but liked her so much, they protected her. Candice? Strikes me like Kathryn. I know she's supposed to be the "token angry black chick" ... but I like this chica. I don't know why ... but I do. She's my second place hopeful, and my rooting interest if ... ok, fine, when ... Judd is shown the door.
3. Helen (1, 3, 15). Lost some of her mojo this week, as the other alliance has ruled the game, but avoid nomination, her closest ally (Elissa) is safe, her second closest ally (Candice) is not going to draw a vote tomorrow night, so her coalition looks good at the midpoint. It'll look really good if Howard can avoid eviction, and win HoH. Then they can target one of the other two alliances, and boot out McCrae or Aaryn, and truly have the upper hand headed into the home stretch.
2. Andy (3, 4, 9). My favorite gay guy not named Donnie, or nicknamed Joe Knows Football. This dude is hilarious. Every time he opens his mouth, the viewer winds up laughing, because he's absolutely perfect with the one-liners, and at pulling something off that is far more difficult than it sounds -- perfectly stating the obvious in a way that's funny, not condescending.
1. Aaryn (4, 2, 2). Her funniest moment of the week, came via the Friday email chain with me and "The Voice of Reason". Mr. Reason noted "she's definitely a low information voter", and figured she voted for Mr. Obama. My response: "she's from Texas, and she hates black people. She most definitely did not vote for that man." It doesn't happen often ... but I left Mr. Reason virtually reply-less.
I'm guessing it won't happen again for another six, seven, maybe eight years.
But Aryan ... I mean, Aaryn? That's how magical your run has been. I love you girl. In a completely, purely, "I'd have sex with you -- anytime you wanted it -- but we'll never be anything more than that, because you're a scary white supremacist that frightens the sh*t out of me", kind of way. Hell, you scare me in a "just to be safe, because I totally don't trust you took the pill, and I totally don't trust it isn't your happy time of the month -- I'm putting two on, and possibly three" kind of way.
White Power! Week concludes tomorrow with the live eviction. As a racist HoH is likely to successfully target, and remove, a minority player from the game.
Where's Zingbot 3000 when you truly need him ...
Thursday, July 25, 2013
two things ...
"I stood there trying to find my nerve,
Wondering if a single soul on earth,
Would care at all,
And miss me when I'm gone ...
That old man just kept hanging around --
Looking at me, looking down.
I think he recognized,
That look in my eyes.
Standing with him there I felt ashamed.
I said, "You know --
I haven't always been this way.
I had my moments!
Days in the sun, moments!
I was second to none, moments!
When I knew I did,
What I thought I couldn't do! ..."
-- "Moments" by Emerson Drive.
--------------------
July 25. A day of major historical significance. In 306, Constantine was installed as emperor of the Roman Empire. He is the gentleman who made Christianity a legal religion, no longer punishable by death. In 1943, this is the day the Italians rose up and forced Benito Mussolini to resign. In 1969, a band that had never performed before, did for the first time. You might recognize some of these names -- Crosby. Stills. Nash. Young. Also on this date in 1969, another man whose name you might recognize, pleaded guilty to leaving the scene of an accident a few days earlier, that resulted in the tragic death of the girl in the car with him that night. That man? Senator Edward M. Kennedy. In 1990, George Brett hit for the cycle on this day. Also on this day in 1990, Roseanne Barr delivered her (in)famous rendition of the National Anthem at a Reds / Padres game in San Diego. In 1992, the Dream Team made its' debut in Barcelona, as the XXV Olympic Games got underway. In 1999, George Brett (along with Robin Yount and Nolan Ryan) were inducted into the Professional Baseball Hall of Fame. In 2000, the Concorde crashed just after takeoff, ending the supersonic trans-Atlantic flight program. And one year ago today, the XXX Olympic Games began in London.
In 1977, "The Voice of Reason" was born.
And in 2013, the worst day of my last ... well, if not eighteen months, then possibly ever -- occurred.
--------------------
I arrived at work at my usual time, 7:40ish. I didn't anticipate any issues today. I always check my email when I wake up at 5:30am, to see what bullsh*t I'll have to deal with a couple hours later. The only two new emails in my inbox from yesterday afternoon to this morning, was (a) the Docustream reminder of how far behind I am on documenting the entries I post, and the reconciliations I handle (nothing new there), and (b) the "Deal of the Day" from the Star. It's almost always -- 999,999 out of 1,000,000 -- a great day, when there's nothing there from Seattle after you headed for home.
It was even a nice walk in this morning -- the heat wave has pretty much broken here in KC. (Well, at least compared to the last week.) A nice cool breeze, not a cloud in the sky. Great morning.
I walked into my cubicle, said hi to Joe and Heather across from me, unlocked the file cabinet I store my work computer in when I don't take it home, and fired that bad boy up, and since it takes a solid ten minutes to reach login status, headed down a floor to grab some breakfast. Even that indicated this would be a great day -- a loaded chorizo burrito, healthy heaping of tater tots, and my 55oz iced tea for barely $4. I was a happy man.
Then I logged in.
--------------------
Well, more specifically, my boss saw I was logged into SameTime (our internal IM system), and headed my way. No sooner did she arrive, than our department head called on my phone. Apparently there was an investment invoice for our fund accounts that was submitted on July 2nd, yet never processed. For the record, the invoice was not sent to me three weeks ago, and was never sent to me in the three weeks since ... but this shouldn't have been a big deal. These things happen, especially when (a) the first three days of July were spent trying to figure out why our quarter-end interface crapped out, and (b) we were in the midst of transitioning everything from here to Seattle.
Truth be told, when you're the only person in the building handling paying invoices for four f*cking departments? Things fall through the cracks. Especially when you never get said invoice. To my management's credit, they didn't blame me for what wasn't my fault.
To their detriment? Well ...
--------------------
It was a two minute fix, if even that. If you use SAP at all, you know how easy it is to process an invoice. Quite honestly, unless you have the vendor ID known beforehand? It takes you longer to look up a vendor number, than it does to process an invoice. SAP is one amazing system.
--------------------
It turned into a thirty minute "dump on my former boss" b*tch fest in my cubicle. Needless to say, there is no doubt in my mind anymore who is behind the "transition" in our area ... and it ain't who I thought it was, but everyone in the know, swore to me, it truly was. I was wr ... wr ... wrong. I'm telling you, the disgust, contempt, and (damned near) hatred out of my area's head when referring to my former boss, is only rivaled by my disgust, contempt, and (pure) hatred of two people I used to refer to as "family". It was that level of hatred. It was that disrespectful. It was that disgusting.
I had to bite my tongue and take it. I had to sit there, as my former boss was thrown under the proverbial bus. Even the person who sits across from me, was clearly not happy with what was occurring. The person I have as my "secret Santa" this week for the "heal the department" week, she sent me a SameTime when it was over: "what was that bullsh*t?"
My only response? "It was bullsh*t, pure f*cking bullsh*t".
I hope she didn't save my message, to hold against me. Actually, scratch that -- I know she won't.
--------------------
That was my number one thing from today: the purge of all non-former TA folks from my department, is fully underway, and it is what it is -- pure f*cking bullsh*t. Look it, I get it. You get used to certain people; you rally around certain people. You always have certain people's backs. I get office politics. I get politics period -- you'll find no bigger backer of Hillary from 2008 than me ... and she somehow swallowed her pride and (justified) disgust, to deliver a speech for President Obama that I would argue is her finest hour*.
But for the love of God, don't make it as obvious as it is at this point.
--------------------
(*: God, I pray this speech ... or something as amazing as this speech ... is an acceptance speech of the Democrat nomination, in approximately 1,156 days.)
--------------------
My second b*tch? For the second straight Friday, I had a scheduled PTO day ... and will instead, make the trip into the office tomorrow, for a meeting (tomorrow: two!) that I have no idea, what it is about.
This day off? I cared about. Our good tailgating friends from South Dakota are in town this weekend, and I was looking forward to a fun 48, 50 hours poolside with them, and my other good friends who choose to show up. I was looking forward to (only) my 5th day off this year, that wasn't a regularly scheduled day off. And considering I worked every Saturday until late March? I'm owed a break.
It ain't coming. I'll be in for the 9am meeting, and the 1pm meeting.
That were scheduled (at least) three days, after I requested a PTO day.
--------------------
I'm sorry if this site has become one massive "Jesus, please turn this water into wine -- this is depressing as hell!" experience. All I can say is, so many people I thought had my back have abandoned me over this last year, coupled with the bullsh*t on the job, that maintaining a happy-go-lucky existence, is pretty damned tough at this point.
But if you're reading this, you care enough to read. And I'm thankful for that.
And I'm thankful for every friend who has had my back over this last year.
None more so, than the man born 36 years ago today.
This site's "Voice of Reason".
Happy birthday dude. May God grant you 36 more, at least.
And as noted yesterday: if you read this post? God bless you. And that applies, no matter who reads this.
Wondering if a single soul on earth,
Would care at all,
And miss me when I'm gone ...
That old man just kept hanging around --
Looking at me, looking down.
I think he recognized,
That look in my eyes.
Standing with him there I felt ashamed.
I said, "You know --
I haven't always been this way.
I had my moments!
Days in the sun, moments!
I was second to none, moments!
When I knew I did,
What I thought I couldn't do! ..."
-- "Moments" by Emerson Drive.
--------------------
July 25. A day of major historical significance. In 306, Constantine was installed as emperor of the Roman Empire. He is the gentleman who made Christianity a legal religion, no longer punishable by death. In 1943, this is the day the Italians rose up and forced Benito Mussolini to resign. In 1969, a band that had never performed before, did for the first time. You might recognize some of these names -- Crosby. Stills. Nash. Young. Also on this date in 1969, another man whose name you might recognize, pleaded guilty to leaving the scene of an accident a few days earlier, that resulted in the tragic death of the girl in the car with him that night. That man? Senator Edward M. Kennedy. In 1990, George Brett hit for the cycle on this day. Also on this day in 1990, Roseanne Barr delivered her (in)famous rendition of the National Anthem at a Reds / Padres game in San Diego. In 1992, the Dream Team made its' debut in Barcelona, as the XXV Olympic Games got underway. In 1999, George Brett (along with Robin Yount and Nolan Ryan) were inducted into the Professional Baseball Hall of Fame. In 2000, the Concorde crashed just after takeoff, ending the supersonic trans-Atlantic flight program. And one year ago today, the XXX Olympic Games began in London.
In 1977, "The Voice of Reason" was born.
And in 2013, the worst day of my last ... well, if not eighteen months, then possibly ever -- occurred.
--------------------
I arrived at work at my usual time, 7:40ish. I didn't anticipate any issues today. I always check my email when I wake up at 5:30am, to see what bullsh*t I'll have to deal with a couple hours later. The only two new emails in my inbox from yesterday afternoon to this morning, was (a) the Docustream reminder of how far behind I am on documenting the entries I post, and the reconciliations I handle (nothing new there), and (b) the "Deal of the Day" from the Star. It's almost always -- 999,999 out of 1,000,000 -- a great day, when there's nothing there from Seattle after you headed for home.
It was even a nice walk in this morning -- the heat wave has pretty much broken here in KC. (Well, at least compared to the last week.) A nice cool breeze, not a cloud in the sky. Great morning.
I walked into my cubicle, said hi to Joe and Heather across from me, unlocked the file cabinet I store my work computer in when I don't take it home, and fired that bad boy up, and since it takes a solid ten minutes to reach login status, headed down a floor to grab some breakfast. Even that indicated this would be a great day -- a loaded chorizo burrito, healthy heaping of tater tots, and my 55oz iced tea for barely $4. I was a happy man.
Then I logged in.
--------------------
Well, more specifically, my boss saw I was logged into SameTime (our internal IM system), and headed my way. No sooner did she arrive, than our department head called on my phone. Apparently there was an investment invoice for our fund accounts that was submitted on July 2nd, yet never processed. For the record, the invoice was not sent to me three weeks ago, and was never sent to me in the three weeks since ... but this shouldn't have been a big deal. These things happen, especially when (a) the first three days of July were spent trying to figure out why our quarter-end interface crapped out, and (b) we were in the midst of transitioning everything from here to Seattle.
Truth be told, when you're the only person in the building handling paying invoices for four f*cking departments? Things fall through the cracks. Especially when you never get said invoice. To my management's credit, they didn't blame me for what wasn't my fault.
To their detriment? Well ...
--------------------
It was a two minute fix, if even that. If you use SAP at all, you know how easy it is to process an invoice. Quite honestly, unless you have the vendor ID known beforehand? It takes you longer to look up a vendor number, than it does to process an invoice. SAP is one amazing system.
--------------------
It turned into a thirty minute "dump on my former boss" b*tch fest in my cubicle. Needless to say, there is no doubt in my mind anymore who is behind the "transition" in our area ... and it ain't who I thought it was, but everyone in the know, swore to me, it truly was. I was wr ... wr ... wrong. I'm telling you, the disgust, contempt, and (damned near) hatred out of my area's head when referring to my former boss, is only rivaled by my disgust, contempt, and (pure) hatred of two people I used to refer to as "family". It was that level of hatred. It was that disrespectful. It was that disgusting.
I had to bite my tongue and take it. I had to sit there, as my former boss was thrown under the proverbial bus. Even the person who sits across from me, was clearly not happy with what was occurring. The person I have as my "secret Santa" this week for the "heal the department" week, she sent me a SameTime when it was over: "what was that bullsh*t?"
My only response? "It was bullsh*t, pure f*cking bullsh*t".
I hope she didn't save my message, to hold against me. Actually, scratch that -- I know she won't.
--------------------
That was my number one thing from today: the purge of all non-former TA folks from my department, is fully underway, and it is what it is -- pure f*cking bullsh*t. Look it, I get it. You get used to certain people; you rally around certain people. You always have certain people's backs. I get office politics. I get politics period -- you'll find no bigger backer of Hillary from 2008 than me ... and she somehow swallowed her pride and (justified) disgust, to deliver a speech for President Obama that I would argue is her finest hour*.
But for the love of God, don't make it as obvious as it is at this point.
--------------------
(*: God, I pray this speech ... or something as amazing as this speech ... is an acceptance speech of the Democrat nomination, in approximately 1,156 days.)
--------------------
My second b*tch? For the second straight Friday, I had a scheduled PTO day ... and will instead, make the trip into the office tomorrow, for a meeting (tomorrow: two!) that I have no idea, what it is about.
This day off? I cared about. Our good tailgating friends from South Dakota are in town this weekend, and I was looking forward to a fun 48, 50 hours poolside with them, and my other good friends who choose to show up. I was looking forward to (only) my 5th day off this year, that wasn't a regularly scheduled day off. And considering I worked every Saturday until late March? I'm owed a break.
It ain't coming. I'll be in for the 9am meeting, and the 1pm meeting.
That were scheduled (at least) three days, after I requested a PTO day.
--------------------
I'm sorry if this site has become one massive "Jesus, please turn this water into wine -- this is depressing as hell!" experience. All I can say is, so many people I thought had my back have abandoned me over this last year, coupled with the bullsh*t on the job, that maintaining a happy-go-lucky existence, is pretty damned tough at this point.
But if you're reading this, you care enough to read. And I'm thankful for that.
And I'm thankful for every friend who has had my back over this last year.
None more so, than the man born 36 years ago today.
This site's "Voice of Reason".
Happy birthday dude. May God grant you 36 more, at least.
And as noted yesterday: if you read this post? God bless you. And that applies, no matter who reads this.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
three things ...
"There's got to be a morning after,
If we can hold on through the night.
We have a chance to find the sunshine --
Let's keep on looking for the light.
Oh can't you see the morning after?
It's waiting right outside the storm!
Why don't we cross the bridge together,
And find the place that's safe and warm?
It's not too late! We should be giving!
Only with love can we climb.
It's not too late! Not while we're living!
Let's put our hands out and climb ...
There's got to be a morning after!
We're moving closer to the shore!
I know we'll be there by tomorrow.
And we'll escape the darkness --
We won't be searching anymore! ..."
-- "The Morning After" by Maureen McGovern.
--------------------
As always, I pick the theme song for every post for a reason. A really good friend, knowing how rough the last three months ... fine, screw it -- eighteen months, but especially the last three ... have been on me, got me a "mid year birthday gift" a couple weeks ago: a DVD copy of one of my ten favorite movies* of all time, "The Poseidon Adventure".
I've been playing the hell out of that movie the last couple weeks. I would guess that I've probably watched it all the way through eight or nine times in the last couple weeks. I cannot get enough of this movie. It's one of the first ever "disaster flicks" that Hollywood cranked out ... and 41 years later, it's still one of the two or three best they've ever done.
Today's theme song for this post, is the song that defined "The Poseidon Adventure". And it's a song that, quite frankly, for the three things I want to comment on, fits quite well.
There HAS to be a morning after.
--------------------
(*: my ten favorite movies of all time, from tenth to first**: (10) "500 Days of Summer", (9) "United 93", (8) "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World", (7) "Suspect", (6) "Days of Thunder", (5) "Field of Dreams", (4) "In And Out", (3) "The Poseidon Adventure", (2) "Love Story", (1) "Saturday Night Fever", the reasons why explained in this post.)
(**: mock away. I don't care. Also, if you can't tell that I was propped up next to a TV, watching a boatload of AMC, HBO, and TBS/TNT/USA as a kid and teenager ... well, then you don't know me.)
------------------
1. How is George Zimmerman walking amongst those of us who are free?
I completely agree this wasn't a racial killing. I completely agree, that the Reverend Sharpton, the Reverend Jackson, and President Obama, were one hundred percent wrong, to throw race into a debate, that isn't about race.
But, and maybe I'm just a clueless blanking idiot -- didn't the 911 Operator tell Mr. Zimmerman to "not confront" Trayvon Martin? Didn't the 911 Operator tell him to "stop following" Trayvon Martin?
And what in the bluest of blue hells is a "neighborhood watchman" doing with a loaded gun, at 7:30 on a rainy Sunday night, that said loaded gun is so easily available to be used, that he can actually use it?
Should Mr. Zimmerman have been charged with second degree murder? No. Should he spend a solid 8-10 in the general population for manslaughter? Not just hell yes, but f*ck yes, he should.
I'm outraged at the outcome for reasons other than race. I'm outraged because some blowhard wannabe cop decided to take the law into his own hands. Decided that a person's value and worth is determined by how many Skittles* are in his hand, apparently. Determined that since clearly -- clearly! -- you know each and every person who lives in your neighborhood, that he should be the sole judge, jury, and executioner, in determining Trayvon Martin's worth as a human being.
Mr. Zimmerman was told to "stand down". He was told not to engage. He was told to stop pursing Mr. Martin. He failed to heed the 911 Operator's instructions, and a seventeen year old kid with the world ahead of him, is dead as a result.
The fact that Mr. Zimmerman got away with this repulsive homicide, infuriates me. Not because of race, but because of human decency, because of moral outrage, because no person with an ounce of character or integrity, should stand for this bullsh*t.
For once, the far left is right (in their outrage). As usual, they're wrong (in their reasons why they're outraged).
--------------------
(*: as a result of the "transition" at work, I had to move to a new cubicle this week, closer to my new reporting area I'm in. And as always, on Monday, I brought in the not one, not two, not three, but four bags of Skittles that fill my personal candy bowl, that get me through the week. I had not one, not two, but three people literally staring at me as I filled that bowl with nothing but Skittles, and as one co-worker noted: "how long will it take you (to eat all those Skittles)?" My response: "five days, max. And that's because I'm gambling Ute doesn't wander over here, and cost me Friday's share." The lesson? I'm a Skittles addict. Oh, and Ute always replaces what she eats. Gotta love that -- it's one less humongous bag to buy at Target every Saturday.)
--------------------
2. Huma Abedin standing by her man, Anthony Weiner, yet again.
I don't often agree with Rush Limbaugh completely, totally, and thoroughly ... but he put it far better than I ever could.
At the risk of infuriating certain people who will read this: cheating is a choice. It's not an involuntary action, like drooling on the pillow in the middle of the night. (And as anyone who has spent a night in the same bed with me can attest: I am the world's worst drooler. Especially once I slide over the chica's way.)
I couldn't give a sh*t about a person's sex life as long as they are single, and their partner for the ten ... fine, eight ... minutes, is the same. I am single. I have never cheated on anyone (although I have been cheated on). And I would never knowingly cheat on someone. And granted, I don't post every detail of my (virtually non-existent) sex life, and quite frankly, even if asked, I'll never send an unasked for pic of my junk to anyone.
But if that is what you're into, and you're single? More power to you. You obviously love the camera more than I do. (Pause). What? (Pause). Well of course I'll state the obvious -- it's because noone wants to see, what I haven't got! You happy, non-existent editor of this site?
But someone who's married, who does this sh*t? They are seriously f*cked up in the head. Seriously f*cked up. And any woman who would stand next to her husband, if they did to her what Anthony Weiner did to Huma, is a f*cking idiot.
I have someone in my life who used to be a great friend, but no longer is, due to her choosing, note to me not even six months ago that "I will never tolerate three things from someone: a liar, a cheater, and a thief". Anthony Weiner is all three -- he lied that this was over when he resigned from Congress, he's cheated on Huma so many times, she has to be the dumbest idiot walking the planet to stay with him, and he's stolen our trust in an elected official, seeking to be Numero Uno of the most important city in the world.
Funny -- I couldn't agree with that former friend, more -- even if I tried.
Almost as funny as putting the blinders on, and acting like it could never happen to you -- like Huma, and her mentor Hillary Rodham Clinton, did ... to get to where they are.
--------------------
3. Work sucks at this point.
I've been drug into so many meetings that I have no clue what is going on with, that's it's almost laugh out loud funny.
I had a 4pm meeting today with one of our PMO folks, and literally, me, Domi, and my (the who voice) (new) boss, (same as the old boss), spent 15 minutes arguing over something, none of us disagreed on. We just didn't see it from the same perspective.
I accept that change is a part of life. I accept that times move on, roles change, people evolve.
But man, does work suck at this point.
It's to upper management's credit, recognizing the (jimmy carter voice) malaise we're in, that they launched the week we're enjoying. It's "Christmas in July", so to speak.
I am still in shock my "secret Santa" hasn't figured out who is leaving her her "present", every morning. I am in utter shock. If you've ever seen my handwriting, I have a very unique, very distinguishable style (thanks to breaking my right hand as a kid). I write with my right hand ... but many letters look like a lefty wrote it, especially my B's, D's, and S's. The curves don't match a typical rightie's curves, because I write my S's from the bottom up, and ditto the B's and D's. I'm also in utter shock, because I drew the person I did.
But I'm glad that I did somehow draw her. The look on her face every morning, when she sees the day's gift, makes me laugh out loud. I let Joe and Heather know who my "secret Santa" was, in case I miss a connection on the way in, or need a "drunk at home" day, to grab the next day's gift out of my file cabinet.
But seriously, dear readers -- sometimes life hands you a rough spot. God knows it has me, over these last three months. Hell, these last eighteen months.
But there HAS to be a morning after. We will hold on through the night.
At least I will.
I hope to get number seven on the "Stevo Looks Back" TV episode recap up tomorrow. I'm guessing I'll fail. But it'll be up soon.
Until then, good night, and I truly mean this -- anyone who reads this, God bless you.
If we can hold on through the night.
We have a chance to find the sunshine --
Let's keep on looking for the light.
Oh can't you see the morning after?
It's waiting right outside the storm!
Why don't we cross the bridge together,
And find the place that's safe and warm?
It's not too late! We should be giving!
Only with love can we climb.
It's not too late! Not while we're living!
Let's put our hands out and climb ...
There's got to be a morning after!
We're moving closer to the shore!
I know we'll be there by tomorrow.
And we'll escape the darkness --
We won't be searching anymore! ..."
-- "The Morning After" by Maureen McGovern.
--------------------
As always, I pick the theme song for every post for a reason. A really good friend, knowing how rough the last three months ... fine, screw it -- eighteen months, but especially the last three ... have been on me, got me a "mid year birthday gift" a couple weeks ago: a DVD copy of one of my ten favorite movies* of all time, "The Poseidon Adventure".
I've been playing the hell out of that movie the last couple weeks. I would guess that I've probably watched it all the way through eight or nine times in the last couple weeks. I cannot get enough of this movie. It's one of the first ever "disaster flicks" that Hollywood cranked out ... and 41 years later, it's still one of the two or three best they've ever done.
Today's theme song for this post, is the song that defined "The Poseidon Adventure". And it's a song that, quite frankly, for the three things I want to comment on, fits quite well.
There HAS to be a morning after.
--------------------
(*: my ten favorite movies of all time, from tenth to first**: (10) "500 Days of Summer", (9) "United 93", (8) "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World", (7) "Suspect", (6) "Days of Thunder", (5) "Field of Dreams", (4) "In And Out", (3) "The Poseidon Adventure", (2) "Love Story", (1) "Saturday Night Fever", the reasons why explained in this post.)
(**: mock away. I don't care. Also, if you can't tell that I was propped up next to a TV, watching a boatload of AMC, HBO, and TBS/TNT/USA as a kid and teenager ... well, then you don't know me.)
------------------
1. How is George Zimmerman walking amongst those of us who are free?
I completely agree this wasn't a racial killing. I completely agree, that the Reverend Sharpton, the Reverend Jackson, and President Obama, were one hundred percent wrong, to throw race into a debate, that isn't about race.
But, and maybe I'm just a clueless blanking idiot -- didn't the 911 Operator tell Mr. Zimmerman to "not confront" Trayvon Martin? Didn't the 911 Operator tell him to "stop following" Trayvon Martin?
And what in the bluest of blue hells is a "neighborhood watchman" doing with a loaded gun, at 7:30 on a rainy Sunday night, that said loaded gun is so easily available to be used, that he can actually use it?
Should Mr. Zimmerman have been charged with second degree murder? No. Should he spend a solid 8-10 in the general population for manslaughter? Not just hell yes, but f*ck yes, he should.
I'm outraged at the outcome for reasons other than race. I'm outraged because some blowhard wannabe cop decided to take the law into his own hands. Decided that a person's value and worth is determined by how many Skittles* are in his hand, apparently. Determined that since clearly -- clearly! -- you know each and every person who lives in your neighborhood, that he should be the sole judge, jury, and executioner, in determining Trayvon Martin's worth as a human being.
Mr. Zimmerman was told to "stand down". He was told not to engage. He was told to stop pursing Mr. Martin. He failed to heed the 911 Operator's instructions, and a seventeen year old kid with the world ahead of him, is dead as a result.
The fact that Mr. Zimmerman got away with this repulsive homicide, infuriates me. Not because of race, but because of human decency, because of moral outrage, because no person with an ounce of character or integrity, should stand for this bullsh*t.
For once, the far left is right (in their outrage). As usual, they're wrong (in their reasons why they're outraged).
--------------------
(*: as a result of the "transition" at work, I had to move to a new cubicle this week, closer to my new reporting area I'm in. And as always, on Monday, I brought in the not one, not two, not three, but four bags of Skittles that fill my personal candy bowl, that get me through the week. I had not one, not two, but three people literally staring at me as I filled that bowl with nothing but Skittles, and as one co-worker noted: "how long will it take you (to eat all those Skittles)?" My response: "five days, max. And that's because I'm gambling Ute doesn't wander over here, and cost me Friday's share." The lesson? I'm a Skittles addict. Oh, and Ute always replaces what she eats. Gotta love that -- it's one less humongous bag to buy at Target every Saturday.)
--------------------
2. Huma Abedin standing by her man, Anthony Weiner, yet again.
I don't often agree with Rush Limbaugh completely, totally, and thoroughly ... but he put it far better than I ever could.
At the risk of infuriating certain people who will read this: cheating is a choice. It's not an involuntary action, like drooling on the pillow in the middle of the night. (And as anyone who has spent a night in the same bed with me can attest: I am the world's worst drooler. Especially once I slide over the chica's way.)
I couldn't give a sh*t about a person's sex life as long as they are single, and their partner for the ten ... fine, eight ... minutes, is the same. I am single. I have never cheated on anyone (although I have been cheated on). And I would never knowingly cheat on someone. And granted, I don't post every detail of my (virtually non-existent) sex life, and quite frankly, even if asked, I'll never send an unasked for pic of my junk to anyone.
But if that is what you're into, and you're single? More power to you. You obviously love the camera more than I do. (Pause). What? (Pause). Well of course I'll state the obvious -- it's because noone wants to see, what I haven't got! You happy, non-existent editor of this site?
But someone who's married, who does this sh*t? They are seriously f*cked up in the head. Seriously f*cked up. And any woman who would stand next to her husband, if they did to her what Anthony Weiner did to Huma, is a f*cking idiot.
I have someone in my life who used to be a great friend, but no longer is, due to her choosing, note to me not even six months ago that "I will never tolerate three things from someone: a liar, a cheater, and a thief". Anthony Weiner is all three -- he lied that this was over when he resigned from Congress, he's cheated on Huma so many times, she has to be the dumbest idiot walking the planet to stay with him, and he's stolen our trust in an elected official, seeking to be Numero Uno of the most important city in the world.
Funny -- I couldn't agree with that former friend, more -- even if I tried.
Almost as funny as putting the blinders on, and acting like it could never happen to you -- like Huma, and her mentor Hillary Rodham Clinton, did ... to get to where they are.
--------------------
3. Work sucks at this point.
I've been drug into so many meetings that I have no clue what is going on with, that's it's almost laugh out loud funny.
I had a 4pm meeting today with one of our PMO folks, and literally, me, Domi, and my (the who voice) (new) boss, (same as the old boss), spent 15 minutes arguing over something, none of us disagreed on. We just didn't see it from the same perspective.
I accept that change is a part of life. I accept that times move on, roles change, people evolve.
But man, does work suck at this point.
It's to upper management's credit, recognizing the (jimmy carter voice) malaise we're in, that they launched the week we're enjoying. It's "Christmas in July", so to speak.
I am still in shock my "secret Santa" hasn't figured out who is leaving her her "present", every morning. I am in utter shock. If you've ever seen my handwriting, I have a very unique, very distinguishable style (thanks to breaking my right hand as a kid). I write with my right hand ... but many letters look like a lefty wrote it, especially my B's, D's, and S's. The curves don't match a typical rightie's curves, because I write my S's from the bottom up, and ditto the B's and D's. I'm also in utter shock, because I drew the person I did.
But I'm glad that I did somehow draw her. The look on her face every morning, when she sees the day's gift, makes me laugh out loud. I let Joe and Heather know who my "secret Santa" was, in case I miss a connection on the way in, or need a "drunk at home" day, to grab the next day's gift out of my file cabinet.
But seriously, dear readers -- sometimes life hands you a rough spot. God knows it has me, over these last three months. Hell, these last eighteen months.
But there HAS to be a morning after. We will hold on through the night.
At least I will.
I hope to get number seven on the "Stevo Looks Back" TV episode recap up tomorrow. I'm guessing I'll fail. But it'll be up soon.
Until then, good night, and I truly mean this -- anyone who reads this, God bless you.
Monday, July 22, 2013
big brother 15 power poll 3.0
"I see you, and you see me!
But you're blurring the line,
When you're making a scene.
Oh girl, you've got to know,
What my head overlooks?
The senses will show to my heart.
And when it's watching for lies?
You can't escape my ...
Private eyes! (clap clap!)
They're watching you! (clap clap!)
They see your every move!
Private eyes! (clap clap!)
They're watching you! (clap clap!)
Private eyes!
They're watching you, watching you, watching oooooh ..."
-- "Private Eyes" by Hall and Oates.
--------------------
Wow, has it really been almost a month since the nation's crappiest reality show returned in force?
Week three saw some houseguests begin to emerge as real threats to win this game. Week three also saw the budding of our third showmance of the season, which is really impressive this early on. Week three saw a lot of the usuals -- fighting, racism, yet another "shocking twist" courtesy of the Chenbot, and of course, a few new places broken in for where the houseguests can (bob eubanks voice) make whoopy.
Here then is your Big Brother Season 15 Power Poll 3.0!!! Please -- try to contain your enthusiasm out there.
Key: Rank. Player (2.0 ranking, 1.0 ranking). Comments.
Prior Versions (in case you're a sadist):
Big Brother 15 Power Poll 1.0
Big Brother 15 Power Poll 2.0
16. David (16, 1). Gone way too soon. Also, if anyone from this season is going to "step up their game", so to speak, and parlay their time in the house into a rich, rewarding, lucrative gig with Naughty America or some sleazy porn company run by Joe Francis, this is your guy. Yay?
15. Nick (15, 8). The good news? GinaMarie has finally calmed down long enough to stop crying, control her emotions, and act like a rational, reasonable houseguest. The bad news? GinaMarie has finally calmed down long enough to stop crying, control her emotions, and act like a rational, reasonable houseguest.
14. Jeremy (14, 5). Our latest live eviction, and it wasn't particularly close (9-1-0) or surprising (HoH Helen had targeted Jeremy from moment one of her reign). I kind of feel bad for the guy -- just when he finally wasn't coming across as a total asshat, he gets judged on his three weeks of being an asshat. Did give one of the best exit interviews in awhile however, showing a sense of humor I didn't know existed in him, as well as maintaining his cocky arrogance that is so damned repulsive, it's why he had to go.
13. Kaitlin (10, 13). I can't tell if she's sneaky good, or lucky as hell. Probably a combination of both. Has played a decent game so far, but for the second week in a row, the HoH nominated her, and this time, there's no PoV to save her. I think she's safe -- I think either Aaryn or GinaMarie will go home Thursday night. But I'm rooting for a 3-3-3 tie, just to see GinaMarie's action if Judd casts the tie-breaker against her.
12. Howard (13, 7). Well, he's finally starting to assert himself, and he's entered into a budding showmance with Candice. But for someone as strong and smart as he is, he's grousely underachieved so far. Circle me curious, Bert, to see where this budding Howard / Candice / Judd / GinaMarie / Spencer alliance goes.
11. Amanda (12, 3). She and McCrae had a neat conversation after one of their latest hookups this week that had me laughing out loud. Laying there afterwards, Amanda goes "most of the time, I forget the cameras are even here". McCrae's response: "I can't stop thinking about them. Which is probably why ..." (jim nantz voice) It's called "stage fright"! (Cue arrogant, smug grin).
10. Jessie (6, 4). Have we confirmed this girl is alive? Can anyone reading this name one thing this girl has done in her month in the house? Because I can't think of anything. And I'm not joking -- I literally cannot think of a single thing this girl has done, said, won, or even competed in. Time to start being noticed girl, before the rest of the houseguests figure out you're floating along. And they will figure it out.
9. Spencer (11, 12). Another week, another racist blast by our ol' buddy Spence, this time mocking Asians. I'm telling you, this cast is so screwed up, they make Reggie White look tolerant and understanding.
8. McCrae (8, 14). Well, he and Amanda are show-engaged, with the twisty tie finger ring and everything. He really hasn't made a mistake yet, to be honest -- he bailed on the Moving Company at just the right time, and the one member of that alliance who could have made his turn tough on him, is no longer in the house. Given his performance issues with Amanda because of the cameras, I think he's the least likely houseguest to turn to adult entertainment when his fifteen minutes are up.
7. Candice (7, 6). She's the first "token angry black chick" this show casts every season, that I haven't thoroughly despised by week two. So she's got that going for her.
6. Elissa (9, 16). She's four for four winning the MVP vote. This week, that isn't a good thing. The good news for her is that she won the power of veto, so she'll survive to face another week in the house. The bad news for us? Well, there is no bad news; either we're losing a racist houseguest, or we're losing Jeremy's, uuh ... wow, how to keep this PG-13 ... hmmm ... got it: either we're losing a racist houseguest, or we're losing Jeremy's trash can and/or toilet after taking Marvin Gaye up on his advice. We're all winners here. Well, except for whoever goes home in three days; in the words of that wily veteran pet detective Ace Ventura: they're a loo-ooh-ooh-ser.
5. GinaMarie (5,11). Our top five stays the same this week from last time, albeit in a slightly different order. I think GinaMarie is leaving Thursday, but we'll see. She's had a relatively uneventful week, which sucks; she's a bigger train wreck than anything my nephew causes Thomas and Friends to suffer on a nightly basis.
4. Aaryn (2, 2). Her first drop ... because she only had to racially insensitive moments this week. And my "insensitive", I mean "even my smart ass that laughs at sh*t like that, thinks it was beyond the pale". Given what Judd got in his HoH basket, I'm shocked -- shocked! -- she didn't haul out a Fuzzy Zoeller voice to ask where the collared greens where. (fuzzy zoeller voice) Or whatever the hell they eat.
3. Andy (4, 9). The first "token flaming gay guy" I've liked on this show since ... Marcellus? No, wait, the dude with Natalie and Chima wasn't bad. They were; he wasn't. Hang on, I gotta Google who he was ... Kevin! I liked that guy too. This dude is hysterical.
2. Judd (1, 10). Whoa! He was my number one last week, wins HoH, and drops back a spot? Hell yes he does. His HoH packet was epic (fried chicken and beer -- my kind of guy!), his nominations (along with America's replacement for Elissa) ensure that one of the three Klansmen in the house are leaving*, and he's kind of bonded from afar with this week's number one (who's more than earned her ranking). I can absolutely see a final two of Judd and this week's top ranking. Absolutely.
But you're blurring the line,
When you're making a scene.
Oh girl, you've got to know,
What my head overlooks?
The senses will show to my heart.
And when it's watching for lies?
You can't escape my ...
Private eyes! (clap clap!)
They're watching you! (clap clap!)
They see your every move!
Private eyes! (clap clap!)
They're watching you! (clap clap!)
Private eyes!
They're watching you, watching you, watching oooooh ..."
-- "Private Eyes" by Hall and Oates.
--------------------
Wow, has it really been almost a month since the nation's crappiest reality show returned in force?
Week three saw some houseguests begin to emerge as real threats to win this game. Week three also saw the budding of our third showmance of the season, which is really impressive this early on. Week three saw a lot of the usuals -- fighting, racism, yet another "shocking twist" courtesy of the Chenbot, and of course, a few new places broken in for where the houseguests can (bob eubanks voice) make whoopy.
Here then is your Big Brother Season 15 Power Poll 3.0!!! Please -- try to contain your enthusiasm out there.
Key: Rank. Player (2.0 ranking, 1.0 ranking). Comments.
Prior Versions (in case you're a sadist):
Big Brother 15 Power Poll 1.0
Big Brother 15 Power Poll 2.0
16. David (16, 1). Gone way too soon. Also, if anyone from this season is going to "step up their game", so to speak, and parlay their time in the house into a rich, rewarding, lucrative gig with Naughty America or some sleazy porn company run by Joe Francis, this is your guy. Yay?
15. Nick (15, 8). The good news? GinaMarie has finally calmed down long enough to stop crying, control her emotions, and act like a rational, reasonable houseguest. The bad news? GinaMarie has finally calmed down long enough to stop crying, control her emotions, and act like a rational, reasonable houseguest.
14. Jeremy (14, 5). Our latest live eviction, and it wasn't particularly close (9-1-0) or surprising (HoH Helen had targeted Jeremy from moment one of her reign). I kind of feel bad for the guy -- just when he finally wasn't coming across as a total asshat, he gets judged on his three weeks of being an asshat. Did give one of the best exit interviews in awhile however, showing a sense of humor I didn't know existed in him, as well as maintaining his cocky arrogance that is so damned repulsive, it's why he had to go.
13. Kaitlin (10, 13). I can't tell if she's sneaky good, or lucky as hell. Probably a combination of both. Has played a decent game so far, but for the second week in a row, the HoH nominated her, and this time, there's no PoV to save her. I think she's safe -- I think either Aaryn or GinaMarie will go home Thursday night. But I'm rooting for a 3-3-3 tie, just to see GinaMarie's action if Judd casts the tie-breaker against her.
12. Howard (13, 7). Well, he's finally starting to assert himself, and he's entered into a budding showmance with Candice. But for someone as strong and smart as he is, he's grousely underachieved so far. Circle me curious, Bert, to see where this budding Howard / Candice / Judd / GinaMarie / Spencer alliance goes.
11. Amanda (12, 3). She and McCrae had a neat conversation after one of their latest hookups this week that had me laughing out loud. Laying there afterwards, Amanda goes "most of the time, I forget the cameras are even here". McCrae's response: "I can't stop thinking about them. Which is probably why ..." (jim nantz voice) It's called "stage fright"! (Cue arrogant, smug grin).
10. Jessie (6, 4). Have we confirmed this girl is alive? Can anyone reading this name one thing this girl has done in her month in the house? Because I can't think of anything. And I'm not joking -- I literally cannot think of a single thing this girl has done, said, won, or even competed in. Time to start being noticed girl, before the rest of the houseguests figure out you're floating along. And they will figure it out.
9. Spencer (11, 12). Another week, another racist blast by our ol' buddy Spence, this time mocking Asians. I'm telling you, this cast is so screwed up, they make Reggie White look tolerant and understanding.
8. McCrae (8, 14). Well, he and Amanda are show-engaged, with the twisty tie finger ring and everything. He really hasn't made a mistake yet, to be honest -- he bailed on the Moving Company at just the right time, and the one member of that alliance who could have made his turn tough on him, is no longer in the house. Given his performance issues with Amanda because of the cameras, I think he's the least likely houseguest to turn to adult entertainment when his fifteen minutes are up.
7. Candice (7, 6). She's the first "token angry black chick" this show casts every season, that I haven't thoroughly despised by week two. So she's got that going for her.
6. Elissa (9, 16). She's four for four winning the MVP vote. This week, that isn't a good thing. The good news for her is that she won the power of veto, so she'll survive to face another week in the house. The bad news for us? Well, there is no bad news; either we're losing a racist houseguest, or we're losing Jeremy's, uuh ... wow, how to keep this PG-13 ... hmmm ... got it: either we're losing a racist houseguest, or we're losing Jeremy's trash can and/or toilet after taking Marvin Gaye up on his advice. We're all winners here. Well, except for whoever goes home in three days; in the words of that wily veteran pet detective Ace Ventura: they're a loo-ooh-ooh-ser.
5. GinaMarie (5,11). Our top five stays the same this week from last time, albeit in a slightly different order. I think GinaMarie is leaving Thursday, but we'll see. She's had a relatively uneventful week, which sucks; she's a bigger train wreck than anything my nephew causes Thomas and Friends to suffer on a nightly basis.
4. Aaryn (2, 2). Her first drop ... because she only had to racially insensitive moments this week. And my "insensitive", I mean "even my smart ass that laughs at sh*t like that, thinks it was beyond the pale". Given what Judd got in his HoH basket, I'm shocked -- shocked! -- she didn't haul out a Fuzzy Zoeller voice to ask where the collared greens where. (fuzzy zoeller voice) Or whatever the hell they eat.
3. Andy (4, 9). The first "token flaming gay guy" I've liked on this show since ... Marcellus? No, wait, the dude with Natalie and Chima wasn't bad. They were; he wasn't. Hang on, I gotta Google who he was ... Kevin! I liked that guy too. This dude is hysterical.
2. Judd (1, 10). Whoa! He was my number one last week, wins HoH, and drops back a spot? Hell yes he does. His HoH packet was epic (fried chicken and beer -- my kind of guy!), his nominations (along with America's replacement for Elissa) ensure that one of the three Klansmen in the house are leaving*, and he's kind of bonded from afar with this week's number one (who's more than earned her ranking). I can absolutely see a final two of Judd and this week's top ranking. Absolutely.
(*: come on -- you know, you just KNOW, Jerry Springer and Steve Wilkos are brawling right now over who gets to invite Aaryn on their show this fall for the always classy, always tasteful, always ratings-bonanza "Klan" episode. Jerry tends to do Klan holiday episodes; Steve (not me!) will have them on whenever, wherever. The only way this doesn't happen, is if Aaryn gets knocked up in the house. Then we can have a "very special" episode of "Maury", to determine which houseguest is the baby daddy! Wait, on second thought, I'm rooting for this! (maury povich voice) Andy? You are NOT the father! (cue aaryn running hysterically down the hallway while crying, then swearing to Maury that "I know who it is! I know who it is now!" I'm guessing it isn't this.)
1. Helen (3, 15). If you believe the internet, Helen is a Republican consultant. Sorry, but there isn't a chance in hell that's true. She's too calculated, too dialed in, too focused -- sh*t, she's too competent -- to be a Republican political strategist. The Republicans haven't had a competent campaign team since 1994. Sorry, but it's true. Dole was a disaster in 1996, Bush (in my rarely humble opinion) didn't actually win in 2000, it's a disgrace (given the Democrat's ticket) that he barely won in 2004, and McCain and Romney have had their ass handed to them before 8pm on the west coast the last two elections. Even 2010, a banner year for the Republicans, they still blew controlling the Senate by nominating a bat sh*t crazy person (Sharron Angle) to oppose the Senate Majority Leader (that's smart strategory!), and nominating a bat sh*t crazy person (Christine O'Donnell) to try to take Vice President Biden's seat in Delaware (even more brilliant!). And I say this as someone who hasn't voted for a Democrat for President since Mr. Gore in 2000 (although I did vote for Senator McCaskill, against yet another bat sh*t crazy Republican last year, in Todd Akin).
She has complete control of the house at this point, thanks to her and Judd's understanding and working together for a common goal: to be the last two standing. At some point, she's gonna have to deal with Elissa, and kick her to the curb, but that's still at least a month, maybe six weeks, away. We're losing one of Aaryn / GinaMarie / Kaitlin on Thursday. Odds are it's an endurance HoH on Thursday (last two have been trivia), so that favors Howard or Spencer, who like Judd, will continue to clean house as Helen wants.
She owns this game at this point, and she (and everyone else) knows it. The only question is, is she gonna peak too soon and screw this up, like Matt three years ago? Or is she gonna ride this thing to a layup victory everyone saw coming three months in advance, like Hayden two years ago, Dan four years ago, or Dr. Will way back in season two?
My money's on the latter at this point. But I'm looking forward to seeing how this plays out.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
"cd" review: matt nathanson's "last of the great pretenders"
"If I bent like you said was best,
Would that change a thing?
If I spent myself til nothing's left,
Would you still leave me here?
You're so sorry about it all
Now that it's over?
Should I thank you for that dear?
So sorry about it all?
I hope you'll always be ..."
-- "Bent" by Matt Nathanson. Not on this new album -- it's an oldie, and a goodie ...
------------------
It's been awhile since I've done one of these ... but this is one of two new releases in the summer of 2013, I've been highly anticipating. (The other one is Brantley Gilbert's upcoming effort, which I believe is due to drop in late August.)
I first saw Mr. Nathanson back in 2008 at the Bottleneck, long before he became a smash hit. You can click here to read my review of that night. As mesmerized as I was that evening? If anything, I love this guy's work even more, five years later.
(cough cough) Matt Nathanson will be performing at KC Live on Friday, August 9th. (cough cough). I'm just saying (cough).
Artist: Matt Nathanson
CD: "Last of the Great Pretenders"
11 songs, 40 minutes (approximately)
1. "Earthquake Weather". I love the sound. I just love the sound of this song. It has a Maroon 5 / Gavin DeGraw type of vibe to it. And if you know me at all, you know how freaking much I love Gavin DeGraw. I also love the lyrics. The song is about a dude who recognizes he's screwed up the relationship, and they get to you. Really solid opening track. If this is the opener, I can't wait to hear the next ten efforts.
Best line(s):
Scared dogs will bite,
And cowards cut and run.
And sun, it burns your skin.
It comes natural to be so cruel,
To be an a**hole,
To someone as good as you.
Grade: A.
2. "Mission Bells". Interesting opening. Another Maroon 5 / Gavin DeGraw style vibe. One thing I really like about it, is that every time he hits a pause, and you expect him to take it more up-tempo leading up to the chorus? He stops. He lets the verses play out, and even then, he doesn't really amp up the chorus much. Oh, song is about a dude who dreams his girl died, so he wants to let her know how he feels while he knows he still can. A little creepy, but what the hell.
Best line(s):
I'm the end of a Hitchcock movie --
A little dark and a lot confusing.
I'm the last of the worst pretenders --
So lost, so lost in love.
Grade: B+.
3. "Last Days of Summer in San Francisco". This song sounds like it could have been on "Modern Love", and especially "Some Mad Hope". This is a more traditional sounding Matt Nathanson song. I like the sound, but not as much as the first two tracks. Plus, and maybe I'm just a clueless dolt who's had one too many glasses of shiraz tonight, but I have no freaking clue what the hell this song is about. I'm guessing this won't be his next single release.
Best line(s):
Love? Noone cares
About the stories they aren't in.
We'll fade out to whispers --
It's the last days of summer
In San Francisco.
Grade: B.
4. "Kinks Shirt". Wow. Look it, I irrationally love anything Matt Nathanson does. But this is without question -- (allard baird voice) without question! -- one of my five or six favorite songs he's ever done*. Trust me folks, you are going to love this song. It's also kind of cool that he wrote this about someone specific, who he apparently met while recording this album. This song is fun, catchy, and it's gonna be a hit.
Best line(s):
It's the way she walks!
The way she talks!
I can't stop thinking 'bout
The girl in the kinks shirt!
Take me home,
San Francisco!
Can't stop thinking 'bout
The girl in the kinks shirt!
You and my imagination!
You and my imagination!
You and my imagination!
I can't stop thinking 'bout
The girl in the kinks shirt!
Grade: A+. Phenomenal.
(*: my five favorite Nathanson songs pre-this album, in reverse order: 5. "Answering Machine", a great "f*ck you!" song to that ex that you're still p*ssed about; 4. "Modern Love", if only for the epic line "who said one big exhale never did me no good?"; 3. "Come On Get Higher", which is the song that truly put him on the map, and it's so, so, so damned good; 2. "More Than This", the "Live at the Point" version linked here, and 1. "Heartbreak World", a song that has really appealed to me over this last year. Also -- his cover of "Take On Me" is EPIC live.)
5. "Sky High Honey". And whoa, did he hit the breaks on where this album was headed. Let's just say, this isn't an upbeat, happy track like "Kinks Shirt" or even "Earthquake Weather". And yet, I like it. I'm struggling to find another Matt Nathanson song to compare this to. It's kind of similar to "Bent" in terms of tempo, but not sound. Still, I like this. Not love it -- but definitely like it.
Best line(s):
No more late night drives to Boston;
No more Cure songs to get lost in.
No more taxis, subway tokens --
Arms wide open, I'm sky high honey gone.
Grade: B.
6. "Annie's Always Waiting (For the Next One to Leave)". And just when you're starting to doze off, bango! We're back to a more upbeat, happy vibe. You know what this song sounds like, honestly? The theme song from "The Big Bang Theory". It's very similar, and damned near as catchy.
Best line(s):
My life's a movie.
My whole life's a movie,
If movie's made you wanna
Jump off a bridge.
She said I got one,
Who really moves me,
And one who sees through me,
When all I want is a kiss.
Annie's always waiting
For the next one to leave;
But she's right on time
For me.
Grade: B.
7. "Kill the Lights". Wow. You'll like the song, you'll love the flow, and you'll totally and completely fall in love with the lyrics.
Best line(s):
I found religion at the record store;
I found heaven on your kitchen floor.
The church of your curves,
The ghost inside us --
The last temptation.
Kill the lights!
I'm afraid of nothing!
The church of your curves!
The ghost inside us!
The last temptation!
The night is young,
But we are younger --
Time is on our side!
Kill the lights!
Kill the lights!
Grade: A. Another phenomenal effort.
8. "Heart Starts". We're back to the Maroon 5 vibe again to open, but by the time it gets rolling, it sounds more like a Matt Nathanson effort. This is decent, but it really doesn't do anything for me. As my buddy Pickell would say, put it this way: it won't be on any of the (at least) ten to (hopefully) twelve Mixology efforts this fall.
Best line(s):
Found a dead girl to read my palm.
Yeah, she was into losing streaks,
So I let her take me on.
Grade: C.
9. "Birthday Girl". Take a listen to the first verse, and tell me if my descent into a nervous breakdown is worse than I thought, but the verses, the music, I swear, you will think of "Leaving On A Jet Plane". The bridge and the chorus? Nope, unique. But I kind of dig this. Also, the drum solo entering the final chorus, you'll immediately think of the theme song from "the little show that could", my second favorite show of all time, "Friday Night Lights".
Best line(s):
I don't know what to do,
Once this gets started.
I never meant to be
So broken hearted.
Grade: A-. A sneaky good track that you don't see coming.
10. "Sunday New York Times". This is a song you want to put on if you're depressed as holy hell. It will make you even more depressed. Very slow, very much about a painful memory.
Best line(s):
You were the saint, I was the liar.
At least that's how I remember it.
Left all our dreams, all our desires,
On the steps of your apartment.
The Brooklyn Bridge,
Your olive skin,
Framed in black and white.
I miss how simple love can be.
Grade: B+. Another sneaky good track that draws you in.
11. "Farewell, December". An interesting choice to close the album down. This song takes awhile to get going, but once it does (about halfway through), it's a pretty decent effort. I like the sound, and I love the lyrics, so it's got that going for it. But this ain't the track I'd close the effort out with.
Best line(s):
I felt alive for the first time in my life;
I held you tight, and the crowd sang Auld Lang Syne.
The sky was turning blue, like movie endings do.
This year was ours, ours, ours!
Farewell December.
Grade: B.
Overall: amongst the best $9.99 I've spent on iTunes in a very long time. Every track save for "Heart Starts" earned at least a B-, and if I'm being fair, I was probably too harsh on a few of these grades. This is almost a better album than "Modern Love", but not quite as good as "This Mad Hope". Or "Live at the Point".
Overall Grade: B+.
Overall Grade, Theismann Scale: 12-4, conference two seed.
Would that change a thing?
If I spent myself til nothing's left,
Would you still leave me here?
You're so sorry about it all
Now that it's over?
Should I thank you for that dear?
So sorry about it all?
I hope you'll always be ..."
-- "Bent" by Matt Nathanson. Not on this new album -- it's an oldie, and a goodie ...
------------------
It's been awhile since I've done one of these ... but this is one of two new releases in the summer of 2013, I've been highly anticipating. (The other one is Brantley Gilbert's upcoming effort, which I believe is due to drop in late August.)
I first saw Mr. Nathanson back in 2008 at the Bottleneck, long before he became a smash hit. You can click here to read my review of that night. As mesmerized as I was that evening? If anything, I love this guy's work even more, five years later.
(cough cough) Matt Nathanson will be performing at KC Live on Friday, August 9th. (cough cough). I'm just saying (cough).
Artist: Matt Nathanson
CD: "Last of the Great Pretenders"
11 songs, 40 minutes (approximately)
1. "Earthquake Weather". I love the sound. I just love the sound of this song. It has a Maroon 5 / Gavin DeGraw type of vibe to it. And if you know me at all, you know how freaking much I love Gavin DeGraw. I also love the lyrics. The song is about a dude who recognizes he's screwed up the relationship, and they get to you. Really solid opening track. If this is the opener, I can't wait to hear the next ten efforts.
Best line(s):
Scared dogs will bite,
And cowards cut and run.
And sun, it burns your skin.
It comes natural to be so cruel,
To be an a**hole,
To someone as good as you.
Grade: A.
2. "Mission Bells". Interesting opening. Another Maroon 5 / Gavin DeGraw style vibe. One thing I really like about it, is that every time he hits a pause, and you expect him to take it more up-tempo leading up to the chorus? He stops. He lets the verses play out, and even then, he doesn't really amp up the chorus much. Oh, song is about a dude who dreams his girl died, so he wants to let her know how he feels while he knows he still can. A little creepy, but what the hell.
Best line(s):
I'm the end of a Hitchcock movie --
A little dark and a lot confusing.
I'm the last of the worst pretenders --
So lost, so lost in love.
Grade: B+.
3. "Last Days of Summer in San Francisco". This song sounds like it could have been on "Modern Love", and especially "Some Mad Hope". This is a more traditional sounding Matt Nathanson song. I like the sound, but not as much as the first two tracks. Plus, and maybe I'm just a clueless dolt who's had one too many glasses of shiraz tonight, but I have no freaking clue what the hell this song is about. I'm guessing this won't be his next single release.
Best line(s):
Love? Noone cares
About the stories they aren't in.
We'll fade out to whispers --
It's the last days of summer
In San Francisco.
Grade: B.
4. "Kinks Shirt". Wow. Look it, I irrationally love anything Matt Nathanson does. But this is without question -- (allard baird voice) without question! -- one of my five or six favorite songs he's ever done*. Trust me folks, you are going to love this song. It's also kind of cool that he wrote this about someone specific, who he apparently met while recording this album. This song is fun, catchy, and it's gonna be a hit.
Best line(s):
It's the way she walks!
The way she talks!
I can't stop thinking 'bout
The girl in the kinks shirt!
Take me home,
San Francisco!
Can't stop thinking 'bout
The girl in the kinks shirt!
You and my imagination!
You and my imagination!
You and my imagination!
I can't stop thinking 'bout
The girl in the kinks shirt!
Grade: A+. Phenomenal.
(*: my five favorite Nathanson songs pre-this album, in reverse order: 5. "Answering Machine", a great "f*ck you!" song to that ex that you're still p*ssed about; 4. "Modern Love", if only for the epic line "who said one big exhale never did me no good?"; 3. "Come On Get Higher", which is the song that truly put him on the map, and it's so, so, so damned good; 2. "More Than This", the "Live at the Point" version linked here, and 1. "Heartbreak World", a song that has really appealed to me over this last year. Also -- his cover of "Take On Me" is EPIC live.)
5. "Sky High Honey". And whoa, did he hit the breaks on where this album was headed. Let's just say, this isn't an upbeat, happy track like "Kinks Shirt" or even "Earthquake Weather". And yet, I like it. I'm struggling to find another Matt Nathanson song to compare this to. It's kind of similar to "Bent" in terms of tempo, but not sound. Still, I like this. Not love it -- but definitely like it.
Best line(s):
No more late night drives to Boston;
No more Cure songs to get lost in.
No more taxis, subway tokens --
Arms wide open, I'm sky high honey gone.
Grade: B.
6. "Annie's Always Waiting (For the Next One to Leave)". And just when you're starting to doze off, bango! We're back to a more upbeat, happy vibe. You know what this song sounds like, honestly? The theme song from "The Big Bang Theory". It's very similar, and damned near as catchy.
Best line(s):
My life's a movie.
My whole life's a movie,
If movie's made you wanna
Jump off a bridge.
She said I got one,
Who really moves me,
And one who sees through me,
When all I want is a kiss.
Annie's always waiting
For the next one to leave;
But she's right on time
For me.
Grade: B.
7. "Kill the Lights". Wow. You'll like the song, you'll love the flow, and you'll totally and completely fall in love with the lyrics.
Best line(s):
I found religion at the record store;
I found heaven on your kitchen floor.
The church of your curves,
The ghost inside us --
The last temptation.
Kill the lights!
I'm afraid of nothing!
The church of your curves!
The ghost inside us!
The last temptation!
The night is young,
But we are younger --
Time is on our side!
Kill the lights!
Kill the lights!
Grade: A. Another phenomenal effort.
8. "Heart Starts". We're back to the Maroon 5 vibe again to open, but by the time it gets rolling, it sounds more like a Matt Nathanson effort. This is decent, but it really doesn't do anything for me. As my buddy Pickell would say, put it this way: it won't be on any of the (at least) ten to (hopefully) twelve Mixology efforts this fall.
Best line(s):
Found a dead girl to read my palm.
Yeah, she was into losing streaks,
So I let her take me on.
Grade: C.
9. "Birthday Girl". Take a listen to the first verse, and tell me if my descent into a nervous breakdown is worse than I thought, but the verses, the music, I swear, you will think of "Leaving On A Jet Plane". The bridge and the chorus? Nope, unique. But I kind of dig this. Also, the drum solo entering the final chorus, you'll immediately think of the theme song from "the little show that could", my second favorite show of all time, "Friday Night Lights".
Best line(s):
I don't know what to do,
Once this gets started.
I never meant to be
So broken hearted.
Grade: A-. A sneaky good track that you don't see coming.
10. "Sunday New York Times". This is a song you want to put on if you're depressed as holy hell. It will make you even more depressed. Very slow, very much about a painful memory.
Best line(s):
You were the saint, I was the liar.
At least that's how I remember it.
Left all our dreams, all our desires,
On the steps of your apartment.
The Brooklyn Bridge,
Your olive skin,
Framed in black and white.
I miss how simple love can be.
Grade: B+. Another sneaky good track that draws you in.
11. "Farewell, December". An interesting choice to close the album down. This song takes awhile to get going, but once it does (about halfway through), it's a pretty decent effort. I like the sound, and I love the lyrics, so it's got that going for it. But this ain't the track I'd close the effort out with.
Best line(s):
I felt alive for the first time in my life;
I held you tight, and the crowd sang Auld Lang Syne.
The sky was turning blue, like movie endings do.
This year was ours, ours, ours!
Farewell December.
Grade: B.
Overall: amongst the best $9.99 I've spent on iTunes in a very long time. Every track save for "Heart Starts" earned at least a B-, and if I'm being fair, I was probably too harsh on a few of these grades. This is almost a better album than "Modern Love", but not quite as good as "This Mad Hope". Or "Live at the Point".
Overall Grade: B+.
Overall Grade, Theismann Scale: 12-4, conference two seed.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
my last eighteen months ... and last forty eight hours ...
"I will dedicate,
And sacrifice my everything,
For just a second's worth,
Of how my story's ending.
I wish I could know
The directions that I take?
And the choices that I make?
Won't end up all for nothing.
Show me what it's for!
Make me understand this!
'Cause I've been crawling in the dark,
Looking for the answer.
Is there something more
Than what I've been handed?
'Cause I've been crawling in the dark,
Looking for the answer ..."
-- "Crawling in the Dark" by Hoobastank.
--------------------
"Steve!"
I heard my name being called out ... but I didn't think there was a chance, it was referencing me. It was about 11:15am yesterday morning, arguably the worst day of my miserable last eighteen months. And trust me, peoples and peepettes -- finding a "champ" out of these last eighteen months, is tough. There's too many to choose from.
So I kept on walking. After all, it's pushing 90 degrees at lunchtime, there isn't a cloud in the sky, and I'm already in a very foul mood from the events of the morning ... and what the outcome of those events will mean for me going forward. Also, Rage Against the Machine's "Guerrila Radio" had just popped up on the iPod, and it was almost to my favorite part, the lead into the first chorus ("F*ck it! Cut the cord! Lights out! Guerilla radio! Turn this sh*t up!!!)
Then, again, this time, unmistakable: "STEVE!!!"
--------------------
This has been a brutally rough eighteen month stretch. It started last February, when my car crapped out on me. It's outside of warranty, and I quite frankly (a) owe too much on it to get rid of it, and (b) can't afford to fix it properly. So for awhile now, I have relied on the generosity of others, the kindness of friends, as well as the good folks with the KCATA, to get to where I need to go.
Which is why I was walking two blocks to Panera yesterday to grab some lunch, in the ridiculous heat, instead of chilling in an air conditioned vehicle.
What is it that Garth Brooks once sang? "Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers? / Remember when you're talking to the Man upstairs / That just because He doesn't answer, doesn't mean He don't care? / Some of life's greatest gifts? Are unanswered prayers."
I've had a lot of those over the last eighteen months. A lot.
Yesterday? (jack lemmon's character in "Grumpier Old Men" voice) I think God finally remembered you, pop.
--------------------
Anyone who knows me knows the next bomb(s) to drop, via bowling league, and the timeline, is the ongoing Three Mile Island disaster that it is. I'll just simply leave it at that.
--------------------
Oh, yeah -- and I'm still a "bitter clinger", "clinging to my gun and religion*", over November 6th.
--------------------
(*: which is hysterical: I despise Mr. Obama ... yet I have never even fired a gun, let alone owned one, and I have serious issues with matters of faith, that lead (led?) me to just not give a damn at this point.)
--------------------
The next bomb to drop: two days after Chiefs LB Jovan Belcher brutally murders his fiance, then kills himself in front of a horrified coaching staff and general manager, a co-worker of mine collapses in the cafeteria as lunch is winding down. She stood up, fell down ... and never got up.
Doctors spent almost two weeks trying to figure out the cause. What is it about unanswered prayers? They kept searching, kept wondering what caused her shortness of breath, insanely high blood pressure, general fatigue, and rapid weight loss.
Her heart stopping was the best thing to ever happen to her, as the doctors caught the cancer, and she is thankfully beating it.
From that day until May 16th, a short-staffed to begin with accounting unit was down to two people: me and my boss. We somehow held it together for six months. We somehow figured out the annual statement, somehow managed to get through two quarter-ends, and one year-end. We somehow, through working on Saturdays, Sundays, even working well into the night, got through the annual audit (which was a catastrophe, thanks in no small part to our "fling it against the wall and pray we get it right" approach we had to take at year end).
On May 15th, my co-worker celebrated two half-day weeks back. Her favorite color is purple. Virtually everyone in the department, in a show of solidarity, strength, unity and love, wore purple that day. I wore an old TCU polo shirt I hadn't worn since I was in college ... and last time I checked, I graduated the day the House impeached President Clinton. (Let's just say, it was a little snug. And I'm not exactly a big dude.)
It's been a rough year health wise in my department at "company I work for", with four people battling cancer. Thankfully, all four are well on the way to recovery, or are already in remission.
But only three of them, remain.
And I wore that polo shirt yesterday, for only the second time, since I conned that fine Big XII institution, into graduating me.
--------------------
Of all the things in my life that have gone wrong, that have p*ssed me off over these last eighteen months, nothing angered me more than May 16th. At least until yesterday.
The day was as perfect as could be. If you remember (and God, do I ever), 9/11 was a picture perfect late summer day across virtually the entire country. There wasn't a cloud in the sky here, and it was pushing 90 degrees. Ditto in New York. Same deal on May 16th -- sun shining, birds chirping.
There were purple flowers on my co-workers desk. Reggie, from our sales team who sat next to my co-worker, had left a really neat thoughtful gift: a simple "Welcome back!" written on her dry-erase board, with a new purple Expo marker taped to the board.
Thursday, May 16th. My co-worker's first real full day back in six and a half months.
Thursday, May 16th. The day my boss, and said co-worker, were given sixty days notice.
--------------------
I got the call about 10:45am. "Steve, this is (our CFO). Can you come up to eight and talk for a minute?" Gulp. I've had this conversation before, about 8:30am on Saint Patrick's Day, 2006. Let's just say, it did not end well.
So, I walk towards the elevator bays, and I see my boss walking back, in a state of shock. So I'm guessing his meeting didn't go well with our CFO.
I walk in, and am told the shocking news: I'm the one who survived from accounting. Truth be told? I wasn't surprised people were let go. I just figured it would be me. It's why I was looking throughout the winter and spring, culminating with the single most disappointing interview of my life, as my dream of leaving all the bullsh*t, all the pure, unasked for, undeserved f*cking bullsh*t of the last (at that point) twelve months behind, and heading back to the Metroplex, blew up on me.
Just raise two middle fingers to every damned cause of my issues, yell "(blank) off!", and storm out the door. Would have been damned sweet.
But if that had happened? If I'd gotten my way? Then the opening to this post, doesn't happen ...
--------------------
The last two months, have been pretty damned strenuous. I haven't had a PTO day since March (for the interview), that I didn't wind up working somewhere remotely. I literally have to use 28 PTO days between now and December, or lose them. There are only 118 working days left in the year. Even if I took every remaining Monday off?
I'd lose four days.
The last two months, in addition to all my regular "not moving out of here" duties, in addition to having to write procedures for the tasks I have that are (thankfully) leaving, and in addition to having to be trained by my boss and my co-worker on things they did that are staying ... I've had to watch two people who took a chance on a guy seven years ago last week, and hired me at "company I work for", go through undeserved garbage every day, nonstop. In the end, it was the three of us that in many ways started this.
I'd have never in a thousand years believed, I'd be the last one of the three of us, left standing.
--------------------
If he happens upon this, so be it, but the "head" of the transition team? Is a complete ass. Cracking inappropriate downsizing jokes while the downsized employees are in the room? Of course! Yelling at downsized co-workers for trying to explain why something in a procedure matters (since my two fellow co-workers are as good as they come, and not only went out of their way to make this as pleasant and painless as possible, to avoid hurt feelings for them, but even more importantly, avoid hurting anyone who wasn't at fault for things simply happening that were going to happen. (Pause) ... (Sigh) ... why bother to state the obvious dichotomy to two people who also had the same option presented to them, yet refused to take that road.)
Oh, and the capper? After month end blew up both months the "newbies" tried to run it (it blew up so bad in early July, I was working poolside on the 3rd ... and the 4th ... and the 6th. And in the office on the 5th), and the transition team realized they'd poop canned at least one person too many, they allegedly (and it's still my favorite word in the English language -- allegedly. You can say any damned thing you want to, as long as "allegedly" is attached at the end, and it ain't libel!) -- they allegedly, on Friday, asked one of my co-workers to stay on.
What I wouldn't have given, to have listened in to that conversation.
--------------------
My life has been nothing but one gigantic worthless mistake these last eighteen months. One gigantic disaster, after catastrophe, after CYA moment, after screw-up, after "turn tail and run from him, he's toxic" dump of an existence. I literally cannot point to a single thing that has gone right in the last eighteen months, save for my new team in my bowling league. And even that was a complete fluke how it came about, because it shouldn't have happened.
And then came the worst day of them all -- yesterday. My friends and my co-workers, and not just friends, co-workers -- they're the two people who gave me a second chance I probably didn't deserve in this business. They saw past the idiotic decision I made to leave reinsurance at my former job for compliance ... and instead, see who I was pre-compliance, and realize "hey, everyone makes mistakes; you can't judge someone solely on the here and now, you have to look at the whole body of work."
"The whole body of work". It's the catch phrase whoever the committee chairman happens to be hauls out every Selection Sunday. (And starting next year, every Selection ... whenever, the College Football Playoff Selection Committee announces its four participants. Although as one of the few -- if not the only -- person who loves the BCS system, I'm kinda sad to see it go.)
I wish that a lot of people who have judged me on these last eighteen months, or the few preceding them, had instead looked at the whole body of work, and realized that a team can literally drop 7 of 11, finishing 9th in its conference, and then have to somehow win 11 straight to both qualify for the NCAA tournament, but win the damned thing, CAN pull it off. (Your 2011 UConn Huskies everyone!!!)
Steve and Carol gave me a chance I probably didn't deserve. It led to at least one former co-worker of mine at Transamerica getting a job he never would have had, as a result. It directly led to me still having my job at this point, as our current department heads are basically "getting the gang back together again".
--------------------
HR made them come in for an hour on Monday. Why this couldn't have ended on Friday, I don't know. There wasn't one credible, legitimate reason to make them suffer like that yesterday. Or to make those of us who care about them, have to see them suffer like that for one more day.
I wish them nothing but the best. If they ever need anything? I've got their backs, and they know it. True friends don't run away when the down times come for you.
They double down on their support -- for you.
--------------------
The hug with Carol was the hardest part. My route in each morning, requires me to catch the 28, then transfer to the 175. The 28 southbound is always late. 4 days out of 5, I just skip the middle man and walk to the 175 pickup 20 minutes away. But if it's pouring down rain, snowing, or hot as hell itself? Who wants to endure that before getting to work? So I'll chance the 28 pickup.
The 28 has missed the connection at least 20 times this last year. At least. And the 175 that leaves at 6:55 is the last line into JoCo until 3 in the afternoon. It's all or nothing. And it's (and believe me, I've paid it) a solid $25 cab ride, plus tip, to get to College and Metcalf from my part of town.
Pretty much every time I'd miss the connection, I'd give her a call.
She picked me up every time.
And took me home.
That's how amazing of a friend, she's been to me.
I guess now, I'm reduced to sharing a cab with the crazy b*tch who works at the Salvation Army on 115th (and she is loony with a capital L, O, O, N, and Y ... and no, I ain't referring to former Chiefs PR Guru Josh Looney) ... or ... uuh ... well ... uuh ...
--------------------
After the hug, and Steve's kind, amazing words as he shook my hand, the new reality set in.
Accounting equals ... me.
If you own stock in "company Stevo works for"? Be scared. Be very, very scared.
--------------------
Speaking of "be scared" -- please, spare me. I am the first one to admit, I am on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown. I've been dealing with crap from work, crap from friends, crap from family, and crap from my general crappy existence, without a break in the downward cycle, for eighteen straight months. No breaks. It just keeps getting worse.
I can legitimately argue that every day since February 11th 2012 (when my car crapped out), to yesterday? Has been worse than the day before.
I've always kind of been "out there", and I've always had issues with depression ... but never like this. I do not remember the last time I slept past 3:30am on a workday evening, I'm so stressed over what has to be done, what has to get accomplished, what is now squarely on my shoulders.
And readers? The next time I go to bed before 10:15pm on a weeknight, is the first in a long time. I literally cannot sleep, I'm so stressed out over sh*t.
Is my drinking worse than it's ever been? That's debatable. It was pretty damned bad as my gambling addiction reached its zenith ten years ago ... but I'd say yes, it's worse. And I mean good grief, when I'm saying "hey, I really need to scale back here", and it's ME we're talking about? That ain't good.
The depression? Was so bad last Wednesday that I asked for a "work from home" day. I literally left my bed twice -- once to grab my phone to make the request (which was granted), once to grab my laptop. It was 92 degrees last Wednesday. I laid under an electric blanket, with a comforter, and never produced a drop of sweat.
Those of you who know me well, know that it could be negative 26 and snowing, and I'd sweat through everything I had on, when I'm in a normal state of mind.
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Which I was not Monday.
After my co-workers left, I finally reached my breaking point.
I walked out of the building a little after 10am. I walked 112th Street up and down, up and down, from Black and Veatch, to Metcalf, then back again, getting angrier, talking out my frustrations.
Not a drop of sweat.
And I even put a little towel in my pocket, to dry off if I needed to.
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I talked to my mom Sunday night. If there's one positive about these last eighteen months (and there are a couple ... albeit you gotta look for them), it's that she and I have reconnected in a way we haven't felt about each other, since I was in college, and we used to close the weekend down on Sunday night over a couple bottles of wine, some BLT sandwiches, and some strawberry shortcake out on the back deck.
To be quite frank, my lack of legitimate religious belief is the source of our tensions. My mom is a devoutly religious person. But out of respect for me, she'll sometimes push the "now, how about going to a service on Sunday" question my way ... and then let it go, once I shoot it down.
I spent Sunday doing what I do best: enjoying some vodka tonics in the pool, while watching Kasey Kahne continue to destroy his Chase chances by letting every driver right behind him win a race. (You gotta win Indy dude. You GOT to.) Donnie dropped me off at home around 5ish after one helluva fun day, and one helluva good dinner. My mom called me right at 7pm, which annoyed me at first, because that's when "Big Brother" begins ... but something (I'm guessing golf) ran over on CBS, so everything was 25 minutes behind schedule.
She didn't have much to say. Which is a rarity for her -- I get my gift of "rambling on pointlessly for far too long" from her. But she did say this:
"I know you are going to laugh at me, or make fun of me, but I don't care. And I know you won't do this, but I feel like you need to hear this."
My (internal) response: "oh, this outta be something."
"I didn't look; I just feel like you are supposed to read this. Psalm 56:9. See if I heard right. Love ya son. Hang in there! Your dad and I are always here for you, whenever you need us."
Hmmm.
Circle me intrigued, Bert.
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"The very day I call for help, the tide of battle turns. My enemies flee. This one thing I know -- God is for me." -- Psalm 56:9.
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Needless to say, after my last eighteen months -- to say nothing of the eighteen before it -- I had my doubts.
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But I wrote it down, and stuck it in my pocket. And I know, I know -- I am NOT a devoutly religious person. I am not someone who is going to suddenly start, like, acting like those IHOP folks who move into communes and give all their money to the church, and spend 21 hours a day doing whatever the hell weird sh*t they do out there. (For one thing, I have no money to give them (rimshot!).)
But I admire people who are, believe it or not. And I know this -- if my mommy tells me to read something, I'm taking it under strong advisement.
So I took a chance on that rant / walk yesterday.
"God, I know I deserve nothing, and quite frankly, I doubt you care. But please -- this has to stop. I cannot take anything else. I'm literally as broken as I've ever been. I need the hurt to stop. I need people hurting me, turning on me, and hurting because of me, to stop. I need one absolute good. Just one. I need just one -- just one -- reason to keep on fighting in this life."
"Just one. However small, whatever it may be -- just one."
Cue the walk to Panera, after that simple "yeah, right" prayer of "faith".
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I suppose, in a sick way, God acted even before that.
I have a buddy of mine, who I am not particularly close with ... but who I immensely respect. He's gone through a really rough patch these last couple years as well. With the roughest coming two Saturdays ago, as he and his wife lost their son two hours after his birth.
I cannot imagine the devastation, the heartache, the pain he and his family must be going through. He's the second friend of mine from high school, to lose a child before the age of one.
Luke reached out to me on Facebook last week after seeing my comments about how I hate the downsizing going on, out of concern I'd lost my job, and "if I can do anything for you, let me know. Let's meet up and talk sometime. You can buy a round!"
In his grief? He reached out to me, in my pain ... that honestly? Didn't truly directly affect me at all. Nothing like his.
I wish I had his character.
I wish I believed in God, like he does.
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"STEVE!!!"
After hearing my name a second time, I pulled the earphones out, and turned around.
Jose.
Wait. What?!?!?!
What are the f*cking odds, I mean, what are the f*cking odds, that on a random Monday, in the middle of July, the worst day of my professional existence, the hardest day on the job I've ever had, that a buddy of mine who has had my back through thick and thin, that I'm not especially close with, but had just seen a couple weeks ago at the pool ... (and had to endure the raiders debacle last year with ... and the year before ... and ... hell, you get the point: they've won six straight at Arrowhead) ... and whose really good friends are coming in town next weekend for a weekend at the pool ... I mean, do I have to say it again?
(fidelity ad guy voice) why not?
What are the f*cking odds, that a random copier at FedEx Kinkos, at College and Metcalf, breaks down at 10:40ish in the morning, and he pulls in right as I'm arriving, and he turns around and looks right, instead of straight ahead, entering the job he had to work?
What are the f*cking odds?
--------------------
Three things immediately happened, upon turning around, and seeing a friend, not even ten minutes after I reached my lowest point in eleven years (and those of you who know me best, know I consider asking God to ask someone He has no reason whatsoever to give a sh*t about, as a low, low, low, low moment. I cannot stress this enough: I hate -- and I mean HATE -- people who demand things out of others, they refuse to give of themselves. Hence my current feud with a few friends. Wait. I promised I'd stop. Moving on.)
1. I smiled -- not just smiled, I laughed. I do not remember the last time I smiled, laughed, or felt jovial, for anything other than a "remember when ..." or a "Donny Airport Check-in Story*", over these last eighteen months.
2. Something random happened to me -- out of nowhere, completely unanticipated, unexpected, utterly stunning -- that wasn't 100% an absolute evil, at least in my eyes. For the first time in nearly 540 days, life seemed worth living. And
3. From the moment I shook Jose's hand, and headed off to grab lunch, while he headed off to the "Krisis at Kinkos" (sk: yeah -- HORRIBLE pun title. Pardon me, Mr. Barkley? (chuck barkley voice) TURRIBLE!)?
For the first time in eleven months, right to the godd*mned day my anger, hatred, rage, and disgust truly, truly started, nearly six months after all this (seventh day adventist voice) "fertilizer" started ... I wasn't angry anymore. I wasn't p*ssed off anymore. I didn't feel hatred anymore. I felt ... ok. I felt ... normal.
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(*: his check-in stories, are legends at the pool. And for damned good reason. To say nothing of him seeing my buddy Damien for the first time. There's hilarity ... and then there's hilarity.)
--------------------
Gotta admit, that's the best "You Pick Two" I've had in awhile. The smokehouse turkey panini, a hearty cup of chicken noodle soup, some kind of crap-tacular apple, and the real reason I showed up at Panera, that purple iced tea they have that I'd probably at least give up one of my kidneys for. (I mean, really, like my kidneys -- let alone liver -- is gonna survive the "abuse years" of the 1990s ... 2000s ... 2010s ... oh who am I kidding, 2020s ...)
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Please -- don't read into this some kind of religious revelation. I'm still skeptical ... but for the first time in eleven years, I'm willing to listen.
My life cannot keep going on like this. For starters, my Tuesday counselor session bills are not cheap. (Judge if you want -- but even Tony Soprano, paid for mental therapy.) But they help. Even if, truth be told, I can't afford them. ("Company I work for"'s EAP program is sh*ttier than a port-a-potty in the Indy infield come lap 165 of the 500. And sadly ... anyone who has ever spent a 500 in the infield, is nodding "yup" at that comment.)
I cannot do anti-depressants. I was put on Zoloft three summers ago. I was so f*cked up eight ways from Sunday, I had a dear friend literally say, "come talk with me, now", and her first question was "what the f*ck are you on? You are not all here anymore!"
Well, she was wrong about one thing.
I am still here.
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And to the two of you who expressed concern that my recent setbacks have led to recontemplate something I would never, uuh, recontemplate ... I haven't.
That column hit so many of you in ways, I never imagined possible.
If anything? You readers' reactions to my open honesty ... is why I'm still here.
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I'm almost done venting. I tried to keep this as neutral as possible ... but I'm sure I failed. So let me say four things in closing:
1. Until you're as down as I've been, you will never grasp, nor understand, how much a simple "hey, how are you? Was thinking about you, hope you're good" text or email means.
I have sixpeople friends who, over the last year, have reached out to me in their own way, to let me know, either daily, or weekly, or seemingly whenever I need to know it, that I matter. That they care about me, no matter what our issues are.
To "The Voice of Reason", you have no idea how much your "start off the morning with the funniest story on Drudge, link on Twitter, or outrageous PFT link" emails mean. Every day, you check in, to make sure I'm still here. Don't think for a second, I don't notice that.
To my brother, ditto.
To Russ and Mona, you have no idea how much the weekly "hey just seeing how you're doing ... you know the pool's open this weekend ... you need a ride let us know ... no, don't bring anything other than you -- you're what matters to us!" phone call means. Usually on Thursdays ... this week it was tonight.
Again: "what are the f*cking odds" ...
To "Joe Knows": proof there is a God.
And to Debbie: further proof there is a God.
2. Your true, core friends have your back, no matter what ... even if you never see the support coming.
May 16th, the day my department downsized. I left my meeting with our CFO, and (go figure) headed out to vent the well-paved, well-manicured sidewalks of 112th Street. Another 90 minutes wasted ... without getting wasted.
I headed back in around 1pm-ish ... and I had a Route 44 strawberry limeaid sitting on my desk. And within 15 seconds, I had the following people come up to commiserate the decisions of that day: DeNeece, Joe, Heather, Bettie, Reggie, Susie, and Ute ...
and Penny.
#teammatesforlive? Hell (blanking) yes we are.
3. Sometimes, people lose their sense of direction. Don't judge them at their lowest point -- judge them on their body of work.
Wait, I'm typing this on my deck while sweating out whatever I'm drinking on a relatively warm KC July evening. (The answer, for the record, is "Barefoot Moscato". Damn it's addicting.) So my "body" is probably needing some "work" right now.
But not physically. Definitely mentally. And definitely personally.
Simply put: I have not been the person I used to be. Not even close. I have a lot of work to do, to regain the trust of (at least) three people who have meant the world to me, that I have done wrong by over the last eighteen months. I recognize it.
But most of all ...
4. (leroy jethro gibbs voice) Rule 51: Sometimes? You're wrong.
I have hurt three people I (and they) have referred to as "The Family" over the last eighteen months with my trials, tribulations, and failures. I have hurt the ones I love, the ones you love, and all our common friends. Through my own arrogance and selfishness, I have forced people to pick sides.
And I could not have been more wrong.
Could my life be better at this point? Cue the "no sh*t, Sherlock!" voice.
Could I have made better decisions, better choices, better ... anything and everything? Yes.
And I have hurt countless others with my wrong decisions, idiotic decisions, and refusal to let on how rough things have been at the Casa de Stevo.
I won't ask you to forgive me for my failings. If I can't forgive myself, it's beyond hypocritical, to ask you to forgive me.
I simply ask for a second chance. My last eighteen months, (mostly) detailed above? Noone reading this, would want to endure.
I have.
I believe my mom called me for a reason. I believe that specific verse of Scripture was picked for me, for a reason.
Because despite every flaw, failure, and inability to do right I have within me?
Someone cares enough, to fight for me.
I am so humbled that apparently, even if in my mind only, that the person my dad would note "is the one still throwing punches after you're passed out on the barroom floor?"
Is someone I didn't even know, nor ever suspected, gave a sh*t about me.
That's what today meant for me: a friend I met 11 years ago at a random tailgate at Arrowhead ... took the time to let me know I mattered. Selfish? Sure. Pointless? Possibly.
Unforgettable? Hell (blanking) no ...
And sacrifice my everything,
For just a second's worth,
Of how my story's ending.
I wish I could know
The directions that I take?
And the choices that I make?
Won't end up all for nothing.
Show me what it's for!
Make me understand this!
'Cause I've been crawling in the dark,
Looking for the answer.
Is there something more
Than what I've been handed?
'Cause I've been crawling in the dark,
Looking for the answer ..."
-- "Crawling in the Dark" by Hoobastank.
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"Steve!"
I heard my name being called out ... but I didn't think there was a chance, it was referencing me. It was about 11:15am yesterday morning, arguably the worst day of my miserable last eighteen months. And trust me, peoples and peepettes -- finding a "champ" out of these last eighteen months, is tough. There's too many to choose from.
So I kept on walking. After all, it's pushing 90 degrees at lunchtime, there isn't a cloud in the sky, and I'm already in a very foul mood from the events of the morning ... and what the outcome of those events will mean for me going forward. Also, Rage Against the Machine's "Guerrila Radio" had just popped up on the iPod, and it was almost to my favorite part, the lead into the first chorus ("F*ck it! Cut the cord! Lights out! Guerilla radio! Turn this sh*t up!!!)
Then, again, this time, unmistakable: "STEVE!!!"
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This has been a brutally rough eighteen month stretch. It started last February, when my car crapped out on me. It's outside of warranty, and I quite frankly (a) owe too much on it to get rid of it, and (b) can't afford to fix it properly. So for awhile now, I have relied on the generosity of others, the kindness of friends, as well as the good folks with the KCATA, to get to where I need to go.
Which is why I was walking two blocks to Panera yesterday to grab some lunch, in the ridiculous heat, instead of chilling in an air conditioned vehicle.
What is it that Garth Brooks once sang? "Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers? / Remember when you're talking to the Man upstairs / That just because He doesn't answer, doesn't mean He don't care? / Some of life's greatest gifts? Are unanswered prayers."
I've had a lot of those over the last eighteen months. A lot.
Yesterday? (jack lemmon's character in "Grumpier Old Men" voice) I think God finally remembered you, pop.
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Anyone who knows me knows the next bomb(s) to drop, via bowling league, and the timeline, is the ongoing Three Mile Island disaster that it is. I'll just simply leave it at that.
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Oh, yeah -- and I'm still a "bitter clinger", "clinging to my gun and religion*", over November 6th.
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(*: which is hysterical: I despise Mr. Obama ... yet I have never even fired a gun, let alone owned one, and I have serious issues with matters of faith, that lead (led?) me to just not give a damn at this point.)
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The next bomb to drop: two days after Chiefs LB Jovan Belcher brutally murders his fiance, then kills himself in front of a horrified coaching staff and general manager, a co-worker of mine collapses in the cafeteria as lunch is winding down. She stood up, fell down ... and never got up.
Doctors spent almost two weeks trying to figure out the cause. What is it about unanswered prayers? They kept searching, kept wondering what caused her shortness of breath, insanely high blood pressure, general fatigue, and rapid weight loss.
Her heart stopping was the best thing to ever happen to her, as the doctors caught the cancer, and she is thankfully beating it.
From that day until May 16th, a short-staffed to begin with accounting unit was down to two people: me and my boss. We somehow held it together for six months. We somehow figured out the annual statement, somehow managed to get through two quarter-ends, and one year-end. We somehow, through working on Saturdays, Sundays, even working well into the night, got through the annual audit (which was a catastrophe, thanks in no small part to our "fling it against the wall and pray we get it right" approach we had to take at year end).
On May 15th, my co-worker celebrated two half-day weeks back. Her favorite color is purple. Virtually everyone in the department, in a show of solidarity, strength, unity and love, wore purple that day. I wore an old TCU polo shirt I hadn't worn since I was in college ... and last time I checked, I graduated the day the House impeached President Clinton. (Let's just say, it was a little snug. And I'm not exactly a big dude.)
It's been a rough year health wise in my department at "company I work for", with four people battling cancer. Thankfully, all four are well on the way to recovery, or are already in remission.
But only three of them, remain.
And I wore that polo shirt yesterday, for only the second time, since I conned that fine Big XII institution, into graduating me.
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Of all the things in my life that have gone wrong, that have p*ssed me off over these last eighteen months, nothing angered me more than May 16th. At least until yesterday.
The day was as perfect as could be. If you remember (and God, do I ever), 9/11 was a picture perfect late summer day across virtually the entire country. There wasn't a cloud in the sky here, and it was pushing 90 degrees. Ditto in New York. Same deal on May 16th -- sun shining, birds chirping.
There were purple flowers on my co-workers desk. Reggie, from our sales team who sat next to my co-worker, had left a really neat thoughtful gift: a simple "Welcome back!" written on her dry-erase board, with a new purple Expo marker taped to the board.
Thursday, May 16th. My co-worker's first real full day back in six and a half months.
Thursday, May 16th. The day my boss, and said co-worker, were given sixty days notice.
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I got the call about 10:45am. "Steve, this is (our CFO). Can you come up to eight and talk for a minute?" Gulp. I've had this conversation before, about 8:30am on Saint Patrick's Day, 2006. Let's just say, it did not end well.
So, I walk towards the elevator bays, and I see my boss walking back, in a state of shock. So I'm guessing his meeting didn't go well with our CFO.
I walk in, and am told the shocking news: I'm the one who survived from accounting. Truth be told? I wasn't surprised people were let go. I just figured it would be me. It's why I was looking throughout the winter and spring, culminating with the single most disappointing interview of my life, as my dream of leaving all the bullsh*t, all the pure, unasked for, undeserved f*cking bullsh*t of the last (at that point) twelve months behind, and heading back to the Metroplex, blew up on me.
Just raise two middle fingers to every damned cause of my issues, yell "(blank) off!", and storm out the door. Would have been damned sweet.
But if that had happened? If I'd gotten my way? Then the opening to this post, doesn't happen ...
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The last two months, have been pretty damned strenuous. I haven't had a PTO day since March (for the interview), that I didn't wind up working somewhere remotely. I literally have to use 28 PTO days between now and December, or lose them. There are only 118 working days left in the year. Even if I took every remaining Monday off?
I'd lose four days.
The last two months, in addition to all my regular "not moving out of here" duties, in addition to having to write procedures for the tasks I have that are (thankfully) leaving, and in addition to having to be trained by my boss and my co-worker on things they did that are staying ... I've had to watch two people who took a chance on a guy seven years ago last week, and hired me at "company I work for", go through undeserved garbage every day, nonstop. In the end, it was the three of us that in many ways started this.
I'd have never in a thousand years believed, I'd be the last one of the three of us, left standing.
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If he happens upon this, so be it, but the "head" of the transition team? Is a complete ass. Cracking inappropriate downsizing jokes while the downsized employees are in the room? Of course! Yelling at downsized co-workers for trying to explain why something in a procedure matters (since my two fellow co-workers are as good as they come, and not only went out of their way to make this as pleasant and painless as possible, to avoid hurt feelings for them, but even more importantly, avoid hurting anyone who wasn't at fault for things simply happening that were going to happen. (Pause) ... (Sigh) ... why bother to state the obvious dichotomy to two people who also had the same option presented to them, yet refused to take that road.)
Oh, and the capper? After month end blew up both months the "newbies" tried to run it (it blew up so bad in early July, I was working poolside on the 3rd ... and the 4th ... and the 6th. And in the office on the 5th), and the transition team realized they'd poop canned at least one person too many, they allegedly (and it's still my favorite word in the English language -- allegedly. You can say any damned thing you want to, as long as "allegedly" is attached at the end, and it ain't libel!) -- they allegedly, on Friday, asked one of my co-workers to stay on.
What I wouldn't have given, to have listened in to that conversation.
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My life has been nothing but one gigantic worthless mistake these last eighteen months. One gigantic disaster, after catastrophe, after CYA moment, after screw-up, after "turn tail and run from him, he's toxic" dump of an existence. I literally cannot point to a single thing that has gone right in the last eighteen months, save for my new team in my bowling league. And even that was a complete fluke how it came about, because it shouldn't have happened.
And then came the worst day of them all -- yesterday. My friends and my co-workers, and not just friends, co-workers -- they're the two people who gave me a second chance I probably didn't deserve in this business. They saw past the idiotic decision I made to leave reinsurance at my former job for compliance ... and instead, see who I was pre-compliance, and realize "hey, everyone makes mistakes; you can't judge someone solely on the here and now, you have to look at the whole body of work."
"The whole body of work". It's the catch phrase whoever the committee chairman happens to be hauls out every Selection Sunday. (And starting next year, every Selection ... whenever, the College Football Playoff Selection Committee announces its four participants. Although as one of the few -- if not the only -- person who loves the BCS system, I'm kinda sad to see it go.)
I wish that a lot of people who have judged me on these last eighteen months, or the few preceding them, had instead looked at the whole body of work, and realized that a team can literally drop 7 of 11, finishing 9th in its conference, and then have to somehow win 11 straight to both qualify for the NCAA tournament, but win the damned thing, CAN pull it off. (Your 2011 UConn Huskies everyone!!!)
Steve and Carol gave me a chance I probably didn't deserve. It led to at least one former co-worker of mine at Transamerica getting a job he never would have had, as a result. It directly led to me still having my job at this point, as our current department heads are basically "getting the gang back together again".
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HR made them come in for an hour on Monday. Why this couldn't have ended on Friday, I don't know. There wasn't one credible, legitimate reason to make them suffer like that yesterday. Or to make those of us who care about them, have to see them suffer like that for one more day.
I wish them nothing but the best. If they ever need anything? I've got their backs, and they know it. True friends don't run away when the down times come for you.
They double down on their support -- for you.
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The hug with Carol was the hardest part. My route in each morning, requires me to catch the 28, then transfer to the 175. The 28 southbound is always late. 4 days out of 5, I just skip the middle man and walk to the 175 pickup 20 minutes away. But if it's pouring down rain, snowing, or hot as hell itself? Who wants to endure that before getting to work? So I'll chance the 28 pickup.
The 28 has missed the connection at least 20 times this last year. At least. And the 175 that leaves at 6:55 is the last line into JoCo until 3 in the afternoon. It's all or nothing. And it's (and believe me, I've paid it) a solid $25 cab ride, plus tip, to get to College and Metcalf from my part of town.
Pretty much every time I'd miss the connection, I'd give her a call.
She picked me up every time.
And took me home.
That's how amazing of a friend, she's been to me.
I guess now, I'm reduced to sharing a cab with the crazy b*tch who works at the Salvation Army on 115th (and she is loony with a capital L, O, O, N, and Y ... and no, I ain't referring to former Chiefs PR Guru Josh Looney) ... or ... uuh ... well ... uuh ...
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After the hug, and Steve's kind, amazing words as he shook my hand, the new reality set in.
Accounting equals ... me.
If you own stock in "company Stevo works for"? Be scared. Be very, very scared.
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Speaking of "be scared" -- please, spare me. I am the first one to admit, I am on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown. I've been dealing with crap from work, crap from friends, crap from family, and crap from my general crappy existence, without a break in the downward cycle, for eighteen straight months. No breaks. It just keeps getting worse.
I can legitimately argue that every day since February 11th 2012 (when my car crapped out), to yesterday? Has been worse than the day before.
I've always kind of been "out there", and I've always had issues with depression ... but never like this. I do not remember the last time I slept past 3:30am on a workday evening, I'm so stressed over what has to be done, what has to get accomplished, what is now squarely on my shoulders.
And readers? The next time I go to bed before 10:15pm on a weeknight, is the first in a long time. I literally cannot sleep, I'm so stressed out over sh*t.
Is my drinking worse than it's ever been? That's debatable. It was pretty damned bad as my gambling addiction reached its zenith ten years ago ... but I'd say yes, it's worse. And I mean good grief, when I'm saying "hey, I really need to scale back here", and it's ME we're talking about? That ain't good.
The depression? Was so bad last Wednesday that I asked for a "work from home" day. I literally left my bed twice -- once to grab my phone to make the request (which was granted), once to grab my laptop. It was 92 degrees last Wednesday. I laid under an electric blanket, with a comforter, and never produced a drop of sweat.
Those of you who know me well, know that it could be negative 26 and snowing, and I'd sweat through everything I had on, when I'm in a normal state of mind.
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Which I was not Monday.
After my co-workers left, I finally reached my breaking point.
I walked out of the building a little after 10am. I walked 112th Street up and down, up and down, from Black and Veatch, to Metcalf, then back again, getting angrier, talking out my frustrations.
Not a drop of sweat.
And I even put a little towel in my pocket, to dry off if I needed to.
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I talked to my mom Sunday night. If there's one positive about these last eighteen months (and there are a couple ... albeit you gotta look for them), it's that she and I have reconnected in a way we haven't felt about each other, since I was in college, and we used to close the weekend down on Sunday night over a couple bottles of wine, some BLT sandwiches, and some strawberry shortcake out on the back deck.
To be quite frank, my lack of legitimate religious belief is the source of our tensions. My mom is a devoutly religious person. But out of respect for me, she'll sometimes push the "now, how about going to a service on Sunday" question my way ... and then let it go, once I shoot it down.
I spent Sunday doing what I do best: enjoying some vodka tonics in the pool, while watching Kasey Kahne continue to destroy his Chase chances by letting every driver right behind him win a race. (You gotta win Indy dude. You GOT to.) Donnie dropped me off at home around 5ish after one helluva fun day, and one helluva good dinner. My mom called me right at 7pm, which annoyed me at first, because that's when "Big Brother" begins ... but something (I'm guessing golf) ran over on CBS, so everything was 25 minutes behind schedule.
She didn't have much to say. Which is a rarity for her -- I get my gift of "rambling on pointlessly for far too long" from her. But she did say this:
"I know you are going to laugh at me, or make fun of me, but I don't care. And I know you won't do this, but I feel like you need to hear this."
My (internal) response: "oh, this outta be something."
"I didn't look; I just feel like you are supposed to read this. Psalm 56:9. See if I heard right. Love ya son. Hang in there! Your dad and I are always here for you, whenever you need us."
Hmmm.
Circle me intrigued, Bert.
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"The very day I call for help, the tide of battle turns. My enemies flee. This one thing I know -- God is for me." -- Psalm 56:9.
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Needless to say, after my last eighteen months -- to say nothing of the eighteen before it -- I had my doubts.
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But I wrote it down, and stuck it in my pocket. And I know, I know -- I am NOT a devoutly religious person. I am not someone who is going to suddenly start, like, acting like those IHOP folks who move into communes and give all their money to the church, and spend 21 hours a day doing whatever the hell weird sh*t they do out there. (For one thing, I have no money to give them (rimshot!).)
But I admire people who are, believe it or not. And I know this -- if my mommy tells me to read something, I'm taking it under strong advisement.
So I took a chance on that rant / walk yesterday.
"God, I know I deserve nothing, and quite frankly, I doubt you care. But please -- this has to stop. I cannot take anything else. I'm literally as broken as I've ever been. I need the hurt to stop. I need people hurting me, turning on me, and hurting because of me, to stop. I need one absolute good. Just one. I need just one -- just one -- reason to keep on fighting in this life."
"Just one. However small, whatever it may be -- just one."
Cue the walk to Panera, after that simple "yeah, right" prayer of "faith".
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I suppose, in a sick way, God acted even before that.
I have a buddy of mine, who I am not particularly close with ... but who I immensely respect. He's gone through a really rough patch these last couple years as well. With the roughest coming two Saturdays ago, as he and his wife lost their son two hours after his birth.
I cannot imagine the devastation, the heartache, the pain he and his family must be going through. He's the second friend of mine from high school, to lose a child before the age of one.
Luke reached out to me on Facebook last week after seeing my comments about how I hate the downsizing going on, out of concern I'd lost my job, and "if I can do anything for you, let me know. Let's meet up and talk sometime. You can buy a round!"
In his grief? He reached out to me, in my pain ... that honestly? Didn't truly directly affect me at all. Nothing like his.
I wish I had his character.
I wish I believed in God, like he does.
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"STEVE!!!"
After hearing my name a second time, I pulled the earphones out, and turned around.
Jose.
Wait. What?!?!?!
What are the f*cking odds, I mean, what are the f*cking odds, that on a random Monday, in the middle of July, the worst day of my professional existence, the hardest day on the job I've ever had, that a buddy of mine who has had my back through thick and thin, that I'm not especially close with, but had just seen a couple weeks ago at the pool ... (and had to endure the raiders debacle last year with ... and the year before ... and ... hell, you get the point: they've won six straight at Arrowhead) ... and whose really good friends are coming in town next weekend for a weekend at the pool ... I mean, do I have to say it again?
(fidelity ad guy voice) why not?
What are the f*cking odds, that a random copier at FedEx Kinkos, at College and Metcalf, breaks down at 10:40ish in the morning, and he pulls in right as I'm arriving, and he turns around and looks right, instead of straight ahead, entering the job he had to work?
What are the f*cking odds?
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Three things immediately happened, upon turning around, and seeing a friend, not even ten minutes after I reached my lowest point in eleven years (and those of you who know me best, know I consider asking God to ask someone He has no reason whatsoever to give a sh*t about, as a low, low, low, low moment. I cannot stress this enough: I hate -- and I mean HATE -- people who demand things out of others, they refuse to give of themselves. Hence my current feud with a few friends. Wait. I promised I'd stop. Moving on.)
1. I smiled -- not just smiled, I laughed. I do not remember the last time I smiled, laughed, or felt jovial, for anything other than a "remember when ..." or a "Donny Airport Check-in Story*", over these last eighteen months.
2. Something random happened to me -- out of nowhere, completely unanticipated, unexpected, utterly stunning -- that wasn't 100% an absolute evil, at least in my eyes. For the first time in nearly 540 days, life seemed worth living. And
3. From the moment I shook Jose's hand, and headed off to grab lunch, while he headed off to the "Krisis at Kinkos" (sk: yeah -- HORRIBLE pun title. Pardon me, Mr. Barkley? (chuck barkley voice) TURRIBLE!)?
For the first time in eleven months, right to the godd*mned day my anger, hatred, rage, and disgust truly, truly started, nearly six months after all this (seventh day adventist voice) "fertilizer" started ... I wasn't angry anymore. I wasn't p*ssed off anymore. I didn't feel hatred anymore. I felt ... ok. I felt ... normal.
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(*: his check-in stories, are legends at the pool. And for damned good reason. To say nothing of him seeing my buddy Damien for the first time. There's hilarity ... and then there's hilarity.)
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Gotta admit, that's the best "You Pick Two" I've had in awhile. The smokehouse turkey panini, a hearty cup of chicken noodle soup, some kind of crap-tacular apple, and the real reason I showed up at Panera, that purple iced tea they have that I'd probably at least give up one of my kidneys for. (I mean, really, like my kidneys -- let alone liver -- is gonna survive the "abuse years" of the 1990s ... 2000s ... 2010s ... oh who am I kidding, 2020s ...)
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Please -- don't read into this some kind of religious revelation. I'm still skeptical ... but for the first time in eleven years, I'm willing to listen.
My life cannot keep going on like this. For starters, my Tuesday counselor session bills are not cheap. (Judge if you want -- but even Tony Soprano, paid for mental therapy.) But they help. Even if, truth be told, I can't afford them. ("Company I work for"'s EAP program is sh*ttier than a port-a-potty in the Indy infield come lap 165 of the 500. And sadly ... anyone who has ever spent a 500 in the infield, is nodding "yup" at that comment.)
I cannot do anti-depressants. I was put on Zoloft three summers ago. I was so f*cked up eight ways from Sunday, I had a dear friend literally say, "come talk with me, now", and her first question was "what the f*ck are you on? You are not all here anymore!"
Well, she was wrong about one thing.
I am still here.
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And to the two of you who expressed concern that my recent setbacks have led to recontemplate something I would never, uuh, recontemplate ... I haven't.
That column hit so many of you in ways, I never imagined possible.
If anything? You readers' reactions to my open honesty ... is why I'm still here.
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I'm almost done venting. I tried to keep this as neutral as possible ... but I'm sure I failed. So let me say four things in closing:
1. Until you're as down as I've been, you will never grasp, nor understand, how much a simple "hey, how are you? Was thinking about you, hope you're good" text or email means.
I have six
To "The Voice of Reason", you have no idea how much your "start off the morning with the funniest story on Drudge, link on Twitter, or outrageous PFT link" emails mean. Every day, you check in, to make sure I'm still here. Don't think for a second, I don't notice that.
To my brother, ditto.
To Russ and Mona, you have no idea how much the weekly "hey just seeing how you're doing ... you know the pool's open this weekend ... you need a ride let us know ... no, don't bring anything other than you -- you're what matters to us!" phone call means. Usually on Thursdays ... this week it was tonight.
Again: "what are the f*cking odds" ...
To "Joe Knows": proof there is a God.
And to Debbie: further proof there is a God.
2. Your true, core friends have your back, no matter what ... even if you never see the support coming.
May 16th, the day my department downsized. I left my meeting with our CFO, and (go figure) headed out to vent the well-paved, well-manicured sidewalks of 112th Street. Another 90 minutes wasted ... without getting wasted.
I headed back in around 1pm-ish ... and I had a Route 44 strawberry limeaid sitting on my desk. And within 15 seconds, I had the following people come up to commiserate the decisions of that day: DeNeece, Joe, Heather, Bettie, Reggie, Susie, and Ute ...
and Penny.
#teammatesforlive? Hell (blanking) yes we are.
3. Sometimes, people lose their sense of direction. Don't judge them at their lowest point -- judge them on their body of work.
Wait, I'm typing this on my deck while sweating out whatever I'm drinking on a relatively warm KC July evening. (The answer, for the record, is "Barefoot Moscato". Damn it's addicting.) So my "body" is probably needing some "work" right now.
But not physically. Definitely mentally. And definitely personally.
Simply put: I have not been the person I used to be. Not even close. I have a lot of work to do, to regain the trust of (at least) three people who have meant the world to me, that I have done wrong by over the last eighteen months. I recognize it.
But most of all ...
4. (leroy jethro gibbs voice) Rule 51: Sometimes? You're wrong.
I have hurt three people I (and they) have referred to as "The Family" over the last eighteen months with my trials, tribulations, and failures. I have hurt the ones I love, the ones you love, and all our common friends. Through my own arrogance and selfishness, I have forced people to pick sides.
And I could not have been more wrong.
Could my life be better at this point? Cue the "no sh*t, Sherlock!" voice.
Could I have made better decisions, better choices, better ... anything and everything? Yes.
And I have hurt countless others with my wrong decisions, idiotic decisions, and refusal to let on how rough things have been at the Casa de Stevo.
I won't ask you to forgive me for my failings. If I can't forgive myself, it's beyond hypocritical, to ask you to forgive me.
I simply ask for a second chance. My last eighteen months, (mostly) detailed above? Noone reading this, would want to endure.
I have.
I believe my mom called me for a reason. I believe that specific verse of Scripture was picked for me, for a reason.
Because despite every flaw, failure, and inability to do right I have within me?
Someone cares enough, to fight for me.
I am so humbled that apparently, even if in my mind only, that the person my dad would note "is the one still throwing punches after you're passed out on the barroom floor?"
Is someone I didn't even know, nor ever suspected, gave a sh*t about me.
That's what today meant for me: a friend I met 11 years ago at a random tailgate at Arrowhead ... took the time to let me know I mattered. Selfish? Sure. Pointless? Possibly.
Unforgettable? Hell (blanking) no ...
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