FRANKENSTORM -- GOOD FIND :-)

WOW!  Lookad'dat!  Talk about a Cabbage Night prank!  Phew!

I hope that you will forgive me for being irreverent this evening, but I can't help it.  So between prayers let me sneak in some random wisecracks about this storm.  

We older folks are not too happy about phenomena of this nature.  After all we don't appreciate being robbed of our bragging rights concerning foul weather and the sacrifices we made to get to school despite it all.  We look at "Sandy" and we get downright disappointed because she is bigger than anything we can remember.  When we got slammed by storms, they didn't have names.  They just came and we hoped that the street lights would be lit in the daytime so that we would know that schools would not be in session.  When the power went out, we went to school, slogging through waist - high snow and ankle - deep slush.  At least that is what we tell our children.  We can get away with it because none of these nasty expressions of Mother Nature's bad side ever had a name.  

We heard these stories from our parents, and we tell them to our children.  Now that "Sandy" has dumped her temper on us, our children have gained the upper hand.  Except for one thing.  What with all the computers, TV's, radios, I-phones, etc.  I am sure that not a soul slogged to school through it all.  So, in a way, we oldies still have the upper hand in the tall tales department.

I am now going to tell a true story about bad weather as I sit in my nice comfortable Southern California domicile.

On December 11, 1960 EFR Dion died sudddenly somewhere around 9 or 10 PM.  I got the telephone call from my brother, Reef Lector.  I was a seminarian in Attleboro, Massachusetts, some 75 or 80 miles away.  It was snowing and the accumulation had reached at least 3 inches already.  The headmaster (Director/Superior) of the seminary insisted on driving me home though the storm.  We made it safely and soundly.  He took a cup of coffee and turned around and went back to Attleboro.  By the time he got halfway, the accumulation had reached 6 inches.

My brother was the "morning drive" announcer at a local radio station.  It was a small station, so it went off the air at 9:00 PM and came back on at 5:00 AM.  We decided that I would drive him to work because we were sure that there would be no parking in the city around his place of work.  We arose at 4:00 AM to an accumulation of 8 inches and roads that were still not clean because it was still snowing.  It was about 3 miles to the station.  The last quarter mile all uphill.  I had to drop him off at the bottom of the hill and he walked up to the station.  He went on the air right on time.  

After today, our stories will appear to be benign fairy tales compared to Sandy and the heroics of those who experienced her fury.  So we tip our hats to all the brave souls who not only got through it, but who also got through it while helping others along the way.  We also are grateful that this storm has a name.  We older types need all the mnemonic help we can get.  Remembering names is easier than remembering the exact date of the cold day when we had to walk a mile and a half through waist deep snow to get to school.

Yes, dear readers, we do remember Katrina.  We bet that you do too.

We bet that we will not soon forget her younger sister, Sandy.

Maybe we should cancel Hallow'een in Southern California this year.

AUSTERITY -- MY SUGGESTION

I just returned from Italy.  It was a great time I had.  I discovered that the Italians have the same problems that we have.  The big banks don't want to be controlled, the politicians don't want to give up their life style while they expect every other citizen to do just that.  They have a wonderful system for keeping gasoline prices low.  They seem to be rather successful at keeping them below $9.00 per gallon. They do that by quoting the prices on the signs in front of the pumping stations to the fourth decimal.  Like this: 1.7938 € -- per litre, of course.  You do the math. 
[6.79 €]  That, x $1.25 = $8.49 That is not an exaggeration.  No wonder that they drive cars that get 18 kilometers to the liter.  That's about 11 miles x 3.8 = 41.8 miles to the gallon.  
I don't know about you, but as far as I am concerned, I have to ask myself if it would be better to keep drilling or to spend a penny more on engineering our vehicles to get more miles to the gallon.  But then, that wouldn't be very favorable to the Keystone pipeline, would it?  Oh well, you can't win 'em all.

Let me try another suggestion.  It addresses entitlements.  In fact I dare to take on the biggest entitlement of them all: Taxes to the government.  I suggest that all taxes be cut back to 0.  In case you're mistaking that for an "oh", what it really is, is a zero.  No entitlements for anybody.  None.  The country has to turn itself over to the open market concept of financial gain, 100%.  Let the entrepreneurs do what they will.  If someone wants to build a bridge, pay for it.  If someone wants to build a pipeline, pay for it.  If someone wants to be president, find willing benefactors or pay for it yourself because taxes are forbidden.  You want to help the president, pay for it or find a benefactor.  You get sick, pay for the care or die.  You want to go to school, find someone who will teach you for a price that you can afford.
It's the best way.  There would be a very clear cut division between the haves and the have-nots. Soon, all the have-nots would be dead and the haves would slowly, by turns turn into have-nots until there would be only one standing.  That person would then be a dictator and a taxation law could then be created.  All that would be missing, of course, would be someone able and willing to pay the tax.  Ah, yes, I guess I forgot that part.  
Oh well, no plan is perfect.  Not even mine.

Now that I have confessed to not being perfect, you sure as shooting do not have to feel constrained to cry at my funeral.

OBAMA CHANNELS GW BUSH -- DEJA VUE

2004 

2012

When you are the president, you should be the one crushing your interlocutor.  Remember, it is his intention to crush you.  Obama inherited more from GW Bush than he bargained for.  He also inherited his high and mighty, "I'm the decider," imperious attitude and facial discontent.  Obama showed what he has shown for four years...a basketball player's pantie-waist preference for slick move avoidance tactics rather than a hockey player's desire to snap the opponent's neck off against the boards.  Obama looked like he had just got out of bed.  Maybe he had jet-lag.  Maybe, and this is what I opine, he was just being Obama...and, oh my God, George Bush, all in one, atr one time.
For those of you who think that I am just reacting to a performance that I witnessed last night.  Not so.  This is a reflection on the historical phenomenon of what happens when an incumbent president has to face an ambitious pretender for the position of President of the United States.  I personally was not surprsised by the conduct of the protagonists.
I have written many times about the propensity that Obama has to maintain himself  "above the fray" rather than to "bare - knuckle" it out with the other side.  He is the most recent in a line of president losers on the night of the opening debate.  The only winner is the champion politician of them all, "Slick Willie" Clinton.
It is no surprise to me that presidents fall prey to the temptation to shut down the noise from their right.  They have been in charge of all these things for four years and they have slogged through the crocodile infested swamp of trying to get things done.  When they hear that they have done nothing worth remembering, they have the scars that show what it took to get done what finally did blossom from their efforts.  I saw George HW Bush, George W. Bush and Jimmy Carter shut down under similar circumstances.  So, what happened last night is nothing but deja vue.  It is the biggest attack on the ego of the "Leader of the Free World" in public view and it takes place once every four years. Every four years the "Leader of the Free World" shrivels up and slinks into the dark of the night still not believing that someone, anyone, could dare to treat him that way.
Yes, last night was entertaining for me.  There was no surprise.  The bull's charge on the matador is always most ferocious at the outset.  The history of the outcomes of presidential debates in this country and the outcomes of bullfights around the world, tell us what happens most often.   True,  sometimes the bull wins.  Maybe that's why people go to bullfights.  They want to be there on the rare day when the bull finally wins one.  Over the years I have not characterized Obama as a matador.  (Cfr. the first paragraph, above)
Therefore, we will just have to see if the bull wins this year.
It's too bad that I will miss the next two encounters.  I'll read about them in Italian.

BEST MOMENTS IN SPORTS

Lake Placid, NY - 1980

Something happened to me today that I never thought I would experience.  I had an emotional experience regarding a sports story.

That having been said, I will tell you that I have cut myself off from professional sports, and all sports.  It's not because I don't admire the prowess.  I do.  It is because I gag at the behavior of the athletes and the owners.  I didn't even watch 2 minutes of the Olympic games last month.  Was it last month?  No.  Maybe farther back than that.  Anyway, that's where I am with the sports thing.

This morning a news program on television had Len Berman as a guest.  Len has written a book about the best moments in sports.  He has chosen 25.  I remembered some of them and some of them I did not.  I didn't remember anything about the basketball stuff.  Most of the choices about baseball I remember vividly.  I remember Jackie Robinson (Lary Doby too, remember?), and the 1969 Mets.  I also remember Roger Bannister and I think of him a lot.  Don't ask me why.  Actually, I'll tell you why.  The runners who stand out on the track seem to be so alone.  They seem to be so distant from  one another in a very strangely isolated way.  And maybe they are.  But when Roger Bannister broke the four minute barrier in the mile run in 1954, he did it with two accomplices, familiarly known as "rabbits."  These two conspirees had the task of setting a fast pace for Bannister so that if he followed them, they all three knew that he would break the record.  He would be the first person ever to run a mile in less than 4 minutes.  I remember this very clearly and I even remember the names of the two "rabbits."  It is strange that this event made such an impression on me that I still carry it around.  Oh yeah, the two "rabbits?"  Chris -- yep, both of them were named Chris.  See!  That's why I can remember.  I remember only one surname though, Chataway.  The other one escapes me.  Oh, the time?  3 minutes, 59.4 seconds.

Of course, you have all recognized the picture at the top of the page.  It is of course the USA hockey team of 1980...THE USA HOCKEY team.  They, the college amateurs who beat the formidable, steamroller style, ultra-disciplined Russian Red Army Hockey Machine.  I watched that game and I could not believe my eyes when Mike Eruzione scored the go-ahead goal.  It was already a miracle that the college boys from the USA had already score twice.  I was sitting there waiting for the Reds to score again and that would put the kibosh on the USA.  Besides it was hardly possible that the guy in goal, Tretiak would ever surrender three goals in one game.  He the Cerberius of the hockey world would never, ever allow three pucks to go by him in one single hour.  But that day, because he had let two get by him, he was held out of the game for the third period and was replaced by Myshkin.  No one knows why.  But that was a mistake by the Russian coach, Tikanov.  Maybe he should have stayed with Tretiak.  After all,   he is the same Vladislav Tretiak who one time shut out the Montreal Canadiens, in Montreal.  No matter, that day, the college boys won.  It didn't matter that it was not the gold medal game.  It was more than that.  It was the great "Miracle on Ice."  
Two days later the "Miracle on Ice" was complete.  The USA beat Finland for the gold.  For me, that day when the Russin Army sank into the ice was the best.  It is still the best.  

You know what?  The first and only perfect game ever pitched in a world series didn't make it into the book.  That's too bad because I saw every single pitch that Don Larsen threw in that game.  Those were the days when I watched every pitch of the World Series.  Now, it's been several years that I don't even know when the baseball season starts and when it ends...Of course that may be because there is no such thing as a baseball "season" any more.  Oh well, I'll get over it until I meet Bobby Doerr in heaven.  Bobby has to be in heaven.  He will remember me too because I prayed so hard for him to get into the Hall of Fame.  It took a while, but he made it.  
So there, more memories.