I had a "Eureka" moment this morning while watching White House Press Secretary, Tony Snow, dodge media bullets with his smarmy, Cheshire-cat grin over the alleged Bush Administration-mandated U.S. Attorney General firings.
There is some serious confusion-talk coming from the White House over this. I couldn't figure this line out: "...if truth is what you want, we’ve made the offer that allows them to get to it, period," in reference to the fact that the Administration wants a voluntary, closed-door interview session where nobody is "on the record." Well...if it's the truth that you'll give us, why not go on-the-record about it? If there's nothing to hide? Let the American public see that you're telling the truth........for once. Ever.
That's the set-up.
The pay-off and my "Eureka" moment was that I had this mental image of the Bushies getting their way and having a closed-door session only, when it came time to interview the individuals in question, the room cleared of witnesses and the interviewer was 24's Jack Bauer.
There's nothing like a phone cord wire and a cigar cutter that won't suck the truth right out of someone. Right, Jack?
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
B-R-A-C-K....
Uhg. I can't even find the strength to type it. The B-word. The only thing that the 18-25 year-old guy is thinking about right now. As for the rest of the demo, 25-54? They're probably thinking about it as well. But, we're jaded now. We know that our b-b-b-brackets for the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament will be kindling for a fire after the first weekend of games. Even sadder, it's getting too warm for even a fire around here.
Honestly, the whole phenomenon of filling out a bracket has become one giant power-down for me. For those that don't know what this means, imagine, if you will, the scene from Star Wars, when the engineer at the control panel of the Death Star "powers down" the force field by lowering that little lever. And, it makes that noise of whining down. That's the way I feel during this time of year. I just have very little energy for it. All the punditry and time-wasting of conjecture. If I could go back in time and find the guy from ESPN (I'm sure) who would coin the term "Bracketology" and lock him in a dungeon for the rest of life, and save us all from that sparest-of-spare terms that gives meaning to the meaningless, it would be awesome.
It's like a yearly lottery where no one ever wins. Oh, sure. Someone wins. Someone out there fills it out correctly but I've never met that person. And, I've never met someone who's met that person. I've never known someone who's met a person who's met that person or been relatives with that person or worked with that person. So...I guess it happens that someone fills out all the slots correctly but the odds are against them. Big time. Case in point: who saw 11-seeded George Mason rising their way through to the Final Four? Unless, you were attending GM at the time or were a homer Alumnus, then you didn't. Nobody did.
But, no one fills those things out because they think they'll get it all right. We fill them out because we want to care about the games. We want a rooting interest in games featuring teams that we haven't given one second of our time to watching during the regular season. Do you think I'm going to stop down for a December Sunday afternoon mid-major barnstormer? Hell no. I've got soccer to watch (I'm not kidding). So, go ahead and pick your 12-seeds over the 5-seeds. Make sure you just mark all of those 12s winners because one of them is sure to do it. Happens every year. And, my Jayhawk buddy, Steve, can relax because KU got the 1-seed this year and they're a lock to get out of the 1st round, now. No 1-seed has ever lost to a 16-seed. Ever.
Yes, I'll fill out the bracket because, frankly, there isn't a whole helluva lot to do this time in the Sports year. The tourney's always fun to watch and, no, I don't think it's the greatest event in American sports. I'll reserve that right to whomever is your favorite team and whatever big game they end up playing in this year. That's always a greater event than some generic labeling of a series of games between amateurs as "THEE greatest."
Finally, hate Duke. Just because. For the same reasons that you hate the Yankees, the Cowboys, and Notre Dame.
Honestly, the whole phenomenon of filling out a bracket has become one giant power-down for me. For those that don't know what this means, imagine, if you will, the scene from Star Wars, when the engineer at the control panel of the Death Star "powers down" the force field by lowering that little lever. And, it makes that noise of whining down. That's the way I feel during this time of year. I just have very little energy for it. All the punditry and time-wasting of conjecture. If I could go back in time and find the guy from ESPN (I'm sure) who would coin the term "Bracketology" and lock him in a dungeon for the rest of life, and save us all from that sparest-of-spare terms that gives meaning to the meaningless, it would be awesome.
It's like a yearly lottery where no one ever wins. Oh, sure. Someone wins. Someone out there fills it out correctly but I've never met that person. And, I've never met someone who's met that person. I've never known someone who's met a person who's met that person or been relatives with that person or worked with that person. So...I guess it happens that someone fills out all the slots correctly but the odds are against them. Big time. Case in point: who saw 11-seeded George Mason rising their way through to the Final Four? Unless, you were attending GM at the time or were a homer Alumnus, then you didn't. Nobody did.
But, no one fills those things out because they think they'll get it all right. We fill them out because we want to care about the games. We want a rooting interest in games featuring teams that we haven't given one second of our time to watching during the regular season. Do you think I'm going to stop down for a December Sunday afternoon mid-major barnstormer? Hell no. I've got soccer to watch (I'm not kidding). So, go ahead and pick your 12-seeds over the 5-seeds. Make sure you just mark all of those 12s winners because one of them is sure to do it. Happens every year. And, my Jayhawk buddy, Steve, can relax because KU got the 1-seed this year and they're a lock to get out of the 1st round, now. No 1-seed has ever lost to a 16-seed. Ever.
Yes, I'll fill out the bracket because, frankly, there isn't a whole helluva lot to do this time in the Sports year. The tourney's always fun to watch and, no, I don't think it's the greatest event in American sports. I'll reserve that right to whomever is your favorite team and whatever big game they end up playing in this year. That's always a greater event than some generic labeling of a series of games between amateurs as "THEE greatest."
Finally, hate Duke. Just because. For the same reasons that you hate the Yankees, the Cowboys, and Notre Dame.
Friday, March 09, 2007
Philling
There's no better way to kick off your week than with a trip to the dentist's office for a good, ole-fashioned cavity filling. And, that's just what I did on Monday.
I was a little nervous all morning. It has been two years or so since my last filling. I went in for a routine checkup and cleaning the week before and he discovered a cavity on my Second Bicuspid, right side. Only problem was that it was between the walls. All you or I needed to know is that it meant more drilling. Thanks. No problem; we'll take care of it on, say, Monday? Monday. Good. Great. Also, while I'm there, let's go ahead and take care of getting impressions for a night-gaurd. I desperately need one and our insurance is covering the sting on the cost of that one. Done.
Monday rolls around. I head in that afternoon. I don't have to wait long. I go back there to the chair. He gets me numbed up. There's been some improvement in anastesia over the last couple of years (even since my last visit). They used to blast you with some novacaine, which is decent but takes about 10 minutes to settle in. These days, they're rolling with Xylocaine, which is the brand name for Lidocaine. Pretty potent stuff--worked almost as soon as it was injected and after 5 minutes, I was good to go. After two hours, I was really, really numb. Only problem was I was sitting at home in front of the TV by that point.
The most uncomfortable moment of the event was strapping the little metallic strip around my tooth that acts as a form for the filling. I mean, we drilled out the back half of a tooth so it was like laying a new foundation, in a way. When Doc pushed that strip down around the base of the tooth, I could feel it digging into my gum. Quite uncomfortable.
My favorite line of the day: "Now, you're going to feel some pressure, here." And, then, imagine him driving a spike through my skull.
All in all, not a wholly unpleasant experience. I really wish laughing gas was more of a player in the dental experience, these days.
To top it off, I got fitted for a night guard mouthpiece which involved pressing a big chunk of plastic over-flowing with Play-doh into my top and bottom plates. I'm talking a LOT of Play-doh. It's not for the faint-of-gag-reflexes. The bum situation for me was that I couldn't feel the left half of my face and the rubber gunk was flaking off on my lips. She handed me a wet paper towel but I got the feeling I wasn't doing much good, trying to wipe it off. I think she was secretly setting me up for the front desk to have a nice laugh at my expense upon pay-out. After leaving the office and getting in the car, I checked the mirror and, sure enough, I looked like that kid in elementary school that ate the paste. Damn.
If anyone's looking for a good dentist in the Park Cities/Village area of North Dallas, I will suggest Ted Smith. He's young and knows what he's doing. It sounds like it's all work and no play for him, these days, so he could use your business.
I was a little nervous all morning. It has been two years or so since my last filling. I went in for a routine checkup and cleaning the week before and he discovered a cavity on my Second Bicuspid, right side. Only problem was that it was between the walls. All you or I needed to know is that it meant more drilling. Thanks. No problem; we'll take care of it on, say, Monday? Monday. Good. Great. Also, while I'm there, let's go ahead and take care of getting impressions for a night-gaurd. I desperately need one and our insurance is covering the sting on the cost of that one. Done.
Monday rolls around. I head in that afternoon. I don't have to wait long. I go back there to the chair. He gets me numbed up. There's been some improvement in anastesia over the last couple of years (even since my last visit). They used to blast you with some novacaine, which is decent but takes about 10 minutes to settle in. These days, they're rolling with Xylocaine, which is the brand name for Lidocaine. Pretty potent stuff--worked almost as soon as it was injected and after 5 minutes, I was good to go. After two hours, I was really, really numb. Only problem was I was sitting at home in front of the TV by that point.
The most uncomfortable moment of the event was strapping the little metallic strip around my tooth that acts as a form for the filling. I mean, we drilled out the back half of a tooth so it was like laying a new foundation, in a way. When Doc pushed that strip down around the base of the tooth, I could feel it digging into my gum. Quite uncomfortable.
My favorite line of the day: "Now, you're going to feel some pressure, here." And, then, imagine him driving a spike through my skull.
All in all, not a wholly unpleasant experience. I really wish laughing gas was more of a player in the dental experience, these days.
To top it off, I got fitted for a night guard mouthpiece which involved pressing a big chunk of plastic over-flowing with Play-doh into my top and bottom plates. I'm talking a LOT of Play-doh. It's not for the faint-of-gag-reflexes. The bum situation for me was that I couldn't feel the left half of my face and the rubber gunk was flaking off on my lips. She handed me a wet paper towel but I got the feeling I wasn't doing much good, trying to wipe it off. I think she was secretly setting me up for the front desk to have a nice laugh at my expense upon pay-out. After leaving the office and getting in the car, I checked the mirror and, sure enough, I looked like that kid in elementary school that ate the paste. Damn.
If anyone's looking for a good dentist in the Park Cities/Village area of North Dallas, I will suggest Ted Smith. He's young and knows what he's doing. It sounds like it's all work and no play for him, these days, so he could use your business.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
We Had a Deal!!!
Our good friend, Rachel Payne, a scholar and nomad, made her way to Dallas from California, last weekend. Kelley and I hosted her at church on Sunday and, then, we all spent the afternoon just gabbing. We ended up at "coffee shop" which, for us, was Dunn Bros. (best coffee in Dallas, by the way).
On the way home, We had an encounter, of-sorts. I was just driving along, down Addison Road. We were all talking about I-don't-know-what. I see something up ahead in the road but it's not really that important; probably just a stray plastic bottle or some other various road menagerie.
Note: Funny thing about me, as a driver: I'm really not that big on avoiding things in the middle of the road--potholes, trash. Doesn't matter. I'll run over it. Oddly, I'm not much of a curb-checker, if you know what I mean. I know how to circumnavigate things unless it's directly in my path. This would seemingly not bode well for humans found in my way but I have yet to encounter this and, presumably, would be a bit more responsive.
So, I see this thing but don't think anything about it.
[ka-lump...] I roll over it, nary a thought.
"Whoa..." Rachel says softly, looking towards the back of the car,"I think you just hit that bird in the road."
A BIRD????
I check my rear view mirror and it looks like a pillow fight just turned ugly down at the pillow factory.
For you Seinfeld fans, out there, I was reminded of Season 9, "The Merv Griffin Show," when George accidentally runs over a bunch of pigeons with his car. Later, he and Jerry discuss how the Pigeons have a deal with the Humans: they get out of the way of our cars, we look the other way on statue defecations. George issues the really funny line: "...these pigeons broke the deal. I will not accept the blame for this!"
I think I even said, "We had a deeeeeal!!!" After seeing the plume of feathers trailing my car.
It was really funny. But...if you birds see me coming, get the hell outta the road.
On the way home, We had an encounter, of-sorts. I was just driving along, down Addison Road. We were all talking about I-don't-know-what. I see something up ahead in the road but it's not really that important; probably just a stray plastic bottle or some other various road menagerie.
Note: Funny thing about me, as a driver: I'm really not that big on avoiding things in the middle of the road--potholes, trash. Doesn't matter. I'll run over it. Oddly, I'm not much of a curb-checker, if you know what I mean. I know how to circumnavigate things unless it's directly in my path. This would seemingly not bode well for humans found in my way but I have yet to encounter this and, presumably, would be a bit more responsive.
So, I see this thing but don't think anything about it.
[ka-lump...] I roll over it, nary a thought.
"Whoa..." Rachel says softly, looking towards the back of the car,"I think you just hit that bird in the road."
A BIRD????
I check my rear view mirror and it looks like a pillow fight just turned ugly down at the pillow factory.
For you Seinfeld fans, out there, I was reminded of Season 9, "The Merv Griffin Show," when George accidentally runs over a bunch of pigeons with his car. Later, he and Jerry discuss how the Pigeons have a deal with the Humans: they get out of the way of our cars, we look the other way on statue defecations. George issues the really funny line: "...these pigeons broke the deal. I will not accept the blame for this!"
I think I even said, "We had a deeeeeal!!!" After seeing the plume of feathers trailing my car.
It was really funny. But...if you birds see me coming, get the hell outta the road.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Dreamscape: Days to Live
Had one of those dreams, last night, that's stayed with me all day.
I've heard that having dreams is your brain's way of logging short-term information and thoughts into the deep, long-term memory. Think RAM memory into Hard-drive storage, for the tech-heads out there.
The dream came in the last REM cycle of the evening/morning, just before I woke up. In it, I was overwhelmed by the feeling that I had very little time left to live; a week, maybe less. I don't remember, clearly, anyone or anything in the dream telling me why I was dying. It stems from a moment in the dream that's too faint for me to grab this far afterwards. I remember scurrying around trying to gather up things to give to loved ones before my passing--rings and jewelry, little trinkets.; not stuff I would gather in my waking life. I have very little trinkety things that I would bequeath upon my death. Maybe my wedding ring or my Baylor class ring. My watch. I dunno; maybe they'd just bury me in all of that. Oh, yeah. I'm planning on being cremated so maybe they wouldn't bury me in it. I digress...
The one thought that I remember being the most soberly during this dream was my concern for what was next, the afterlife. Not surprising. It's a no-brainer that reflections on mortality lead most directly to where the Fellow in the Brite Nightgown will take us. On to the next plane, I imagine. Maybe we'll end up beyond the 10th dimension. But, that's for another post.
I recon the reason for this odd turn of a morning illusion is that I currently live with the concerns for two such individuals who are living with a very short timetable. Both are stricken with cancer and both have mere weeks to live. I am filled with great sympathy for them and their families but I have had no outlet to flesh these thoughts out.
I suppose nature was taking it's course.
I've heard that having dreams is your brain's way of logging short-term information and thoughts into the deep, long-term memory. Think RAM memory into Hard-drive storage, for the tech-heads out there.
The dream came in the last REM cycle of the evening/morning, just before I woke up. In it, I was overwhelmed by the feeling that I had very little time left to live; a week, maybe less. I don't remember, clearly, anyone or anything in the dream telling me why I was dying. It stems from a moment in the dream that's too faint for me to grab this far afterwards. I remember scurrying around trying to gather up things to give to loved ones before my passing--rings and jewelry, little trinkets.; not stuff I would gather in my waking life. I have very little trinkety things that I would bequeath upon my death. Maybe my wedding ring or my Baylor class ring. My watch. I dunno; maybe they'd just bury me in all of that. Oh, yeah. I'm planning on being cremated so maybe they wouldn't bury me in it. I digress...
The one thought that I remember being the most soberly during this dream was my concern for what was next, the afterlife. Not surprising. It's a no-brainer that reflections on mortality lead most directly to where the Fellow in the Brite Nightgown will take us. On to the next plane, I imagine. Maybe we'll end up beyond the 10th dimension. But, that's for another post.
I recon the reason for this odd turn of a morning illusion is that I currently live with the concerns for two such individuals who are living with a very short timetable. Both are stricken with cancer and both have mere weeks to live. I am filled with great sympathy for them and their families but I have had no outlet to flesh these thoughts out.
I suppose nature was taking it's course.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
