Mr Barry Bonds and his disappearing...

Am I the only guy in the world who thinks it is a waste of millions of dollars to try Barry Bonds for using steroids? Should we really have to endure testimony from bitter, former girlfriends as to the size of Mr. Bond’s Johnson?

I think it’s pretty clear he took steroids. Apparently, so did everyone else playing Major League Baseball at that time. Anyone for putting Major League Baseball on trial?

Children, Come see the Whale that Kills People...

So this SeaWorld bull killer whale Tilikum has killed three people. And he is put back in the show. Is there no agency, local, state or federal, that can put this savage beast to death. Are animals routinely allowed to kill humans with impunity in private enterprise?

I know he is big and worth money to SeaWorld but their insistence that “It’s not Tilikum, it’s the trainers” sounds a lot like a callous “Guns don’t kill people, people do” irrelevancy.

I won’t go back to see this murderous animal but I still find it hard to believe that no one has sued SeaWorld to euthanize the animal.

What do you think?

I’m sure you, like me, have occasionally wondered why our society doesn’t act more rationally. Perhaps we might differ on the exact items in need of a better approach or the details of how we would handle them reasonably. Here are two of my examples.

There is no question that continuing to make it illegal for some people to obtain certain drugs is an all around losing proposition for our society. The illegal drug takers end up paying far more than the market price of the drug because of the risk in supplying them, the drugs themselves are often too strong or too weak or otherwise corrupted, and the users end up stealing my TV in order to fence it for ten percent of its value to buy more diluted drugs. We spend millions of dollars every year to keep these drug users in jail when we catch them, forty thousand dollars a piece on average, and millions more on the “War on Drugs”. Mexicans get to buy our guns for their drug cartels so they can kill everyone in town who isn’t part of their gang. What if these drugs were prescribed by doctors for their patients at reasonable prices, under controlled circumstances, and with suggestions for treatment. I’m sure that approach would cost a lot less and, while I’m sure it would not completely end the problems associated with drug use, it would surely go a long way. Why cause already drug addicted kids to also become thieves.

On another note entirely, I do not think the United States military should be the police force to the world.  I can’t imagine why we decided that Saddam Hussein was the worst dictator in the world and invade his country. I heard former Secretary of Defense Rumsfeld on TV say no one could have anticipated the problems we encountered in Iraq yet many people did exactly that and were ignored. We armed the Taliban in Afghanistan to fight the Russians then decided to fight them ourselves. How ironic.

Should we attack the Lovely Leader or whatever Kim Jong-il is called in North Korea? Or Robert Mugabe in Zimbabwe? How about straightening out things in Ivory Coast? Now we may armed the Al-Qaida guys in Lybia. Great.

How much money would we save if we brought the troops home from all these places and Germany and South Korea and Japan? So much for common sense.

As An Authority on This Subject...

Television news sometimes makes the news outright or, at least, focuses it in a certain direction. A Boston trolley train passed over a small trash fire recently after a twenty year MBTA Inspector approved the move. There was absolutely no danger he said.

A nutty (my picture was on TV!) passerby filmed it and sent it to the local TV station. They then show the video and raged for two days about the danger of doing such a thing.

Finally, one of their brighter reporters thought to ask an MBTA official about it and the official mentions that the train was stopped until the inspector determined there was no danger. So instead of waiting a long time for the Fire Dept. to respond to a small trash fire, the train went forward.

I’m convinced that cell phone cameras will be the cause of the next holocaust. That and the fact that the Internet has left all these nitwits thinking they are as much an authority as anyone who actually knows what he or she is talking about. Today, everyone one is an authority for better or worse. 

Look at Autism and children’s vaccinations.

High Art

Next to televangelism, the area of human endeavor with the most crackpots, frauds and outright crooks is art. I struggled to listen carefully to a fellow from the Museum of Modern Art in New York recently as he attempted to explain why a perfectly blank canvas tells us something new about our lives and is, of course, art. Unbelievable!

He actually went on to claim that a supposed artiste, sitting in a chair in a room in a museum looking at a fellow across from her, was also high art. I was dumbfounded. I have sometimes thought that I might be good as a TV preacher. Now I’m thinking of a second career in bullshit art!

A Cold Diary

Please don’t attempt to read this noble tale of survival unless you are clearly of an heroic frame of mind such as a manly man like me.

Sunday I awoke feeling less than well rested. My throat was dry and a little sore. My head hurt and I was wheezing a little. I decided I might be coming down with a cold if I didn’t take immediate proactive steps. I took EmergenC several times during the day and didn’t sand the window sashes I had in the cellar. Stuck zinc swaps up my nose. I didn’t feel better at the end of the day.  In fact, I felt worse.

Monday, day two of the attack of the dreaded virus, I was really wheezing, coughing, sore in numerous places but still optimistic this would be quick. More Vitamin C drinks, lots of fruity liquids, some old cough syrup and some children’s Dimetapp I found in the fridge. That should be the end of that! I lounged around all day like the neer-do-well I am practicing to be. Again, felt worse at end of day. Complained to myself since no one else seemed to care as much.

Tuesday, day three. Perhaps this wasn’t going away quickly. Real sore throat, lots of unsuccessful coughing, tight chest, some wandering around the house without a real purpose. More Vitamin C drinks, some real fruit, dark salad greens, and a trip to the pharmacy for supplies. Gel tab cold medicine for people with high blood pressure and cough syrup favored by old drug addicts. Found extra tissue boxes hiding in a closet for emergencies. Hot, hot shower, hang head over pot of boiling water. Worse at end of day.

Wednesday, day four. Wake up feeling sick and get angry. What the hell is this? What have I done wrong? I’ve had it with this. Tea, I’m drinking tea, which I hate because my grandmother always gave it to us when we were sick, so apparently I have admitted at some level to having a sickness. Feel miserable. Chest hurts, wheeze enough to not be able to nap, cough up a lung, blow nose with no results that I can see. Begin to mumble about things I did as a youth that I am not necessarily proud of. Could that be why I have been struck down so viciously? Cannot remember end of day.

Thursday, day five. God really does hate me. Two tissues shoved up my nostrils give me a devil-may-care look. My nose best resembles a Mayan fountain. Eyes red, head hurts, chest hurts, hands cold, feet cold. Why is this awful old house so bloody cold. Turn heat up again. It slowly dawns on me: I’m dying for Christ’s sake! Without a friend in the world. I swallow every medicine I have: the bottles and boxes are all lined up on the kitchen counter like British soldiers during the Revolutionary War. Dimetapp, gel tabs, cough syrup, children’s liquid Tylenol (don’t ask), EmergenC, Hall’s cough drops, chamomile tea, honey, water and fruit drinks. Coughing somewhat more productive but I’m unsettled by what comes out, not sure human being should have such things inside them. Perhaps I am transforming into something else? Emphasis on thing.

Friday, day six. Not sure I actually woke up. Not sure I ever slept. Is that my late mother at the foot of the bed? Must move slowly and slightly bent over like the elderly old fellow I am. If I cough again my head will explode.  Move slowly, that’s it, don’t cough, don’t cough. Instead, I sneeze. And sneeze again, and again. It’s a massacre. My bunny tail tissues shoot across the room and stick to the wall. My crystal chest has broken into a million pieces, my head has liquefied. I moan and try to strike out. I must return to bed. Completely under the covers, I have tissues, cough drops and a large bottle of brandy. The day passes. Neighbors conclude no one is home.

Saturday, day seven.  Nothing is getting done. I wonder if I just announced that I had had “Enough” and began to do regular things, if this would finally all go away. There appear to be bunny tails on my wall. I slept with brandy. I shower, determined to bring this to a conclusion. I’ll go shopping. I need some exterior finish paint, some groceries, a good coffee. I’ll go to the minute clinic and get real medicine. I’m not sure my eyes are focusing. I put on two coats and stumble out the door. Mother of God it is cold and windy and apparently miles to the garage. I can’t see to drive. Wait, what is that pain? I have an ear ache! I haven’t had an ear ache since I was six years old. I can feel each individual tooth. And their slimy. OMG, I’m alien. My eyes are running. I try to blow my nose but it hurts too much to touch. I drive to the drug store with my left blinker on the whole way.

Sunday, eight days. I am the sickest man who has ever lived to tell about it. No man has ever been sicker. Even childbirth only lasts a few hours. But I am brave, courageous and bold. I take my antibiotic and assortment of other meds and I awake feeling vaguely better. Not much better, just a little teeney bit better. Is it possible I will survive? Only a woman could tell for sure…