Oh, Malaise

Quote of the Day:

Life has got a habit of not standing hitched. You got to ride it like you find it. You got to change with it. If a day goes by that don’t change some of your old notions for new ones, that is just about like trying to milk a dead cow.” –Woody Guthrie

Well, you may have noticed the TBU has been rather quiet lately. The reason why is simple. I have nothing to say, and I have seen nothing worth commenting on. It seems lately I just don’t care about much, not counting those things I always care about which reside in a universe that rarely collides with this one. I’m not sure why.

Coming home from a great vacation is part of it. Travellin’ is what I like to do most and there always seems to be a crash upon returning home. On top of that, a week’s worth of ignored work and personal business got piled up. Nothing like coming home to a sneering monkey waiting to resume his place on your back to help you land easily from a week in fantasy land. And it’s the end of winter. The signs of spring are beginning to show, but the season is not yet here. I’ll feel better when it is I feel sure.

So there it is.

Posted in Life, Philosobaen | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Things Found Humorous In The First Half Of A Ski Vacation

Quote of the Day:

With the passage of time, most loathsome events become humorous tales.”     —Jimmy Buffett

Have you ever been to Tillatooma, Mississippi? In route to Memphis to catch our flight west, TB found a reason to both be and to chuckle there. Honestly, if you are reading this at work you may think these snapshots are not funny at all. If so, look at this post again the next time you are on vacation. Maybe you have to be in the right frame of mind.

First of all, I haven't seen one of these in years. Secondly, a burly, bearded dude was all up in it with his face when I walked in. Too burly to photograph.

You know there's gotta be some Vanilla Ice in there

We made it to Tahoe and proceeded to gettin acclimated.

All's I'm sayin is that's a big chair Tiny E

And as you can see….

....TB honestly found this humorous

And finally, sadly, there is no photographic evidence of today’s humorous event. However if there were, the photo would be placed into the dictionary next to the word “overconfidence.” Or if that word was already taken it could be considered for “premature jocularity.”

Ol’ TB has been forthright with my fellow denizens of the TBU vis a vis my skiing ability or lack thereof, as the case may be. But I must tell you, I am improving rapidly on this fifth trip to the slopes (counting a few days of hillbilly skiing last year.) I’ve tackled the steepest slopes of my career and handled them without faltering. My skis are beginning to move in unison when they have always previously suffered from multiple personality disorder. I have purposely run through modest tree routes. I’m fast, but in control.

So it came as quite a surprise to me this afternoon when I was suddenly the reluctant host of a yard sale. For those of you back in Mississippi, that’s a big fall, skis, poles and apparel strewn about the mountain. I never saw it coming. It was the end of a long hard run over moguls (bumps, friends) down steeps, through trees and past a bunch of rookies. It was on the green portion of the run (bunny slopes, Mississippians) and I was flying after coming off the steep. I was contemplating how to inject a bit more difficulty into the run a little further down the hill. When I realized there was gonna be a crash landing, but not why–I wondered this in mid-air–I had the presence of mind to aim my derriere at the ground (my ass, Smily). Said derriere connected with its target and after that I was just a hunk of meat and bones along for the ride with my old friend gravity. I know I flipped once and spun once and I know my missing ski was about twenty yards away. And I smashed my thumb. Fortunately that was my only injury as any other fingers would have precluded typing this report. Anyway, I looked around. The only people who might have seen me were a long way off and neither laughing nor concerned. The Rambler was still up hill descending cautiously and only saw the wreckage. Satisfied there was no one else to laugh at what befell me, I decided I better do it myself. It was funny. I wish I had a picture. I’m glad nobody saw it. My thumb hurts.

A beautiful place, nowhere near where I spilled.

Posted in Humor, Life, Travel | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Off to Ski the Blizzard

Quote of the Day:

If you’re not making mistakes, then you’re not doing anything.” John Wooden

Making final preparations for my trip to Lake Tahoe, TB had a moment for contemplation. And you know what that means…..no eye-rolling please….

In the literal sense, I almost always know exactly where I am; in the metaphysical I can triangulate my location to within a few meters. But I do not now, nor have I ever known where the hell I was going. Oh, at times I thought I knew, but I didn’t. I think that’s another reason why I love travellin. I’ve written before that I am an anticipator and of all the pleasure anticipatin a trip entails. But I also take great comfort in knowing my future, if only for a brief duration. Subject to the ever-present threat of calamity, I’ll be skiing for the next week, oblivious to almost everything else that matters in my world, and to everything that does not. For those of you who give a damn, you might make a mental note that theme of my memoirs has just been publicly stated for the first time. Not that I’m predicting a future of TB toiling away at the keyboard or anything, for dang sure I’m not planning anything of the sort–predicting and planning would be imprudent, impertinent, vaguely impudent; but, well, it’s possible.

If I’m not hospitalized, drunk or too sore to type, I hope to post from the mountain next week, so be sure to tune in. My plan is to see funny things. I’ve had a bit of trouble with that lately.

Finally, I have made a major decision today that I feel I should share with the world. I do not really care one way or another for golf, though I do take note of the headlines. Not only that, but every year I have taken a rooting interest against Tiger Woods. But now that he is an outcast, now that the media, fans, business associates and fellow competitors have turned against him, I have decided it is time for me to become a fan. Start wearing black on Sundays Tiger and give ’em hell.

Posted in Philosobaen, Travel | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments

Huckleberry Finn, Hero

Quote of the Day:

What a wee little part of a person’s life are his acts and his words! His real life is led in his head, and is known to none but himself. –Mark Twain

TB aspires to be well read. I also want to write humor. It is therefore a mystery to me why I have waited until this year to read Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain, an essential waypoint on the road to achieving those life-goals.

Huck Finn is often described as an anti-hero. Not to me he isn’t. He’s the bona fide all-American epitome of my idea of a hero. Loyal, courageous and kind, but more importantly free and honest. Nobody owns Huck. Not his Daddy, not the widow Douglas nor “Aunt” Polly nor Sally, not his best friend Tom Sawyer and for damn sure not polite society. Huck is ignorant, superstitious and naïve; he is a child. But he trusts his own judgement and uses his own eyes and ears and reaches his own conclusions. He is intellectually honest, intelligently curious.

Huck is not the only character in this book who is ignorant. The author created a caricature of American 19th century citizenry. Adults in Huckleberry Finn are near universally as ignorant as the wild-eyed imaginative boys at the center of the story. They fall for all Huck and Tom’s shenanigans and they are consistently duped by Huck’s accidental raft companions, the con-artists Duke and the King. They fool themselves too, accepting the explanation (paraphrasing in modern terms) “it is what it is” as the reason two families cling to their deadly feud even though no one can recall why they are fighting. They are willfully ignorant and especially self-delusional on the issue of slavery and race.  It is no accident that Twain used the symbolic titles of old-world royalty to highlight the public’s willingness to be misled on matters ranging from religion to entertainment to current events. The Duke and the King hardly have to work at all to swindle the townspeople living along the river. Twain treats the ignorance of white America harshly, suggesting that they remain so out of laziness. They are willing to be led, as sheep, and care not for the qualifications or even the motives of the leader. Even so, he exposes these deficiencies while allowing that they are often, mostly, good people in spite of their close mindedness. Had he made them simple and evil, this book would pack a much lighter punch. Complexity and inconsistency are the descriptive techniques Mark Twain used and he made me think hard about how people became the way they were and how or if they could ever change.

The runaway slave Jim is also terribly ignorant, but he is portrayed sympathetically. My interpretation is different than that of some overzealous politically correct folks offended by the book’s repeated use of the derogatory slur for black people and its depiction of Jim in general. While I can see that it could be painful to read that word over and over, especially for a black child, and easily misinterpreted by many, I think it is regrettable that Huck’s adventures are not part of every high schooler’s education, that he wasn’t part of my own. Jim’s ignorance and the humiliating circumstances he often finds himself in, you see, are not self inflicted. Prohibited from reading, traveling and almost every other freedom accessible to his white neighbors, Jim never had a chance to break out of ignorance. Like Huck though, Jim is inquisitive and thoughtful, not to mention brave, kind and loyal. As Jim and Huck drift from adventure to adventure heading south down the Mississippi, Huck gradually comes to understand that all society has taught him about the nature of black people and the necessity of slavery is not true; at least as it pertains to Jim. The climactic moment of the novel is when Huck realizes Jim has been betrayed by the Duke and the King and returned to bondage. Huck wants Jim free and thinks about the consequences of helping him escape. He thinks about all he’s learned about Jim over the course of their journey and it takes him only a moment to decide, “alright, I’ll go to Hell!” And he sets off to save his friend.

As the book winds down, Tom Sawyer appears and quickly agrees to join with Huck in his efforts to set Jim free. Typical for Tom, the plot to save Jim is fanciful and drastically elaborate. When the boys and Jim finally run Tom is shot in the leg. Though safely on his raft and out of reach of the pursuit, Jim insists that Huck return to town for a doctor to help Tom while Jim stays with him to tend his wound. Naturally, Jim is recaptured when help arrives. Huck was deeply affected by Jim’s selflessness which proved, as he knew all along, Jim was “white on the inside.” And for the first time in discussing Jim, Huck refers to him as a “man.” Going back to that offensive term, not only is the harsh language used in describing Jim consistent with common speech of the era; more importantly it is essential to illustrating the gradual enlightenment of Huck and emphasizing the moment when he changes his own description of Jim without even realizing it. When Huck called Jim a “good man”, it froze my eye in place for a moment. A reader cannot miss this shift in language.

“White on the inside.” It is easy to understand why some would call Huck’s ultimate conclusion and semi-conscious epiphany racist and object to the book’s usage in public schools on that basis. I still think they miss the point, or at least fail to look beyond the surface. Huck is still a kid, uneducated too. He’s just had a realization that profoundly diverges from a “truth” he has known since birth. He for the first time is aware of his commonality with and the humanity of his black friend Jim. Who knows where Huck’s brain travels from there? It is to me a question worth considering.

It turned out Jim had been freed by the widow Watson some months prior, unbeknownst to he and Huck, and all the tomfoolery involving his escape was nonsense. Jim’s immediate future settled, Huck had to face his own. His vocabulary was too limited for him to verbalize exactly why, but his experience with an unreasoning culture led him to the inevitable conclusion as to what he should do. He could have a conventional life with a new family or keep trying to make it on his own. It is one of my favorite lines in all of literature (so far) and I think sums up his desire to remain free, body and soul, from the conformity, ignorance and preconceived notions inflicted upon him by the predominate culture of his time. “I reckon I got to light out for the Territory ahead of the rest, because Aunt Sally she’s going to adopt me and civilize me and I can’t stand it. I been there before.” I wanna go too, Huck.

Posted in Books | Tagged , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Humongous

Quote of the Day:

“…man had always assumed that he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much – the wheel, New York, wars and so on – whilst all the dolphins had ever done was muck about in the water having a good time. But conversely, the dolphins had always believed that they were far more intelligent than man – for precisely the same reasons.”       from Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams

Before TB left home this morning, I sat down with the Little Scamp to say goodbye. She waved a perfunctory kiss in my direction. It seems the word of the day on Sesame Street was “humongous” and she was intrigued.

Humongous. A good word of the day. It perfectly describes the chicken tenders I had last night from a joint I used to like a lot. When I first started eating at Abner’s it was a small town start-up. In the sixteen years that have elapsed since then, they have grown into a regional chain and their tenders have grown into monstrosities. I can’t eat them any more. They don’t feel right, they don’t taste right, they don’t look right. Bigger is not always better. And chicken isn’t the only humongous bird being manufactured these days. Did you know that most turkeys sold in the U.S.A. are unable to copulate? Well, I guess that’s not a surprise considering they are sold dead and frozen, but it is disturbing that this was also true while they were alive.

Over the last few years the problem with humongous chicken and turkey has grown. I call foul. Why can’t I just have two small pieces of chicken that retain the flavor and consistency of the natural animal instead of one humongous slab of soylent green? Does that cost so much more to produce? Instead I get a choice between shelling out ten bucks for a pound of organic chicken, which itself is not perfect, or half that for a chicken injected with enough steroids to eclipse Barry Bonds’ home run record and enough growth hormone to whip Mark McGwire’s ass and God only knows what else. Maybe baseball is the wrong analogy. Wrestling would be better. Lord Chicken Humongous vs the Chick-fil-et Cow in an old-fashioned barnyard brawl complete a with barbed wire ring. A biotechnicalgeneticist with a specialty in accounting would referee I suppose.

Check out this clip from Stephen Colbert that aired last week:

Posted in Food | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 12 Comments

U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.!

Quote of the Day:

If you think you can do a thing or think you can’t do a thing, you’re right. –Henry Ford

TB tuned in to NBC Saturday night just in time to catch the last ten skiers in women’s Moguls and I’m glad I did. Hannah Kearney brought home the first Gold Medal of these Olympics to the USA and her teammate Shannon Bahrke won Bronze. (Before I go any further let me say here that I hope the notoriety of her medal will help Bahrke be able to afford a new vowel or two.) Mogul skiing is a cool event. The competitors speed headlong down a hill full of smaller hills, hitting a pair of mid-size hills along the way that launch them into the sky where they are expected to look cool and do tricks until they hit the ground when they are again faced with speeding over small hills to the bottom of the big hill. Though the color commentator said nothing so descriptive as the foregoing, he did explain in vibrant terms that the goal of speed in this event is best attained by getting as close to completely out of control as possible without turning over. Speaking for terrible skiers everywhere, I can totally relate to that exact moment. These athletes can hold that moment all the way down the hill, whereas the likes of TB only recognize it in the millisecond we realize a face full of snow is imminent. Not only must racers reach the bottom fastest. They are also scored subjectively on the cool airborne tricks. Kearney did a complete backflip on her first jump and a “helicopter” 360 degree spin on her second. Amazing. The best part of her victory was that in Torino four years ago she entered the contest as favorite and stumbled to a 22nd place finish. I can only imagine how hard it has been for her waiting four years for redemption. It was a victory that defines and legitimizes the cliché, “Olympic moment”.

I also cheered America today after assembling the Little Scamp’s new Radio Flyer tricycle. Radio Flyer is an American company based in Illinois that manufactures products in Wisconsin. Beyond the fact that an iconic company still builds things in America, the directions were good and the assembly process as a whole was a breeze. Believe me, I know. I am terrible at putting things together. I get these Chinese-made things and find extra parts, missing steps in the instructions, impossible to interpret diagrams. Not with American-as-apple-pie Radio Flyer! They even had a note that an extra piece was supplied purposely. And I was one proud Dad watching my LS learn to pedal that thing around our neighborhood. Dang right I can do man-stuff like puttin’ things together….oh, the LS did well too.

Back to the Olympics where there was even more American glory on display. Apollo Ohno won a Silver to become the co-all-time American leader in medals won Saturday. On Sunday Johnny Spillane won Silver in men’s Nordic Combined cross-country skiing. Johnny Spillane. Is there a better American name than that? Before Spillane, no American had ever medaled in the sport. He was runner up to Frenchman Jason Chappuis. But get this, Chappuis was born in Montana to a French father and American mother and is therefore an American citizen. So we really should be able to claim half a medal there. Then again, Hannah Kearney it turns out is half Canadian so we’ll call it even.

Better wrap this up and take out the trash…..oh, crap, just looked at the box. The LS’s tricycle it turns out is only half-American too, plastic in America and steel parts in China. <blank stare> Well, that’s better than most anything else we own. I’ll take it. U.S.A.!

Posted in Life, Sports | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Teaching

Quote of the Day:

I am a part of all that I have met.” –Alfred Tennyson, Ulysses

My high school French teacher, Alice Hammond, retired this week after a twenty-eight year career. She alerted many of us via her Facebook status update. She also said that her greatest goal as an educator was to instill a sense of respect for different people, opinions and cultures. As many of you know, TB puts great stock in milestones and retirement is a big one. But I have been thinking about what Alice wrote for three days not only because I am fascinated with how one puts a career into perspective in a single sentence, but even more because I was struck by the depth, complexity and wisdom of her hopes of what she had accomplished.

To start with, how can a teacher know the impact she has had? Over the course of twenty-eight years, innumerable kids have been influenced to some degree by her. After a year, maybe two, a great diaspora occurs and she will never hear anything about most of them again. But seeing the results, I suppose, is not the point of teaching. The point is merely to equip the student so that results become more likely.

Alice is a foreign language specialist so in one way it seems natural that respect for cultures outside our own would be a focus for her. Her words though, seemed calculated to go beyond such a limited goal as having Americans appreciate the French. I cannot be certain this was her intent; it is my interpretation however that by instilling an appreciation for the French culture she was charged with teaching that a student must at the same time learn to look at a person, event, or idea from a different perspective than what the conformist and parochial culture we have been reared in usually demands.

Not being an educator, but having opinions nonetheless, I have long held that the two great deficiencies in American education have been our absolute failure to teach foreign language and a failure to teach critical reading and reasoning. I believe children should be instructed in a foreign language beginning in kindergarten and continuing through college. Why is it that kids in Europe, Asia, and Africa learn English in such great numbers but in America we….well, we barely learn English ourselves? It gives them a great advantage over us in the world marketplace. I think what Alice tried to do over her career goes back even one step further than what I have always wanted. If a child is taught to respect the ideas of someone from a culture different from his own, he will then be impelled to learn how to communicate with those people. To understand them he will be forced to extend his inquiries beyond clichés and stereotypes, buzz words and preconceived notions. And once this skill is learned, the former student will use it in every facet of his life. And maybe if a lot more teachers would adopt this ultimate career goal, and parents too, maybe we can get our own country communicating among ourselves again.

Bonus Quote of the Day:

Posted in People, Philosobaen | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 21 Comments

When TB LOST It

Quote of the Day:

Reverie is when ideas float in our mind without reflection or regard of the understanding.” John Locke

Tracy Porter jumped the route and picked off Peyton Manning at approximately 8:45 p.m., c.s.t. on February 7, 2010. TB will never forget where I was when it happened–sitting in my chair with my feet propped up on the little Scamp’s chair. That’s the position from which the Saints seemed to be having the best luck so I was trying not to fidget. By the time he crossed midfield I had leaped the little chair, exhorting him to “go…Go…GO!” and when he crossed the goal I stood silently with my arms over my head in triumphant and grudging belief. It was as if an atomic bomb had gone off suddenly somewhere in the Pacific Ocean.

All in an instant I flashed back and recalled the whole day, one I will never forget. I rose at 9:oo a.m., well rested in spite of an hour of insomnia around 2:30 when I woke up in a sweat about my taxes that are due in April. After an hour of a rousing game of beach ball catch with the LS, I went on a brisk walk with the family. By 1:30 we were loading up for the trip back home so I could watch the Black and Gold Who Dat Geaux Saints Super Bowl and a few minutes of the pregame. At 3:30 we pulled over for the LS to teetee in the potty. She got a prize consisting of four M&M’s but after consuming those decided she would like me to “hand (her) some ice cream.” At 4:00 we pulled over for another LS pitstop and I adjusted my eta to just before kickoff. While waiting on the scamp to take care of her business I was treated to a smilin’ jazzy harmonica solo that had to be completed before other matters were addressed. At 5:03 I learned the Kroger was out of Velveeta. And at 5:28 the car was unloaded, the LS was laid out for a winter’s nap and the Saints won the toss and elected to receive. In just over three hours….the explosion.

I should have known something was up because I totally (mentally) called the onsides kick at the beginning of the second half. Anyway, at the moment of the explosion, I entered a lost world of multiple consciousness. In a parallel universe I was single and in Miami. I was on a boat with Cal and Fido giving man-hugs and losing my voice. Just like in my home universe I recalled my whole day in an instant. At 9:00 a.m I rose and had a drink of water and some ibuprofen and then stumbled back to bed. The last time I remembered seeing a clock the night before was 2:30 and I was pretty sure I was still going strong at that point.  After a rousing game of “what happened last night” I went for a brisk walk down to the hotel buffet to replenish my strength for the day. By 1:30 I was four beers in and loading up for the drive over to the stadium. At 3:30 I was taking shots with Desmond Howard. He was telling me all about striking the pose and I was thinking how some ice cream would be nice, but then at 4:00 he introduced me to Elizabeth Hurley. I had fun telling her about how lucky I always was in the teams I root for so I was sure the Saints would prevail. At 5:03 Kate Beckinsale joined us. We hit it off immediately and while she was telling me she would be shooting “Tom Sawyer” in Mississippi this spring she also happened to mention she had an extra ticket. On the fifty halfway up. (Hey, it’s MY alternate universe.) In just over three hours….the explosion.

In another universe I was running around Del Norte Circle with eight other dudes in their underwear. In yet another I was kissing a girl in Big Daddy’s on Bourbon, gratis.  In another I was skiing effortlessly down the Olympic slalom run at Whistler, oblivious of the fact of Super Bowl Sunday. All my alternate universes kick ass. Then again, my home universe is pretty good too and I woke this morning back where I belong, with the little scamp’s feet planted firmly in my back, tax issues weighing on my mind, and a still incredulous grin forming at the corner of my mouth. The world as I knew it before is no more. Hell has frozen over. Pigs have flown. The New Orleans Saints are Super Bowl Champions.

And p.s., no, I haven’t resolved just how I was able to experience consciousness on the boat and in the stadium at the same time but I wanted to pay homage to Cal and Fido and I figure JJ Abrams could make something like that happen so why not TB?

Posted in Entertainment, Sports | Tagged , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

I’ll Still Be Danged

Posted in Music, Sports | Tagged , , , , , | 4 Comments

Haircut

Quote of the Day:

Get a haircut and get a real job.” –George Thorogood

TB turns 40 this year. I always thought that by the time I was 40 I would no longer be constrained by childish behavior and concerns. I thought I would stop cussin by now. Fear of needles? Not for a 40 year old man. I never imagined myself still wearing t-shirts and tennis shoes at this age or still dreading my morning shave. And though I never really considered this one, if I had, I would have thought I’d be over hating to get a haircut.

A haircut is painless. It takes fifteen minutes, tops, out of my day. For that matter it only takes fifteen minutes out of my quarter–I go three months in between usually. But I hate it. I don’t like the way I look when I come out, I don’t like the way the hairs get stuck in the back of my shirt and I really don’t like the ever-increasing proportion of grays that come tumbling down while I sit helplessly and watch. The twenty bucks it costs to endure this galls me. The smells. The buzz. The questions. It’s all too much. How the hell do I know what you should do? Just trim it so I don’t need to come back for two months, can stretch it to three and I don’t look too ridiculous!

I am not certain of the root cause of my strange animosity toward barberism. Maybe its the memory of my brother being cut behind the ear when I was but a tot. Perhaps in a prior and more interesting existence I was offed by a scissor wielding assassin. I think the bowl cuts administered in childhood by my otherwise saintly Mother probably played a role.

There is another factor at play here. You see, TB has one of the most vicious cowlicks in history. Even Alfalfa would look upon it with pity, his saucer-sized eyes peeled wide with wonder. The funny thing is I have come to embrace the cowlick through the years. Barbers came and went and haplessly hacked around the offending spot. Cocky cosmetologists, stylists and hairdressers took their place and each in turn declared war on the cowlick, then inevitably surrendered and paid homage to its power. They hate the cowlick and thus I have come to embrace it. It is, I suppose, a measure of recompense at being subjected by society to the seasonal scissor-work. A silver lining of sorts; eh, I’m an optimist at heart.

Posted in Humor, Life | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments