Lights, Camera, Lipstick

Has anyone else but me noticed that the news game has been overrun by women lately? Last night, I'm watching one of the local newscasts, and there are two women anchoring. For the top story they throw it out to...another woman. None of the channels here are "chick-free" at the anchor desk. In fact, I'm much more likely to see an all-gal newscast then to see a couple of dudes go back and forth. What happened?

If you took the average woman and gave her a quiz on current events, I'd bet the mortgage that her score would be closer to zero than it would to 100. So why are we inundated  by female news personalities all of a sudden? The nightly news has become much less of a re-cap of the day's events and more of a "watching out for me" mentality (to borrow the motto of another local news outlet). A story on a family that is filing for bankruptcy isn't news to me, but a feature designed to make us feel something. There! Feeling something! Maybe that's it. As the news becomes less about the news and more about getting you to "feel something" maybe it's thought that a woman can deliver the goods better than a man can.

Or maybe it simply boils down to serving the hottest dish to read the teleprompter scroll because the prettier the gal, the more of the actual people who watch the news (guys) will tune in. Sometimes the obvious answers apply.

A Cell of My Own Making

There's one time every day where I feel unsafe. It's a two block stretch on the drive home, southbound on Tamarus from Tropicana to Hacienda. Every night, there are dozens of people milling about. Some are barbecuing. Some are fixing their cars. Others are simply hanging around. So many kids. I'm always afraid one is going to dart out into my path. Does all this scare me simply because I'm so not used to seeing it anymore?

I live in a gated community.  The very style of the development screams "Leave Me Alone". If (as a visitor) you're lucky enough to gain access through the front gate, once you get to your desired home, there's another locked gate you encounter before you get to the actual front door of the house. If you're planning on moving in, forget about getting to know your neighbors. Ain't gonna happen. There are benefits, though. Example? Halloween. Very few trick-or-treaters, which means more fun size Twix bars left for your author. On the down side, ordering a pizza is much more of a hassle than it needs to be.

Still, the privacy which this house affords is one of the reasons I was attracted to it in the first place. I don't want to be bothered, and I rarely am. Still, as I drive that seemingly dangerous three blocks each night, I also think that what I'm seeing reminds me of what it was like growing up on North 95th Street in Milwaukee 30 years ago, when you knew the names of everyone on your street and an impromptu game of Whiffleball could break out at any moment. 

As I sit and sip my coffee, my dog is chewing on his bone. The TV is off. My gal just told me she arrived safely to work, and I'm so damn glad it's not 1979 

Fixed and Fine With It

Hardly a week goes by that you don't see or read stories about individuals or families that have been hit hard by this "recession" we're in. 12 year old Tiffini had to give up her cell phone. Bart? Well, Bart can't take French horn lessons anymore because he has to go work at the mall since his dad was laid off. Hey, we're all feeling the pinch. Especially those on fixed incomes. Like me.

I started thinking about that after watching a report about how the elderly are handling things nowadays. It's always brought up that retirees are living on a fixed income but really, outside of salespeople whose commission can vary wildly from month to month, who isn't? Pumpkin and I work 40 hour weeks. My paycheck doesn't change. Neither does hers. That's a fixed income, right? So where's the profile on me? The advantage to having a fixed income is (unless you're a moron) you know what you can and can't afford. Pumpkin and I have tossed out cruises to the Bahamas and trips to Australia off the vacation possibilities list. Our trips this year look like they'll be to Wisconsin for family visits. My new Wisconsin motto is "Where the accommodations are always free, and there's always coffee a brewin". Not very catchy, but the point is that living with a fixed income should be easier than living with a variable one. Kind of like how having a fixed-rate mortgage gives peace of mind that a variable rate can never hope to provide.

It seems simple to realize what you can and can't afford to do, but even the simplest of concepts seem to escape more people. A red light means stop, a lighted elevator button doesn't need to be pushed a second time, and you never, ever need to buy a boat. Yet, as you read this, someone just ran the light and caused an accident, someone is feverishly pushing that button thinking it quickens the speed of deceleration, and some poor sap is turning to his wife and going "Aw, let's just do it. Live a little!". In the meantime, I'm going out to dinner with some friends on Sunday night, and to me that means we'll have the rest of our weekend meals at home to save money. Fine by me.

That's another advantaged of a fixed income. The ability to plan ahead. 

Sore

I have a canker sore in the back of my throat, and it's making me cranky. Too much information, I know. Anyway...

Tough to be a white guy these days. As I read endless articles about the new nominee for the Supreme Court, Sonia Sotomayor (who's name I've heard pronounced seven different ways now), it's plain to see that a white judge with similar or better qualifications was probably never even considered. Such a decision was thus based on race, which by definition makes it racist. Why does no one say this? All too often now, people are chosen based on what they are, not how they'd do. And that hurts the white guy. We've got to have women on the board of directors. We need to have minorities represented in law enforcement. We need a female voice on the radio station. It never stops and it's just getting worse. And at the end of the day, it's the white male of European background that's taking it up the you-know-what. We're not wanted anymore.

Ask yourself this; in an age where "diversity" is the big buzzword (Thomas Sowell says the word "diversity" is the new "racism"), are things better since we've become more "diverse"? Of course not. Name one professional field that is considered better now than it was even ten years ago, before the madness really started in full force. If your child needed life saving surgery, do you want the best doctor to work on them, or do you want the doctor who was hired because the hospital needed more minority representation? If your house is burning down, do you want the best "hosemen" (sorry), or the 120 pound girl who can't even change a tire? Don't even get me started on the military, please.

In an age where the U.S. has elected a minority as president, we're now more racist and sexist than ever. Those most deserving of the job rarely get it these days. Thus, companies simply aren't as well run as they used to be. We're much softer as a nation as well, at a time that demands more toughness than ever.

Hispanics can be proud of their heritage. So can blacks, women, Asians, Indians...anyone but the white guy. Someone who says "I'm proud to be white" is painted as a redneck hick ready to be fitted for a KKK hood. In a delicious irony, isn't it funny that the people considered most racist (white guys) are really these days the least racist of all?

No, not really.

What Happens in Vegas

I worked the morning shift today. 4;30am-Noon. My old hours for 13 years. I've always looked forward to working that shift, but that's starting to fade. The only reason I'm typing is that I'm monumentally bored. I don't take middle of the day naps anymore, and my attempt today was disappointing. It's too hot for me to do anything outside for an extended period. It's also too hot for the dog to be outside for any more than ten minutes at a time, so a trip to the park is out. I don't feel like going to the gym, and since I went on Saturday and Sunday, today should be a day of rest anyway. The selections on television are abysmal. Say what you will about TV, but those who program it more than realize that those who watch between 1pm-4pm must have brains mushier than a cup of Golden Spoon peanut butter chocolate.

The old routine meant a nap from 1:30-3:30, followed by feeding the dog, catching up on news and waiting for the wife to get home. Today I gave up on the nap at 2:15. The dog was fed at 3. There's nothing to watch, and the news is all old to me. Obama's coming. I know this. There's a new Supreme Court nominee (more about that later). I know this. 90s all week. Oh, God, how I know that. I can sense my dog's frustration with my boredom, as my frustration makes me understand his. I'm leading a dog's life this afternoon. Sometimes that's good, but right now it's paralyzing. Pumpkin won't be home for at least an hour.  I consider myself an independent, but have I become so dependent on her company that I'm starting to lose the ability to enjoy my time alone? I had the potential to do almost anything I wanted this afternoon and the choice was to change the channel.

The Ride Home

Steve died Tuesday night.

I had a feeling it was coming. My last post talked about the guilt I felt for not calling Steve since February 9th. Yesterday morning I took to Google to search under his name. The purpose was to check the obituaries in the Madison newspaper. Instead, I found that Steve had created a blog to diary the goings-on at his hospice. The entries were pretty regular, every second or third day. The last posting was three weeks ago. Something wasn't right

Not more than 15 minutes after looking at the blog- and the obituaries- Steve's stepmom called to say that he had died on Tuesday night, surrounded by family. The passing was peaceful, the pain finally gone. I learned that during his final days, Steve achieved his two dreams. One was to have an art fair, showcasing his work. That was held at the hospice. The other was to record a cd of original music. Both events were hits, with both the artwork and the cd (25 copies) selling out. Steve finished life with the same passion that I had seen in him when we hung out in Madison. Mission accomplished. Time to catch the bus.

Steve's stepmom told me how much he had appreciated my calls to him, even though those calls stopped three months back. Ironically, the blog entries would allow me to write Steve and comment on what great things he was doing. Even if I couldn't talk with him anymore, I was going to re-establish that line of communication. I feel terrific that he was so active in the time that led up to his death, but there'll be no shaking the guilt I feel for not being there toward the end. Funny how death is the hardest on those who haven't yet died

One more thing: Steve had told me that during the presidential campaign Barack Obama gave him a phone call. Steve was a big supporter and organizer for Obama in Madison. Word of Steve's condition made its way to Obama and the phone call was placed. Steve said Obama asked him how he could work so hard with such a debilitating condition. Steve told him that it was because Obama inspired him. Obama's response: "No, Steve. You inspire me". I'm not a fan of his policies, but that was a pretty cool thing to do. I just wish I had Steve's passion and drive. His reward? A one-way ticket North

Friend Or Coward?

I last called Steve on February 9th. I knew it had been awhile, but not that long. Three months ago. Steve is someone I hung out with when I was living in Madison back in the early 90's. Steve's been fighting brain cancer for the past couple of years, and it's recently advanced to the stage where he's now in hospice care. Three months ago he was given six months to live. I've stopped calling. What am I afraid of?

The last time we spoke, Steve had gotten himself a bluetooth earpiece, as he was only able to use one arm. The bluetooth freed him up to do things like sketch and eat. It also meant a whole lot of background noise. It was tough enough to understand him before the bluetooth but with it, it became a much more difficult conversation. As I said goodbye, I said what I always said- "I'll give you a call next week". I haven't called since, and it eats away at me every day. I could pick up the phone right now and call, but I don't. Why?

(I've been sitting here staring at the word "why" for three minutes. No answer.)

I knew Steve had been as active at the hospice as a person can be. He'd been able to get around, had the biggest room in the place, and was living in his hometown, which meant constant visits from friends and family. Maybe I took heart in thinking that he's not alone and that I wasn't his only link to the outside world. Or maybe I'm just showing that I can't be a good friend to someone when they need a good friend the most. The easiest thing I could do today would be to call him. It would also be the hardest. 

See? There I go again. A friend of mine is dying of brain cancer and it's all about my problems, not his.

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Steve passed away on May 12th. And I never called