Memorial Day 2007

Three pictures I took in DC sum up my thoughts of today.

Dogs

“We give dogs time we can spare,
space we can spare
and love we can spare.
And in return, dogs give us their all.
It’s the best deal man has ever made.” (anonymous)

Check out this headline from the AP

Just read this at Google News from the AP.
Click the link to see the screen shot I took of the page. I could not believe it!

What do you see

What is the war costing you?

Give Bill Moyers of PBS 6 minutes and the world actually learns something.
Just watch this 6 minute report.
I ask you…Can you spare 6 minutes?

Watch this. Share it. Talk About it.

Watch Now:

 Podcast Video [6:26m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Very Important. Please Read.

There is a band called linkin park.
I just wanted to let you know that…

They are dumb and they have no originality or talent and they embody all that is wrong with music.

thank you,
john

linkin park is the stupidest suckiest lamest band ever

hi,
its me john.
i’m taking a break from my usual thoughtful indepth emotional positive life affirming commentaries to make a simple statement.
A statement that will hopefully save lives. The statement is from the bottom of my heart and is something I feel must be said.So here goes:

Linkin Park is the stupidest suckiest lamest band ever.

thank you,
john morello
(not a member of linkin park and thankful)

Baseball & Drugs: Whose good? Whose Bad?

This is an article I wrote that is awaiting publication. You lucky blog readers get first view.
If you want to download a PDF pritable version go here

So I guess the jury has spoken through their newly elected foreman Curt Schilling. Barry Bonds is a cheater. According to Schilling’s statements on Boston’s WEEI, Barry has cheated on his wife, his taxes, and most importantly Baseball. Schilling also said that Barry had shifty eyes, did not look “trustworthy”, and he heard from someone that Barry had attended meetings with Al Queda types. Oh, by the way, Barry likes white women and does not believe in God.

Of course Barry has never admitted to any of the first three things nor are any of the other statements true, relevant, or important. But I figured since we live in an age where anyone can fling a statement against the wall to see if it sticks, I just wanted to see if my lies would stay out there, or better yet come back to me like the children’s telephone game.
I have been concerned in recent days as I have watched the media, players, and public pile on in destroying Barry Bonds. These attempts seem to me hypocritical at best and, yes, racist at their worst.

Baseball loves to sell itself as the pure American ideal. We think of images like the scruffy haired farm boy making it to the “bigs.” Playing backyard games with childhood friends long gone. Having a catch with Dad. A willow tree serving as second base. Yankee stadium after the attack on the world trade center as New York and America emerges victorious. These images are tied into our very own dreams of the beautiful ideals we hold about our country and unfortunately they are just that…Dreams. Ideals. But far from the truth. Baseball is running from its own ghosts in the same tracks as America itself. Its hard to tell the cart from the horse when comparing the specific culture of the major leagues and America’s culture at large. We are no longer the country that exports its glorious products from the midwest, we import them from a cheaper place, just as our players are imported. Our neighborhoods are so dissected that a game of baseball with nine kids on each team, who can get along and play with nine other kids, is a distant dream. Dad is often not around to play catch. And if you remember, New Yorker’s bravery may have shocked the world after 9-11 but, quite symbolically, the Yankees lost that series to the Diamondbacks and now our country is mired in a 5 year war which gets bloodier everyday.

You see, baseball is just like real life but baseball does not want you to know that. They need you to BELIEVE like a church needs you to believe. If you do not believe you will not come to church. Which means the offerings go down while the church goes under. So if you want to keep a ring on Monsignor Bud Selig’s finger you better believe in your gods and hate your devils. So we hold sacred our DiMaggio and our Williams and we despise our Pete Rose or Shoeless Joe. We love our benevolent god Hank Aaron and we despise our devil Barry Bonds. But as anyone can tell you who has come to explore and embrace a faith of their own, its never that easy.

The last time I checked America was at war on drugs. The illegal ones that is. Alcohol, which statistics point out is involved in more crime and deaths than all the other drugs combined, is acceptable and exempted. But in general we see drugs ruin lives and have developed responses. Addiction tears families apart. Overdoses shatter lives filled with potential. And illegal drug trafficking is at the heart of American crime. This epidemic spreads from the inner-city crack den to the midwest meth lab. We are a nation on drugs and simultaneously at war with them. We need our drugs but we don’t like that we need our drugs. Because, in the back of our minds, we know that for every drunk on the street there is a drunk in the CEO chair with a Martini. For every 17 year old girl on crack there is a 30 year old mom on speed and Prozac. For every young teen smoking weed there is a father smoking the same stuff and then popping his Cialis. This is a rather grim assessment I know but if we search our minds we must realize that we are constantly living in this dichotomy. So when we look at baseball why should it be any different than Real Life. I assert that, like everyday life, baseball has been a game of drugs for years and it is still and shall ever be. The policy can be summed up with the famous line about life in New Jersey: “Everything’s legal as long as you don’t get caught.” (Cont’d)

(To read the whole article go here or download)

George Bush Kills People in Kansas…But is he Here or There?

“I can ride my bike. All by myself. If I don’t fall off Cheney said I could have a fudgicle.”

“Uhm hi I’m a dead person buried in tornado wreckage in Kansas. Someone wanna lift this stuff off of me. Dude can I borrow your truck?”

HERE OR THERE

What? Did he say…Bush Kills people..?
Oh thats too far.
Thats just over the line.
Thats just partisan complaining!
Thats just left wing rhetoric.
Oh right! First he had a hurricane machine now he has a tornado machine?!
Why don’t you keep politics out of your life!
Why don’t you mind your own business?
Don’t discuss politics.
Tough! I was just in Kansas last year and it was awesome. The people were great and YES it affects me and you. They lost 95 % of the town. Those people will be poor and bummed out for a while. School will be canceled. Young people will feel more disenfranchised. There will be depression. This will trickle down for months and years. And so I was concerned about the response and rebuilding effort that my government was doing with the taxes I just paid them on April 15th.
So I was checking up on them in the morning news.

This is a quote from the AP and The Governor Of Kansas:

The National Weather Service classified it an F-5, the highest category and the first since the weather service revised its scale this year in an effort to more comprehensively gauge tornadoes’ damage potential, with less emphasis on wind speed. The last tornado classified as an F-5 hit the Oklahoma City area on May 3, 1999, killing 36 people.

“Not having the National Guard equipment, which used to be positioned in various parts of the state, to bring in immediately is really going to handicap this effort to rebuild,” Sebelius said.

So what else am I supposed to think after reading that?
If people HERE were not helped because of what we are doing over THERE then …what?
It means a decision was made. Things were examined and someone said there are priorities.
And the money and equipment went THERE…and not HERE because of priorities.
Some would say we have not been attacked by terrorists since we made it a PRIORITY to fight them there.
Which is consistent with the mantra of the US War Machine.
Better to fight them there than over here.
But did these things have to be mutually exclusive?
Most people can do two things at once.
Right now I’m listening to the radio and typing and watching my dogs and listening to a baby monitor.
And now I have an itch…..There…Better. See! I’m a genius!
You are at work multitasking. Reading this. Ignoring your coworkers breath. Watching a call beep on hold. And downloading picture of Sanjaya doing awful things on some web site. See. YOU are a genius!
We can walk and chew gum.
But some children have a hard time doing two things at once.
Some need to be taught about here and there.
Near or Far.
Grover taught me that on sesame street.
I was 4 or so at the time. I’m sure I just held up my hand and said “dis many.”

But our leader made it clear.
One thing at a time.
Bike riding or jogging.
Decider or Commander.
There is a choice.
Freedom lovers or Evil Doers.
With us or against us.
Here or there.
Freedom or terror.
Here or there.
Here or there.
Here or there.
Shut up..Don’t rush me!
I’m thinking and stuff.
HERE OR THERE!?
Crap…Uhm….THERE. I choose there.
I’m the decider.
He chose there.
The troops are there.
The money is there.
Our future is there.
But the tornadoes hit here
and when we called for help…
There
was
nobody

there.

crap. shoulda chose here.

Picture Caption Contest

Saw this picture on ESPN web site.
Feel free to add your own caption in the comments section.
Winner gets online praise and respect.

John

Lisle, Illinois. 4.4.07 Sometimes you can’t make it on your own

Tough, you think you’ve got the stuff
You’re telling me and anyone
You’re hard enough

-U2

Yesterday. Pre-Show. Before beginning the show I have been sharing random happenings and experiences since coming to their town. I do this a lot.
“Met this lady in the coffee shop in town…”
“I noticed the big supermarket in town is…”
That kind of stuff.

So today I said “it was a good flight in until I got on the rental car shuttle. A lady on her cell phone was talking so loud that everyone on the bus could hear her. Perhaps people over 50 should not be given mobile phones until they go through proper training. Her name was Jenny…I know because she called everyone saying “Hi Mark…Its Jenny.” Her voice very very NICE in a midwest way. Think Fargo. Think the lady behind the counter in Planes Trains…Gobble Gobble. Got it? Good. Anyway she goes on “ Hi Scott…this is Jenny” “I just got in so tell your Mom. I should be there soon. Oh yeah. It was a good flight.” This goes on and on and I was just praying for silence. And then this foreign guy sits next to her and she starts up a conversation with him. Real Loud. And I think What if Jenny meets a terrorist. So Khalid Mohammed What brings you to Chicago. Oh your a muslim terrorist. Wooooow. That sounds like fascinating work. Now our pastor was talking about Muslims the other day…What was he saying..Well I don’t remember. Anyway..So go on…your in town…and you wanna kill…So how does that work.” Jenny. JENNY! Shut up. Shut up Jenny. You must shut up!

It was kind of a funny little bit I did and everyone could relate. Cut to after the show.
Post Show. Q&A

Student asks: “Were you ever like the misanthropic isolated kid Pi in your show?”
Great question and kudos for using the word “misanthropic.”
Reply: “Well uhm. Yeah. And as a matter of fact I still am at times. I think the character of Pi has drifted into addiction in part because of his feelings of isolation.” I then pointed out that part of being young is good old teen angst. You hate stuff. Phony people. Plastic people. Normal people. Adult people. You question authority. And just because you grow up and hopefully are not using drugs it doesn’t mean that you have to lose your edge so to speak. You can still keep your rebel spirit. I jokingly said “ You can still be misanthropic but you learn to do it in a healthy way.” But sooner or later you will have to STOP. Breathe. Reflect. And get out of the rat race in your mind. You have to stop. The scriptures say it. Sabbath translated doesn’t mean “Rest” it means STOP. Its a commandment to take care of yourself.
That last part was from the sermon in church on Sunday from the pastor…But I threw it in at the end as if it was mine. Hey its not copyrighted. Its from the Bible man.

Cut to the next show later that night. Post show conversation with one of the staff from the school. I asked him about how they discipline and deal with “problem” kids. He said something great.
“We don’t assume that kids know everything. They are here to learn not only academics. But behavior. Ethics. Responsibility. Communication skills. We should not assume that a kid already has the tools. We should teach them the tools. So we don’t come down HEAVY on kids because its pointless. Obviously some kids do need to dealt with kind of boldly and aggressive. But most of the time we assume that if a kid acts out or steps out line or falls behind or messes up…Its part of the learning process…And we need to be there to help them clean up the mess”

I said “thats cool. Because often times adults and parents expect more from kids than they are willing to give themselves. If their parents act like a-holes or are inconsiderate or are self medicating then why should they expect their kids to be different. Just like etiquette at the airport the other day. “Some people are such jerks”, I said. People don’t know how to behave in public. They step in front of each-other in line, are impatient, litter…talk loud on cell phones. We need to be taught.”

Next day. Airport. 5:55 AM. Flight leaving at 6:35. Gotta make it. Running. Dragging bags. Gotta make it. No I HAVE to. I need to be in Hartford by 9:30AM so I can be in Worcester by noon for a show at Holy Name Central Catholic High School. This is the only flight that will get me there in time. Lady at United says its too late to check in. CRAP! No way. She said you’ll have to catch a later flight. NO! In five years of doing this show I have NEVER had to miss or cancel a show. NEVER. I’ve been sick. I’ve been in pain. I’ve come from funerals. I have a reputation…And in life thats all you really got with people. I don’t miss shows.

I start running to the gate anyway. The lady says we cannot check those bags. You missed it! I said what if I carry them on. Well you have to combine the three into two. I drop to the ground frantic. I open up all my bags I start rearranging. I realize that I will have to dump all my toiletries in the garbage because of the “no gels and liquids for carry on” rule. Big deal. Cut it loose. Keep combining and zipping. Tick tock. “You missed it sir.” I can’t do it. It won’t fit. I repack and begin to run to the gate anyway. Why. I don’t know. I was frantic. Give it up…Dude you missed it. “Its over Rambo…NO NOTHING IS OVER!” I’m possessed. And as I’m running my wheely bag hits a bad turn and in skateboarding lingo does an olly off of the walkway. This trips up my other bag which trips me up and my laptop case flies off my shoulder and all three bags end up in a pile. I look at my luggage. My baggage if you will. I take my bottle of water and in anger and with all the frustration of traveling like an idiot for four days non-stop…Like the frickin caveman in 2001 with the bone raised high…Slow motion..Camera zoom out…birds fly away…slow motion audio…Nooooooooo I whip the bottle on the ground. It explodes and water runs all over the floor. I stand over my mess. Its over.

As I stand over luggage Jenga…A pilot about 50 years old with slightly grey hair and mustache looks at me… and in voice which is the male equivalent of Jenny…Think Ned Flanders…Got it? Well this guys says” You gonna take care of that Son.” I ignore him. I’m all Homer Simpson right now. Stupid Flanders! He can’t possible be talking to me. “Are you going to clean that up.” he repeats. The audacity of this little do-gooder. Clean it up? Are you serious I’m thinking. I missed my flight. My stuff is all over the floor. Do you not realize. I stare at him and scowl and say. “How!” How am I going to clean that up.” Do you see any towels around…You think I got time for this!” He calmly replies “Well it needs to dealt with son.” OK pause the movie.

You are in my shoes. What would you say to the guy. I’ll give you a moment before I tell you what I said to him. All children under 18 should now leave this blog.

Suddenly I am the misanthropic teenager. Suddenly I feel aggression in my blood. I feel the music of Black Flag and Pantera well up in my heart and I yell at the guy:
“What the Fuck? Clean up the fuckin water. What do you want me to fuckin do? Do you want me to fuckin lick it up?!”
He pauses. He stops. His face gets red. He stays perfectly calm and walks away.

I’m alone. With my spilled water. My baggage. My anger. And now my shame. I hang my head. I’m a total loser. I feel that choked up feeling. Like I’m gonna cry or something. I stare down at the floor. I’m shaking. I watch the water flow toward me. I follow the puddle all the way to its source. I realize its size. I realize this is dangerous. I realize someone could trip on this and get hurt. I realize this needs to be dealt with. Suddenly standing in the water is a polished black shoe of a pilot. And then a pile of napkins drops down next to it. And then a newspaper. “This will be a good start…This will help.” The pilot’s voice says.
I look up. His face is no longer red. He has compassion in his eyes. I stand up and he puts his hand on my shoulder. I’m totally embarrassed.

“Look…I’m really sorry I said that. I’m really sorry I swore and I snapped at you.”
“Thats OK”
“I’m gonna clean this up.”
“They’re sending someone with a mop.”
“Oh…OK…Look I …I’m real sorr-”
“Hey. Its OK. I was watching your whole thing. You’ve had yourself a day huh?”
OK so now I’m gettin really choked up. He continues.
“You had a tough morning huh? God knows I’ve never snapped at anyone” He says joking. “I’ve had my moments” “Everything happens for a reason.” He chuckles.
I’m totally humbled. I turn to wipe the floor. I turn around. He’s gone.
And I feel calm.

I rebook a flight. I call the school and tell them the show is cancelled. I call my wife and tell her I’m gonna be late. I walk to my gate and I have this strange sensation that my soul has just been saved.
I look for the pilot to thank him. To thank him for waking me up. For helping me. For being patient with me. For giving me the tools to clean up my mess. For having compassion. For putting his hand on my shoulder and ignoring the evil words and seeing the scared native behind the death mask.

I will never see that pilot again. But I wanted to write this for all to see. To all teachers, administrators, parents, clergy or whatever…I apologize for swearing in this blog. But if you read this far I think you will see WHY I did not censor myself. What I experienced today was everyday life and I am confronting it honestly.

I am grateful that when I didn’t stop myself someone was there to stop me.
I am grateful that I saw my ugly side for what it truly is…ugly and hurtful.
I am grateful for compassion.
I am grateful that someone was there to give me the tools to clean up my mess.