Say Anything...An Olympic Committee Gets It Right

I'm not usually a fan of Olympic Committees but when they get it right, they deserve their due. Greek triple jumper Voula Papachristou made a racist tweet which she claims was a joke and has paid the ultimate price for it. Her tweet: "With so many Africans in Greece, the West Nile mosquitoes will be getting home food." On the surface you may think that this joke is merely in 'bad taste' but it is her political affiliation that shines a light on the depth of her racist leanings. She fully supports Golden Dawn a former far-right party with roots hostile toward immigrants and when a former Golden Dawn spokesman struck a female MP in the face Papachristou pledged a tweet of support.

I'd like to look at the climate of the day in many parts of the world. People today talk of freedom. They talk of their right to do this and their right to do that. This belief in rights sadly has been ginned up to the next level, and that is the level of entitlement. I initially thought the entitlement banner was flown solely by the younger generation but people of all ages, sizes and colors are holding the banner high. I'm amazed as of late how many grown-ups, some older than me who talk on their cell phones in a movie, or cut someone off to secure a parking space and then give the victim attitude. Or the smartly dressed woman in her late 50's who I held the door for looked me dead in the eye and said nothing. When I sarcastically said, 'you're welcome' she gave me the 'how dare you' look. As if it was my job to hold the door for her.

Here is where I'm going. Voula Papachristou, upon receiving many negative tweets in response to her comments replied, "That's how I am. I laugh. I'm not a CD to get stuck!! And if I make mistakes I don't press the replay! I press play and move on!!!" This is exhibit A of entitlement. The kicker is that when she truly knew that the sh** had completely hit the fan she later began, like so many (usually politicians) of this group to back pedal and apologize. "I'm sorry if I...blah, blah...I apologize for...blah, blah"...and so forth and so on.

Let's venture into her psyche shall we? We all know of Greece's financial troubles. History tells us that when money flows and everyone lives high on the hog (most) everybody is happy. But when the chips are down what happens? Scapegoats are born. I'm sure she and many others blame crooked politicians, banks, the United States, Germany and let us not forget; the onslaught of immigrants for their current dismal state. That is where the racism may or may not have been born. Take an elite athlete who is a person in a privileged position. The country is broke but Papachristou has the support to train for four years; has access to the finest training facilities and coaches not to mention the best foods high in nutrition and finally, passage to London. This elite status may have lead to her entitlement trait.

But as luck would have it one little racist tweet brought the entire racist/entitlement house of cards tumbling down because as I said earlier she's paid the ultimate price. The Hellenic Olympic Committee along with the Greek government has pulled her card. She has been kicked off the Olympic team. She will not be wearing the uniform and representing her country and I for one could not be happier. Justice being rare these days makes it even sweeter to behold when it is served.

To Voula Papachristou I'd like to say this. Many African immigrants are in your country because they have fled famine, oppression, wars and worse. The bulk of them merely seek a better life. Can they be seen as a burden to your economy? At times, perhaps sure. But they cannot be blamed for the depth of sh** your economy is in. The problem was greed. The problem was that useless politicians took their eye off the ball. For, when the storm was brewing the great deciders of your parliament did sweet fu** all about the hell that was coming. And as far as your talent as a triple jumper, this should be seen as a gift. The fact that your country supported you in a time when your countrymen and women were without jobs and losing their homes, should also be seen as a gift. Not something you are entitled to.

I don't dispute the fact that one has the right to tweet just about anything they want. But having the right does not mean that you are in the right and sometimes there's a little thing called consequence. And sometimes a not-so-heartfelt apology, well after the fact can be too little too late. So, Voula please take this time to learn humility and learn what it is to be empathetic because we're all in this game of life together, baby.

Hot Pursuit...comin' up back in the day

Ah, you kids have it so easy in today's dating world. In my day we had to work our tails off to attain comfort from the opposite sex. Picture a time (the 1980's) where the single guy had but one venue to meet a girl; the bar. You dudes today might think, 'how hard could it have been? You'd walk into a bar, order a drink and chat up a girl.' Ha! I say, there was so much more to it.

First of all you were early twenties which meant you either flipped burgers at a crappy restaurant or you swung a hammer or did some other exploitative physical labor job. You'd put blood, sweat and tears in for two weeks until the second Friday of the month when you got your check. Great! Or Bonus! as we used to say. You'd head to the bank and cash half of it and bank the rest. Then you'd blast downtown and buy a sweet shirt.($$$). This will be your Friday night shirt...and possibly Saturday. Next, you'd whip back home to eat, shower and iron your new shirt. (no need to wash it-it's new). Tonight is the night. Drinking and driving was fast becoming frowned upon as Mothers Against Drunk Drivers were gaining serious momentum. Thus, you'd call a cab. (More $$$).

Now you're at the bar. Things look good-plenty of talent. You've got the snazzy shirt and a couple o' bucks in the wallet; which you don in the back pocket of your tight levi 501's as that was the look of the day. You're about to meet your future girlfriend and you've got to make a good impression. This takes half decent dialogue-so you move to the bar to loosen up. Two drinks-in your meet a girl. Your dialogue isn't too smooth but she's still hangin' with you. It's time to buy her a drink lest she move off to a competitor who also dons the same loaded back pocket wallet. The conversation flows nicely and why wouldn't it? The shirt and  the drinks are doing what they're supposed to.


Suddenly her girlfriend shows up. You buy her a drink too as is gentlemanly custom. After one, they thank you for the drinks and move on. After a tequila shot for courage you head to the booth they now inhabit and take another crack at the first girl by asking her to dance.What dame can say no to Bon Jovi's 'Living On A Prayer?' She agrees but shuts it down immediately after the song's finale because she dances far better than you and would rather cut the rug with her girlfriend. You slide back over to the bar. You're exposed. Everyone has seen you strike out. It's either cut your losses and head home to watch crappy MTV videos or have two more cocktails and get back in the game. You choose the latter. Another gal sidles up. You dive in. Dialogue is faster. You do your best to hide your slur, but its o.k. because she's three banana daiquiris deep herself. You not only keep her in banana daqs, you make her laugh-once again; bonus! Over the sound system comes the 'last call' announcement. Awesome, she wants another drink and a shot for the road. You ignore the fact that your paycheck is thinning to the point of anorexia because she's obviously working her courage up to let you have...another kind of payday. The two of you tumble into a taxi. Your kissing, pawing and groping all the way to her apartment. Finally, she pulls away and scribbles her phone number on a napkin. She pops the car door and with a giggle shuts it behind her. You offer to walk her to the door but she vehemently declines. You watch her fumble for keys until she finds them and falls into her apartment. The cab driver says, 'tough luck buddy' with sincerity. This garners him a good tip. (more $$$).


Tonight's not the night but hey, you got a phone number and you're feeling like a million bucks. That is until you look down at the napkin and discover she's only scribbled out 5 numbers. And that's it. You and whatshername are done. With drinks, sweet shirt and taxis, you've blown threw half of your cash. You now have 3/4 of your check to live off for the the next two weeks...and rent will be rearing it's ugly head in no time. But guess what? You're not a quitter, you don't cut and run. You're going to wash that shirt, hang it up and yank it out next Friday and hit the bars all over again because its all about the game- it's all about chicks. And that's how tough we had it. But this pursuit; this life of sacrifice and struggle did something: It taught us life lessons and built a strong character within. (Sounds like a stretch but I'm on a roll here).


But you kids today have the luxury of going online with your Match.coms and your Hook Me Up.coms, where you parade with impunity to peer at truck loads of pictures and profiles to pick the partner of your dreams/lust with the simple click of the mouse. Do I wish I had it this easy in my day like you youngsters do today? Not a chance. Because as a result of how it was when we were 'comin' up' we learned about finance. We also learned that when you get a sweet dame, you hang on to her, (provided she gives you all seven digits plus the area code of her phone number). And when it comes to fashion a sweet shirt is good but may not be enough. And although we may have worn our jeans a little too tight we at least knew that our belts were meant to hold the pants up, not a means to cinch the denim low at crotch level so that we could show our asses to the world. 


But go ahead Youngsters and enjoy your lives of ease, and your dating world of non-effort. Bask in your hook-up seas of layabout-ery and cyber match-making. For us old school Cats who've moved on from the bar scene embrace our current lives with honor and relish our memories of hot pursuit with pride and nobility.

Re-Seal The Deal

It's been a few months now but I can't seem to shake the break up between Seal and Heidi Klum. Before you rush off to another blog post, hold the phone. I'm not saying my heart aches for those two crazy kids, but it's the whole renewing of the marital vows that causes me to shake my head with knitted brow. For those of you outside the celebrity loop, the former happy couple used to renew their marriage vows every year.

'Gag us with a spoon', to borrow a quote from the San Fernando Valley circa 1980's. Alas, the self indulgent public display of a perfect marriage could not be saved by the ritual. Let's be honest, doesn't this fall into the same category of 'me thinks ye doth protest too much?" But, slightly amended to 'me thinks ye doth renew too much because thine marriage days are numbered'. The move also belongs in the 'look at us, we're blowhards in need of severe attention' category.

But let's peel back the layers of this decadent onion shall we, for I am curious as to how it works? The vow, for example. Do you write new vows or do you roll with the originals? If the original vow(s) is working for you, don't change it, right? However, ripping through the same old vow would become tedious to say the least, would it not? And what about the wedding party? Do you invite the same people every year? We all know how sensitive and down right stupid people can get over this lovely day. Keeping the roster the same would insure that no one is offended. And do the bridesmaids want to be bridesmaids every year? One would hope that Heidi Klum, the queen of Project Runway would no doubt put her gal pals in some sweet threads to be sure. Or, would it be a pain in the ass for the ladies to have to head back to the treadmill every 6 months prior to the ceremony seeing as they'll be standing beside a former super model...every year...Gee thanks.

And what about the wedding band? Do Seal's guys get the gig? And if they do, do they have to do it for free as a good gesture to their boss? That would suck for them. Do you know how much a wedding band can charge for a celebrity wedding? And if Seal's guys don't get the gig are they insulted? "What, aren't we good enough for you?" They'd ask. And what if you're some wedding band plucked out of the yellow pages? You're the lead singer all fired up at the prospect of singing to Victoria's Secret models when it dons on you that you'll be singing for Seal! Doh! Talk about pressure.

And now onto the the caterer. If you're the caterer you've probably had to low ball your estimate to get the gig. So now you've got a celebrity client who no doubt will need special, shall we say, maintenance and there you are getting short changed. Yet, all the other catering companies envy you. This in turn forces you to play it up at cocktail parties with other caterers. It's just good business after all. (And as an aside, who caters the caterers party anyway?)

So where are we at? We have a yearly display of 'look how much in love we are and for the love of god, pleeeeeease envy us!' We have a wedding party that if surveryed I bet would come down around 65% don't want to be there. We have a boat load of employees; the wedding band, caterers etc. who need the gig, even if they have to take it in the shorts financially. Roll all of this into a sandwich of attention getting, red carpet wannbe-ism only to find that its done; the party is literally over.

The Bottom Line

Don't sicken others with exaggerated public displays of affection and numerous vow renewals you're just putting your relationship behind the eight ball. But, if you must put us all through your decadent fantasy make sure to put the bridesmaids in nice digs and pay your employees a decent buck. But who are the winners here? The guys, dolls, men and women on the outside that's who. The everyday John and Jane Doe. The people who go about their business keeping it real day in and day out who become mildly amused and slightly irritated by celebrity stories like these. I'm talking about me and You! We are the norm. Stay strong ye of the non-renew and single-vow for, a true vow need only be sworn...once.

When We Were King's

The sanity tank of this world is fast becoming depleted. Yesterday I was witness a scene, or phenomenon if you will, so grave that it is imperative that I share it with you. It was yet another beautiful day in sunny SoCal so my wife and I went hiking. We were in a fairly populated area so 'hellos' and 'good mornings' were abundant. It seems everybody's cup is half full during a hike away from the daily grind.
Suddenly, and without warning we a came across three 20-something women and a little dog. I'm no dog whisperer, nor dog expert but if I were testifying in a court of law I'd say the k-9 was a brussels griffon. American Kennel claims that this breed is charming, curious and makes for a good companion dog. I, for one am not here to dispute their assessment. Rather, I must tell you that I was darn near overtaken by shock when I saw one of the three ladies carrying the dog. I mean heaven forbid that the poor doggie-soul should have to suffer and walk upon its own four legs in the great outdoors! Why, a pack of rabid coyotes could attack in broad daylight and assault the little guy. Or a giant eagle having not fed for a fortnight could swoop down and pluck up the little brussely rascal. Or worse yet, the dog might harm his cute little paws and claws on the incredibly smooth sandy man made path.
This is a new world people. A world where the dog's new natural habitat is the great indoors; a cozy prada purse or a $1200 down filled doggie bed. To quote the once great...ok half decent, Charlie Sheen, the dog is 'winning!' And man is swimming in a dark sea of subservient patheticism. (My word, poetic license and all that)
As I struggled to recover from my shock I convinced myself that what I witnessed was a fluke, a one-off if you will. Alas, my cloud of optimism was burst into a million tiny fragmants not ten minutes later when we came upon two more women; one carrying a chihuahua-something-mix. And to add insult to injury; to poke fun at the fact that my (and your) position on the food chain is dropping like a rock the little chihuahua looked at me smugly as if to say, 'hey there bipod how goes that activity that causes you to huff, puff, sweat and yearn for a cold beer?' In fact, I could have sworn he even...chuckled at me in that doggie way they sometimes do.
My wife and I scampered the remaining 400 yards of our hike, climbed into my truck and headed to the pub for a pint. We toasted briefly and then let the ice cold sweet nectar run down our throats to comfort our very souls. And it was then that I took pride in man's progress for the k-9 can't saddle up to a bar and order himself a doggie treat...not yet anyway. As long as we have cold pints waiting at the end of long hikes it is we who are 'winning'! But, dang is it ever a close race. Stay strong people and watch your 6, for man's best friend no longer has designs of wiping out the cat...nay, he's coming...for you!

Rich Dad, Poor Dad...Prick Son

It is impossible these days to listen to the radio for under 2 minutes without hearing an ad for live seminars with Robert Kiyosaki, author of Rich Dad, Poor Dad. It was not the commercials that persuaded me to read his book, it was friends and acquaintances from different walks of life. This is usually a good marker for a good read; having recommendations from personalities with differing interests. You might think that I'm about to rip the book a new one. I assure you I am not. More precisely I'm going to rip Kiyosaki, the man.

After reading success story upon success story mixed with numerous chapters about how brilliant this blowhard was at such a young age, an irritating picture emerges from between the lines. It wasn't his monetary journey that bothered me nor his financial advise. It was his treatment of his biological dad that stuck in my craw. He literally threw his dad under the bus, backed over him and repeated it chapter after chapter.

The proof is in the pudding--title. His bio-dad is the 'Poor Dad'. This lead me to believe that I was about to read a rags to riches/pull myself up by my bootstraps type of story. But in under 50 pages it becomes clear that Kiyosaki's father was middle class. Happy and middle class. However, middle class in the eyes of this future multi-millionaire equals loser. The 'Rich Dad' is actually his close childhood friend's father. This relationship causes strain on the two boys' friendship but Kiyosaki moves on. He's down a bio-dad and a best friend but it's all good when in pursuit of the almighty dollar. The 'Rich Dad' mentors Kiyosaki and he never looks back.

It all comes down to perspective and I am fully aware that my perspective may differ from most. Most see a driven man with focus. The type of self made man that was the stuff of vintage Hollywood movies. Others (like moi) see a greedy bastard who no doubt broke his father's heart all for the love of money. If you think you're reading the blog of a bleeding heart liberal who despises the rich you would be wrong. Amass all you want, just don't burn rubber on your old man's carcass. Here's a quick example to illuminate my point. Robert Kiyosaki tells a story where he offers two buy a couple's home at a tiny fraction of what it is worth. The couple turn down the insult at the outset. Sadly, months down the road the couple accepts the offer in desperation. We, the reader are meant to be impressed with the maverick-like maneuver. {I should point out that this was not Kiyosaki's his first home purchase. He was actually wealthy at the time. This was merely another trophy.}

I challenge you to read this book and tell me that Robert Kiyosaki could not have told his story without painting his father with the 'broken down loser' brush. In fact, I'd wager that 8 out of 10 psycho therapists would say he has some underlying issues with his father and purged those issues onto the pages of his book for all to see. Furthermore, the therapists might ad that his anger toward his father is what drove him; is what made him. A friend of mine attended one of his seminars and the big Kahuna didn't show. Instead an understudy (minion) hosted the event. I have subsequently learned that this is par for the course and it is stated in the fine print that if the the guru himself is not in attendance no money will be refunded. Do you see what a good business man he is?

Robert Kiyosaki has written many books since 'Rich Dad...' including a version for teens. (Oh great, the younger generation who's motto is 'you're not the boss of me' is about to be touched by the hand of Kiyosaki. I would urge all you parents out there to hide your house deeds. )Seeing as Robert Kiyosaki has acquired the writing bug I am calling for him to write one more book. And he should call it "Prick Son...An Ungrateful Little boy's Apology To His Father."

Debt Ceiling...Really?

The so called 'debt ceiling crisis' is beyond infuriating. In the beginning there was no a crisis but through tom foolery and stupidity we now have...a crisis. Be you Republican, Democrat, Tea Party(ite), independent or other, the entire nation is now fully aware that the debt ceiling was raised 7 times by George W. Bush and 17 times by Ronald Reagan. This cannot be denied. Now, Barack Obama and his administration wish to raise the ceiling but the opposition says no! Questions; are the republicans obstructionist assholes or are the democrats wimps who lack what it takes to move this issue forward? I humbly put it to you that the answer is both. Speaker Boehner, the republicans and Tea Party(ers) are behaving moronically when one looks at the dangers of playing with America's credit rating like this. And, Obama and his camp are toothless in that they have allowed Boehner et al to piggy back cuts, cuts, cuts on top of this issue. The debt ceiling is what it is and it should stand alone, as it has with previous presidents.

Allow me to put all of this in the lay terms of a rocker with a sunny disposition. The U.S. government borrows money to pay it's bills. But it cannot borrow indefinitely. It has a 'ceiling'. Equate it with we, the common folk and our credit cards. If we pay bills with our visa but suddenly hit our maximum we are done. Our only option is to call visa, say a week before we go over the top and ask that our limit be raised. If visa says, 'no problem Dawg, you've got a great credit rating so go for it' then we're in business. If visa says no, then bill collectors come calling and our credit score starts dropping like a rock. That's where America is now.

The politicians on both sides of the aisle are playing a game of chicken. And during this game they are name calling and finger pointing. Furthermore, they are walking out on each other, not returning phone calls and other forms of pre-teen behavior. Let me ask you this. If you were calling visa and asking for a limit raise would YOU play cat & mouse games with them? If you did, do you think it would work?

Dig this: Me: Hiya visa, I need to raise my limit and while you are at it you need to lower my interest rate to 2 per cent

visa: We at visa can raise your limit however at this time we are unable to--"

Me: (click sound), I hang up and walk away...from my own cell phone

Me Calling back: Hi visa guy, I need to raise my limit.

Visa: I'll be happy to help but our records show that you hung up on visa representative Tammy McTammyton

Me: No, no I didn't. She hung up on me...twice even

visa: How could she have hung up twice sir?

Me: Ah, er, with her special visa phone, hello! Anyway I need to raise the limit asap.

visa: We can do that for you sir. But I must remind you that your next payment is due in 7 days and to raise your limit will take 8 to 10 business days.

Me: I know, that gives me plenty of time...right? Oh sh** wait a minute.

Grow up you political toddlers and stop fu**ing with America!!! Don't make ME come to Washington!

Chris Brown...cries all the way home

Performer Chris Brown was scheduled to be interviewed by Robin Roberts on Good Morning America. The idea was for Brown to perform, answer a few questions and then close with another song. But who knew Robin Roberts was such a heavy hitter? For, when it came time for what Brown hoped would be softball questions about the upcoming album the tricky Roberts did a 180 and asked about the singer's prior assault, or should I say, battery of Rihanna. The overrated singer stormed to his dressing room, smashed a window and left the studio. But not before tearing off his shirt. Note to all tough guys; when you want to let the world know you're pissed off make sure you remove your cotton t-shirt otherwise the message won't be clear. It also helps if you have ink because then you are saying, "look out world, I'm pissed and I have tattoos...and everything!" or "Me and my tattoos are so pissed I've left my tight t-shirt behind...and everything!"

This next part is my favorite. Chris 'the sissy' Brown issued a statement after the episode. What, did thoust think he'd hang his head in shame after the grown-up- boy-tantrum? Uh-uh shame belongs to generations past. Brown pleads, and I paraphrase, "I wish everyone would get off what happened. That was two years ago." (When he beat the shit out of his then girlfriend, Rihanna) and he goes on, "You can't let this go but everybody praises Charlie Sheen..." Wow, did you see that deflection ladies and gentlemen? That amazing slight of hand? "Don't look at me look at Charlie! Whaaaaaaaaaaa!"

What a tiny, little, diminutive man and I ain't referring to his height. Has society come to this? Say it ain't so that a diminutive man can't 'tune up' his ol' lady without everybody remembering? And then on top of this all praise goes to the more famous celebrity, Charlie"Blowhard" Sheen. (Also overrated). Damn you society, damn you to hell! Brown, the little weasel, still has a record deal; has a new album out with all kinds of promo and he was even part of the ensemble cast of the movie, Takers. How many other people who don't even beat their girlfriends get opportunities like this? Precious few Chris Brown, precious few. Yet you whine like a, like a, well...a celebrity. One of the many things that stick in my craw about this whole event is that when the beating took place many in the black community, including women, came to the little pip squeak's defense. I almost had a tantrum of my own and threw my laptop out my window. And don't feed me that 'tough upbringing jive' either. That was then. It's behind him. If he needs therapy or anger management he can afford it. Book stores are loaded with self help books etc. and support groups are all over the place. The point is, he has resources and more options than most.

But seriously, the guy loses it on Good Morning America? That firing squad television show of journalistic interrogation? How pathetic. Its not like he was blindsided by 60 minutes or ambushed by Michael Moore and his film crew. Hell, he wasn't even punk'd by that actor who thinks himself cute, Ashton "I think I'm cute" Kutcher. Chris Brown you are a child and my patience for you and other spoiled upstarts like you is wearing perilously thin. Get help, stop writing crappy music and if you see me coming, hide. Or I'll give you something to really cry about!