SPRING/SUMMER 2020 AND BASEBALL

Oh my how the year 2020 just does not seem right.  Now we are all looking for some normalcy to return and the biggest thing that can return us back to a normal summer is baseball.

The meme showed up on my Facebook feed a few days ago.  It was simple enough but carried a message that usually ends during the first weekend of April every year.  Here is what it looked like:

This was placed on Facebook by my cousin Dawn.  Dawn lives in St. Louis (which you think would be bad enough) and she carries on the tradition of the rivalry between the Cardinals of St. Louis and the Cubs of Chicago.  It is all in good fun and we each have a laugh at each others expense every baseball season.  At the same time we do play nice when at the end of the season one of the two clubs are in the play-offs.  This means I play nice a lot more often than Dawn does because chances are the Cardinals are in the play-offs three years for every one year that the Cubs make the post season ... and that is being conservative.

However, Dawn did show a lot of class in 2016 when the Cubs finally won the World Series for the first time in over a hundred years.  I received a pair of socks that proclaimed the Cubs as World Series Champions.  I always pull for the Cardinals during post season as the represent the state of Missouri in a very fine and classy manner.

This year has been different though.  Thanks to a virus that has the American economy shut down, there is not any baseball.  If Tom Hanks theory of "There's no crying in baseball" holds true, then there is a lot of crying around the thirty ballparks that serve as home to the thirty clubs because there is no baseball.

Dawn's meme was correct, if not slanted, as we begin to see the first of May approaching without a single ballgame being played.  Even spring training was cut short.  All major league sports are suspended for an undetermined amount of time.  I am just thankful that the Chiefs were able to get that Super Bowl victory and the Blues won the Stanley cup before things went completely bonkers in the sports world.

How many of us have ever had the thought cross our mind of there being no sports.  Chances are that if we did think that thought it would be for a positive outcome. Well, folks here we stand, absolutely no competitive sports being played around the world.  There is not any soccer.  There are no auto races anywhere from local Saturday night dirt races on up to NASCAR, Indy and Formula 1 racing.  There is not a golf tourney every weekend.  We did not have "March Madness" for college basketball and the college softball and baseball teams did not even make it though half a season and so there was not a College World Series.

The televised sports networks do not know what to show.  They spent a week showing the old "Home Run Derby" show from the late 50's to early 60's.  After 3 or 4 hours of that it is snooze time.  I have taken to watching Full baseball games from previous years from both the regular seasons as well as some of the old World Series classic games.  I watched a game the other day from a couple of decades ago where the Phillies beat the Cubs 23-22.  Chances are we would not have seen a game like that this season.  I have watched Bob Gibson pitch the first game of the 1968 World Series, a pitching masterpiece,  again.  It has been awhile since I have even saw highlights of that game.

Now the question is starting to bug me about when the Major League baseball season finally gets underway?  What will it look like when it does.  It could be close to the All-Star break before they even start the season.  Will there be a Kentucky Derby this year?  An Indianapolis 500?

Let's face it though.  The biggest thing missing this summer is baseball.  From the 7 year olds playing t-ball all the way to the major leagues.  It is not around and we miss it.  You might not want to admit that you do, but I have a feeling that somewhere deep down you feel its absence.

We drive through the neighborhood past ball field complexes that are usually filled with kids of all ages in filthy uniforms drinking a post game coke yet now the parking lots at the fields are empty.  The glow over the houses from the lights at the ball fields every  night is now dark.  The wiffleball games in the middle of the street joining all the neighborhood kids into a fun time of socialization are not to be found.

I Googled baseball 2020 and there is now a passionate discussion on whether to go back to 1960 when the season was only 154 or try to squeeze in the full 162 game season

I mean, is this discussion even needed?  Are we missing baseball so much that the only baseball arguments that are being made is whether to eight fewer games than normal?  This is sad indeed.

I read an article proposing that Major League Baseball commence in empty stadiums.  Not the usual regular season stadiums though, like Fenway, Wrigley or Yankee, but rather in the teams spring training stadiums.  Empty spring training stadiums.  This way the teams would not have to fly all over the country but a short drive around Arizona or Florida to play the game.  The problem with this idea, of course, is that between Florida and Arizona. the leagues intertwine terribly.  We would have a one season realignment of baseball with the champions from Florida playing the champions from Arizona is a World Series played in, oh I don't know, Midland, Texas maybe?

I could probably handle all of that but there is one thing that could change the face of baseball for a very long time.  If this "Florida/Arizona" model is accepted this year, what happens to the designated hitter rule?  You might smirk at this but it is a huge question.  For REAL baseball fans, the designated hitter was what George Steinbrenner sold his soul to the devil for.  He couldn't make the deal for both leagues but he got it in place in the American League.  A Faustian type conspiracy that would bring the Yankees a few more World Series titles, plenty of more post season appearances and the added bonus of not having to watch your pitcher look like a third grader at the plate every three innings swing lazily at pitches the he had no chance of making contact with.

This "Florida/Arizona" model for the 2020 season would be the final movement in the conspiracy to get rid of any semblance of puritanical baseball.  This is the biggest danger that the 2020 season faces, it is the largest risk that could possibly be taken.  The conspirators goal is to make their final move on placing the designated hitter rule into place for all of baseball.  My heart aches at the thought of that happening.  The next step would be replacing managers with robots as all strategy would more or less be taken from the game.  No longer would we see a full roster of a team being utilized in one game.  No more double substitutions to keep the pitcher at the bottom of the line up.  Pinch hitters and runners would become even more scarce than they are now.

I wonder, if it is possible, that some high roller money men in the Bronx, New York financed this virus and paid off news outlets to spread alarm.  Will President Trump step in to save the day by pushing for an amendment to the Constitution outlawing forever the designated hitter rule from the National League or is he also part of the conspiracy to bring the designated hitter into full force through out baseball.

Could this truly be the reason for this virus being unleashed on the world in 2020?  If so, I fear for the future of our country for when the designated hitter rule becomes the new norm for baseball, baseball as we know it will no longer exist.

Okay, so I got a little silly with this post.  I should be able to do that from time to time, don't you think?  When My cousin Dawn posted that meme about the Cards being undefeated while the Cubs have yet to win a single game I wrote to her that it was typical liberal spin on facts to which she replied  "We have to joke this year. We have nothing to watch. I’m rewatching the Stanley Cup now.".  
My cousin Dawn is correct.  Right now at this point in time, we do need to keep a good disposition and make the best of what we are dealt.  Grab fun and laughter wherever you can.  It could be the only things that keeps us all sane.

Good luck dear readers as we work our way through this summer of 2020.

God bless all of you.

ROSEANNE VS FERGIE

There once was a time, a long long time ago, when performers sang the national anthem as it was written and it was good.  Then we were forced to endure a couple of decades of these singers creating their own arrangements of The Star Spangled Banner that left the listener wondering if it was indeed the national anthem they were listening to.  It was horrible.

One of these performances stood out as worse than any other public performance of the song and it was sung with the original arrangement.  In July of 1990, Roseanne Barr performed the song before a Padres/Reds baseball game in San Diego.  Now, Roseanne is a comedian, not a singer.  She went out and more or less yelled the song with a bit of a tune to make it recognizable and upon finishing the song, she grabbed her crotch and then spit before walking off the field.

There have been a lot of bad performances of the song but Roseanne's became known as the absolutely worst ever and a case could be made for that opinion.  Here is what Roseanne's version sounded like on that day:

So for 28 years Roseanne bore the title of the worst national anthem singer of all time... that is, until yesterday.

Roseanne received some competition for the title at the NBA All-Star game.  Fergie, of Black Eyed Peas fame, brought back the old self arrangements of the song and brought the bar to a new high for the title.  As Fergie sang The Star Spangled Banner, you could see not only fans at the game, but the players themselves trying very hard not to break out in laughter.  See if you can keep from at least a little chuckle while listening to her performance:

To compare an example of a great performance of the national anthem, one has only to look a year after Roseanne butchered it.  It was the Super Bowl when the late Whitney Houston set the bar for one of the greatest public performances of the song of all time.  To many, it is the standard by which all other performances should be compared:

So I decided to try to decide which version was worse,  Roseanne or Fergie.  This was not an esay excersize to work through.   For one thing, I put my brain through listening to each version several times.

Let's take quick comparison of these two performances.  We can look at Roseanne and say "She is a comedian, not a singer" and we can look at Fergie and say the opposite "She is a singer, not a comedian."  That is all well and good but a strange thing happened.  When Roseanne, the comedian, sang the song the crowd let out a chorus of boos even before the crotch grap and spit.  When Fergie, the singer, was performing the work it took for everyone to not burst out in laughter was quite evident.  Shouldn't it be the other way around?

Roseanne was herself during her performance.  She did not arrange the song differently, but sang it more or less the way it was written (I use the word "sang" loosely here).  Fergie took all of her musical talent and ability to arrange the song to her liking and performed it intentionally to a horrible outcome.  She put a lot of theatrics into her performance in order to make it more dramatic? I suppose.

After the the performance was finished Roseanne grabbed her crotch and spit on the ground.  Fergie on the other hand shouted out "Let's play some basketball!!!"  Now we could take Roseanne's gestures as disrespectful to the anthem and to the country.  I choose not to.  Looking at the two performances, grabbing of the crotch and spitting are an integral part of baseball.  Next time you watch a baseball game, try to count how many times players spit and "adjust" their pants.  I promise you it is a lot.  So I choose to see Roseanne's gestures as her way of saying "Play Ball" which is far more American than the announcer at a basketball game saying "Let's play some basketball".  I don't think I have ever heard that at a basketball game but 99.999% of the time at a baseball game, the umpire or the announcer will say "PLAY BALL".

The booing of the crowd in San Diego makes me think that perhaps the fans were not taking Roseanne as a comedian doing a bit, but rather as someone who was trying to sing the anthem the way it was written and failed miserably.  However the laughter at Fergie's serious attempt at performing the song made the crowd see her as a musician making a fool of herself.

MY conclusion ... congratulations Roseanne,  you are no longer the worst performer ever to sing the Star Spangled Banner in a public forum.  You aren't Whitney Houston of course, but you sure aren't Fergie either.

I CAN WRITE FICTION, I THINK .....

Eddie woke up in the backseat of his old Chevy.  He was covered in sweat and his hands were shaking.  It was still dark outside and a glance at his wrist revealed that the watch that normally resided there was gone.  Looking around he noticed that he was at a rest stop of some sort off away from a highway.  He crawled out of the car and noticing that there wasn't a building on the lot, walked over to a line of trees to relieve himself.  The sweat continued to bead over his body as he tried to get his bearings as to where he was.  He had no memory of pulling into this rest stop or falling asleep.

He sat on the hood of his car shivering a bit watching the traffic on the highway.  He tried to remember what had happened the previous night.  He knew something had happened, he could feel it inside of himself.  His sleep had been restless with images flashing in his dreams waking him up twice during the night.  He couldn't remember the images.  He was trying, but all he had was a knowledge that the images had popped in his mind and left as fast as they entered.  They were not good images.  Eddie felt ill at ease as he tried to remember his dreams.  He laid back on the hood of the car and closed his eyes and began trying to fill in this dark void in his memory that seemed to cover at least yesterday.

As he lay there he remembered what he thought was Tuesday night when he had driven to a motel with a girl that he had been drinking with.  That girl, what was her name?  He thought it was a strange name at the time. It started with a "C" he was pretty sure.  Candy? No. It was a strange name. Cally? Candell?  Candell... yeah, that was it.  He was pretty sure anyway.  Candell.  He remembered he had seen her hitchhiking as he was driving along the highway from Louisiana east towards Mississippi.  His goal was to get to Alabama and find a small time job for a few weeks to get some cash up then on to Georgia where he planned on settling down in one of the rural areas around Macon.  He had cousins in Macon and Eddie figured they would help him get started there, help him with a job, give him a place to stay until he could afford a small place for himself.

He thought back in time.  It was late Monday night when he had spotted Candell along the highway.  She wasn't no beauty but not too bad either.  Anyway, truth is it wouldn't matter what she looked like, he just wanted some company for a little while, someone to talk to.  When he had pulled over and stopped, Candell had approached the car slowly, peeking inside and looking him over.  He had seen her glance in the backseat before looking at Eddie in the face.  Eddie had asked her where she was heading, he would be happy to give her a lift for a bit.  She was heading to Mobile and so Eddie said he would take her as far as Birmingham if she wanted.  She accepted and slid into the car, hugging the door as Eddie pulled away.
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Detective Mark Edler pulled his car into the motel parking lot.  He noticed four squad cars already there with the officers standing outside the motel room door talking.  They had already taped off a perimeter with yellow streamers and were waiting on him to give the go ahead to start the taking up of evidence.  He walked up to the motel room door and greeted the officers.

"Sir," one of the officers was holding up his hand. "Sir, it is pretty bad in there, just thought you should know."

Edler looked at the officer that he knew as McFay.

"Well, let's go see what we got," Edler said as he motione dfor the other officers to stay outside while he and McFay went into the darkened room.  The curtains were pulled shut and the lights were out so that the only source of light was from the doorway and what filtered through the curtains,

"Body?" Edler asked the officer.

"Well sir, we haven't gone through the room at all.  We just looked at what the manager showed us when we arrived."  With that, McFay pulled out his flashlight and turned it on, pointing it towards the television set.  There on top of the TV was a human head.  It appeared to be a male.  The hair was messed up.  The eyes were opened wide and almost bulging out of the sockets.  The mouth was open in a silent scream as if begging for help.

Edler took the flashlight from McFay and traced a trail of blood from the neck of the head, down the front of the television to a large pool of blood on the floor.  He used the flashlight to look around the pool and noticed a trail of blood lead from the pool off into the bathroom of the small room.

"Are the techs here yet?" he asked McFay who answered in the affirmative.

"Yes sir.  Been here awhile waiting on you."

Edler walked out side and went over to the techs to describe what he had seen and what  they should expect.  Particular interest would be the bathroom of course.  The officers would stay outside unless the techs needed assistance, then an officer could enter to help and leave the room when the chore was complete.  The crime scene technicians began to gather their equipment together and then headed into the room.  There were four techs and when the lead tech turned on the light, all four stood still in shock at the display on the television.

"Bathroom?" the tech asked Edler.

"Ya think?" Edler responded sarcastically.

The two men walked slowly towards the bathroom in the back of the room, being careful  not to step in any of the blood trail or disturb anything else.  Edler turned on the light over the sink area of the bathroom.  The sinks was filled with a red liquid.

"Blood?" Edler asked and the tech slowly nodded his head.

"Probably.  I'll have Johnny take some pictures before we drain it."

The tech yelled for Johnny to come back and take pictures of whatever they found and informed the other techs to get the spare camera and take their own pictures of evidence since Johnny was going to be with him for awhile.

Johnny took pictures of the blood trail on the bathroom floor and the sink of red.  The sink area was spotless, everything seeming to be in place.  Johnny then informed the detective and his boss that he was going to drain the sink now.  He pulled up on the plunger and slowly the water level began to descend.  Suddenly something broke the surface of the water.  Edler looked on as slowly a human hand was revealed sitting in the sink, cut off at the wrist.  Edler began to wonder how many body parts they were going to have to catalogue.  Johnny took pictures of the hand from different angles before Edler and the lead tech turned towards the door that opened into the toilet and shower area of the bathroom.  Edler hesitated just a brief moment before placing his hand on the door knob to open the door.
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Eddie noticed for first time since he had woke up that he had a headache.  It wasn't a bad one, just one of those small ones that pounds with your heartbeat to remind you that it is there.  Sitting up he watched the traffic continue to flow by on the highway.  Cigarette.  He needed a smoke and so he got off the car and went to reach in the front window for his pack.  As he reached in he noticed that the sleeve of his shirt was covered in a dry dark dried up liquid.  He looked at it closely then slowly turned his head to look in the car.  The passenger door and seat had splotches of blood on them as did the drivers side.  He began to shake again as he quickly grabbed the pack of smokes out of the car.

He was shaking so badly that he could not open the pack of cigarettes.  His mind was racing trying to remember.  He had to remember.  At last he got the cigarettes open only to find it empty.  He stopped and leaned against the car trying to think.  It was then he noticed a highway patrol car drive past him down the highway.  He quickly took off his shirt and threw it in the backseat leaving him in a white t-shirt that was still wet with sweat.

Think. Think. Think. he kept telling himself.  Candell.  Where was Candell?  Suddenly a picture flashed through his mind.  It was a picture of a set of eyes, open wide in fright, looking side to side and growing wider by the second.  Eddie put his hands up to his face to try to block out the image.  He remembered those eyes now.  It almost seemed like they were his own, as if he were looking in a mirror.

Eddie leaned against his car and slid to the ground, his knees folding up to his chin. Those eyes were so haunting, so real.  As he sat he remembered walking into the motel room behind Candell.  They had stopped at the motel bar after dinner and both were a little off kilter.  He didn't remember having that much to drink but apparently he did.  Candell seemed to be woozy as well and they had both fallen onto the bed only because their feet could not hold them up anymore.  He was sure that nothing had happened between him and the girl as he seemed to remember falling asleep very quickly.  So why did he have this image of those eyes in his head?

After awhile Eddie stood back up to try to figure out where he was.  He walked down to the highway and looking towards the east saw a Mississippi state highway sign.  Okay, fine, he was in Mississippi. He didn't know exactly where in Mississippi he was, but at least he had a frame of reference.  He walked back to the car and sat on the hood, closing his eyes again to try to get rid of some of that headache.  He had sat for a few minutes when another image came to him.  It was the eyes again, open wide in terror but there was more.  There was the whole face of the person and he could tell it wasn't himself this time.  The mouth was wide open as if screaming then he saw two hands, one on each side of the face carrying what eventually became just a head over to a wall in a room and being set down.  The face was frozen in its silent terror and the hands that carried it looked a lot like his.  He was sure they were his hands.  What had he done?  Was it just a dream?  No, not a dream.  Dreams don't leave blood all over the inside of your car.  It seemed like his memory was coming back quicker.  Suddenly, he didn't want to remember anymore.

Eddie remembered waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of Candell coming into the room.  She had another man with her and she was holding him up on her shoulder as she walked him to the bed.  As he landed on the bed, the other man looked over at Eddie.

"Hey lady, you didn't say anything about anything, you know, like, nah lady I ain't into strange stuff.  I thought you an me were just going to, you know, have a little fun."

"Oh, we'll have some fun." Candell had said before throwing a rope over to Eddie.  "Tie him up good" she had ordered.

For some reason Eddie had felt like he had no choice but to do what Candell told him to and so he tied up the man.  After binding the man, Eddie remembered looking at Candell and seeing a smile creep across her face as she looked at Eddie.

"Now, we are going to have some fun." Candell had told Eddie as she smiled at her prisoner.

Eddie shook his head vigorously to wake himself out of the memory.  What the hell? he thought.  He started walking back and forth around the rest area.  Just walking and thinking.  Walking and not wanting to think.  He wasn't sure he wanted to remember anymore if the memories were real.  He had recognized the man he had tied up as the head that the hands had placed in the room.  It seemed like it was too real not to be a true memory.

He felt tired again suddenly and walked over to a tree and laid down in the shade. As he slept, the dreams returned and his nap was not a peaceful one.
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Edler opened the door to the main bathroom and flipped on the lights.  He instantly turned away from the scene and and held his breath, trying to keep his breakfast from coming up.  He looked at the tech and the photographer, shook his head, then turned to face the scene again.

There was a hand placed as though turning on the water in the sink.  Two feet, cut off at the ankle, stood on a towel on the floor just outside the tub.  The toilet was stuffed with upper and lower arms, disconnected from each other and the legs, cut into four pieces as the arms had been were floating in a tub full of red water.  The walls were splattered with blood along with the ceiling.  Obviously, this was where the crime had taken place.

Edler turned to leave the bathroom and go outside for some fresh air, leaving the tech and photographer to do their job.  As he walked through the room he instructed the techs if to come outside to talk to him about anything they found, at least until he got his head clear and had come to terms with what he was dealing with here.

After processing what he had seen, Edler began the walk to the office of the motel to talk to the manager hoping to find out who had been in the room the night before.  The manager was more than willing to help, excited because nothing like this had ever happened in the county as far as he could remember and here he was, right in the middle of it.  He began to answer Edler's questions before the detective even had a chance to ask them.

"Yes sir, there was two of em.  I got the register right here, now it was about seven last night when they pulled in, let's see ... umm ... a Rick and Wanda White, yes sir, Rick and Wanda White. that's what it says here.  They seemed like a pretty nice couple, her hanging on his arm and such.  I remember they went to the room to put there stuff in there before walking over there to the cafe for dinner I suppose.  They were in there an hour or so, maybe an hour and a half.  I got lots of time to observe what people do around here you know, not a lot else going on.  Anyways, they come out of the cafe and then go back to the room.  Don't know why, but they were there about an hour or so, and then they went to the bar next to the cafe.  They were in the bar for a long time.  The bar don't close until three or three thirty depending on the crowd or how tired old Joe is.  Joe is the bartender, you might want to talk to him maybe but he doesn't have the memory I have.  Anyways, I had to go back to the back room to do some paper work, end of the month you know, I have to turn in reports to the owners in Atlanta every month so that they know the place is still open and doin good business.  Anyways, I am back in the room catching up on the paper work until about, well must have been between two thirty or three and I come out here to check things over, take a look see to be sure everything is in order and such and I looked over there at their room and Mrs. White, well I am assuming she was Mrs. White, not sure if they were married or not, but anyway she is having to help him into the room.  He must have drunk a lot because he could hardly stand and she was carrying him to the room holding him up.  After she got the door shut I figured I should head to bed myself and so I did.  Didn't hear anything more until Nora, Nora is the housekeeper here, well I hear Nora let out such a scream and I looked up and Nora was running over here yelling at me to call you guys.... so I did.  Then I walked over to the room ... tell you what, I saw the TV and that was enough for me, I figured you guys can take care of the rest, so I came back here to wait on you.  Sent Nora home.  She was really shook up and wouldn't be worth a nickel the rest of the day.  I doubt if I could have even gotten her to go into another room to clean it after what she saw in the White's room.  Rick and Wanda White.... yes sir, that was their names.  I haven't seen Mrs. White this morning, she got off to somewhere in that Chevy they were driving... I mention they were driving a Chevy?  Well they were not sure what model or anything, Ford man myself, but it was a Chevy of some sort. ... well I guess that's about it, about all I know...." and he fell silent, staring at Edler as if waiting for a question.

Edler looked at the manager with vacant eyes and shook his head.  He felt like he owed it to the manager to ask at least one question.

Edler sighed and without looking up asked "What color was this Chevy?"

"Blue.  Not dark blue but not powder blue either.  I guess a lighter color of blue.  Maybe a sky blue?  somewhere between dark blue and light blue... you know... blue."

"I don't see a license plate number in the register.  Aren't you suppose to take that information when someone checks in?"

The manager looked around as if he had been caught in a crime himself.  "Well, she said couldn't remember the plate number.  Told em to come back and give it to me later.  I figured it would be okay."

"She?  The guy didn't come in here?"

"Nah," the manager pointed outside the window, "He stayed out to have a smoke while she registered."

"Thanks" Edler said as he turned to walk back to the motel room.  Although he felt like his head was spinning from the rapid fire talk of the manager, he had to hand it to him, he did a good job of observing.

"Found the poor sap's I.D." yelled one of the techs to Edler as he approached.  "Apparently he is a Richard A. White from Wakeeney, Kansas."

"What Kansas?"

"Wakeeney." the tech answered.  "I know, I never heard of it either.  Good thing is that this Wakeeney may be such a small place we won't have too much trouble tracing footprints from there to here."

Edler reached in his car and picked up the radio to tell Marla, the dispatcher at the Highway Patrol Office to put out an all points bulletin on a blue Chevy possibly with Kansas plates on it.  Marla said she would do it right away and he heard her voice come back over the radio putting out the APB for the car.

The crime scene crew had removed all the body parts by now so Edler felt comfortable going into the room.  He walked around slowly looking at everything his eyes landed on and then started going over evidence that the team had collected.  Three sets of prints, one type of blood and various other things.  There weren't any drugs, but the ashtray was filled with cigarette butts.  From the look of the furniture in the room it did not look like a struggle of any kind had taken place.  He found it curious and began to process the knowledge he had in his brain as to what might have happened.  This could be a tough case.
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OKAY .... well I think I wrote enough to show myself that I can write fiction.  I will say this though, it is a bit tougher writing fiction than it is writing non-fiction.  You have to make things up.  I understand you can draw from your personal experiences to write about things that never happened but it is much easier to just write down facts as you understand them to be.  It is easier to tell a story that actually happened to me.  For those who have read my blog over the years, you probably come away thinking a lot of the time that I stretched the facts a bit, almost to the point of actually being fiction.  Guilty.  I realize I do that and I do it intentionally most of the time.  Keeps people wondering how much of what I write is virtual fact.  Writing fiction wears me out.

So to my readers, I gave you a pretty good start so that if you want you can finish it for me.  I admit the head on the television MAY have crossed the line a bit and if I were to actually finish this thing, I would probably take that out.

I started writing this over a month ago.  I haven't touched it in at least two and a half weeks.  So if you have the desire to finish it because you can't stand an unfinished story, be my guest.

Have fun.

DENNIS PURDUSKI

Dennis Purduski.  Where do I start in writing about Den?  Maybe an over view of the man might be in order.  Just a few adjectives.  Super intelligent.  Honest to a fault.  Never put up a front always being just who he was.  Outspoken.  Great sense of humor.  Practical jokester.  Athletic. Caring.  Helpful.  Insightful.  Able to read people and not be taken in.  Adventurous. A true friend that could be counted on.

I met Dennis thirty eight years ago when I started working in the engineering department of  Dit-MCO International.  We were opposites in many ways.  He was an outgoing extrovert while I was a quiet introvert.  He would speak his mind off the top of his head while I would tend to give thought.  He would do things on a whim while I liked to have a plan.  We also had a lot in common.  Our sense of humor was much the same, a little sick and over the top at times, but good.  We could be in a crowd of people and see something and look at each other knowing what the other was thinking. We clicked almost instantaneously.

For thirty eight years he was a true friend.  He gave advice and took advice.  He was part of my family.  He loved my son and my nephew while trying to stay away from kids in general.  He was indeed my son's best friend.

Den excelled at everything he set out to do.  They weren't hobbies, they were loves.  Racing karts, midget dirt track, racing remote cars, flying remote planes and helicopters, to being an aviator.  He excelled at all of these.

I have hundreds of memories of times spent with Dennis.  These memories have been filling my head over the last several hours.  These memories put together the puzzle that was Dennis.  Too many memories to write out here though.

I say "the puzzle that was Dennis" because he was a complicated person.  He had so many sides to his personality but all of them were very real and very honest.  As time went on and our friendship grew closer I would eventually come to the realization that nothing Den did could ever surprise me anymore.  He wasn't perfect, don't get the wrong idea.  He had issues.  He had self doubts at times.  He had a temper that at times he found hard to keep in check.

Dennis coming into my life added so many things to it.  When I was with Den and he decided to do something on a whim, I was forced to go along and experience the adventure along with him.  That was probably the biggest over all thing that Den gave me.  That feeling of having a thought run through your mind, speaking the thought, then following through on the thought.  No planning, no thinking about it or mulling it over .... just think it and do it.

I think that was my biggest loss personally when Den left Kansas City to go south and land in Mississippi.  I lost that push from someone to just go and do something.  We met when we were in our twenties and not a care in the world.  Now, as I turned sixty, I think about something I would like to do, and I ponder it and think about it, and let it go by.  However just because I lost Den physically from Kansas City, I never lost him as a friend.  He kept in constant contact since he moved south.

I really want to share a few memories of this person that was such a big part of my life.

When we met at Dit-MCO and found our desks next to each other, he looked around at the people in front of us and in back of us, turned to me and said "You and me?  We are going to become VERY close friends."  He was right.

He was so happy for me when Brett joined our family.  He came over to the house and I actually have a picture of him holding a one year old kid.  The kid he would later take under his wing as "Uncle Den".

He was always looking to save money wherever he could, especially on food.  We would hit the bar across the street from the office for happy hour every Wednesday night even though neither of us really drank because they would have free appetizers until early evening.  He always ordered an orange juice from the bar so he could stay and eat.  When him and Brett were racing RC Cars in Raytown, Den discovered that the laundromat next door to the race track had a popcorn machine.  Between heats, him and Brett would disappear and then reappear with a couple of bags of popcorn for dinner.

When he found out that Brett's favorite driver, Darrell Waltrip, was going to be racing in the NASCAR truck series in Topeka one weekend,  he showed up on my doorstep at about eight in the morning.  I opened the door and said "What's up?"  His reply was "Can I borrow Brett for a day?" and took Brett, who was about seven at the time, to Topeka to meet his hero and take his picture with DW.

We found ourselves behind on a project once and decided to go in on Saturday to catch up on things.  It was snowing terribly.  We sat in the office for a couple of hours watching it snow then Den said "Let's get out of here." and we left.  We didn't go home though.  We went to the Liberty Memorial and took the elevator to the top during that storm and took some wonderful pics of Union Station.  Then we headed over to "The Scout", the famous Kansas City sculpture of an Indian on a horse over looking the city.  Den climbed up on top of the base of the sculpture, about ten feet I would guess, in that snow and started talking to the Indian, telling him he was looking the wrong way and pointing west towards Kansas.  About that time we saw a police car down on Pershing Road and I heard Den say "uh oh" and he jumped off the sculpture.  We had just gotten in the car and were preparing to pull away when here came the police... slowing down... looking at us... then driving on.

One of the more touching things he did was introduce me to his mom and dad.  His mom was a lovely lady and a nice lady.  Once she got to know me, she would give me a loaf of fresh baked Povatica bread at Christmas every year.

Den tried to get on the local news as often as possible.  We succeeded a couple of times when we would go to the NBA draft or some event such as that.  We had half season tickets to the Kings NBA team when they were here and sat in a section called "The Backcourt Boozers".  It was a rowdy bunch that would make bets on scores, fouls.... whatever they could think of.  At one game, just before half, one of the Kings shot a long jump shot right at the buzzer on the far end of the court.  All during halftime bets were being placed on whether the shot hit the glass or just net, you couldn't really tell from where we were.  As halftime came to an end, Den volunteered to go find out if the ball hit glass or not.  He ran down the side of the court to Cotton Fitzsimmons, who was the head coach at the time.  Den says "Hey Cotton.... did that shot hit glass or just net?"  Cotton looked at him and smiled I am sure he figured Den was from the Boozers... "Net"  Den came back to relay the message to a bunch of happy people and a bunch of disgruntled people.

Den went with me and my family to my sister's place in Alabama for Thanksgiving one year.  Very special time and he fit right in.  That's the kind of person he was though.  He could fit into almost any situation.

I could go on and on with stories about Den and the things we did, the shenanigans we pulled.  You would tire of hearing them though even as special as they are to me.  As a lot of people and friends of mine as well as family got to know Den from being around each other all the time there started to be a pattern. If I were to start telling a story and the word "Den" or "Purduski" came out of my mouth, the listener would automatically get a small smile on their face because they knew that what was about to be disclosed would be good.

Den had a heart attack several years ago.  When I had a heart attack a couple of years later, he was full of optimism and encouragement.  When my wife came down with serious heart problems, Den would call to give her the same encouragement.  He had begun to eat healthier and to excersize everyday.  He kept himself busy with new hobbies and continuing to learn new things.

He was healthy.  In better health than he had been his entire life.

Den passed away from an apparent heart attack last weekend and a very special thirty eight year old relationship came to a screeching halt.

Den changed my life in many ways just by knowing him and I am very grateful for that.  I wrote one of my friends to relay the news that Den had passed on.  The reply back was so very true.  It said "He was one of a kind".

Thank you Dennis for the good times and the memories.  You touched more lives than you could ever imagine and you will be missed by a lot of people.

THE YEAR OF THE CUBS - 2016

I should have written something about this historic event two months ago.  Work and family health issues have slowed my writing down however.  Now is as good of a time as any to write this tale.

I follow a few teams from my days as a child.  Teams that we would go see play the Athletics down at old Municipal Stadium.  I liked and followed the Boston Red Sox, the Chicago White Sox, the Baltimore Orioles and the Minnesota Twins.  It was a time before interleague play so I did not know much about the National League teams except for the St. Louis Cardinals who my uncle Jack would talk about everytime he came to town.  Along with his talk about the Cardinals, he would often mention another team with derision.  The Chicago Cubs were mortal enemies of the Cardinals and in that way I became acquainted with the Senior Circuit Chicago team.

As I grew up the Athletics moved to Oakland and I said goodbye to them.  It was difficult not to follow them since I knew so many of the players on that team but as time wore on I found it easier to dismiss the team in California and learned to put the Kansas City Royals at the top of my list.

I grew up and eventually got married.  When cable television came to town, we signed up.  In the early days of cable there were only about twenty five channels available one of which was WGN in Chicago.  WGN was owned buy the Chicago Tribune Corporation who also had a sizable stake in the Chicago Cubs.  I started noticing that WGN broadcast every game of the season that the Cubs played.  This is somewhat normal these days but back in the late seventies/early eighties it was not heard of.  I did not much of the cubs games.  Their stadium, Wrigley Field, did not have lights so all of their home games were played during the day.

I will never forget the day I became a Cubs fan.  I had arrived home from work to find an empty house because the wife was still at work.  I turned on the television and found my self looking at a ballgame from Wrigley.  The camera was from ground level at third base and a player with the number 23 was on third.  I would learn later that number 23 was a future hall of famer named Ryne Sandberg.  Then I heard that voice.  A voice that almost sound like the announcer was spitting out the words.  This voice would become one that was dear to me as it belonged to the immortal Harry Carey.  I heard Carey say that it was the bottom of the ninth with the bases loaded, nobody out and the Cubs were down by only one run.  It became painfully clear that the Cubs winning a game during this season had become a rarity and Harry was totally immersed in the excitement that the game was there for the Cubs taking.  I decided to sit and take in the half inning to see if this group could pull out a win.  It unfolded quickly.  The batter at the plate hit an infield pop up, keeping all the runners pinned at the bases.  One out.  The first pitch to the next batter was a ground ball to second base that resulted in a double play.  Game over.  The Cubs had lost again.

It was Harry Carey's reaction to the Cubs having the bases loaded with no outs and not getting a run across the plate that caught my imagination.  I guess I fell more for the voice then I did for the team.  "Holy cow, this team can't buy a win this year.  The game was there, bases loaded, no outs and they blow it again..." and Harry went on for another five minutes ripping the Cubs to pieces.  He held nothing back.  I had never heard an announcer who was employed by a team tear a team down the way Carey was doing.  It was refreshing in a way.  As that summer went on I watched the Cubs more and more and began to learn some of the players names and their talents.  There were some very good players on that team but like Harry had said, it just seemed like they were meant to lose.

I picked up with the Cubs the next season, watching the last three or so innings of the Cubs in the afternoon and the Royals at night.  I came to learn that the Cubs had not been to the World Series since 1945 and had not won a series since 1908.  What a streak!  This was a team that you just HAD to love.  Day after day. season after season, always ending up out of the running for a spot that might get them back to the Series.  When Brett joined our family 1982, I raised him to watch the Cubs and I had set him up with a full set of Cubs t-shirts along with ball caps and a batting helmet.

In 1984, Brett's second season as a Cubs fan, the Cubs made it to the playoffs for the first time since they had lost the series in 1945 to the Tigers.  They made it to the League Championship Series only to lose to the San Diego Padres to keep them out of the series.  That same year the Royals had made it to the American League Championship Series only to have their hopes dashed at a series return.  The streak remained alive.  No series appearance since 1945 and no World Series Championship since 1908.  That season gave me hope however.  Both of my teams were just THAT far away from a series appearance.  And so as the season dawned upon 1985, I expected to see both the Royals and the Cubs in the Series.

That season was not kind to the Cubs though.  They did not make the playoffs but not all was lost as my Royals did go to the Series and beat the Cardinals, which was somewhat satisfying from my point of view as both a Cubs and a Royals fan.

Through the following seasons the Cubs made it to the playoffs six times as they headed into the 2015 season.  Once again as the seasoned opened I fully expected to see the Cubs and the Royals in the Series.  Once again it was not to be.  The Cubs had a season for the ages.  During the course of the season they had managed to win a total of 97 games.  This is what every team drives for each season.  It was a strange season in the National League Central though.  Pittsburgh won 98 games and St. Louis, those nasty Cardinals had won 100 games.  The Cubs had ended up in third place while winning 97  games.  They did played a one game wild card against Pittsburgh and won.  Then they played the divisional playoff against the Cardinals and won?  Once again they were in the League Championship series with a chance to go to the Series but had to get by the Mets to do so.  They failed.  The good part of that year was that the Royals went from the one game wild card all the way to the Series and won the World Series over the Mets.  However once again, both my teams were THAT close to playing each other in the Series.

Then came the magic.  The 2016 season opened and by July things were not looking good for my Royals.  Indeed they would end up out of the playoffs.  While the Royals were dealing with an off season though, the Cubs took the National league by storm.  They ruled it and most important, they ruled that nasty Central Division.  They ended up with 103 wins during the regular season.  When they clinched the division, the second place Cardinals were 17 games behind them.  At he end of the season, the Cardinals found themselves still 17 games back of the Cubs.  It was SO sweet.  As the playoffs began, it looked like no one would touch the Cubs and they didn't.  The Cubs beat the Giants in the Divisional Championship series 3 games to 1.  It was during the series with the giants that I received a package in the mail.  It was a flag pole and a big Cubs flag to fly on my our house sent to me from my sister Elaine.  I hung it in the front window during the Giants series, and after the Cubs beat the Giants the pole went up on the house and the Cubs flag was displayed in all its glory for the League Championship Series with the Dodgers.  The dream of the Cubs breaking that streak from 1945 came to an end as the Cubs beat the Dodgers 4 games to 2.  The Cubs were in THE SERIES!  It wouldn't be easy though.

Representing the American League in The Series were the Cleveland Indians.  The Indians had been to the series a couple of time in the 90's and 2000's but had not won a World Series since 1948.  These two teams were the record holders for the longest dry spell of a world championship in Baseball.  It had been 108 years since the Cubs had won a Series title and a mere 68 years since the Indians had.  The year of 2016 would break one of these two dry spells.

It was a tough Series.  It opened in Cleveland for the first two games in which the teams split winning one game each.  The next three games were in Chicago at Wrigley and it was then that things began to look pretty ominous for the Cubs.  Cleveland won the first two game in Chicago taking a three game to one lead over the Cubs.  The Cubs would have to win the last game at Wrigley plus two more game in Cleveland.  It did not look good.

The Cubs won that game at Wrigley and then the teams returned to Cleveland.  All the Indians needed was one win at home to break their dry spell.  The Cubs needed to win both games.  The Cubs came out and took game six from the Indians setting up the ultimate game seven.

Game seven was a classic for the ages.  The teams swapped the lead a couple of times and at the end of nine innings found themselves tied as rain started coming down.  The officials called a rain delay and so the last game of the season was temporarily put on hold.  During the delay the Cubs players had a meeting in their locker room.  They were NOT going to let this get away.  They  built each other up and came out after the delay intent on winning.  It was the top of the tenth inning when the Cubs scored taking the lead and putting all of the pressure on the Indians in the bottom of the tenth.  When all was said and done, when the Indians had received the third out in the tenth inning, the world was silent for just a second.  The Chicago Cubs, the lovable losers, the most cursed team in all of baseball were no longer cursed.  The Chicago Cubs were World Champions.  What a night in Chicago and around the league.  Even Cardinal fans were glad to see the Cubs break the spell.  The Chicago Cubs.... THE CUBS ... had won their first World Series since 1908.

It had taken the Cubs 103 wins through the regular season, a romp through the National League Playoffs and then seven games, a rain delay and ten innings to break a spell that had lasted 108 years.

With all of that in mind, I kept my Cubs flag flying proud for over a week after the magic of 2016.

TO A CO-WORKER RETIRING

Nancy Kearney is a friend of mine.  She has worked in the accounting department here at the office over thirty years.  She is a wonderful lady and if no one told you she was old enough to retire, you wouldn't believe she was.  Her fellow inmates here are putting together a little book of letters for her retirement.  This is my donation to the cause.

Nancy,

“Going out into the world” … Life is full of them.  When our time comes to leave that safe haven of the womb, we are born and start our journey out into the world.

There is that first day of school, the very first day of school, and our parents fret over us heading out into the world.

We turn sixteen and receive the privilege of drive a huge chunk of steel around streets where anything can, and probably will, happen and we find ourselves taking a step out into the world.

We go to college, many of us leaving home for the first time to step out into the world to set a path for the rest our lives as to what we want to do for a living.

After graduating, we go and find a job that hopefully will be what we want to do and we earn money to establish ourselves in an abode of our own.  We find our own space out in the world.

Then we work and we play.  We find new friends and find a best friend.  We are free to go where we want when we want.  We are free to do what we want to with the people we want to spend time with and we are totally immersed with being out in the world without realizing that we are.

One day, we wake up and look at the calendar.  Time spent in our current world is coming to an end and it is time to plan to head out into the world again by retiring.  We look back and think of all of the people we have met and have worked with.  This world was a good world.

It is time for you to head out into the world again.  A world very different from the one you have spent over thirty years in.  It is time to head out and explore and go on adventures.  It isn’t easy telling you good-bye or even good luck.  You will be missed here at Dit-MCO.  Over the years you worked your way into the heart this family.

As you head out into the world again, I hope for you the best.  I hope for you a long fun filled retirement that makes all the years here in this world at Dit-MCO worthwhile.  We will miss you.  I will miss you.  I am very glad I was able to know you and to work with you.

Good luck Nancy.  Have fun.  Now off into the world you go.

Bill Clark

POST NUMBER 400 - MISH MASH

Well I was just looking at some of the stats on this blog and how it has been doing since I quit writing in it regularly.  People are still reading it from around the world so I must be connecting with some people out there.  The United States still garners some readers but not as much as it use to.  The big surprise as I looked at the stats was the number of readers in Russia.

This set me back a bit.  As most of you know I am not a great fan of Vladamir Putin but I can't help but be amazed at the agenda he has worked through the halls of the Kremlin as he asserts his power not only there, but around the world.  Unfortunately, in my mind anyway, The United States has not had a leader recently that will, or could, stand up to the challenge of Putin.  Putin carries no respect for us Americans and I don't really blame him.  We have become a weakened power over the last several years.  We have a leader who talks big and then does nothing.  The current President in my mind is the real "wimp President", the moniker they hung on President Bush #41.  At any rate, Mr. Putin, I tip my hat to you.  In my eyes you have worked yourself into being the true leader in this world and you have brought Russia back to the forefront by using an aggressive foreign policy while the United States sits on our hands with what seems to be no idea of what foreign policy is.

Another stat that jumped out at me was that the last post I had written on here was my 399th post.  I am just OCD enough that the fact that it wasn't an even 400 started to really bother me.  So for my own sanity, of which there is little left, I give you post #400.

I couldn't figure out what to write about on this occasion.   Today marks the birthday of my late Uncle Melvin and my Aunt Sue.  It is also the day that the world entered the atomic age when the Enola Gay dropped that bomb on Hiroshima, Japan.  As horrible as that day in 1945 was, and as many lives that were lost, I still agree with President Truman's decision to take an aggressive step to end that War that had cost so many lives all over the world.  Take note those who see me as some sort of "noe-conservative" whatever that may be, that I just agreed with a Democratic President.   Of course that President WAS from the great State of Missouri, so take it as you will.

New day, continue writing on this, just so that you will know that I know that August 6th was the entering of the atomic age.  It is now August 7th as I write.  So to continue.....

Speaking of Missouri, I find myself with this inner distaste of Kansas.  I can't help it, I was influenced greatly by my grandfather on the matter.  The thing with Kansas is mainly one of collegiate athletics, i.e. KU vs MU.  It isn't like it use to be though.  Mizzou has joined the SEC while Kansas still calls the Big 12 home.  They don't confront each other on a regular basis anymore like they use to.  It was always the highlight of every athletic season be it football, basketball, baseball, softball, wrestling, track and field or frisbee golf, whatever the sport, if it was KU vs. MU emotions ran high on both sides of the State Line.  I live in Kansas City, MISSOURI (not Kansas) and not far enough away from the imaginary line that is known as the border between the two states.  I can leave my house and be in Kansas in about 10 minutes or so.   That is far too close for me.  Kansas City is pretty well divided between proud Tigers and rascally Jayhawks.  As you drive around the city you see cars everywhere you go extolling the virtues of one or the other institution.

Yes, I am a proud Missourian.  A true "Show Me" kid.  I believe in keeping my business and therefore my money in Missouri as much as I can.  There are times when I am forced to cross the border but only in extreme circumstances.  My grandfather use to say, and say it a lot, that "nothing good ever came out of Kansas".  I pretty much stick to that philosophy, although my grandfather's last born child was BORN in Kansas, we make an exception for my Aunt Sue.  If anything good ever DID come out of Kansas, well it had to be Sue.  Other than that, nothing good ever came out of Kansas.  Now it isn't only me that feels this way as there are plenty of Kansans that feel the same way about Missouri.  It goes back to pre-Civil War days and the actual war itself.  Missouri, while never succeeding from the Union did carry a strong support for the Confederate forces while Kansas, of course, had to do exactly the opposite of Missouri and support the Union.  I mean, Kansas wasn't even a state yet, just a territory out there beyond the civilized world of the United States, who at this time weren't so united.  Anyway, Missouri and Kansas fought our own little Civil War out here while the rest of the country was fighting back east with all the great battles and history making events.  It was okay with us.  It was a back and forth thing.  Some Jayhawkers would make a raid on Missouri destroying property and crops and do a little killing, then the next week some Missouri Ruffians would cross over and do a return raid in Kansas, doing some looting and destroying of property and a little killing.  The proudest moment as far as the Misourians were concerned was when they burned the town of Lawrence, Kansas to the ground.  Kansas got revenge by making the rebuilt Lawrence home of the KU Jayhawks.  Well played my Kansas neighbors ... well played.

Missouri was sympathetic to the south in the war for a reason.  Missouri was a slave state.  Not really proud of that part of my state's history, but it is a fact none the less.  There is a reason for this as the southeast corner of the state, known as the "boot heel" was and still is a huge producer of cotton.  The whole slave idea started down there and was taken up by the rest of the state because I guess they thought it sounded like a good idea.  The strange thing is, Iowa, Nebraska, Arkansas or Illinois doesn't really get the attention from Missouri like Kansas does.  It is Kansas and Missouri and even though the universities are no longer in the same conference and do not play each other on a regular basis, that little hitch will always be there I suppose.  It isn't the same since Missouri left the Big 12.  We don't have that rivalry that gets your juices flowing like we had with Kansas.  I mean, it is really hard to work up a dislike for Alabama, Mississippi, Tennessee, Kentucky, Georgia, Arkansas, Louisiana, or South Carolina.  You just kind of, well, you kind of feel sorry for them being stuck in the south all these years, being the butt of a whole nation's jokes .... it really is kind of sad.  SO the SEC went out and recruited Missouri to the conference to try to give it some class.  Well, we do as much as we can for them, but there is only so much your shoulders can carry, and that is a lot of history that they are trying to class up by bringing Missouri into the fold.  An example of how we are trying to class up the southeastern United States in college athletics is this.  Louisiana State University has as their mascot the Tiger.  They have been the LSU Tigers forever and also forever, their colors have been purple and gold.  Then there is Auburn University in the state of Alabama.  They also use the Tiger as their mascot.  Auburn colors"  ORANGE and BLUE.  (as an aside, Auburn is even worse off then LSU as their battle cry is a hearty "WAR EAGLE".  I haven't made the connection yet between the eagle and the tiger, but .. well ... Alabama is all that needs to be said).  THIS is why they need Missouri University in that prestigious conference.  Mizzou also has the Tiger as our mascot.  THREE tigers in one conference, but you'll see why they needed the third tiger in the next sentence.  Mizzou colors?  BLACK AND GOLD people.  Kind of like a real Tiger is.  Who has EVER seen a purple Tiger or even worse, an orange and blue tiger?  A lot less people then have seen a black and yellow tiger, I can tell you that.  So really, bringing Mizzou into the SEC served as a sort of lesson, to show them what reality is.

(As an aside ... I am not really sure what a Jayhawk is.  Some fictitious  cartoon bird of sorts that someone made up while high on hemp and probably in a Lawrence dorm room.)

While we are on the subject of the southeastern United States, There is one thing I want to make perfectly clear.  It is truly beautiful country down there.  The southeastern United States has been blessed with lots of forest land, rolling hills to small mountains and coast lines that rival the Oregon Coast in my opinion.  I know that every part of the country is beautiful in it's own way and for different reasons (even Kansas has a beauty about it.  You have to look and drive for many miles before you stumble on it, but it is out there, or so I am told) but the southeast is really special.  Atlanta looks more the Emerald City in the OZ books than anything in Kansas does.  They also have a rich culture that continues to endure through the ages and all the changes that come with the passing of time.  The people who live in the southeast are among the friendliest people you will come across.  At the same time they are a very proud citizenry who are not afraid of speaking their minds about any subject.  For example, I discovered after I began to travel to the south with some regularity, that the Confederacy actual won the Civil War!  It is true.  They told me so.  After whipping the Union and teaching the northern states a lesson in how to whup-ass, they decided to let the union rejoin them.  As far as the south was concerned, mission accomplished.  All they required was that the south be able to return to the White House every once in awhile to keep things on the up and up, you know, make the war worthwhile.  So we got Presidents like Johnson, Carter, Clinton and daddy Bush and sonny Bush to keep things right.  They tried to get George Wallace in there but that was going a little too far for the northern states to agree with.  The southerners that they did send to the White House are not your typical southern politicians.  If you want an idea of a typical southern politician, look up George Wallace or Lester Maddox.  You'll get the point I am sure.  Actually now that I think about it, President Clinton was about the closest thing they came to as far as putting a real southern politician in the White House and he was from Arkansas, which isn't the heart of Dixie, so in some minds, he doesn't count as a southerner but then again, they don't claim Johnson or the Bush boys either.  It is what ti is.  President Clinton can understand what that phrase means now that he has had the definition of "is" explained to him during his Grand Jury testimony.

Upon entering my third day on this entry, I have decided that it will be the longest post in the blog.  It could have already reached that point but I want to make sure.

So let's talk tattoos.  The world has gone tattoo crazy.  I guess that all of the strange piercings in various body parts have lost the shock value so now people are turning to trying to squeeze as many tattoos on their bodies as possible.  When I was growing up seeing a tattoo was something that didn't come along very often.  You could easily assume that the man, and yes I do mean "man" as you never saw a woman with a tattoo, was one of three things.  He was either in the military, an ex-con ( or current one), or a biker or other gang member.  Even then the tattoos were not over done.  You could see see skin between them.  One or two tats on the arm and shoulder, maybe on on the chest.  That was about it.  I don't know what the situation is for my Russian readers, but here in the United States it is just about as far out of control as it can get.hae

I do not approach the subject of tattoos from a holier than thou position as I sport a tattoo myself.  Granted it isn't much of a tattoo.  I got it when I was in the seventh grade of school.  I gave it to myself, which I must say today's kids probably don't have the guts to do.  I wrote an entry on this blog about my tattoo.  It was an accidental tattoo.  I was in science class and somehow stuck my blue ink pen into the palm of my hand.  I am not sure quite Why or how I did it, but it got me a trip to the nurses office.  The tat still resides in the palm of my left hand.  It is a tiny tiny blue dot.  I would have to look for it and then point it out to you if you wanted to see it.

Today people walk around looking like human coloring books or comic books.  I just don't get it.  Okay a small tat in a not so obvious place, maybe an inch or two square, to make a statement about yourself or something you believe in, fine.  A friend of mine who's daughter died when she was fourteen years old had her name tattoo'd on his forearm.  Totally understandable to me.  This covering as much of yourself as you can and keep adding to it by getting even more tattoos to cover even more of your body seems to me to be saying something about ones self esteem issues.  That is just my personal opinion.  It seems that if you are hiding as much of yourself so that you can look like a coloring or comic book instead of who you really are, you may not think too highly of yourself.  Just throwing that out there.

Let's see now ... next quick topic....OH ... ok The Westboro Baptist Church.  Of all the hate filled churches or religions, Westboro has to be listed towards the top of the list.  According to their beliefs everyone is going to hell who is not a member of their church.  Not only your standard list of heathens that religion typical go after, like homosexuals, devil worshipers and Catholics, but everyone and anyone.  Members of the United States Military are certainly going to hell along with artists, movie makers, and virtually anyone else.

The leader of the church died earlier this year.  Fred Phelps was the driving force behind the church.  The vast majority of church members were members of the Phelps family.  It was like they would have heaven all to themselves.  Who better to spend eternity with than a bunch of hate filled holier than thou people who are all related.

After Phelps died, I wrote a blog entry on where the church would be going now that their leader was dead.  So far his death has been a good thing.  Third generation members of the family have left the fold, condemning themselves to hell of course.  I wonder how they feel not having to hold that hate in their lives on a 24/7 basis.  The church has been pretty quiet and I can't recall but one or two protests they have done since Fred Phelps' death.  The days of Westboro may be finally over.  We can only hope so.

Now a little bonus on baseball.  Not only on baseball but on two situations going on  in baseball right now.  First case: the Kansas City Royals.  While I am a huge fan of the Chicago Cubs, I am just as huge of a fan of the Royals.  It has been 29 years since that great World Series in which the Royals beat St. Louis in seven.  That year, 1985, also marked the beginning of the downfall of the Royals as a consistent contender.  Now after 29 years, it is mid-August and the Kansas City Royals hold a play off spot for right now AND they are only ONE GAME OUT OF FIRST PLACE in the American League Central.  Mid-August and one game out.  They have to hold it together for just a month and half to be in the play offs once again.  To once again take that proud organization into the realm of being a contender.  No one really saw this coming but no one in Kansas City is complaining either.

The second situation: The Little League Regionals have begun.  This is a bunch of 12 year old kids who play for the right to make it to the Little League World Series.  If you love kids or if you love baseball, do your best to try to tune in and watch these kids play ball.  It has always been one of my favorite porting events.  These kids are GOOD.  Kids don't hide their emotions as well as the major league players do and so you get to see the true love of the sport on these kids faces when something goes good, or when things go horribly wrong.  Just take my advice and catch a game or two.  I promise you will be hooked on it and watch it through to the end of the series when a group of 12 year olds will be named the best in the world.  It is extremely exciting.

Well I think I am finally going to wrap up this 400th post.  I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it.  Post number 401 won't be far behind.  I am taking a year off from writing in this blog to devote myself to another blog which covers something I have been wanting to do for a long time.  In the other blog, I am posting the lyrics to a song every day for a year.  The idea is for you as well as myself to understand what some of these songs are about, without being influenced by the melody or the name of the artists who do the performing.  It is just the words and in many songs, the words are very meaningful but we miss that meaning by getting caught up in the melodies or the talent of the singers and musicians.  It is out chance to find the deeper meaning of songs that we probably all know by heart, but never take the time to think of the words.

You can find the other blog at the following address:  http://wm-clark1.blogspot.com/  .

I do hope you will visit it and read some of the songs that have filled all of our lives over the years.

Take care readers ... especially my Russian readers.  Really glad to have y'all along for the ride.

Later.

WHC