Friday, December 21, 2018

Forever Family


On Wednesday, the three of us, surrounded by family and friends, went to court to finalize the adoption. This means we are legally forever family.

Of course, that only tells part of the story. Beez has been a part of our family for some time now, since he moved in with us in June and even a little before. I remember the first time we sat down to watch a movie together and he found a spot on the couch, and it was like he had always been there. He started making himself at home in our lives and we started making ourselves at home in his.

Next month, it will have been three years since Steve and I started this process by taking classes. Since then, we’ve been through a rainforest of paperwork, background checks, home studies and all the other legal things that go along with trying to provide a home for a kid from foster care. That’s not even to mention the actual search for a child, a weird cycle of hope and despair.

But not since we first met Beez. Since then, it‘s been nothing but hope. After a long search, by some miracle, we found him, and he’s stuck with us for life. I am so grateful for that.

Now, we’ll get ready to watch him come downstairs, sleep in his eyes, and see his presents under the Christmas tree, the first year of many.

Monday, December 17, 2018

Permission


Breathe easier. It turns out “Fairytale of New York” is not only the Best Christmas Song Ever (as objectively measured, of course), it’s also “the Christmas song it’s OK to like.” Hear that? It’s OK! You have permission from the guardians of the culture to enjoy something.

I don’t know about you, but when I want to celebrate the holidays, I’d love to do it with a couple bickering with each other in the drunk tank on Christmas Eve, lamenting what might have been and how their dreams are dripping into the gutter. “Merry Christmas, my arse,” she sings jauntily. “I pray God it’s our last.”

It’s a yuletide classic!

The song is also a way for people to do some kind of artistic version of virtue signaling. If you say the only Christmas song you like is about these miserable SOBs, you’re saying your tastes are just a cut above all these other dimwits singing along to the Christmas songs that are not about disillusionment and sleeping off a bender. “Look at all those idiots smiling to pabulum like ‘White Christmas’ and ‘The Christmas Song.’ I’ll be folding my arms and listening to Shane McGowan warble shakily and hoarsely, as I stand scowling in the corner and satisfied with my good taste.”

Ooh, look at you. Everyone can see your good taste. Strike a pose; everyone’s watching.

Every year, I’ll read some article or internet commenters saying some variation of “‘Fairytale of New York’ is the one Christmas song it’s OK to like.” If you like this song, fine, but it’s odd for people to say they need permission to participate in something that brings a lot of people joy. If you like the Chipmunks Christmas song or “Wonderful Christmastime,” just enjoy it. Sing along with it off key at the top of your lungs. It’s Christmas. If people think you have bad taste, to hell with them.


Thursday, December 13, 2018

TV '18


7. The Handmaid’s Tale. The show that defines “hard to watch” wasn’t as good in its second season. It did have some strong storytelling, making Serena Joy’s character increasingly complex. She was a smart woman with terrible ideas who violently overthrew the government and now she’s gotten what she wanted but that finds her under her husband’s control, missing a finger due to the great Gileadean crime of reading a book while being a woman. I got that the show was trying to subtly have June develop some kind of Stockholm Syndrome and move closer and closer to the regime (escaping and showing less resistance each time) but I didn’t buy that she would get her baby out and go back to Gilead without her. I was yelling, “Take your baby and run!”

6. The Good Place. We just recently discovered this but aren’t caught up yet. The Good Place is just a delight, a show ostensibly about the afterlife but really about living an ethical life on Earth. That, and Jeremy Bearimy.

5. GLOW. This show, tracking the rise of the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling from local curiosity to syndicated ‘80s glory, is just a riot. I liked delving into the personal lives of the wrestlers, especially the feud between Debbie and Ruth. I really enjoyed the joyful promo video shot at the mall and the episode entirely dedicated to an episode of GLOW as it would have aired.

4. The Haunting of Hill House. There were jump scares and subtle scares in this show. The Haunting of Hill House does what good horror does by mixing the scares with the emotional violence the members of the Crain family do to each other. We’ll have to rewatch it to catch any ghosts we didn’t see the first time.

3. The Deuce. It was a ton of fun watching the cast shoot the porno Red Hot in 1978 New York City, filming scenes without a permit in Times Square and on the subway before they could get caught. The Deuce jumps forward six years and shows prostitution fading and porn ascending. Some make this transition better than others. Poor Dorothy tries to offer a better life to the sex workers and it gets her killed. Larry is irrelevant as a pimp but reinvents himself as a pretty good porn actor. Lori is off to dirty movie stardom. CC tries to get a piece of the mob-backed pie and his arrogance gets him killed. (Lori was so under his thumb that she is terrified he is still out there waiting to hurt her, until she finally gets word he is dead, then breaks down laughing/crying in an amazing scene in the diner.) Best of all, Candy is on her way up as a porn director with artistic ambition. I am really compelled by her story, and Maggie Gyllenhaal is great.

I have a theory that some of the women of The Deuce each resemble somebody from ‘70s pop culture. Candy is Diane Keaton. Lori is Debbie Harry. Dorothy is Gloria Steinem. Abby is Jane Fonda. No idea what this means, if anything.

2. Better Call Saul. When Better Call Saul premiered, I thought it would be worth a laugh but would never touch the quality of its parent series, Breaking Bad. The prequel is not at Breaking Bad’s insanely high level, but it’s pretty damn good. It’s a slower show, depicting the process of how the main characters get to where they are in the future. It shows how Mike got Gus’s underground lab built, and his slow slide into weary corruption, and does it with as much enthusiasm as it portrays a hazardous drug deal. It’s a show that takes the low stakes of Kim and Jimmy faking community support letters to get Huell out of trouble and does it in a hilarious, completely compelling way.

We know the fate of most of these characters in the future, so the smartest thing Better Call Saul did was introduce Kim Wexler (the spectacular Rhea Seehorn). Nobody knows what will happen to her and I am very invested in where her story goes—whether she gives into her bad girl instincts and throws in with Jimmy, or if she gets out and has a career as the competent, hard-working lawyer that she can be. The end of the season left her at a crossroads, as Jimmy gets back his law license by faking being affected by the death of his brother Chuck. Kim buys Jimmy’s performance, so it’s a slap in the face when Jimmy tells her it was all a lie, completing his transformation into Saul Goodman in a breathtaking scene.

1. The Americans. Ooh, are you shocked? Are you gasping “I can’t believe Brian picked The Americans as the best show of the year! I didn’t see this coming, even with his evangelistic fandom over the last six years!”? Anchored by the always-stunning performances of Keri Russell, Matthew Rhys and Noah Emmerich, this show continued to do what I love it for: mixing visceral espionage with deep character exploration. The sixth season included not only macabre spy thrills (Philip decapitating the dead spy, Elizabeth choking the artist on her own paint brush) but also moments that were subtler but just as affecting (Elizabeth frayed and finally disillusioned, Philip putting Paige in a chokehold to make a point, Stan slowly realizing his best friend’s betrayal).

The final season explored what Americans and Soviets do when it all falls apart. Their countries reach the beginning of the end of the Cold War and a tentative peace, but they lose their raison d’etre and confront the hideous human toll their missions have brought. In typical Americans fashion, it comes crashing down not in a gunfight but in an emotionally charged conversation in a parking garage, “You were my best friend … You made my life a joke,” Stan barks at Philip, and then decides, after searching for the spies next door for years, to let them go. Everybody survives that final season, but everybody pays a price. Henry loses the family that never paid him much attention and finds out his life is a lie. Paige gets off the train and stays in America, doing shots of vodka in an abandoned safe house, waiting for orders from the Center that will never come. Stan is professionally ruined and will never know if he married a spy. Elizabeth and Philip make it back to their beloved Soviet Union, but the country has become unrecognizable and is about to abandon the beliefs they risked their lives for. Worst of all, the family they fought so hard to keep together is now shattered. “We’ll get used to it,” Elizabeth tells Philip in Russian. The end was not what I expected but it was perfectly Americans.

The sixth season wasn’t the best of this show (that would be the fourth season) but it was the best thing I saw on TV this year. As a whole, The Americans is one of the best things I’ve ever seen on TV, and I’m disappointed that there’s no more to write about.

Wednesday, December 12, 2018

My Application for Trump's Chief of Staff


Objective: To obtain employment for monetary compensation

Accomplishments: Have received extensive training in rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic

Education: Yes

Pulse: 60

Resting heart rate: 72

Sentience: Present

Two brain cells to rub together: Yes

Relevant management experience: Not really

Availability to start: Immediately


WASHINGTON (AP)— Sources close to President Trump say McCurdy is the leading candidate.

Monday, December 10, 2018

Whither WeatherTech?


God, I would be pissed if someone gave me something from WeatherTech for Christmas.

There are a lot of commercials this time of year imploring people to “give the gift of WeatherTech,” as if it’s a blue Tiffany box. A lot of people probably welcome these car accessories. Give my WeatherTech stuff to those people instead.

It’s not like I go mudding a lot. My car has 205,000 miles on it so I’m not that worried at this point about getting the floor mats dirty. “Oh, slush stains beneath my feet in my depreciated car! What a disaster! If only I had WeatherTech!” Getting excited about finding WeatherTech under the Christmas tree would be like getting excited about finding a bib under there.

I don’t think I could even feign enthusiasm about getting WeatherTech from someone. I’d just yell, “RECEIPT PLEASE. RECEIPT PLEASE. WHAT IS THIS. WHY DID YOU BUY THIS. RECEIPT.”

I give the WeatherTech people credit for making their utilitarian products attractive and fun in their commercials but I’m just not interested. No, it’s not the perfect gift. It’s not “getting you something you’d never get yourself” because it’s not something I would ever get myself, because I don’t care.

Tuesday, November 27, 2018

I'm not, but


I’m not a scientist, but last week’s cold snap forever proves that global warming is a hoax.

I’m not a mechanic, but you should turn on your air conditioner if your car’s engine starts to overheat.

I’m not a writer, but “between you and I” is grammatically correct.

I’m not a constitutional lawyer, but the First Amendment means it’s illegal for you to tell me to shut up.

I’m not a baker, but baking soda and baking powder are interchangeable.

I’m not a doctor, but the MMR vaccine causes non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.

I’m not a housekeeper, but a mixture of bleach and ammonia is a great cleaning agent.

I’m not a financial planner, but spending 75 percent of your net pay on your mortgage is sound.

I’m not a musician, but a tenor is lower than a baritone.

I’m not a dietician, but you can eat as much margarine as you want without consequence.

I’m not a neuroscientist, but you can tell a lot about people’s personalities by measuring their skulls.  

I’m not a teacher, but elementary school kids learn best in classes of 65 or more.

I’m not an obstetrician, but that second megarita can’t hurt anything.



Wednesday, November 21, 2018

The Value of Comic Books


Bill Maher recently said something dumb (quelle surprise) that criticized that people were mourning the death of Stan Lee and posited that Donald Trump could have only been elected by a populace that took comic books seriously. I’m going to give Maher’s link of comics to Trump the rigorous analysis that it deserves, which is none at all. But since Lee died, I have been thinking about comic books and their importance.

I did feel a little sadness when Stan Lee died. The guy was 95 so the feeling is more that gratitude for a life well lived that you feel when very old people die, but I still felt a little pang. I’ve been reading comic books for over 35 years and Lee co-created the foundational teams of the Marvel Universe: the Fantastic Four, the Avengers and the X-Men. He wrote those titles for many years and created a very large part of the Marvel mythos. Lee had a hefty amount of help from artists like Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko, of course. But Kirby died decades ago and Ditko (who also died recently) was a recluse, leaving Lee a very visible symbol of the old days of Marvel. So when he was gone, and people like me lost the man who helped create so many treasured four-color icons, yeah, there was a little mourning.

Comic books can be two-dimensional but Lee helped bring a sophistication to them. Marvel did something in the Silver Age that other publishers weren’t doing: giving superheroes real personalities and conflicts and basing them in something close to the real world. Spider-Man was always broke and wracked with guilt. In the Fantastic Four, the Thing had to come to terms with his mutated form and fought constantly with the Human Torch. At Avengers Mansion, Hawkeye belligerently questioned Captain America’s leadership while the Scarlet Witch chafed at Quicksilver’s overprotection. Cyclops, Marvel Girl and the original X-Men tried to serve a world that hated them just for who they were. Nobody had done this before in the medium.

Because of the work of people like Lee, Kirby and Ditko, later creators were inspired to create sophisticated comics themselves. This led to what middle-aged people like me read and still cherish: Frank Miller’s cinematic Elektra Saga in Daredevil, Bill Sienkiewicz’s wildly impressionistic New Mutants, John Byrne’s back-to-basics Fantastic Four, Chris Claremont’s examination of corruption and power in the “Dark Phoenix Saga” in Uncanny X-Men, and many more.

Comics are for kids, critics will say, and when you grow up, you need to start reading something more adult. But it’s a mistake to think that comic readers are only reading about Spider-Man, as many of us can actually handle reading more than one medium or genre at a time. I pick up a comic once in awhile but I am reading real, actual adult material constantly, to the point where it’s probably off-putting to my family. I have to have a book in front of me at all times—have to. Once I’m done one, I immediately go to the next one like a chain smoker. I am always reading some doorstop novel, and I’m also a comic reader. How about that.

This is something familiar to many people: Caring about more than one thing at once. I can watch a sportsball game and at the same time, devour news about politics and world affairs. Someone else can watch reality TV and have an encyclopedic knowledge of classic music. Et cetera. It’s not hard for most of us and there are comic readers who do have other interests.

Comic books have always done more than “inspire people to go see a movie.” They have inspired people for decades to write and draw, and not just comic books. They were part of what inspired me to write, and my accomplishments in that field are nothing to write home about, but they may not have happened at all without comics.

Comics also inspire kids to read. This is nothing apart from what the Harry Potter books have done. People have rightly praised JK Rowling for her contribution to getting kids to read. Why should it be any different for comics? There are many comics that over the years have developed characters as well as any other long-running serials.

I don’t read too many new comics these days but I do still revisit the oldies in their plastic bags sometimes. A few times a year, I’ll go crate digging for some Bronze Age back issues. Some of these are issues I once had and lost or traded away decades ago and when I find them again, I’ll see a panel that I remember from childhood, and it will inspire nostalgia and recognition, like a little blooming flower in my head. It’s those little bursts of pleasure that make comic books worth it for me and other people. Let people have that.

Wednesday, November 7, 2018

Hear that?


That’s silence. The election ends and the airwaves return to normal.

No longer will we need to listen to the litany of names. Fitzpatrick. Kim. Menendez. Casey. Carper. McArthur. Scott Wallace/Wagner/Walker/Weiner/Whatever. Half the names fall down the memory hole and the other half only surface when you need your street repaved.

No longer do we need to hear the ominous disembodied voices gravely discussing the issues. No more underage prostitutes. No more golf spikes to the face. No more egregious tax breaks. No more Willie Horton 2: Electric Boogaloo.

We can make dinner in peace now with just the regular, normal prattle, easily tuned out. We can make morning coffee without the blare of electoral issues, instead soothed by the background noise of Jim Sipala wanting to see ya in a Kia and fitness tips from Shoshanna.

Soon even the signs littering the highway will be swept into the dustbin of history. For now, enjoy the silence. Whether you sigh with relief or sigh with disappointment, at least you can hear yourself sigh.

Friday, November 2, 2018

Correct Coffee Cups


Okay—what is everyone’s complaint about the Starbucks Christmas coffee cups this year? I know there’s always a problem every year so what is the 2018 winner? Halloween is over and the candy has disappeared from stores, as if it never existed, in favor of Christmas trees, so we may as well talk about all this now.

Ooh, is there too much red on the cups? Are they not red enough? And is it the wrong shade of red? Is it a dusty rose when it should be more of a maroon? Magenta when it should be scarlet? What is the correct CMYK breakdown for the cups to hold my half-fat, half-caf, extra foam latte correctly?

Is there a design on the cups that is too conceptual or too abstract? Is it a postmodern holiday when all you want is an old-fashioned Normal Rockwell Christmas? Tell me: What is there to complain about this year besides the fact that the baristas misspell your name as Kiersten (“It’s actually Khyerrstyn”)?

Maybe the lady in the Starbucks logo is wearing a Santa hat when she should be carrying a lump of frankincense or myrrh. Maybe the coffee company just isn’t hitting the Christ thing hard enough and we’ll foam at the mouth like the aforementioned latte because goddammit, they should be celebrating the birth of the Prince of Peace correctly.

Or perhaps you’ve compared several coffee cups and found the exact same snowflake on each one, in violation of the laws of nature.

So what’s the problem now? It’s become a sacred Christmas tradition, on par with Christmas carols and eggnog, to bitch about something you’re going to throw in the trash in 10 minutes anyway.

Wednesday, October 31, 2018

Citizenship


I tell our son all the time: Vote, vote, vote. Vote every time there’s an election. Vote when there’s a presidential election, a midterm, a local election, a special election or a primary. Voting is one of the most important rights we have as citizens, a right people in this country have bled to attain and protect. Voting can help determine the course of this country more effectively than anything else can. You may not find the perfect candidate who exactly aligns with your goals but you can still vote for one who can get you closer to those goals.

He’s only 10 and tired of hearing it. But from an early age, my parents drilled it into me to vote, and it worked. I’ve been voting faithfully since I was 18 (the 1992 presidential primary was days after my birthday and I was so happy I could vote immediately), skipping very few elections, none of them major. I’m hoping the message will rub off on our son the same way my parents’ message rubbed off on me.

I think of this sometimes when I see where we are as a country and how different things could have been the last two years if voting had gone slightly differently. The latest thing that appalls me is President Trump’s idea to use an executive order to end birthright citizenship, which is enshrined in the Fourteenth Amendment. This could mean that children born in this country would not automatically be considered citizens if their parents were immigrants.

Were my Dad and his sisters not American citizens because their parents were born in Ireland? Think of how many people you know, maybe in your family tree, who are children of immigrants and imagine that they are no longer considered citizens even after a lifetime of living here.

Of course, I highly doubt anyone would have said someone like my Dad wasn’t a citizen. No, this idea is aimed at the fear of too many brown-skinned people coming to America, like this caravan the right wing is touting like it’s some extremely slow Category 5 hurricane: “They’re coming! They’re a thousand miles away and they have leprosy and there are Ay-rab terrorists hiding among them and they’re (eventually) coming to kill you!” These are people seeking refuge from some terror in Central America, like so many have sought refuge from awful things during American history. Yet we need to dispatch a bigger contingent of soldiers than we’ve dispatched to Syria to deal with people applying for asylum. All this to defend something that, if the refugees do improperly, would be a misdemeanor.

I don’t understand this. It seems like some people believe the following things about this caravan, which they think are simultaneously true by some acrobatic physics:

1. They’re too lazy to work and will take advantage of your Hard-Earned Tax Dollars to get public assistance; and
2. They’re going to take your jobs, even though they’re menial jobs that you’re too good for anyway.

Using an executive order to supersede the Fourteenth Amendment is some half-baked idea from a fever swamp, and even if it never comes to pass, it’s alarming to see the president of the United States endorsing it. That man swore an oath to protect and defend the Constitution and now he’s in effect saying his word and his will would instead be supreme, and that is a terrible abuse of power and a dereliction of duty. (This confirms what I feel is one of the problems with the way Trump governs: He does it like a 72-year-old who watches a lot of Fox News. You or I could see something on the news that outrages us and say “There oughta be a law!” but we don’t need to know all the intricacies of what would need to happen, since we’re not the president. Well, Trump is the president and should have an understanding of these things, but on too many things, he doesn’t.)

From what I’ve been reading, the Fourteenth Amendment was a reaction to the evils of Dred Scott, which decided that black people could never be citizens, even if they were born here. In the late 19th century, America tried to deny citizenship to a Chinese-American who had been born here (the Chinese being the personae non grata of their day), but the Supreme Court affirmed her citizenship. I read one recent author who said since the amendment passed, the “birthright has been affirmed, again and again, ensuring that no matter how racist the regime, the Constitution grants citizenship to all people born in the United States.”

I think that’s so important because other countries have declared groups of people un-citizens as a pretext to denying them other rights and visiting great evils on those people. If they don’t consider you human, there’s no reason to treat you like a human. Here in America, if you’re born here, you’re one of us, and that’s fundamental to our country’s character.

If this executive order came to pass, I’m sure it would go right to the Supreme Court. I’d hope that regardless of politics, those nine justices would not want to invalidate 150 years of established judicial precedent regarding a basic right, but who knows. That’s what disturbed me about Brett Kavanaugh: His partisan outbursts at the hearing made it clear that he was a Republican loyalist. The people are entitled to a Supreme Court that rules on the basis of law and not partisan loyalty, whether those justices are appointed by Democrats or Republicans.

That brings me back to voting. If the 2016 vote had gone slightly differently, we would not have a president proposing ending birthright citizenship. If the Senate vote had gone differently in a few races, Kavanaugh might not have been confirmed with the thinnest of majorities and he might not be a potential decisive vote on what would be a hugely consequential case.

So get out there on Tuesday, and on all the future Tuesdays, and vote, vote, vote. It’s an important part of citizenship and even if it doesn’t impact you immediately, your vote could have a profound impact on the future.

Wednesday, October 24, 2018

Indoctrination


Any parents are going to want to mold their children. They’ll want to pass on their values, history, priorities and cultural touchstones. We’re coming in sort of in the middle of the movie with our son, as some of his tastes have already been set. We’re honoring all that stuff, but it’s just natural that we’re trying to pass down some of the cultural stuff we care about, so he’s well rounded and what not.

There’s just so much culture we’ve already experienced, and I can’t wait to share it with him. Some of it is a little Rated R but we figured, why not find something good for his age range and start watching The Simpsons with him?  

We skipped the early few seasons (the characters were too unformed and the tone uneven for me) and started with season 4, the beginning of the golden years. We’re well into season 5 now and he’s been enjoying it. It’s so much fun to revisit classics with someone who’s never seen them, episodes like “Rosebud” (“Have the Rolling Stones killed!”), “Marge vs. the Monorail” (“Sorry, Marge, the mob has spoken!”), “Deep Space Homer” (“In Rod We Trust”), “Marge Gets a Job” (“It’s the Curies! We must flee!”) and “Bart Gets an Elephant” (“D’oh! A deer! A female deer!”). He’s been into The Simpsons and asks us if we can watch it, so I guess that’s a winner.

As for music, I’ve been emphasizing some of the stuff I like to listen to. It’s not like I have any idea of what 10-year-olds like to listen to so this has mostly been what now passes for oldies. I’ve been playing a lot of Madonna, Prince, etc. He says he likes what he hears but he doesn’t know any of it and hasn’t heard of these artists, which kills me. We’re also trying to keep him in touch with his African-American culture (which we believe is our obligation) so one easy way to do that is to push the music.

Of course, I realize it’s a fool’s errand to push your music on their kids because ultimately, they’ll roll their eyes at your tastes and rebel. But I’m hoping something seeps through subliminally.

I’m also trying to get him rooting for our sports teams, but that’s been a challenge. He is not an Eagles fan (which made for a roller coaster Sunday when they collapsed and the Panthers won, leading to a lot of “In your face!” in our house). He is a Steelers fan. It’s not like he’s a Patriots fan or something (he hates them), and I’m not opposed to the Steelers or anything. But when he told Steve he likes the Penguins—them’s fighting words (although I think he was trolling). Our son has no interest in baseball and doesn’t like the Sixers. But if he wants Steelers swag, we can get him some.

I have no idea why he’s a Steelers fan, by the way. He’s lived his whole life in the Wilmington area. There seem to be a lot of people who are sports fans of teams that have no relation to their geographic areas or family traditions. How does that happen, anyway? If you live somewhere with no local teams, I can see latching on to whatever team strikes your fancy, but we have four teams that have been around forever. I guess I’m too much of a partisan Philadelphia sports fan to understand. My local teams are my local teams.

Anyway, I know parents can’t indoctrinate their kids too much into their tastes since it will backfire. But it’s fun to expose kids to things you enjoy and hope they rub off.

Tuesday, October 23, 2018

Taxing


Every time there’s some kind of big Mega Millions or Powerball jackpot or whatever, you see articles about how much you’ll pay in taxes and there’s this low-level outrage about “Uncle Sam taking a big bite out in taxes” and would-be billionaires become Patrick Henry waving a Gadsden flag and getting indignant about paying taxes they’d never even feel on an unfathomable amount of money that they did nothing to earn.

Consider this: If you actually win that $1.6 billion by yourself, “After the 24 percent federal take, the average annuity payment comes out to $40,533,333 per year for 30 years equaling around $1,215,999,990, while the lump sum total comes out to $687,724,000, per USA Mega.”

So after taxes, you’d still get a lump sum of $687 million. Yet it still seems like there’s this weird undercurrent of “What a ripoff! You’re paying so much in taxes! And then state taxes: UGH!” Even if you take the annuity and do the bare minimum, parking it in a savings account and never touching the principal, at 1 percent interest, you’d still get $405,000 a year to live on. Isn’t that enough? Even if my math is off (likely), you still have so much money that it wouldn’t matter. It’s a rounding error. It’s one fewer fainting couch on your yacht.

I realize potential lottery winners complaining about taxes are doing it in a tongue in cheek way, but that’s also the vein in which I’m writing this. I love money but seriously, why shouldn’t Mega Millions winners have to pay taxes? It’s not like “Uncle Sam took my hard-earned money!” You didn’t earn anything. You went to the gas station, recited some numbers and they picked your numbers out of a hat. Just pay your taxes. Life is rough.

Recently I read someone who believes the people are better at spending their own money than the government. I disagree. Have you met people? Most of us are not good at spending what we have. Any brief glance at the history of lottery winners spending their cash will prove that. So many people do dumb things and piss it all away.

People not spending their money wisely is pretty much why the state has lotteries to begin with. Buying a few tickets every month is harmless fun, and I’m not trying to make fun of that, but there was some guy on the news this morning who spent $1,500 on tickets. There are people who spend those mass amounts all the time and that’s a pretty good argument in favor of a progressive tax system for winners.

The irony of lottery players complaining about paying taxes and having Them give your money to other people is that’s basically what the Mega Millions is, only you’re doing it voluntarily. That $1,500 in tickets is going right to someone else.

Or maybe I’m just a humorless crank whose dreams are boring and practical. I’m fun at parties, I swear.


Monday, October 8, 2018

Purest Ray of Celestial Light (D)


In one month, Americans will have their say at the polls. I’d like to announce that in this election and every subsequent election, I will only vote for the purest ray of light celestial on the ballot.

This ray of light must shine without a flaw. Its light must be consistently brilliant, having never faded, even for a moment, through the years. This ray of light must inspire me and must earn my vote. The light must save us all.

More importantly, the celestial light’s ideology must be in complete harmony with every aspect of my belief system. The light wants a $17 minimum wage instead of the $21 I want? Go to hell! The light advocates Medicare for all but makes people sign up for it? Impure! The light once gave a speech and got a check? Corporate fascist!

The pure light must be in complete communion with my soul and perfectly dovetail with who I am as a person, so I may retain my unblemished halo. The light and I must trill in perfect harmony like the tintinnabulation that so voluminously swells from the ringing and the dinging of the bells. Then, and only then, will I pull that lever.

I will dip my litmus strip into this light and if it doesn’t come up with the most flawlessly beautiful color that is possible in the visible spectrum, I will reject it like expired milk. The light will be dead to me.

Also, I better get an “I Voted” sticker. I don’t do anything without getting a tangible prize.

And if I don’t see a pure enough ray of light to vote for either in the midterms or in 2020, I’ll just stay home and let the other side win, so we all learn a lesson. I can always go to the protest later. #Resistance

Wednesday, September 26, 2018

Meet Gritty! He's gritty!


Hey, everybody! I’m Gritty! I’m gritty! See my orange beard? It means I have grit! Playoff beard! Grrrr! I’m a gritty man/puppet who’s proven he can grow a beard!

Touch my beard, kids! I won’t bite, despite how gritty I am!

Flyers! Broad Street Bullies! Puck right to the teeth! We’re gritty! Grrrr! I’m so gritty, I leave a textured grit on the ice that the Zamboni must clean up!

I’m gritty! Just like gritty, blue-collar Philadelphia! Phillies and Eagles too! Grrrrit! We all carry lunch pails and wear hard hats here! All of us, to a man, longshoremen! All of us, even preteen girls, with playoff beards, even in the offseason!

I’m so gritty, my favorite movie is True Grit! Not the Coen brothers version—the original with gritty John Wayne!

I order my cheese steaks with Cheez Whiz, onions and extra grit! I grunt out my order at Pat’s! I get Amoroso’s crumbs all over my orange beard! I’m not like that genteel Phillie Phanatic, sticking his green pinkie in the air while sipping a latte!

Because I’m Gritty and I’m gritty!

I’m on the el! I’m stuck on 76! I’m talking trash at a Cowboys fan at the Italian Market!

Kensington! Fishtown! North Philly! Gritty!

I’m the grit under your fingernails after you change your oil! I’m the grit between your bathroom tiles! I’m the grittiest Muppet you’ve ever seen! I’m Gritty!

GRRRRRRR!!!!


Thursday, September 20, 2018

11 Thoughts on the Mid-'80s to Late-Mid-'80s Discography of Starship


1. Does anybody else remember when 98 FM would play “We Built This City” and over the intro of the song, they would play, “We built Philly on rock and roll! WCAU-FM!”? I still can’t hear this song without the local intro. Then at the bridge when the DJ talks about San Francisco, 98 would play some stuff about Philadelphia over it, I think substituting the Walt Whitman Bridge for the Golden Gate Bridge from the original.

2. I remember being bitter when 98 switched from Top 40 to an oldies format. Now we’ve come full circle and the station is playing Starship songs and other ‘80s hits because they’re old enough to be oldies.

3. Some polls over the years have said “We Built This City” is the worst song of the ‘80s or even ever. It’s pretty bad but I don’t know about the worst. Not when “Don’t Worry Be Happy” and “Dear Mr. Jesus” came out in the ‘80s.

4. Sara … Sara … STORMS! Are brewing in your eyes …

5. “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” is apparently from Mannequin. I don’t remember this very well. My strong knowledge of ‘80s music is a contrast with my dim remembrance of ‘80s movies.

6. God, all the artwork from these singles is terrible. It looks like cut-out Shrinky-Dinks just thrown onto a piece of paper.

7. Did you know “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” was songwriter Diane Warren’s first number 1 hit? It’s the first of nine. Her first hit song was “Solitaire” by Laura Branigan.

8. I don’t know: did they really build San Francisco on rock and roll? I know the band has a soft spot for their city but I could think of better cities to illustrate this idea: Detroit, London, Philadelphia, etc.

9. I don’t know what horrible necromancy or alignment of the stars led Starship to score three number 1 hits on the Hot 100 from 1985 to 1987. It just shows that the doling out of number 1 hits can be random and not always indicate material that endures: Starship had three and Roxette had four. Aretha Franklin only had two.

10. No time … is a good time … for goodbye …

11. A few years ago, I drove past a sign saying Starship was playing in a park near work. Just a random park. It was 100 degrees that day. This was a 6:30 concert in June, so it wouldn’t even have been dark yet. Pass.


Thursday, September 13, 2018

Backlash to the Backlash to the Backlash of #PSL


America is divided once again. It seems like for the past few years, the country has been toxically polarized by so many pressing issues. And now, it seems I must take sides.

The issue: Is it too early to drink pumpkin spice latte?

I really don’t care. I don’t drink these, am not sure if I’ve ever had PSL from Starbucks or somewhere else, and don’t have much interest in pumpkin. Yet a backlash rages in this country on the exact timing of the release of a seasonal beverage, and I must work myself up to join a side. Do I support the backlash to the late August release of pumpkin spice, or do I support the backlash to the backlash?

On one side, yes, it was rather hot at the end of August and it was disconcerting to see the stores carry a food substance derived from the spices of the pumpkin, which is not yet in season. I suppose I have not been as livid as I should have been about this agricultural revisionism. Do I want to join the backlash against PSL appearing so early? Shall I march with this faction?

Or do I want to join the backlash to the backlash? Should I be more florid with outrage at the shaming of people about their latte choices, or the vicious misogyny inherent in dismissing seasonal beverages? Who should I be yelling at here? Tell me and I will start making protest signs.

Perhaps there is another phenomenon I have not yet considered: The backlash to the backlash to the backlash. This might be people who think PSL comes out too late, and should have been served in the spring.

Regardless, I must choose my side soon—before we all start screaming about Christmas—and start getting apoplectic about something I don’t have much interest in one way or the other.

Tuesday, September 11, 2018

$


I can’t lie: I love money. I love getting it. I love giving it. I love saving it. I love spending it. I love budgeting it.

I am enamored with amortization.

I realize money is not the most important thing in the world, but it is pretty important, and to believe otherwise is either naïve or dumb. No, money can’t buy everything but here is a list of things that money can buy:    

·      Shelter
·      Food
·      Education
·      Medical care
·      Clothing
·      Utilities
·      Transportation
·      Child care
·      Entertainment

So you actually do need money for things. You can look at that sunset for free but eventually, you’ll get hungry, and you’ll need some cash for food.

I try not to be greedy. I try to give. I just want a level of security for myself and my family, and that takes money. I like to think I have a clear-eyed view of money, and that view dictates that in general, it’s better to have money than not have money. This is math. People say “Mo money, mo problems” but nobody ever says “Less money, fewer problems.”

Nothing in particular prompted this. I just balk at the person who breezily says “It’s only money” because that money can build a better life for someone who needs it. It’s not “only money” to them. I also get aggravated when I see people on TV and movies refusing cash because they don’t want their benefactor to own them or whatever. I’m screaming “Take the cash!” at the screen. I’d run to the bank so fast, there would be a cartoon smoke outline where I used to be. I’d take that benefactor’s money to wipe out some debt. You shouldn’t get assessed with money but for Christ’s sake, use your head about how best to employ an important life tool.

I actually have plans for if I ever find a large amount of cash on the ground with nobody around and no identifying information on the cash. I have plans for which debts to tackle first and how to spend such a windfall. I certainly wouldn’t drive down the highway and throw the money out the window and laugh like an idiot in a movie.

In conclusion, some people like to say you can’t throw money at your problems, but throwing money is actually pretty effective when the problem is debt.