THE IRREVERENT GEORGE CARLIN

photo courtesty of NY Times



















I’ll admit. I had to look it up. When I googled George Carlin’s death, the word was practically in every headline. Irreverent. Definition? “Critical of what is generally accepted or respected; satirical.” And indeed, that’s what George Carlin was all about. I was probably 10 or so when I first heard the seven dirty words routine. And as every little kid can attest, curse words are funny. That was my intro to GC. As I got older, my perception of GC was an angry hippie, trendy, and a guy who got laughs from being dirty. I didn’t like him. But that all changed when I saw one of his 14 HBO comedy specials. I laughed hard that night. He was still dirty, but he was genuinely funny, observant, and intelligent. Whether he talked about politics, religion, football, baseball, or just plain stuff, his comedy was truly brilliant. I’m sure he’d always been, but I’d never given him a chance. From that day on, I was a big fan. Whether he had a comedy special or just an appearance on a talk show, I made it a point to watch him. He was one of the few who could really make me laugh. The world needs laughter, and it’s sad we just lost a big source of it. I think Robin Williams said it best, “I’m gonna miss that mother f***er.”

CANCER STRIKES AGAIN

I wasn’t there to hear the news this time, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear it. My mom has cancer. Breast cancer to be specific. She told me bluntly on Thursday. She’d known for two days and needed those days to compose herself. She’s typically emotional but you never would have guessed if you heard our phone call. She sounded remarkably composed and ready to fight. I’m proud of her for that. It’s news you never want to hear and news you’re never quite prepared for. I was with my dad when he got the news. Lung cancer. Six months to live. And indeed it was exactly six months. Those of you who still have both parents around, take note. You’re lucky. When they go, part of you goes with them. And your life will truly be forever different. I hope to have my mom around for many years to come. Her surgery is next week and we should have a better idea of her prognosis. We are all upbeat and positive. I’m glad she knows she has my support. We’ve had our differences, but we’re really close now. Man, that’s what it’s all about.

MISSING TIM RUSSERT

photo courtesy of Reuters

At the time of the 2000 presidential election, I was living in no man's land. Coudersport, Pennsylvania. Population, a robust 2650. I'm sure most of us remember that riveting election night where the results boilded down to my home state of Florida. Before the night began, Tim Russert called it. He told Tom Brokaw the focal point of the night would be Florida, Florida, Florida. He was right as he often was. His basic common-man explanation of the confusing election returns was captured on his low legendary white board. I'm glad I chose to watch NBC and Tim that night. Perhaps I was biased having lived in his hometown of Buffalo, NY for three years. But he broadcasted with no fluff, and told it like it was.

I've been a fan since and the news of his death left me shocked and saddened. I really looked forward to watching Tim during this year's highly anticipated presidential election. Like millions of other Americans, I will miss him.

DEJA VU

I’ve been here before. More than once, in fact. So I should know better. I do know better. Our lives are filled with plenty of mistakes made. The key is learning from them, isn’t it? I realize I’m hard on myself, but one of the biggest problems I have with “me” is not learning from mistakes. That requires among other things, common sense, a sound mind, and good judgment. I feel like I possess them. But for me, they are clouded by, of all things, hope.

I’m still reviewing the situation, and I know hope has no business here. I know not because of being hit in the face with a frying pan, but by keenly observing and listening. The clues are subtle but there. It's possible I'm wrong but doubtful. So by all means, I should dismiss hope and spare myself an extremely difficult letdown. I really thought I could, but now I’m not so sure. Déjà vu.

ROCKY TOOK A LOVER

Apologies to the religious fanatics out there, but I cannot help but relate to these lyrics by Bell X1…

"I don't believe in any old Jesus
If there was a God, then why is my ass
The perfect height of kicking?"

Click and enjoy the song.

BREAKING EVEN

Jerry : You know, life is amazing. I just lost a job and five minutes later get another, same weekend, same money.
Kramer : You know who you are? Even Steven


Jerry : Played cards last night.
Elaine : Oh yeah? How'd you do?
Jerry : Broke even.
Elaine : You always break even.
Jerry : Yeah, I know; like yesterday I lost a job, and then I got another one, and then I missed a TV show, and later on they re-ran it. And then today I missed a train, went outside and caught a bus. It never fails! I always even out!


Elaine : Do you have twenty bucks?
Jerry : What for?
Elaine : Just gimme twenty bucks.
Elaine takes the money and throws it out the window.
Jerry : What the hell was that?
Elaine : Let's see if you get the twenty bucks back.
Jerry : You know you could've thrown a pencil out the window and seen if that came back.
George rushes out, J+E follow him. J puts his hand in his pocket.
Jerry : Elaine ... look! A twenty!
Elaine : Oh my God.


Rachel : Jerry ...
Jerry : Yes?
Rachel : I've been doing a lot of thinking.
Jerry : Aha?
Rachel : Well, I don't think we should see each other any more.
Jerry : Oh, that's okay.
Rachel : What?
Jerry : Nah, that's fine. No problem. I'll meet somebody else.
Rachel : You will?
Jerry : Sure. See, things always even out for me.


George : I'm back in business, baby!
Jerry : George, I wouldn't get too excited about this stuff, you know, things have a way of evening out.
George : Hey! ( to Elaine, who doesn't look too cheerful )
Jerry : Elaine, don't get too down. Everything'll even out, see, I have two friends, you were up, he was down. Now he's up, you're down. You see how it all evens out for me?





During the last two weeks, unlucky me actually found money. Last week, I found a $10 bill in a parking lot. So I’ve been discussing this Seinfeld episode with my friend. We both agreed that unlucky me would likely break even and lose $10. But this week, I found a dollar bill sticking out of a parking meter of all things. Could my luck really have changed around or was the ax just waiting to fall. I was again reminded of the Seinfeld episode.

It’s weird but lately, I have actually been looking on the ground for money. But in the back of my mind, I’ve also been thinking of how I might end up breaking even. Hah, I should have known, for today, history repeated itself (for the life of me, I can't find the post about locking myself out of my apartment).

I had just finished running 5k and it was really hot out here as it usually is. I decided to rest in the park before going home. So I plopped down and shut my eyes for 15 minutes. One of my last conscious thoughts before dozing off was to check my pockets before leaving just in case either of my apartment keys fell out. I awoke abruptly and realized how thirsty I was. I needed to get home quickly. I walked maybe 20 steps before that “key” thought re-entered my head. I immediately reached into both pockets. Problem. One key was missing. And just like last time, it was the darn apartment key. I had the stupid gate key but not the apartment door key. Why couldn't it have been the gate key I lost?

No big deal, right? Just go back to the spot and find the key. But what spot? I didn’t mark it. It was a huge field. I tried but it was like trying to find the proverbial needle in a haystack. I looked for 30 minutes. Nothing. Then all the panic thoughts set in. I have no phone, no wallet, I don’t know the landlord’s number, I don’t know anyone’s number. Who remembers numbers anymore? Who locks themselves out of their apartment more than once in a lifetime? I remembered the debacle from last time and decided I wasn’t going through all that waiting and wating for hours shtick again. Nope, this called for drastic measures. I was gonna break a window to get in. I had two options. Bedroom or living room. I decided living room because that way, no one would see me do it. I drummed up a million scenarios of how I’d tell the landlord. None of them were very plausible. Maybe I’d just settle on the truth?

Then thankfully, panic gave way to reason. I remembered there was a locksmith next to the Laundromat I go to. It was only a 15 minute walk. I was dying of thirst but had no money. That’s the damned problem with running. You want to run light and not be bogged down with too much baggage. So I run with basically nothing. Smart, huh? I made it to the locksmith and although no one was there, they posted a 24-hour phone number. The Laundromat let me use their phone and I got a hold of Frank The Locksmith. He met me at the Laundromat and drove me to my apartment. I was amazed at how quickly he opened the deadbolt and the door lock. Less than five minutes. Scary almost.

I was just happy that I got in. I knew there would be a heavy price to pay. Indeed there was. Frank gave me the bill. $155 cash only. And THAT, my friends, is my way of breaking even.

REVIEWING THE SITUATION

I thought I had this whole L-I-F-E thing figured out. This goal of mine. The chase. I wrote the ending to the book a year ago. It all made sense. The book, the chase, Life. But that was then. Something, or should I say someone, changed all that. I think.

I thought I figured out that what I’d been chasing in this so-called life was happiness. I finally learned through numerous failures that I could be content or happy on my own without that special someone. The journey took me through the highest of highs and the lowest of lows without question. But I’d made it and didn’t look back. Until last week.

Last week caused me to delve further into the definition of happiness. So what happened? Yeah, I met someone. Details omitted at this point but suffice it to say, I felt something I hadn’t felt since CBG. That’s a large statement because despite having four ‘relationships’ during the past 4 ½ years, I never had that feeling with any of those women. Sex, yes. True FEELINGS, no.

We can’t control our minds and how we feel. It just happens. The feelings are there or they’re not. And those feelings are there in your mind 24/7. It’s like your brain swells with thoughts of that person. You wonder what they are up to. You picture a smile, a moment, a memory and it’s inescapable. It makes you feel content. It makes you feel fulfilled. Honestly, I forgot what that feeling was like. I didn’t miss it and didn’t think I needed it to be happy. Now I’m not so sure.

I AM happy. I concluded correctly. But now I’m asking myself, am I fulfilled? And is that part of happiness or something separate and distinct? Can we be happy yet unfulfilled? I think so, but I’m obviously not sure. I think it’s like icing on the cake perhaps. I liked that feeling. I definitely felt happIER even if it only lasted a week. When that feeling dissipates, especially not of your own volition, it’s deflating. It leaves you feeling empty and feeling as if that lost feeling needs to be replaced.

So what now? What of the book, the chase, life? Well, as Fagin once sang in Oliver, “I think I’d better think it out again.”

REMARKABLE

During the past three years, I’ve certainly done my fair share of bitching and moaning about life. I personally believe I haven’t had an easy go of it. Life’s been a struggle for me. An unsolved riddle perhaps. This blog has given me an outlet to free my burdened mind of such struggles. It started out as therapy for me, and I sorely needed it. Nowadays, I bitch about the most inconsequential things. Traffic tickets, express lines, bad service, what-have-you. Sometimes, it takes an event in another person’s life to put your own into perspective.

I’m sure most everyone would agree that as we get older, one of the hardest things we have to come to grips with is the loss of a loved one. Grandparents, parents, and even pets. I’ve had to deal with each of those on multiple occasions. Although extremely difficult to accept when it happens, logically, it makes sense that older people and pets are susceptible to a myriad of life-threatening illnesses that eventually they are unable to overcome. Like I said, it doesn’t make it any easier or make you feel any better when you initially hear about such an illness or the death itself. “He or she lived a good life,” you often hear. I’ve been fortunate in that I’ve never lost anyone unexpectedly to an act of god, terrorism, or a natural disaster. These days a lot can be said for that. And I’ve never had to deal with the shock of learning that a close friend has either died or gotten very sick long before they should have. Unfortunately, this is no longer the case.

I met my friend Dave in college at the University of Florida. He’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. We eventually roomed together after graduation. Although my memory is blurred, I think we lived in that apartment for at least four years. We eventually moved on with our lives. We both got married and both had a child shortly before I left town in 1996. As unbelievable as this sounds, we hadn’t spoken to each other since. A mutual friend of ours has kept each of us informed on the other’s life for the past 11 years. It was this mutual friend who informed me recently that my good friend was very sick. He has multiple myeloma, an incurable cancer of the plasma cells of the bone marrow. He’s only 48. The news of reading that email literally sent shockwaves through my system.

The treatments are horrific. Chemo, steroids, stem cell transplants, meds upon meds. The side effects wicked. He even suffered a heart attack. Can you imagine trying to deal with all that? And how about the fact that he’s married and has three kids? Again, I can’t imagine all that burden. I decided to meet him in our old college town of Gainesville, Florida. The hospitals and doctors there are some of the best in the country. I must admit that my expectations were low. I mean, what kind of shape, mentally or physically, can any individual be in after going through and dealing with this on a daily basis?

I met Dave at his hotel around 2 o’clock just after he finished another round of hospital treatments, tests, etc. He looked remarkably well; I was really surprised. He lay on his bed, and I pulled up a chair and we talked and caught up on the last 11 years. He told me how he found out about the illness. I watched him closely and listened intently. His mind was as sharp as ever. He quoted me percentages, recalling specific numbers and intricate details. But what really floored me was his frame of mind and attitude. Again. Remarkable. How does one react to basically a death sentence where your doctor says you have on average 5-6 years to live? And how the odds were about 3 or 4 among 100,000 that you contract this disease? I sensed no ‘why me’ at all. He was so positive about the whole situation. You know what he said to me? “It could be worse.” He told me about the older people and the kids who he saw who had to deal with the same thing and how much harder it was for them. He told me about the positives. Being able to spend time with his kids and family, going on field trips, doing things he wants to do. Heck, he still is thinking about going back to work!

After hearing all that, my issues seemed to pale in comparison. Divorce, depression, dating woes. Heck, that was nothing. Still, he sympathized and even questioned whether he could have made it through all that. He even said to me I was his hero for even trying the whole restaurant business thing. I’m his hero? Huh, I think it’s the other way around.

We reminisced about the fun times we had as roommates. How simple life was as single guys without worries. Sports, TV, movies, trivia, good restaurants, playing basketball. And with that came a lot of good laughs. It felt good. All of it. We talked for seven hours. It went by so fast. I was and am so proud of him. I’ll no doubt visit him again and do whatever, if anything, I can do to make his life happier. Although I don’t even think he needs it. And that folks is indeed, truly remarkable.

WHEN IT RAINS, IT POURS

Have you ever noticed that there are certain things in life you’re either very lucky at or very unlucky at? If I had to think off the top of my head at this, I’d say in my life I’ve been unlucky at love and relationships, money, golf, and except for my current job, work. I’ve been lucky at very few things but important things nevertheless. I’ve been very lucky with Andy. I’m definitely imperfect, but I can’t complain about my health. Now on a much smaller scale, and the subject matter of this post, I’ve had this amazing run of luck avoiding tickets while driving.

Had. As in past tense.

Before February, I had an amazing streak of 30 years driving without getting a ticket. I think it was a unique combination of conservative driving, driving slow cars, and a good amount of luck. I could have easily gotten 10 speeding tickets in those 30 years but lucked out with warnings or simply someone else going faster than I was. There wasn’t much luck involved when my perfect streak came to an end. I had a senior moment and backed into a car.

Since the back-in, I’ve had a strange feeling that it wouldn’t take me another 30 years to get my next ticket. My driving formula has changed. I have a faster car, I drive faster and more aggressively. When you combine all that and my number one pet peeve, slow drivers in the left lane, it leads to trouble. Six weeks ago (I’ve been meaning to write about this), I was on my way to the airport to pick up my lost bag thanks to American Airlines. A few hours turned into four days so I was not a happy camper. The scene was this. I was in the left lane and the guy ahead of me was going slow. Then, he decided he was going to turn left across oncoming traffic into a shopping center. So he stops. What pissed me off was that there was a middle turn lane he was supposed to be using but for some reason, he ignored it. My blood pressure was rising by the second. I waited seemingly forever to get around him in the right lane. Once I did, I accelerated with a good amount of speed. I wasn’t speeding; heck, I was going zero to twenty. But up ahead, there was a cop standing in the street. There was some construction going on. So I slowed down. When I got close to him, he waved me into a parking lot. I figured it was some kind of checkpoint for alcohol or something.

But no. In his mind, I was going to run him over. He was arrogant and didn’t want to hear anything from me. It probably didn’t help that he was Latino and I wasn’t. Ticket. I was dumbfounded really. He cited me for an improper lane change. Lame change more like it. So there you go, 30 years without a ticket and then only four months for the next one.

Saturday, I had to make a 350-mile road trip (posts upcoming). I originally set my cruise for 79 and then adjusted it to 82 because I was following two cars setting a good pace for me. Once again, those same risk factors came into play. Faster car, faster driving, aggressive driving, and slow drivers in the left lane. This time, I got stuck behind a big line of cars in the left lane. Someone up there was driving slow and backing up highway traffic and making me lose patience. After about 10 minutes of going 65 in the left lane, I’d had it. I made a move to the right lane and accelerated past a bunch of cars and cut in behind a white van. Now if I could just get around the white van I was home free. But the van decides to slam on his breaks in the left lane with no one in front of him. Naturally, I slam on mind and nearly hit him. Right then, I learned why he slammed on his breaks. State trooper hiding in the median. Oh no.

I watched carefully in my rear view mirror for any signs of the trooper car stirring. Sure enough he was making a move. Just in case, I moved over to the right lane and drove slowly behind another van. I kept my eye on the trooper who now had his blue lights on and was coming up fast in the left lane. It looked like he was about to pass me and go after someone else when he swerved and got right in behind me. I knew I was screwed. This guy was no happy camper either. He read me the riot act about aggressive driving being against the law in the State of Florida and somehow clocked me going 98 in the right lane. In his mind (judgment once again), I passed a bunch of cars, pulled behind the white van, and gave him the high-beams to move over. Well yes officer, that’s what I did but I’d hardly call that illegal especially when you consider the van breaking because he was speeding until he saw you. I disputed his 98 reading saying I’d never driven 98 in my life. True, and I don’t know how a radar gun could be that far off because I was NOT going 98. 88 maybe which I could have believed. Like the other ticketing officer, he didn’t want to hear anything from me and while he did his paperwork writing up a $213 ticket, I sat in the car and wondered where all my luck went on the road.

Zero tickets in 30 years and now three tickets in six months. My luck’s gone and I’ve come to realize that tickets are just a cost of driving. I’m not going to argue with cops anymore. It’s fruitless. I’m just gonna accept the ticket and move on. I’m sure I’ll get another one before the year is over. I’m convinced of it. I’m not going to change my driving patterns any because it’s basically luck and officer judgment. I mean, in the blink of an eye, these guys make snap judgments of what they think they see and unlike an NFL football game, there is no replay to change the call. I sat in my car aggravated but when I thought of the reason I had to make this road trip, a ticket seemed very insignificant in the grand scheme of life. More on that soon…

GOODBYE OLD FRIEND

I had an inkling it might be the last time. I’d already given him my customary goodbye hug and had told him to be a good doggie. But as I walked away from the couch I turned back to give him another hug. It turns out it was indeed the last one. Two weeks later, my little Zekie is gone. He lived a great life. Almost 15 years. I think what amazed me most about "Ears," as I affectionately called him, was that I only visited once a year for the past four years, yet every time he’d see me, I’d lie on the floor and he’d jump on my stomach and lick me to death, bad breath and all. I don’t know how he recognized me, but I believe he did. He was a great pet and a great friend. Our reunions were short but sweet and although I only got to see him once a year, I know I’ll miss him a lot. *Sigh*

EXPRESS LANE ETIQUETTE

I’ve written before about my love for express lanes. Tonight I revisited the scene of the crime for more insanity. I got to the check out area and noticed there were only two lanes open; one of which was the “only 10 items or less” express lane. I guess the express lane had the night off because there were people in that line with cartful of items plucking them out one-by-one onto the conveyer belt. Disgusted, I was actually ready to walk out of the store when I got what I thought was a great idea. The old secret weapon. The often ignored ‘Customer Service’ area. There were only two people over there so I decided I’d give it a shot.

In position number one was a lady with a receipt and no items. Behind her was a guy with only one item so I figured I’d be in and out of there. I figured wrong. I couldn’t figure out exactly what that lady was up to with her receipt but her argument took a good ten minutes to resolve and she ended up getting five dollars back. I was frustrated for not leaving the store as I had originally planned. Fortunately, the guy in front of me only took a minute with his one item. Ahhh. Finally, my turn right? That’s what I thought until some guy just walked right past me and asked the clerk for a box on the floor that was apparently his. I was stunned that he just zorched right ahead of me. I didn’t say anything because I figured he would take his box and go. Once again I figured wrong. The clerk began ringing him up for what was apparently a 12-pack of beer. I was so steamed at this guy who had an incredible nerve to just cut in line and completely ignore me. I couldn’t’ take it anymore. As he began to pay I asked him if it was his custom to just ignore people and rudely cut in front of them. He looked at me and smiled, showing his lovely blackened teeth. He claimed he was there before me. I told him I’d been standing there for 10 minutes and he was nowhere to be found until he walked right up ahead of me. “Buddy you have your head up your wazoo,” he told me. I corrected him and told him that he never even looked at me before walking right up to the front. Even worse, I told him, was his failure to admit he’d made a mistake and to do the decent thing and apologize. He began another sentence with “Buddy” but I didn’t hear it. As I walked out of the store, I told him it was a shame that he had such poor manners and I’d hoped his daughter, who was standing next to him, didn’t learn any of his bad habits.

Yeah I know; don’t sweat the small stuff. I try; but sometimes, I swear, people like that kill me and I can no longer sit there and take it. I’m taking it upon myself to point out their rudeness so maybe, just maybe, they’ll think twice the next time.

PERFECT NO MORE

Streaks seem to have followed me all my life. Some good, some bad, some most unusual. I’ve written about them, too. I’m not really sure which streak is the most, hmm, accomplished. Being a virgin for 29+ years? How bout the Seinfeldian streak of not throwing up for 29 years? Not seeing a movie for seven years? Another abstinence streak of 29 months? Sorry Jim Carrey but for me, the number seems to be 29, not 23. Well anyway, another major streak has ended for me. And this one lasted 29 plus one years and may be the most impressive or simply the luckiest.

I’d just finished dinner with mom. My car was parked at a 45-degree angle against a busy street. I couldn’t go anywhere because a red light had caused cars to form a line behind me which boxed me in. As the cars appeared to finally move, I looked back and a guy was letting me in so I began to slowly back up. BAM! Yes indeed, I backed right into a car I never saw. I got out and this lady started screaming at me right away. Ooh man, was she irate. She was from Long Island and had her two kids in a rent-a-car and, as she put it, “This is the last thing I needed.” I apologized a gazillion times for my temporary lapse of reason. I eventually calmed her down as she realized I was a decent guy who’d simply made a mistake. I cringed as I began to survey the damage. Her car wasn’t that bad. I’d dented the rear passenger quarter panel and scraped some paint. I’d hoped like hell there wouldn’t be any damage to my three month-old car. No such luck. Luckily most of the damage was to the bumper but I was still so disappointed at myself. I called the cops and reported the accident and that, thankfully, no one was hurt. The officer came and I pretty much told him I’d simply backed into the lady. I told him that I’d been driving for 30 years and never had gotten a ticket so this was really a new experience for me.

He disappeared for awhile as he ran background checks on my clean driving record. Clean no more. Yes, for the first time in 30 years of driving, I’d gotten a ticket. $133 for improper backing and causing an accident. I think I was more upset for ending the streak than the money for the ticket or for the $500 deductible I ended up paying for a new bumper. Wow, I don’t know if I’ll ever put together another streak of 30 years of anything. Hmm, I haven’t dated for four months. Gotta long way to go there. Got another sexless streak going on five months. How about another throw up streak. That could be my last hope. It’s been seven years already. Wow, another 23 years and I’d be 68 years old. I think it’s safe to say my best streaks are all behind me now.

45

Three years ago, I felt like Dorothy Gale watching the sand sift quickly down the Wicked Witch’s hourglass. Time was moving fast. Life was moving fast. At 42, I felt like I needed to rush. Break the speed limit. Quickly find someone to spend the rest of my life with before I got too old. And so, as you know, I dated. And dated. And dated. And as you also know, not much has come out of all that. Lots of posts about disappointments and frustrations.

But all that ceased at the end of last October when I went into self-imposed splendid isolation. Yep, still going. Date-free for three months now. And life has slowed down for me. All those trials and tribulations have made me realize I don’t need to be in a hurry. I don’t need to break the speed limit. I may have turned 45 today, but I don’t feel that old. I don’t even think I look that old. Yet. Check back with me in five years. I may have a change of heart.