Month: October 2005


  • EDIT: I joined LA Weight Loss on Saturday, and I officially start the program today. I currently weigh 188 lbs and the goal weight is 150. According the program, I’m supposed to lose 2 lbs a week for 19 weeks, putting me at my goal by the middle of March. I also have an appointment in the morning with my doctor to get back on my meds. The race has begun.


     


    By the way, my doctor is a woman. I know this is probably sexist, but I prefer women doctors because they typically seem smarter, more focused, and less prone to be dismissive. The only issue I have with having a woman doctor is when it comes time for the inevitable prostate exam. The last time I had this done, my doctor actually said “OK..now we get to see some skin!”  I’m not sure about this, but I think that under some circumstances that could be considered sexual harrasment. Although in this case, she was laughing hysterically when she said it, so it was more a blow to my self esteem. To add insult to injury, she couldn’t be in the room alone with me when she did this, so she invited a female nurse into the room to be part of the festivities. And people wonder why I don’t like to go to the doctor.


     


    “…a heart attack-ack-ack-ack-ack-ack, I oughta know by now.”


     


    I recently sat down at one of those “self-check” blood pressure machines at a local Walgreen’s drug store. I put my arm in the little cuff and pushed the button for the test to start. The machine grunted along for a few minutes and then produced an error code and told me to continue to sit still. Suddenly a flashing red light and a siren went off in the store. All the lights went out and team of paramedics descended on rappelling ropes out of the ceiling and surrounded me with defibrillators and syringes full of adrenaline. Apparently, when your blood pressure is over a certain point it signals this team, like a silent alarm at a bank, because the machine is convinced you are currently in the throes of a heart attack.


     


    Ok, I made up the thing about the paramedics, but my blood pressure was shockingly high. I’ve been on and off medication for a year or so; with little result (the issue being that I’m off the medication more than I’m on it).  The blood pressure reading kind of scared me, though. My cholesterol is also off the charts, and both my parents died very young from heart attacks. I’ve been having some chest pain lately that I’ve told myself is indigestion, but I know that’s not true.


     


    I can’t imagine why I’m in this shape, though. I adhere to a strict exercise regimen of sitting at my computer, then sitting on an airplane, then sitting in a rental car, and then coming back to a hotel and sitting in front of my computer again. My diet consists of the finest airport and convenience store foods and I’ve been told that a steady influx of Cinnabons and Starbucks coffee will kill any bug in your system.


     


    I do feel it’s time to do something about my health. I’m much too young and beautiful to die. My wife joined LA Weight Loss about five weeks ago and has already lost 20 pounds. She looks fabulous. So…I’m joining with her tomorrow and I’m starting an exercise routine. I’m going to implement this routine in the home gym I spent lots of money to set up a couple of years ago and which has been serving only as a great place to hang clothes that I’ve become too fat to wear.


     


    Have you ever noticed those “before and after” photos in weight loss or exercise magazines?  The “before” pictures always show people with pasty white complexions looking like they just came through an interrogation at Guantanamo Bay. In the “after” pictures the people are not only thinner; but they are smilling, tanned, have perfect teeth, and are sitting in $100,000.00 sports cars. I’ve got to find out what in the water at those gyms they are advertising.


     


    I thought I would go ahead and post my own before and after pictures.


     


    Here I am now:


     



     


    Here is where I hope to be three months from now:


     



     


    Wish me luck.

  • IT’S SHEER TORTURE


     


    I spent some time this afternoon listening to a debate on NPR regarding the McCain-Graham anti-torture amendment attached to the Pentagon’s appropriations bill. This is a very complex issue and while I’m firmly in McCain’s camp, it is going to be interesting to hear expert testimony on both sides of the fence in the weeks ahead. While I’m not trying to make light of that issue, I do wish someone would sponsor a domestic anti-torture bill aimed at eliminating current pop culture atrocities that torture average Americans on a daily basis.


     


    I would support legislation aimed at making the following items illegal, or the following people criminal, due to the torture they inflict daily on sane people everywhere:




    •  Those Verizon “can you hear me now?” commercials.


    •  Any utterance from the mouth of Ann Coulter.


    •  Any advertisement (print, radio, or television) by a personal injury lawyer.


    •  Anyone declaring that they have good news about having saved money on their car insurance.


    •  “Fair & Balanced” news reporting.


    •  Network weather people reporting hurricane conditions.


    •  Negative pre-election campaign adds.


    •  Credit card offers in the mail.


    •  Anyone warning me about the dangers of erections lasting more than four hours.


    •  Anyone advising me to ask my doctor about a medication of which the side effects include; “dizziness, dry mouth, explosive diarrhea, and sometimes…death.”


    •  Reality TV “celebrities.”


    •  People who use their cell phones while driving.


    •  Soccer moms who drive Hummers.


    And finally, the single most torturous thing being endured by Americans today:


     



    • Any speech by George W. Bush.

  • In response to this week’s topic on Socrates Cafe:


     


    AN EXCELLENT DEATH


     


    In 1976, Blue Oyster Cult declared “Don’t fear the Reaper”.


     


    All our times have come
    Here but now they’re gone
    Seasons don’t fear the reaper
    nor do the wind, the sun or the rain, we can be like they are
    Come on baby…don’t fear the reaper


     


    Despite their eloquent admonition, many people face the prospect of life’s one great eventuality with a great deal of fear and trepidation. The subject of death often evokes feelings of uncertainty, fear of the unknown, and even denial. It can also stir deeply held convictions regarding personal faith, speculation about a better existence beyond death, and even a longing to eventually arrive on the other side of death’s door. Death is the one event that all of humanity has in common and yet it is the one thing we may truly know the least about.


     


    The question has been posed; “What is an excellent death?” The answer to that question may lie more in the events leading up to death than in death itself. One of the most prolific and respected authors on the subject of death is Elisabeth Kubler-Ross who died herself in August of 2004. She said; “Dying is nothing to fear.  It can be the most wonderful experience of your life.  It all depends on how you have lived.


     


    Death can be considered a positive event. Research (to be noted) seems to indicate that in order for death to be considered positive by an individual getting ready to experience death or by those the individual has left behind, the death event needs to have at least one of three elements: The death must be on the individuals own terms, the death must be prepared for, and finally, the life of the individual who died is considered worthy to be celebrated by family and friends.


     


    Facing death on your own terms – It is not often that a person has the opportunity to meet death on their own terms. Accidental death, death by sudden illness, or even death by foul play can certainly rob an individual of the time needed to set terms for their own death. The topic of meeting death on your own terms is a widely debated issue as is evidenced by the recent court decisions in Oregon and the Supreme Court’s decision to look at “right-to-die” issues. According to Dr. Pat Caralis with the University of Miami Medical Center, individuals who have the opportunity to set terms for their own death report that they view the impending death experience more positively and with less anxiety. Dr. Caralis recommends that persons in this situation carefully examine such issues as Living Wills, Heathcare Proxies, DNR orders, and even the issue of physician assisted suicide.  Having a say about the circumstances of your death apparently makes facing death a more positive experience.


     


    Preparing for Death – We have all heard the admonition that we should “live everyday as if it was our last.” According to research done for the “On your Own Terms; Moyers on Dying” PBS special, two of the most important considerations in preparing for death seem to be in resolving relationship issues and in making sure that affairs are left in order.  Dr. Ira Byock, a faculty member at the Dartmouth School of Medicine, in his book “The Four Things that Matter Most”  states: “The specter of death reveals our relationships to be our most precious possessions. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve met people in my office, an emergency room, or a hospice program who have expressed deep regret over things they wish they had said before a grandparent, parent, sibling, or friend died. They can’t change what was, but without fail their regrets have fueled a healthy resolve to say what needs to be said before it’s too late – to clear away hurt feelings, to connect in profound ways with the people who mean the most to them.”  Regarding resolving outstanding relationship issues, Dr. Byock goes on to say: “Even as people confront death (their own or others’), they can reach out to express love, gratitude, and forgiveness. When they do, they consistently find that they, and everyone involved, are transformed—for the rest of their life, whether those lives last for decades or just days.”


     


    The knowledge that affairs have been left in order also seems to ease the anxiety of an impending death. On his deathbed, faced with creditors and unpaid bills, Oscar Wilde said despairingly, “I am dying beyond my means!”  Perhaps Mr. Wilde would have been less apprehensive if he had more adequately prepared for end-of-life financial considerations.


    Celebrating the life of the deceased – On a personal note, I was part of literally hundreds of funerals during my days in the ministry.  I would certainly say that the deaths I would refer to as “excellent” are the deaths of people who have lived in such a way that their lives touched the lives of others in profoundly positive ways.  It is a very sad funeral indeed when the only positive thing that can be read about the deceased is the obituary. I have been a part of many funerals, however, that were actually joyous celebrations, filled with laughter, because the person who died had left so much of themselves behind in the people who came, not to mourn the lost, but to celebrate their life. Kubler-Ross once said; “And after your death, when most of you for the first time realize what life here is all about, you will begin to see that your life here is almost nothing but the sum total of every choice you have made during every moment of your life. Your thoughts, which you are responsible for, are as real as your deeds.  You will begin to realize that every word and every deed affects your life and has also touched thousands of lives.”


    Hopefully, when death knocks on our door we will be prepared and we won’t fear the reaper.


    Edit: It is apparent from the last quote (and a great deal of the remainder of her writings) that Kubler-Ross believed in consciousness after death. I included the quote not to promote that theory, but to document her feelings about the impact that an individual’s life has on those around them. 


    Edit #2:  My friend The Baxter reminded me that the song “Don’t Fear the Reaper” was that catalyst for the phrase uttered by Christopher Walken which has served as a mantra for a generation; “I’ve got a fever, and the only prescription is…more cowbell.”

  • SAAAAALUTE!


     


    I’m currently in the middle of my 1,298th business trip of the year. I’m in Nashville attending a trade show and polishing up my Buck Owens impression.


     


    On average, I take about 45 round trip flights a year. Many times, when I board an airplane, I’m completely exhausted and hoping for a chance to close my eyes, even if it’s only for a few brief moments. Apparently, when I’m in this condition I give off vibes that say “Please engage me in non-stop, unrelenting, meaningless banter for the duration of the flight. Really; even if I’m snoring, and drool is running down my chin, it is fine to wake me up to ask me my opinion of the weather and to inquire if the peanuts are fresh on this flight.”  Last night was such a flight, but this time I’m glad the people sitting next to me ignored the fact that I was nodding off half way through the seatbelt instructions and engaged me in conversation anyway.


     


    On the first leg of my flight from Tulsa to Atlanta I sat next to an 81 year old man who had served in the infantry during Korea. He regaled me with stories of what it was like to serve in the military during those days. He talked about the constant boredom and how that was interspersed with moments of absolute terror. He was completely fascinating and the flight ended much too quickly.


     


    On the second leg of the flight from Atlanta to Nashville a young man sat down next to me with a buzz cut and slacks pressed so sharply I was afraid the crease might cut someone. He had just graduated from Marine boot camp and was heading home to see his fiancé whom he had not seen in four months. This kid was an animated recruiting poster. When I ask him why he joined the Marines, he actually replied; “because I want to be all that I can be, sir.”  His enthusiasm was contagious, even about his impending tour of duty in Iraq. He will be an aircraft mechanic and he spoke eloquently about how his contribution will help keep the troops fed, clothed, and stocked with necessary supplies.


     


    During both legs of the flight my thoughts turned to my father. Even though I lived in his home until I was 17, I barely knew the man. I did know that he had been a soldier. He was a Staff Sergeant during WWII and over the years I had heard a few stories about his time in the service. I know he was stationed in Alaska for about a year. I know that he landed on Normandy beach during the second day of the invasion. I know that he once pulled a troop carrier up to a winery in occupied France, loaded the back down with champagne, and charged it to the U.S. government. He once told me that for years after he got out of the service, he was sure that at any moment he was going to get a knock on his door and be presented with a bill for all that champagne. I know that he liked the service so much he signed up for a second tour of duty, and I know that when he finally came home he shot up all the stop signs in the thriving metropolis of Locust Grove, Oklahoma with his service revolver and that his wild ways were finally tamed by a cute 17 year old blond named Roberta, who one day became my mother.


     


    I could see my father’s enthusiasm in the eyes of the young Marine, and I could see his worldly weariness in the eyes of the 81 year old veteran.  I wish I could have seen more in the eyes of my father when he was alive.


     


    Here’s to hoping my new friend the Marine comes home from Iraq and has the chance to make that fiancé of his, his wife.

  • In response to this week’s topic on Socrates Café I offer a reprint of a post on animal rights I did back in February:


     


    WHAT RIGHTS DOES LITTLE BUNNY FOO-FOO HAVE?



    As I was driving down the interstate today I spotted a billboard which featured a huge picture of Pamela Anderson next to a quotation that proclaimed “Boycott Kentucky Fried Chicken.” Additional text on the billboard explained that the reason for the proposed boycott was that KFC was guilty of such crimes against chickens as “live scalding” and “painful de-beaking.” For a brief moment I pondered why the group responsible for the billboard would pick Pamela Anderson as the spokesperson. Suddenly the “succulent white breast meat” correlation became glaringly obvious. I then began to wonder if Tyson or other poultry processing companies have ever secretly experimented with silicone enhanced chickens. (In honor of my hero, Dave Barry, I would like to note that “Silicone Chickens” would be a great name for a rock band).

    Despite the fact that chickens, as a species, do not immediately evoke a sense of empathy and that “de-beaking” sounds suspiciously like a frat house hazing ritual, I hate to see chickens, or any other creature for that matter, treated with cruelty.

    While I am firmly in the camp that the rights of animals should be subjugated to the rights of humans, I am sympathetic to the concerns that many animal rights groups address. I think their agenda would be better served however, if they plugged the following holes in their platform:


     



    • They tend to ignore basic science. Some groups like Vegans (which sounds like a cheesy alien character from a bad Star Trek episode) espouse the philosophy that animals should never be used for food and that we should all be vegetarians. If humans had evolved to be strictly vegetarian we would only have teeth that are suited to the tearing and grinding of plant material (incisors and molars) like those of a cow. Instead, we evolved with canines which are specifically designed to tear and shred meat. This is so we can easily digest enough Big Macs so that we have asses that are large enough to make us look like cows.

     



    • They aren’t consistent about what they protect. Animal rights groups are quick to point out the clubbing of baby seals, the netting of dolphins in the tuna industry, and the skinning of fuzzy woodland creatures for the occasional handbag. They don’t seem to be quite so up in arms about creatures that don’t have such a high “cuddle factor.” The French have been serving escargot for centuries and you never hear about a campaign to wipe out cruelty to slugs. (Besides, we all know that God made slugs so that 12 year old boys would have something to pour salt on.)

     



    • Their priorities seem just a tad misguided. They are passionate about preventing cruelty to animals; passionate enough to throw buckets of fake blood on runway models wearing furs. However, the human race seems to still be several millennia away from eradicating the horrific cruelty we perpetuate on each other. I simply wish we could demonstrate some real passion about changing that.

    Despite my misgivings, I am against needlessly inflicting pain on animals. I think our Native American brothers and sisters are probably one of the few groups that have ever really gotten the animal thing right. Historically, they would find the concept of not using animals for food, shelter, and other essentials completely laughable. Yet they are the one group of people that show the greatest respect and reverence for the animals they use.

    For those of you who think I’m a monster because I don’t actively promote the agenda of animal rights groups I would like to ask that you take a look at the following picture of the animals that rule my home in hopes that I can prove that I’m actually an animal lover.

    Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some veal cutlets in the oven and I need to check on them.


  • SELF IMAGE 101


     


    I like to portray myself in this blog as a person of tolerance, compassion, acceptance, and generosity; a person who looks beyond the thin veneer with which we mask ourselves to the true inner beauty of every living human being.


     


    If you read what follows, you will discover that in reality, I am actually a shallow prick.


     


    On occasion, I find myself looking in the mirror and becoming discouraged by what I see. Each time I gaze on my reflection I appear to have grown yet another chin. If I lift my shirt; rather than seeing a six pack, I see six spare tires. I could pack for a trip to Europe in the bags under my eyes, and the only thing that is consistently hard on my body are the corns on my feet.


     


    I go to the movies with my wife and despair over the fact I am more likely to be mistaken for Tony Orlando than Orlando Bloom and that the only time I’m ever “carded” is when the child behind the counter wants to know if I’d like the AARP discount.


     


    When I get to feeling like this there is only thing that will improve my self image…I go shopping for an hour at Wal-Mart.


     


    Have you ever taken a close look at the average Wal-Mart shopper? I swear that you could determine the number of shoppers in a typical Wal-Mart by counting teeth and dividing by five. If you think that the world is populated only by razor thin super models you would be wrong, because they have apparently all been eaten by the Jabba the Hut look-a-likes who are perusing the cookie and ice cream aisles.  I may not have the greatest fashion sense in the world but I do know that a beer stained ZZ Top t-shirt, cut-off camouflage pants, and black socks is NOT a good look, even if your mullet IS looking particularly fetching.


     


    So, the next time you are watching TV, or are looking through magazines at all the beautiful people and begin to feel like you simply don’t measure up; do what I do. Go to Wal-Mart and look around at the real average American. Trust me; you are WAY better looking than they are.


     


  • GOD TOLD ME TO WRITE THIS BLOG
    (Or at least that’s the story I’m telling)

    I’m sure most of you have either read the story below (which appeared in the Guardian) or have heard about it. Read on….

    George Bush has claimed he was on a mission from God when he launched the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq, according to a senior Palestinian politician in an interview to be broadcast by the BBC later this month.

    Mr Bush revealed the extent of his religious fervor when he met a Palestinian delegation during the Israeli-Palestinian summit at the Egpytian resort of Sharm el-Sheikh, four months after the US-led invasion of Iraq in 2003.

    One of the delegates, Nabil Shaath, who was Palestinian foreign minister at the time, said: “President Bush said to all of us: ‘I am driven with a mission from God’. God would tell me, ‘George go and fight these terrorists in Afghanistan’. And I did. And then God would tell me ‘George, go and end the tyranny in Iraq’. And I did.”

    Mr Bush went on: “And now, again, I feel God’s words coming to me, ‘Go get the Palestinians their state and get the Israelis their security, and get peace in the Middle East’. And, by God, I’m gonna do it.”

    I grew up in a culture where people talked like that all of the time. It was not only acceptable; it was considered a display of the depth of your spirituality. No one thought you were crazy. In fact, if your behavior was motivated by something other than a word from God, you were highly suspect.

    The truth is…I used to talk like that.

    I stood up in front of my church when I was a Jr. in High School and told the congregation that God had told me to go into the ministry. I truly believed it and I was wildly applauded for it. If you had ask me if God had told me that out loud I would have looked at you like you were crazy and told you, “of course not, it was God’s still, small voice.” Many of you reading this know exactly what I’m talking about.

    As I look back on that time in my life now, I can be more honest about what my motivations really were than I was even with myself at the time. I know I believed that is what God wanted me to do but I also know that it was expected of me at the time and I that I received a great deal of approval because of that decision at a time in my life when I really needed approval.

    Then, a funny thing happened on my way to the pulpit. When I actually got into the ministry my idealism began to be shattered pretty quickly. Whenever someone came into my office, sat down across from me, and began a sentence with “God told me to…”, 95% of time it meant I was about to get screwed over. Slowly I began to realize that people would use the “God told me to” excuse to justify all sorts of personal agendas and contemptuous behaviors. I actually cringe now at the naivety of my youth.

    These days I believe that there are ways that God would like me to behave. Whether or not you believe that scripture has any validity, most folks would agree that if you could live according to the general principles of the Sermon on the Mount that you would be behaving as a decent human being. The same could be said of living by the principles in the Koran or the teachings of Buddha, etc. That is how “God speaks to me” these days. When it comes to the decisions I make in life, I take responsibility for my own actions. I don’t blame them on a higher power.

    I have a hard time actually believing that Dubya thinks God told him to invade Iraq. If it’s true, God has really screwed the pooch over there. I think it’s what George thought people wanted to hear, just like I thought it was what people wanted to hear when I stood in front of my congregation back in High School.

    I’ll admit that despite my cynicism, I still have a very soft place in my heart for the beliefs on which I was raised. If you believe that God speaks to you in that “still, small voice” I’m not going to say he doesn’t. I’m just asking that you never use it as an excuse to be an asshole.

  • ALARMING BILLBOARD



     


    I just saw the following billboard while driving back to my office from a meeting.


     


     


     


    It’s a nice thought; I’m just shocked that God can’t spell any better than that

  • HARRY POTTER EYE FOR THE STRAIGHT GUY


     



     


    I’m certain that many of you have read the story today about Reverend Graham Taylor, a British Cleric and author, who was thrown out of a school where he told a group of 12 year old pupils that Harry Potter was gay.


     


    I’m not sure how Mr. Taylor discovered this fact, but it points to an ever growing assortment of fictional characters who are banding together to purposely subvert the sexuality of our children.


     


    We were all fortunate a few years back when Jerry Falwell alerted us to the fact that both the Smurfs and Teletubbies were gay archetypes. I’m still not sure how he determined that Teletubbies were gay since they appear to have no genitalia, but we can all breath easier because he uncovered this insidious threat.


     



     


    I’ve been giving this some thought and I don’t think it stops with Harry, Papa Smurf, and Tinky-Winky. In fact, I think the plot to “gay-up” our children has been going on for years. Here are some obvious examples:


     



     


    How many times have we seen Bugs Bunny in drag? Obviously Bugs is a transvestite.


     



     


    Foghorn Leghorn never wanted to date Miss Prissy and he displayed some very unnatural affection towards that pesky Chicken Hawk.


     



     


    Batman and Robin? Please…an old rich guy and a young boy wearing capes and spandex? There was obviously more going on in the bat cave than tuning up the Bat Mobile. Holy pedophile Batman!


     


    My guess is that all of these guys have been meeting for years in the back of a smoky bar called the “Male Box”, watching gay porn, and picking out fabric swatches.


     


    Thank God GI Joe is still an All-American male. I can rest assured that Joe is straight because I’m certain President Bush would never allow a gay plastic doll to serve in our military.


    _________________________ 


     


    All I can really say is that the Jerry Falwell’s of the world apparently have WAY too much time on their hands.


    _________________________


     


    EDIT: An office mate of mine just explained that he knew the Teletubbies were gay because Dipsy has a dildo attached directly to his head. It’s hard to argue that point.


     


  • YOU MAKE ME FEEL LIKE DANCING


    (I want to dance the night away)


     


    My wife and I have decided to take up ballroom dancing and we had our first lesson tonight along with another couple. It was a lot of fun and I’m looking forward to the next lesson.


     


    The instructor was much younger than I was expecting. He explained that when he was nine he became interested in dance because of the new “break-dancing” craze. I thought, gosh, when break-dancing was a new craze I used to run over kids doing it with my walker.


     


    He also didn’t seem to have much of a sense of humor. At one point he said “just keep it up and pretty soon you’ll feel just like Fred and Ginger.” I replied, “That’s good to hear because at the moment I feel more like Fred and Barney.” He stared at me with a puzzled look for a moment and then with a slightly forced smile said “Oh…Fred and Barney, I get it.”  Ok, I’ll admit it wasn’t a side-splitter but I thought it at least warranted a chuckle.


     


    We ask him the obvious question; “Where does one go to ballroom dance in Tulsa, Oklahoma?” He replied that there was a dance at the Elks Lodge every Friday evening. Wow, I can see it now; my wife and can slip on our orthopedic shoes and our trusty Depends and go hang out at the Elks lodge. If we’re really lucky, maybe they’ll have a mixer with the folks from the VFW! I’m holding out for a slightly younger crowd.


     

    I’ve never felt like I was a particularly graceful person so I’m hoping this will help. After I finish the first six lessons, everyone is invited to Tulsa to watch us dance. Just look for me, I’ll be the guy at the Elks Lodge doing the tango with a rose in my mouth and putting Geritol in the punch bowl.