The actions of the ‘few’, do not reflect on the ‘many’.

What follows is something that I wrote a million years ago that bears repeating every now and again. I hope you enjoy it. 

Thanks for reading,


Dear Everyone on the Face of the Planet,

I think it’s high time you and I had our ‘Come to Jesus’ talk.

Schwarzenegger. Sheen. Gibson. Anthony Weiner.

Make no mistake: just because I am a male does not make me an expert on male behavior. I’m just a person with an opinion. Regardless, it seems to me that men have been behaving badly and making poor decisions since the dawn of time.

These men who have been behaving badly, Mel, Charlie, Arnold, Weiner… just because they have positions in the public eye it doesn’t mean that they have another set of rules that they are allowed to abide by.

They are doing what men all over the world have been doing since the beginning of time. They have been indulging in behaviors that are signs and symptoms of a larger problem. Whether or not that is the case, remains to be seen.

Why are they so important? Why do you continue to give them your attention? Isn’t your life more interesting than watching the slow-motion car-crash that they let their own lives turn into?

Is it because you can get wrapped up in your little conspiracies about why they are so popular now and why they are doing what they are doing? It’s hard not to: the one thing that they all had in common was that they were hurtling towards obscurity.

I smelled a rat the day after his ‘scandal’ broke and Netflix had released a ton of his movies for instant viewing on your TV… If there is one thing that I thought was cool it was the fact that Weiner wasn’t going to step down. All he did was send some pictures and then lie about it. He didn’t physically participate in sexual congress with another woman.

Regardless of the fact that they have participated in making poor choices and the ‘possible’ reasons as to why they have, are they really worth your time?

So Everyone on the Face of the Planet, I am begging you…

Please, shut the fuck up about them.

Your individual lives are more important then why some dude sent pictures of his dinkle to his mistress. It’s fall: Go outside and enjoy it.

What do you think? Can you handle making your life more of a priority than the life of a stranger?

While you ponder that, I would like to leave you with a clip of Mel playing with a beaver…

Save me a spot at the table.

I’ve been a member of the ‘dead-dad’ club for nearly 15 years. To be more precise, it’s been 13 years. Saying that it’s been 15 sounds better. At any rate, what I had failed to realize until the last week that my father was alive, was that I was his caregiver.

It was the year 2000 and I was 20 years old.

For about a month, Dad was having a strange problem. His days would start like they always would but an hour or so after he left his home, he would have to come back and take a nap.

He wasn’t doing anything strenuous. He was not a fitness enthusiast. He was into photography, baking, and various forms of lecherous behavior.

It wasn’t long before a doctor’s appointment needed to be made. I remember talking to him on the day that he was supposed to have his appointment. He said he was going to call me after to let me know how it went. It was a mid-afternoon appointment that shouldn’t have lasted more than a couple of hours.

The entire day went by and I hadn’t heard a peep from him. I called his apartment, no answer. He didn’t have a cell phone so in my mind, he was missing.

My only other option was the phone book. After 15 minutes of calling every phone number listed under his HMO that I thought was relevant I managed to track him down. He told me that they were still running tests on him, and getting everything processed was taking a lot longer than usual.

He assured me that he would let me know what the verdict was when he knew.

A couple of days later I get the call from him telling me that it was colon cancer.

It wasn’t so bad at first. Physically speaking he was fine. He didn’t have trouble getting around until the last two weeks.

What was hard about the entire situation was the mental and emotional toll that it took on the both of us. Him, with his impending mortality and me, with my youthful ignorance.

My father was never a social person. It just wasn’t a part of his personality. He’d occasionally meet with someone he used to work with. But his retirement propelled him further into anti-social behavior. Prior to his diagnosis he had become slightly estranged from our family so really, he just had me.

It made it hard not to feel guilty when I’d need some time for myself.

The week before he passed away things were at their absolute worst. He was having trouble getting in and out of the shower. He had a loss of appetite as well as a complete dip in energy level. It got to the point where he needed to have a nurse visit him everyday.

The nurse was the first person who first referred to me as a caregiver. The term kind of threw me off because it was the first time that I had heard it used, let alone applied to me. She gave me a packet on what my role was and what was expected to happen. I remember thinking that everything that I read in the packet was really odd because it was all stuff that had happened, was happening, or it was something that I could see happening in the future. Talk about ‘a day late, and a dollar short’.

What a lot of people don’t realize is, is that regardless of the care giving situation, every one needs a break. The person who is ailing needs to lean on someone else for a while so that the ‘main’ care giver can recharge their batteries and feel like a normal human being. That way, everyone can take a deep breath before they get back to the task at hand.

I don’t regret anything that happened, anything that I did or anything that I did not do. I think that had I had been a little bit older, I would have had the common sense to ask for help.

Getting a break every now and again wasn’t a real problem, finding the courage to open up and talk to someone was.

On a closing note, one of the things that I remember was his morbid fascination with his predicament.

One day, we went for a drive and he starts telling me about this thing that he found on-line. It was a list of things people said to each other upon the death-bed of their loved one, or should one lover die before the other, etc.

Naturally, he posed the question to me: If I croaked next week, what would you say to me on my death-bed?

I took half a second to think about it and I said ‘Save me a spot at the table’.


Whitney Houston’s Ghost!

Families get weird after a key family member shuffles off of this mortal coil. I’m not the type of person to piss on the bones of a dead person but with the fact that Whitney Houston’s Hologram is in the news, I’ll be making an exception.

Yes, she’s dead. Was it a tragic death? It depends on how you look at it.

According to ABC News, she died in a bathtub in a hotel room in Beverly Hills. Near her corpse were various prescription medications as well as bottles of beer and champagne. If her daughter was an eight-year-old then yes, I would say that that is a tragic death. However her daughter was 18. Last I checked, once you make it to this age society deems you capable of taking care of yourself.

I don’t know about the rest of the world, but it sounds like Whitney couldn’t handle life anymore. Honestly, I’m not surprised. Why is the rest of the world? The last I heard of Ms. Houston she had made a gigantic ass of her self to the entire world with a feeble attempt at making a comeback.

I can recognize someone at the end of their rope, why can’t anyone else?

Yes, she was a very talented singer. During her heyday, her musical range was matched by no other. That is, until Mariah Carey came along. Here’s a fun fact: play the next YouTube clip with your eyes closed. Betcha can’t tell the difference between Whitney and Mariah!

I cannot believe how completely bat-shit the entire world has gone over Whitney’s departure. MJ I understood. He was the “King of Pop”. Regardless of his pedigree, he brought a certain amount of musical sophistication to the table regardless of how fucked in the head he was.

Whitney was a has-been who tried in vain to get back in the spot light. Speaking for myself, the fact that the entire world has to stop because said has-been drowned in a bathtub after mixing prescription drugs and alcohol only proves one thing: I will never understand the world outside of my own home.

At the time of Ms. Houston’s demise, a friend put the whole situation rather eloquently:

“The world is a wonderful, terrible place. There are amazing things every day, like Horner’s efforts and successes in turning chickens back into dinosaurs, goats that give spider silk, and scientists just discovered Bexarotene appears to quickly reverse the pathological, cognitive and memory deficits caused by the onset of Alzheimer’s.

Iran has cut off access to the internet because of anti-regime demonstrations. The American Congress has approved unmanned drone surveillance in US airspace. Cuba is drilling for oil, seeking the billions of barrels of oil and the trillions of cubic feet of gas that the US government says lie under Cuba’s offshore waters.

But you want to waste my time with a 48 year-old burn out who wasted a fortune on drugs and self-promotion? Get a life.

On that note, I leave you with this slightly unrelated clip.