Everyone who is a fan of the NFL is heaping criticism on Tony Romo, quarterback for the my Dallas Cowboys, after an atrocious outing last Sunday night. His poor performance resulted in three scores for the Giants off of three interceptions – if he’d not screwed up so badly, the score would have been 31-12.

 You’d think Tony committed murder – and in Texas, where football is second only to God, and to Dallas Cowboys fans (myself included), who are some of the most dedicated in the league, maybe it really is.

 A sampling:

“… Tony Romo has run into trouble early this season in the short passing game. In fact, he’s been the league’s least efficient starting quarterback on throws of 10 yards and shorter, according to the numbers crunched by ESPNs Next Level researchers.” – Tim McMahon, ESPN

“Romo used to run around with a big grin on his face, always fired up on the sideline. Now he stares off into space. I thought that was supposed to change when No. 81 was sent to Buffalo. We’ll see what happens and if that sideline stuff truly means anything or not.” – Tim Cowlishaw, Dallas News.

“I don’t know why on God’s earth Tony Romo has been anointed a superstar in the National Football League… He hasn’t gone through that growing curve, but he was anointed this great player all of a sudden… Now he’s having to live up to that. And obviously Tony has some deficiencies.” – Tony Dorsett, former Dallas Cowboys player

“I never saw [Romo] go snatch somebody up, and say, ‘Hey, we can’t win like this. We can’t have guys jumping offsides. I can’t have [a defender] coming at me unabated. Who is making the mistakes up front? Why aren’t you picking this guy up? This is not going down this way. If you can’t get your job done, get off the football field.’” Emmitt Smith, former Dallas Cowboys player and the NFL’s all-time leading rusher.

“These days, Romo is consistently inconsistent, a huge problem for a team with high expectations that hasn’t won a playoff game since 1996 … My theory: Romo misses former Cowboys coach Bill Parcells… No one challenges Romo like Parcells did. No one holds him accountable like Parcells did. Certainly, no one dog cusses him like Parcells. When Romo screws up, there are no real ramifications – other than he feels bad. It’s not like Phillips would ever bench him… Romo’s way too comfortable. He’s the type of guy who’s at his best when someone like Parcells is constantly on his butt while using language that would get your kids grounded for a month. Phillips certainly doesn’t employ that style. Neither does offensive coordinator Jason Garrett.” – Jean-Jacques Taylor, Dallas Morning News

And earlier this year:

“I think maybe things happened so quickly for Tony in terms of obscurity to all of a sudden national spotlight that he hasn’t fully grasped what being the Cowboys quarterback is all about…. And you don’t go to Cabo the week before a playoff game. You just don’t do it… But to say, ‘I don’t worry about perception,’ you better worry about perception, because it’s a big part of making it through some very difficult times.” – Troy Aikman, former Dallas Cowboys quarterback, three time Super Bowl champion, and FOXSports analyst.

~~

All this week, Tony has declined to talk to the media much. You have to figure he’s deeply embarrassed. He knows he’s better than this, and that he’s let the fan base down hugely; he’s let everyone down. He knows that the loss to the Giants – the interceptions resulting in scores –  is squarely on his shoulders. I’ll get to the defense in a minute – yes, they let the Giants walk all over them, but if Tony hadn’t thrown those awful passes…

One thing I will give Tony is his assumption of responsibility. He cares, and it shows. No crying, no bitching. Just ‘it’s my fault and I’m sorry, I will change it.’ Then he went off and licked his wounds. And, from all comers, it sounds like the team is behind Tony all the way. There’s no locker room gossip and bullshit.

The excuses used for his erratic outings in previous days are now out of his life. Jessica Simpson, who I always felt was a bimbo and ersatz singer who hitched her star to Tony to brighten her own, finally wore out her welcome because of her behaviors while drinking. And Terrell Owens, that chronic cancer of the league, has been shipped off to Buffalo where he’s already stirring up shit, again. Nobody would believe that he misses TO or if it’s a lack of getting laid/BJs causing this crap. Troy Aikman, who has been there and done that, had given a warning about being too blasé about being a Dallas Cowboys quarterback. So what’s the excuse now?

I think that if he doesn’t get his shit together, he’ll be bumped out of Dallas. The end of this season? No; Jerruh wouldn’t dare lose face. Wade Phillips will probably be booted before Tony is. But, if Tony gets booted, then it’ll probably sometime at the end of next year.

I don’t want to see him go. I like him, I like his quirkiness, and that great grin. He has a lot of talent. But he’s 29 now, and he needs to buckle down, or he won’t have a career left to say “I’m sorry” about.

~~

All of this hoopla aside, it’s not just Tony.

Wade Phillips is trying to be all things for the team, and it’s not working. He needs a defensive coordinator, period. If the defense continues this lethargy, and if Wade insists on holding those reins this season, he will be gone long before Tony is.

The best offense is a great defense, and this over-tired saying has never been truer than for the Dallas Cowboys defense. The O-line has no fumbles and no turnovers in the first two games – that’s just not acceptable for a defense that has a) a shitload of talent and b) been playing together this long. Yeah, there have been a few changes in the offseason, but not the core. The secondary is Swiss cheese; they let the Giants waltz right down the field in that last drive. Completely ridiculous.

The offensive line is essentially doing its job, but please, get rid of Flozell Adams, aka the Key Play Killer. He’s never been a clean player, having been caught tripping and other unsavory tactics (whether called by the refs or not), but the penalties! God, the penalties! Get him out of there!!!

On offense, Jason Garrett and his crew need to get Tony and the offense fired up. They’re so lackadaisical, and lackadaisical just doesn’t fly in professional football.

~~

Of course, the central problem with the Cowboys always has been Jerry Jones and his control freak crap. I don’t need to elaborate on that – we all see it, we all know.

If the rumors are true, then his ego really is bigger than his current pocketbook…

~~

All is not well in Dallas, but everything is fixable (well, except Jerruh… at least for now).

They SHOULD beat the Panthers tonight. GO COWBOYS!

The twelfth anniversary of the death of Diana, Princess of Wales, passed with barely a murmur on Monday. There were folks at the gates of Kensington Palace as has been the norm since her death… but with each passing year, it gets quieter, with less people, less crap strewn everywhere. No, I don’t think she’ll ever be forgotten, at least not as long as the future King William V lives, but grief becomes muffled with every year that passes.

Just think: today, Rudolph Valentino, whose maniacal celebrity back in the 1920s was very like Diana’s, is now just a reference and a  fuzzy ideal.

My money is laid on this: no future daughter of either of her sons will go by the name Diana, and certainly no heiress presumptive – they wouldn’t dare set up a Queen Diana. Elizabeth, Jane, Catherine, Alice, Alexandra, even Victoria – but never Diana. Diana will be a second, third or fourth name for her sons’ daughters, should they have any. Why? Diana’s shadow is far too overwhelming, even from the grave.

So do finally rest in peace, Diana. One day, I think your son will repatriate your remains to an appropriate place rather than that silly island that makes money for the brother who had no problem shunning you in life, because by then, people won’t be so unreasonably nutty over you.

~~

There’s one thing the Brits are right to be rabid about: the idea of Queen Camilla. That woman gives me the heebie-jeebies. Her eyes are fathomless.

~~

Another death, however, caused a media frenzy last week. Edward Moore Kennedy, who hadn’t been seen in public for the better part of this year, died last week of brain cancer.

His death, much like Diana’s, leaves a mixed legacy, although you’d never guess it by the media orgasm about how wonderful and great and rainbows and unicorns… um, no. He seemed to settle down once married to Victoria, but nothing can really erase his tainted past. Sorry, he may not have intended to kill Mary Jo, but he was a prime contributor to her death. Yeah, he served in the military, but it was minimal and undistinguished, and he should not be buried in Arlington – he’s there because he’s Jack and Bobby’s brother, not because he meets the requirements to be buried there. While his older brothers were noted for their brains and drive, Ted didn’t seem to have either trait – but he got his Senate seat anyway, thanks to Dear Old Dad.

The argument I’ve heard is ‘well, his constituents kept sending him back…’

Well, there’s no accounting for brains, is there?

His death, unlike Diana’s, really didn’t become the media jackpot they hoped. They tried, though, they really did. One headline in a ticker I saw read ‘Hundreds line streets for Kennedy cortege’ or some crap like that. Not five minutes passed and hundreds was  hurriedly edited to read ‘thousands.’ I didn’t see thousands on the skewed video clips. People have jobs. People have lives. They’re too busy trying to keep said jobs instead of gawk at the cortege of a man who never had a financial worry in his life.

Modern America does not care about the Kennedy hype; that really died with Old Joe.

Ted was just not really that popular – people said nice things because it’s the polite thing to do, but he just didn’t have that kind of personality. People are tired of dynasties anyway, and in this country they tend to fizzle out. Adams, Harrison, Roosevelt, Eisenhower, Taft – the political children and relatives of these presidents eventually fizzled out. It is the same with the Kennedys – they’re still in the political venue mostly because on the East Coast, you can’t help but trip over Kennedys; there’s just too many of them. But they illustrate what’s wrong with families in politics – they think they’re entitled to it: see the attempt to place Caroline in Hillary’s seat – complete disaster.

And now that we have had Bush I and II, plus various other political offices that the Bush family has held in places, the American public is fucking tired of political families. It would stand to reason that Obama is in office, in part, of this frustration with dynasties, and in particular, the Bush family, but also the Clintons – no more Bushes, no more Clintons was a slogan used during the last campaign.

This is the case with the Kennedys, too.

Rumor has it that there is vicious infighting over Ted’s seat. Please God, no. No more Kennedys. It’s over. 

Besides, I think ol’ Ted was a rallying point for the younger generations of the family; he held them together because he knew how – he had done it in the worst days of his life under the most horrendous circumstances. I suspect that, politically, the Kennedys will slowly dissipate in another generation.

~~

Another one with a tainted legacy is Michael Jackson, who died suddenly back in June. Even his death is tainted, with shameless parents hawking things and bickering, crazy siblings, all of whom are attempting to capitalize on his death. He isn’t even buried yet, probably because they’re still fighting over where to put him.

Here’s yet another one where the media tried to whip people up and failed, confirmed by an L.A. cop who was doing duty at the memorial who essentially said ‘Thousands? There was maybe three hundred.’ Barricades and police for almost nothing.

His career was destroyed, and although so many in my age group nearly deified him when we were growing up because he was just so freaking cool and innovative (oh, the hallways full of red leather jackets and single gloves… !), his weirdnesses and his predilections in the years following that success slowly and completely eroded it.

There were those who compared Michael with Elvis Presley. Not even close. While Elvis had his many, many issues and fuck ups, he never lost his popularity or his reputation. He too died of drugs, he too had doctors who were criminally feeding drug addictions, but Elvis never, ever stooped as low or was as certifiably crazy or criminal as Michael.

~~

When are we, as a nation, going to stop rewarding people who do terrible things in their lives and sanctify them in death?

Oh, Carradine was wonderful! No, he was a sex fiend who had interesting predilections, but was careful not to get caught. He only got caught when it killed him.

Oh, Cobain was wonderful! No, he was a colossal addle-headed fuckup. His wife isn’t much better. Let’s hope Frances sees what her parents have done and run screaming the other way.

Oh, Michael was wonderful! No, Michael was a symbol of what is wrong with us today. We as a country excused his behavior because he was so screwed up in the head (oh poor Michael! [insert excuse here]), and he had the money to beat the rap. He wasn’t wonderful; he was psycho and a kiddie diddler.

Oh, Teddy was so wonderful! No, he never thought the rules applied to him to the point where causing someone’s death was a point of humor throughout his life. He wasn’t above sexually accosting waitresses in his favorite restaurants. Holy Christ! The audacity, the ego,  in sending a letter to the Pope so he could be exonerated… what an arrogant bastard.

Please, can we please stop glorifying people who are not good people, who are never sorry for what they’ve done to others, who never lived anything close to the golden rule?

I know, I know: ratings, baby.

I think our week’s foray into the Smithsonian Forest was one of the very best vacations we have ever been on. Not only did we get boatloads of exercise, but we hit so many things that it was only last night when I was sorting pics that I realized how  much we accomplished. We hit several Smithsonian museums – The Castle, Natural History,  Air & Space, National Indian, NPG/National Art, Library of Congress, National History, et al – as well as the Mall, Capitol Hill, the Lincoln Memorial and Mt. Vernon.  When in Baltimore, we hit Ft. McHenry (which is REALLY well done and enjoyable) and would have done more had not a rather nasty rainstorm moved in.

As is our habit, DH and I on at least one day of longer trips such as this split and do our own thing. On Saturday he went and did the Library of Congress by himself and went and saw a movie. I sat at Starbucks right there across our hotel, journaled, and generally was lazy (well, dammit, my feet hurt!)

Up until 5:30p on Friday night, I didn’t think that a certain event would happen. Communications via text and FB with this person essentially boiled down to “I don’t know,” which is not encouraging. So I kept telling myself If it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen, and there’s nothing I could do about it. And I was prepared to deal with my trace of unsurprising disappointment up until my phone rang in the hotel lobby at 5:30 on Friday night.

 ~~

For the backstory of this next installment of this sordid story, you need to read this Confession Session. You’ll have to read this to follow the next chapter in this story. Do that first, or nothing that follows this paragraph will make sense.

 Go on, I’m not going anywhere.

~~

Last Fall, I was talking to “Ryan,” Joe’s son, on FB. I have a friendship with him separate from his father’s – sort of an cyber-aunt, internet counselor deal. He sought me out, knowing that his father doesn’t relate well to people in general, so I responded. It has since become a pretty decent friendship.  Ryan had friended me in FB late last year, so there I was, commenting on his wall, ribbing him as I always do, going back and forth. Joe had posted his own jab in the foray, and I responded only to Ryan’s stuff on purpose. I didn’t want to get entangled again. I did, however, at the end of my last response say, “Hi Joe.” Why be a bitch?

I’m certain that it was less than fifteen seconds (yes, seconds, and certainly no more than thirty) when a friend request popped up on my screen. I stared at that sucker for the longest time. A war – not a battle, a war – was raging in my head. Do I? Don’t I? Is it worth it? Am I setting myself up for yet another stupid fall if I click “Accept”? Questions upon questions piled on potential scenarios. My brain was very crowded and there was smoke coming out of my ears. And the bottom line was, I realized, that if I chose to click “Accept,” I needed to have no expectations. None whatsoever.

 I clicked to accept.

In the months that followed, to condense the story, it’s been steady. Impersonal, cautious, congenial at times, but steady. If Joe slipped and did or said something stupid, he made sure he smoothed it over and ensured that I wasn’t supremely pissed; he has to sense my last thread of patience beneath the surface. I think he realized that he wants me back in his life and, to be honest, this sort of effort to maintain equilibrium is rare for him. In other words, I mean that much to him to make the effort. He’s notoriously remorseless in the sense that he’ll hurt someone and not give a damn and have no qualms about it, ever. Since “The Friending,” he’s been careful to avoid the past, staying quietly in the middle of the road, maintaining that even keel.

When DH and I decided on DC on a destination to burn his use-or-lose vacation hours, the first thing that popped in my mind after SMITHSONIAN!! WOOHOO!!  The second thing was Joe? but that it’d be a chance in hell that he’d want to see me. I did the only thing I could do. I tossed it out there to see if I would get a bite. I only got halfhearted nibbles. I left it alone generally, quietly pushing the occasional conversational gambit forward only to get “I don’t know” in reply. By the time the week before our departure came up, I essentially dropped it.

No point in pushing it.

~~

A few days before we flew over, Joe and I had been chatting in FB. At one point, needing to know something, I said, “Listen, if you have a headache, or if you’re not comfortable with this and don’t want to, just say so. Honestly, it’s ok.” I needed a yes, I needed a no. Something so I could either plan for it, or forget about it and do other things.

No response, other than to change the subject.

 “Did you see what I wrote above?” I persisted, about twenty minutes and five topics later.

“I’m ignoring it,” he typed. I let it drop. It meant that he was probably garnering courage to do it, or completely chickening out without saying a word. I assumed, true to my cynicism, that it was the latter.

If it happens, it happens, I muttered to myself; if not, oh well. There’s nothing I can do about it anyway. Let it be.

~~

We flew in two Wednesdays ago. Between Wednesday and Friday I ascertained in further text messages that I’d be coming alone, which would be on DH’s and my split day; I was glad – because until there’s peace between us, how can i bring someone else in the mix? Joe didn’t seem to care either way, but his voice changed ever so slightly. and I took that as a good sign. On Friday, after an exhausting walk around DC, DH and I were in the hotel bar enjoying their decent Happy Hour offerings (including my first taste of Yuengling beer – not bad). Joe and I had been exchanged bursts of texts now and again. Earlier in the day, I finally texted him once we were out of the Metro tunnels, wondering if it would be better if I went to a particular station for him to pick me up rather than him drive an hour and a half from where he lives. “Funny,” he replied via text after some time, “I was thinking that too.”

We went back and forth, and after DH and I had settled ourselves with poisons of choice, I texted, “Now that I’m enjoying a glass of Yuengling…”

He didn’t reply. Shit.

About four minutes later, my phone rang. It was Joe. And he pinned them down, time and place. When I hung up, I was still surprised. DH was on the phone with his boss back home, and I muttered to myself, “It’s a miracle. It’s a miracle.” Certainly, with all that had gone before, I never expected for us to actually meet. I spent the rest of the evening in disbelief and not a little shock, with a part of me continuing to be healthily cynical: I’ll believe it when it actually happens.

~~

I have to say, with over a week’s hindsight, that it was a success. He picked me up at the agreed station,  although he was mentally a thousand miles away – his usual protective mien. We had a really nice dinner. Conversation was light and interesting, but nothing too personal.  I pretended not to see his mask slip once or twice I saw the way his face changed, raw emotion lurking in his eyes.  I had to pretend I didn’t see it. My peripheral vision caught it, though, and I haven’t been able to shake the mental image.

Joe was distant at the beginning and at the end. Two years ago, even a year ago, I would have taken it personally. Now I understand that’s just how he is, how he protects himself. He was mentally a zillion miles away when he dropped me back at the station – but something inside me wouldn’t allow that to be the way we parted. When I thanked him for dinner, I leaned over, put my head on his shoulder, and gave him a half-assed hug. 

For a split second, he came back to the moment; his right hand came up and ever so briefly rested on my head and, for an even shorter moment, he pulled my head tight toward him. He didn’t dare do more. Yeah, he’s still in there somewhere, terrified of fucking it all up, terrified of coming too close. It was enough – by God, it has to be enough. It is enough to lay much of our tempestuous past to rest, to be able to move on past that living hell.

I never did get a proper hug out of him, though.

~~

While I was in the DC area afterward, he texted right and left, and chatted me up freely on FB when I had a chance to get on. Once I was back home, back across the country, not only did that stop, but he started hiding on FB, too. We’ve chatted only once since I’ve been back.

 Damn.

I figure: what the hell. I never – not in a thousand lifetimes – expected to see his face, nor the lovely shade of the color of his eyes, not even when it was hot and heavy. Of all people, I understand his actions. I know him like the back of my own hand, still, as I have lived under his skin; I know what he thinks and why, and what he’ll do and the motives behind his actions. When he does something, I sense the catalyst behind it. So yeah, I understand. I know. I don’t have to like it though. It means that somewhere along the line, he regressed to that dreamland, and now he’s distancing himself from me, catching himself,  because of it. 

Oh well. I’ll take the lovely evening for the rare gift it was.

Thank God it’s Friday.

~~

On FB, one of my friends is posting statuses and pics from her cell phone as she drives to California.

I
DO
NOT
GIVE
A
FLYING
SHIT!!!

I have driven that stretch of highway so many times that I do not need a blow by blow of your drive, and I don’t need pics of the nozzle in the car while you’re getting gas along the Arizona-California border! Or pics of your dog with a quizzical look on its face! Or the dog with its face out the window!

AAAARGH!

So I hid this person from my front page on FB until she gets back into town. I just can’t take it.

~~

Over at Meant to Be, DH and I are certified to adopt. WOO HOO!!!

~~

The Sotomayor hearings are garbage. At least Jon Kyl attempted to keep her on track… but she was evasive on many hot-button questions, and I don’t like that. I don’t like her ruling on the FF case, which was flawed in the extreme. I don’t like her views on white men. It pisses me off that if this were reversed, and it was a Republican president’s nominee, she would be crucified for her refusal to answer questions directly or questions on her previous rulings. The hypocrisy really pisses me off. And it scared me that such a person – man or woman – will be deciding law in this country. Lord have mercy.

And don’t believe the hype: she will NOT be the first Hispanic sitting on the bench on the SCOTUS. That honor actually goes to Benjamin Cardozo of Portuguese descent. And sorry, yes, the Portuguese are considered Hispanic, no matter how the media tries to spin it. Nice try.

That said, poor Justice Cardozo is probably spinning in his grave at the antics in the hearings this week.

~~

Personal note to Sarah Palin: SHUT UP. Please. Just go away, go underground for awhile or longer, and stay away from political events and the media. Please, for fuck’s sake! Thanks.

Personal note to Levi Johnston: You’re a douchebag of the highest order. Bristol should have been shot for sleeping with you (with or without birth control), then you should have been shot so you’d never breed. I hope you never breed again – we don’t need your brand of self-centered, stupid, douchenozzle garbage. I hope your kid winds up hating you for the attention whore and selfish bastard that you are. EABOD, STFU and go the hell away.

Personal note to the mainstream media: You, at large, are a waste of carbon. You ignore the bloodletting in Iran, give a pass to various politicians, all to crucify Palin and give ridiculous amounts of column space to that teenaged piece of shit because it’s ratings. Die in a fire, all of you.

~~

Speaking of media hype, the Michael Jackson death circus has been tiring. I hope the hoopla dies soon, but it won’t  – not if Joe or LaToya have a say in it. Garbage, complete garbage.

~~

DH is a crushed mess from work, and I’m mentally worn out from two weeks of obsessing about our adoption profile. We’re going to DC for a week, a much needed respite.

~~

I have a dear friend in my thoughts – S has the life from hell right now. S’s dad had an aortic aneurysm about a year ago, and the family spent half a million dollars to save him. What does he do? Sit on his ass, ignore doctor’s orders, stuff his face and be a complete idiot. He has another weak spot on the artery, which he ignores. He was recently diagnosed with prostate cancer, so without checking what the side effects would be, he chooses a form of therapy… no big deal, except it’s contraindicated by his high blood pressure… which aggravates the weak spot. S wants to shoot him for his ridiculous stupidity.

Add to this hell is S’s mother’s saga. She’s not in the best of health, either. She went in to get test results from a growth (one of several in various stages) and the doctor scheduled her surgery  later the same week – and THAT doesn’t happen unless the doc is seriously concerned about what he saw. Hopefully it’s not cancerous… but like S said, the doc’s reaction makes one think that the news is not good.

So keep my dear friend in your thoughts. He’s just beside himself – he’s their sole caretaker as his brother is completely selfish and useless. I’ve been in similar shoes and I’ll be thinking of him all weekend.

~~

I have to plan and pack. Can’t wait to get out of here for a few days. Have a great weekend!

A few weeks ago, I was enjoying a rare pedicure (at DH’s insistence… oh, darn), and of course the lady and I were talking about this and that. She brought up the elections in Iran, as she is Iranian, having come to the States during the upheavals after 1979. She didn’t have much good to say about the one referred to derisively on the Internet as “Ahmadinnerjacket.” Straw man, false face, you name it. She couldn’t contact her relatives in her native village, and she was worried.

This was a few days before the protests began in earnest, and the riot police, and Neda, and horrifying pictures leaked by the protesters, and an unknown substance being dropped from a helicopter onto the protesters, and disappearances of protesters, and shooting them and making their bodies disappear, and blocking of hospitals and embassies, and shutting down Internet access. It was before I knew  that “PK” referred to the very reliable  Twitterer called “pe.rsi.an.k.iwi” and other people trying to get around the media blackout to let the world know what is really happening in Iran.

From this world event, I had my suspicions confirmed in that the mainstream media (MSM), once the beacon of information, is now inept, corrupt, infected with glitz and ego, and is useless. I wondered why the MSM refused to cover the horror that was happening there, instead blathering about the impending demise of Jon and Kate and other useless things. Fox jumped on the bandwagon a little late, but at least they tried to be accurate; CNN was blatantly inaccurate, and far too late to the game, and they had Christiane Amanpour sucking up to the regime in power—they lost credibility in many eyes. What a shame.

It’s a shame that to be in the know, you had to be following the events in newsgroups or news aggregator sites on the Internet, because you couldn’t find jack shit on TV or the radio. My personal preference, Fark, had something like 45 numbered separate threads (of 1500-2000 posts per thread!) in the week following the elections with centralized updates by the now-legendary Farker knows as Tatsuma, who continues his work in his blog, Yaakov’s Lament - I strongly suggest you drop by and read his blog.  

Here is today’s unnumbered post on Fark - numbering stopped somewhere after thread 45 or 46 – someone figured out how many actual posts were there, and it was becoming frightening to those joining the fray far too late. Anyway, Farkers and other newsgroups sorted through the chaff in Twitter to mine the legitimate Twitterers out of Iran and gave pertinent, truthful, and near real-time updates. People set aside their personal issues with one another to rally behind the cause, do research, post information and were careful to label it confirmed, unconfirmed, or rumor, then added sources whenever possible. Others set up personal proxy servers so that the Iranians could continue to circumvent the government communications blackout.  There wasn’t much those of us here in the States could do to directly help, but proxies, contributing to the Red Crescent (Red Cross equivalent), and disseminating truthful information as much as possible were done in the spirit of international brotherhood.

Let me just say that if you happen to see someone on the street with a green ribbon on their wrist, it’s likely that they’ve been following the REAL stories coming out of poor Iran.

Facebook, Twitter, and the Internet in general are changing the face of revolutions everywhere. Information that used to be ruthlessly suppressed is now getting out not just to locals, but to the entire world.

Think about it: what would the Russian Revolution (1917-1918) have been like had the Whites been able to instantaneously request help and overwhelm the Reds? Would the Imperial Family have been saved from their ghastly murders?  What about the American Revolution (1775-83) or the French Revolution (1789-99) if, instead of months passing while news crawled across seas, land, and oceans before word of anything got out, they had instant communications with the outside? How different history would have been!

If the only effect the weeks of protests have is their current government being revealed as a sham to the world at large, then the Sea of Green has not truly failed.  The mullahs and the corrupt politicians cannot stem the thirst for a modern society with modern freedoms, and cannot continue to insist on a Dark Ages regime when the people are exposed to the world at large. They cannot, as has been reported today, hang protesters and hide it – the world is now too small. There are eyes everywhere and evil cannot hide anymore.

My prayers are with those in the Sea of Green, whose original aim was to insist on a legitimate election free from fraud, and whose fight has turned into something far greater: the triumph of good over evil.

Peace be upon you, my Iranian friends. You are not alone.

Read here and here. Five counts of first degree murder. Move your piece to Death Row. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.

The fact that Oyler was sentenced to death will never bring back the crew of Engine 57. It won’t bring back Jason McKay, Jess McLean, Daniel Hoover-Najera, Mark Loutzenhiser, and Pablo Cerda. The first three died at the scene; Lotzi died several hours later, and Pablo died a few days later, on Halloween. The debt will never be redeemed. Never. There’s no such thing as an eye for an eye. The scales will never level out.

And his execution won’t happen any time soon – there will be appeal after appeal, and stay after stay. We all know the story. He’ll live well within the walls of the prison, live better than any innocent, down on their luck homeless person. Justice? What’s justice?

I wonder how the family feels. Relief? Sorrow? Do they feel justice has been done? Is there closure? Will life truly go on?

Oh yes, I agree with the sentence. I would have been part of the mob had there been one. I cried for a straight week when Lotzi and the crew were killed. When they released the picture of the scene of the fatality and knew at once they’d had no chance, I cried harder. I cried when I heard about everyone’s back story, and other things I know that I can’t divulge because they’re private and confidential (let’s just say I know more than the public does, even though I haven’t been on the Forest for eleven years). I was cried out and numb by the time I got into my sister’s vehicle and went to the memorial at Glen Helen. I pray to God I never have to witness another. I cried when I read that joke of an incident report.

It’s not just because I was once of the ranks of those in the green trucks; it’s because I knew Lotzi during my time there, and because my sister knew Lotzi very well for twenty years. I mourn because there are five less fine and upstanding contributing members of society. I still know many of the people on the Forest, and always worried that one day, it would be one of our own. I mourn because I’ve spent a horrific week in the burn ward from a freak accident, know what it’s like to be treated for third degree burns, and in the end, I essentially walked away and came back to work.

They didn’t walk away. They had no chance. The fire set by Oyler burned so hot and so fast that as soon as anyone with any fire knowledge saw the pictures when they were released, knew the crew of Engine 57 never had a chance. It’s a travesty and a tragedy, and those left behind will mourn forever.

A part of my heart from this incident will always be heavy because I’ve pulled the hose and humped the hills with a pack on my back on the engines, been part of a near-burnover (and spent a terrifying fifteen minutes thinking that another crew I was close to had been), been flown into fires and was a stump-jumper, a ground pounder, a Hot Shot.

And once you’ve been part of the fire community, and particularly the wildland fire community, it is always a part of you.

At least this chapter is closed, but I don’t know if the book ever will be.

Gripe for the Day: we have those ridiculous photo radar vans everywhere. On the way to work this morning, on a part of the freeway system that never hits the posted speed limit from 6a-9a, there was a van sitting under an underpass.

Now, you just can’t tell me that it’s there for public safety – everyone’s bumper to bumper, going maybe 30 mph.

Think about it: some schmuck is sitting in that van for X dollars an hour. This schmuck isn’t going to garner a single photo radar ticket in the next three hours, and probably not for the entire time he’ll be camping there since it’s a 65 zone. So, right off the bat, it’s a venture that loses money: running vehicle burning gas that is suddenly $2.50 a gallon, the poor sod making some minimal amount per hour, with no income.

Just remember who pays for it. We do.

Public safety, my fat ass.

~~

Now, finally, I can get around to posting on Ireland.

Ireland was picturesque and wonderful. I had the pull to never, ever leave; if there weren’t a certain man here in town I was really partial to, I might have just found myself a job.

SIL really outdid herself in the planning, from the circuit we took in the southwest of Ireland (Counties Clare, Cork, Tipperary, Kerry, Limerick, etc) to the choice of chauffeur who drove us around (I’d be happy to recommend him). Great job, and perfection.

And there were places – like the Rock of Cashel – and times – like when I was listening to the uilleann pipes (as opposed to the ones in Scotland  more commonly seen) at a small concert – where I had this odd internal hum, this pull, memories of places and scenes that I know damn well I’ve never been to, and I’m thinking that perhaps it’s a racial or genetic memory?

I’m not one for rebirth, previous lives, or parapsychology; I’m no Shirley McLaine. I’m too much of a cynical realist for that. But this was weird: internal sensations, images of places, people, and things long destroyed by Ireland’s destructive and violent history.

I guess I’m just a freak.

~~

The downside to the Ireland trip  – and the possibilityof it which made me pause in accepting the offer to go in the first place - was the rotten, deliberate behavior of MIL.

She already has the awful tendency of taking over conversations and turning them to monologues full of me-I-me-me-I-my. I tuned her out for most of the flight there.

She started at our first stop by constantly baiting PE (remember, my niece, Princess Entitlement) about certain dietary choices she’s made (who cares? nobody’s business). They were the same chains she yanked back at Christmas time. It wasn’t funny then, and it was even less funny on the trip because it was just constant and repetitive. MIL just thought she was so witty and funny, when she just gave the impression of not being all there, boring the hell out of everyone.

Once SIL jumped on her to leave PE alone, she tried baiting me. In fact, she again tried to corner me for lunch (meaning she has an agenda). I ignored her. I’m not rewarding that behavior.

On the first day at our first stop, we were at a pub (where else? haha) for lunch. Not only did she dig into PE, but she went on this ridiculous rant of ignorance about the swine flu. She was loud, strident, and shocking; think of it in a loud New Jersey accent. PE and I contradicted her and inadvertently wound up feeding her frenzy. DH’s cousin who met us there looked as if she wanted to sink under the table, it was so embarrassing. Other tables, full of locals and tourists, gave her weird looks. I stared out of the high windows most of the time.

Then, twice in one night, the day after the pub incident but less than 36 hours after landing in Ireland, I watched her kill two conversations. The first was at dinner – everyone was in a light mood and the conversation was nice; DH’s cousin was there trying to catch a little dinner before catching her flight (the whole time she was there, MIL monopolized her; I have yet to have more than a 5 minute conversation with her in all these years before MIL horns in). Then MIL walked in and started with her storytelling and egocentric crap and killed the dinner conversation. She started dozing off toward the end of dinner, and I know I was thinking, oh, maybe we can have a conversation after she heads off to bed. It’s not a nice thought to have, but she really was getting on some nerves, and not just mine, 36 hours in.

Why I thought this was because we started a habit of retiring to the pub portion of the hotel that first night after the dinner at the castle, and have some after dinner drinks, a pick your poison kind of thing – Guinness, Jameson’s, Bailey’s & Coffee, what have you – and some nice chats. And, initially, it seemed as if it would turn out that way: Honorary Aunt, SIL and I started together (P.E. was upstairs on her computer, MIL perhaps went to bed I hoped), I bought drinks, and you know what? We were having a great time. I had a chance to talk to SIL without the effects that MIL has on her. HA had a chance to talk to her without MIL around. HA and SIL were bandying about the merits of different whiskeys (while I enjoyed my wuss Bailey’s & coffee), and the difference between whiskey and scotch, which drew the commentary of a sweet local girl and her S.O., who chimed in and gave us the rundown on the differences. We were having a great and fun time with some locals! Wow!

Then MIL walked in. And, oblivious to the conversation and the atmosphere, barged in and started in on the ego-centric monologues once more. Since I had bought the others their drinks, naturally I offered to buy hers. What followed was the annoying, ditzy, ridiculous, pain in the ass, high maintenance crap she started with the bartender. In the end, her tea (five and some Euro) and her shot of Irish Mist (about the same price, because he couldn’t charge for the half-shot she wanted) cost more than the two fingers of whiskey I’d bought for HA and SIL. And, of course, once we got back to our table, she started in again with the I-Me Express. Everyone finished their drinks and wandered off to bed, bummed about the murder of the fun night.

This is how the trip started, and it clouded the rest of it. At one point, we were trapped in the van for essentially nine hours – and you better bet that nerves were frayed and people were short with her. It’s the reason why I split off from the group by myself at further stops. I didn’t want to make a scene, but she tried everyone’s patience. SIL had to take her aside at one point and tell her to stop baiting PE (and I assume me) and not be so unpleasant. Not to worry, MIL found other ways.

Besides, I really do prefer to wander off on my own and poke around. I like to find little coffee shops and journal and be by my lonesome, ruminating and people watching.

~~

My roomie was HA, and we had a blast. She has been friends with MIL for 50 years, and you couldn’t find someone more opposite than she and MIL. I think I found a soulmate – we both like discussing what I call Blood-Guts-and-Gore-Talk: HA is a surgical assistant and we like discussing the various procedures and her experiences, which I pepper with my reference as a former EMT. We hit it off when I met her at my wedding, and in the years following, every time she’s been in town, we gravitate towards one another and yammer non-stop. DH adores her and always has.

It was a fortuitous thing, SIL asking her to come along, because I can’t imagine what it would be like to room with MIL (who is a night owl and stays up to all hours of the morning and who I know with certainly would make me have hard feelings by the end of the trip).

HA and I had a blast. On our second stop, after so many hours of ego-centric yammering and being trapped in a vehicle for those many hours, she pretty much beckoned me to follow her to snoop around. We had so much fun. At another stop, I told her where I’d camped out while she was out traipsing along with the rest of the group; she wanted to know where it was, invited me along, and we had another nice long talk.

And I will tell you, it was nice to have my frustrations with MIL validated by someone who has know MIL for 3/4 of her life. Turns out the MIL, about six months before, went off on HA – irrationally and selfishly – about something so trivial, and it nearly resulted in HA not joining us for the trip (Oh no!). And HA went on to tell me some of her observations. She said that because of these quirks and rudenesses that she probably wouldn’t be visiting for a couple of years, if ever. It’s sad, because DH and I get punished for MIL’s behavior, although I understand it completely. And she can’t stay with us if she comes to visit because MIL would have a complete meltdown. “I can’t wait for you to move to NC either,” HA said when I was talking about that, “because then I can visit you two whenever you like.” I love her.

It was nice to know I wasn’t crazy or overreactive. In years past, I was wondering if it was a personality conflict, or even perhaps an overreaction on my part – nope. She does this shit to everyone. And, HA said, it’s gotten worse.

She had advice for me re dealing with MIL for this trip, but I replied that I still have to deal with her when we get home. So instead of me pulling some sort of tough love stuff on her, HA shielded me from MIL when she could to buy me some space.

I owe that wonderful woman, big time.

There’s more, LOTS more, including MIL being caught out in complete ignorance of a topic where she had a hissy fit and stormed upstairs (instead of going “oh, I didn’t know that,” as normal people do) because she always has to be right. But you get the idea of what overshadowed what was truly a lovely trip, and why I don’t even want to see her for a very long time.

~~

One day, I’m going to go back, and see the “real” Ireland. I saw the façade of Ireland – the front put on for the tourists – but one day I’m going to poke around in the little towns and more obscure places. By then, I should have those sides of my family researched – both of my grandmothers are pure Irish – so I can find where my people really came from.

I’m grateful I got to see Ireland. I was sorry to leave. I will go back, one day.

After roughly 22 hours of travel on Saturday, I’m now dealing with the effects of, and my first experience with, jet lag.

It sucks.

More later, when I get my body clock back in gear/

The Ireland Trip is finally here. I leave the house tomorrow at some ungodly hour to fly for ten hours – actually, eleven (flight to Boston 4 hr 49 min, flight to Shannon 6 hr 5 min) with barely time to walk in between. That’s a lotta time in a little cramped tube. And I found out that I can’t check in online because it’s an international flight. Poo.

It will be the first time in my ten years with DH that I have been any length of time alone with his family… and the though petrifies me. Anytime we have been with his folks, it’s always at least three hours… and then not that long ago (COUGHCOUGHlast FebruaryCOUGH) I swore I’d never travel with my MIL ever again. Well, dammit, so much for that.

Note to self: PACK iPOD. BUY EARPLUGS.

I at least get the first leg of my flight by myself. I’m flying what used to be America’s Worst, an airline I’d worked for at one point. I know their cattle car routine. The second leg is Aer Lingus, and I’ve only heard positive things about that airline.

We land very early Saturday morning, and I will touch down back here in the desert at 11p next Saturday. I’m going to put the good face on it and think the best, but the people I’m traveling with can be so freaking self-absorbed that I’ll want to shoot myself, I know it.

And if US Air is anything like its predecessor, they’ll overbook to the hilt. I’m hoping for that on the way back. I’ll be the first to go to the counter and volunteer if they lodge me somewhere on their dime on either of my two US stops on the way back. A night of solitude will be necessary by then.

Ireland, here I come!

(RRRRRUNNNN!!!)

~~

And yes, I did change the header in honor of the trip.

This post was prompted from my reading of this article this morning over coffee.

There’s a local grocery chain here called Basha’s. I think it’s the last remaining locally owned one. Hmmm… envisions the neighborhood… Fry’s, Fry’s, Albertsons, Fry’s… and Fry’s, which used to be local, got bought out years ago and in its current form, is a Kroger affiliate… Alpha Beta/ABCO’s been long gone for decades, so has Smitty’s (which was Canadian anyway), and Safeway’s the same ol’ California company. Yep, Basha’s is the only local one left.

I also can’t recall the last time I set foot in one. I got tired of their inflated prices. I got tired of their shelves never being restocked in a timely manner, and then from there, their selection on said shelves went downhill. I got tired of the stores having that heavy reek of the fryer that has been theirs since I was a kid; it slaps you in the face as soon as you walk in the door. I got tired of their meat section, just awful (and it used to be pretty decent). I got tired of their crummy bakery with tasteless cakes and foul little doughnuts, and a nasty produce section with poor quality fruits and vegetables. What I got REALLY tired of were their cranky, indifferent employees. For those reasons and others, I stopped going to their stores a long time ago. I think it’s been about three years. The last time I was there, I returned some Mother’s cookies that had – wait for it – some sort of spider webs or whatever inside the package. Ew.

I prefer having my wallet raped at Safeway over walking into a nasty Basha’s store.

DH went there… oh… about three or four months ago? He used to champion the place because he hates Fry’s with a blind passion. I don’t know why he dislikes Fry’s so; they have the best buying power in the area, and therefore the best deals (which is why I do my “big shopping” there, supplemented by trips to Trader Joe’s and AJ’s). But he would consistently and constantly eschew Krogerland for Basha’s. But even he, after that last visit, was disgusted.

The Basha family, whose frontman is Eddie, a very short, bald, gnome-like man (I’ve seen him several times in person, even in line behind him at an AJ’s), are Chandler based; they have at least two schools named for them, one of them a Diocesan Catholic school, St Mary’s Basha; the other is a Chandler high school named, imaginatively, Basha High School (for which one I don’t know). They have their fingers in many things; Eddie himself ran unsuccessfully for governor one time.

The family has three tiers of their little fiefdom: Basha’s, the general grocery store; Food City, that they have in poorer parts of town; and AJ’s Fine Foods, which was original to Phoenix (at Central and Camelback, if I recall correctly) and the Bashas bought them out several years ago – they’ve managed to maintain the quality, but they also charge out the wazoo for things too, at AJ’s.

We have an AJ’s near our house; we jokingly refer to it as our upper-class Circle K (a convenience store chain). When I’m in a pinch, yeah, I wind up paying exorbitant prices for simple things like crackers, spaghetti, flour or cake mix, or other little staples. On the other hand, they have a bakery —oh, I’m sorry, boulangerie—to die for. No, really, they do. Mmm. They also have an excellent meat department (LOVE their teriyaki beef kabobs), a well managed produce section, and if you’re looking for a higher end specialty liquor or cheese, they’ll have it. Their floral section is beautiful but insanely overpriced. They even have a humidifier room for cigars. Yeah, baby. So, what I’m getting at, is the Bashas haven’t screwed up the concept the vision of the original owners of AJ’s.

Food City is the stepchild of their little empire, meant to cater to the poorer (and chiefly Hispanic) market; what really pissed me off was on the way to work this winter, I saw in the bus stops these posters from Food City in Spanish. Knowing enough Spanish to translate them, the message is clear: “We’re With You” and “We’re On Your Side” denoted blatant, unmistakable, public support of illegal immigration; this was during the hoopla in the last election cycle (they disappeared as soon as the election was over). It didn’t buy them much – there aren’t many choices to go to in certain areas of town, so the ad campaign didn’t help them much. It just raised the ire of many people with the blatant pandering.

The one thing they haven’t opened up here in the Phoenix area is their Ike’s Farmer’s Markets, which is only in Oro Valley so far (they closed one in Tucson, apparently). Oro Valley? Seriously? Might as well be in Buttcrack, Siberia, for the attention it’s going to garner them.

But Basha’s is their original store chain, their mainstay. They’ve been around since before most of the Valley cities even existed. One would think that they would take pride in this. They harp on it in their ad campaigns, sure; but have they followed up? No. All their stores reek, are badly maintained, badly run, and poorly stocked. If I, someone who can look the other way a lot of the time, am complaining, then you know damn well why people are going elsewhere for their shopping. How come they can’t figure it out?

Oh, and their employee pool is extremely insular – you need to have some connection with a current employee to be hired, and they generally promote from within. Add it all together… does it sound healthy to you?

~~

When I read in this morning’s paper that they’re potentially closing another nine “underperforming” locations (in addition to the five they closed in February), I was not surprised in the least, given our experiences with the chain.

The one legitimate gripe for Basha’s I see in that article is Wal-Mart affecting the market share. This I get. They affect every grocery chain, everywhere. I generally avoid W-M as much as possible, and would only buy dry goods and household items there if I were pressed for time. I refuse to touch their produce or meats. I haven’t been there to buy anything in awhile, on purpose. Wal-Mart is exceedingly overrated, and what little quality they’ve had has been sliding for years.

I only learned recently that the little Marketside stores that have been popping up are Wal-Mart subsidiaries, meant to compete with Trader Joes, Fresh & Easy, and places like that. Not strictly a direct competitor to Basha’s. I don’t really think they’ll do that well because a lot of them are ensconced in buildings that are closed Osco pharmacies. They were weird locations to begin with. They’re planning on putting one by my dad’s house, gutting a closed Mervyn’s, across the street from a thriving Fry’s. Go figure.

Fry’s has been expanding locations for ten years.  Fry’s gets it. Kroger does a good job of keeping them stable, keeping up the customer service, the stocking, and so on. However, I do get tired of Fry’s, Fry’s, Fry’s - everywhere. They have a Marketplace caddy-corner from one of their regular stores around here, down the street from yet another store. Almost worse than Starbucks. The area seems to support both of them, so I guess it works. They’re the best in the Valley as far as I’m concerned.

Safeway has been relatively stagnant in terms of growth here (they have opened new locations in new developments, but not too aggressively), but still holds a similar share of shoppers as Basha’s. Why? They eat it because they’re so damned expensive, but they have clean stores, good products, good customer service, etc.  I wish they’d drop their prices.

Tesco’s Fresh & Easy stores are not direct competitors, technically. F&E pushes pre-made dinners and some other convenience meal options, with a few aisles of general goods that aren’t really competitively priced. Also, F&E’s parent company is scaling back their expansion in the recession, which is something that the Repulsive reported on a few months ago, but have conveniently forgotten about in their rush to bow and scrape before the Bashas.

Sprouts is ideally a place to get organic foods and environmentally friendly items. Again, not really a direct competitor. Same with Whole Foods. The oversaturation forced the closure of similar stores (i.e. Wild Oats). Why? They’re insanely expensive, on par with AJs. Not good in this financial environment.

So yeah – a crappily written article with poor comparisons. Fail to you, Repulsive.

And a very special FAIL to the writer of the article: WTF is with the stupid crap tacked onto the end of the article? Department stores are not the same as grocery stores, you moron. This was something definitely covered in high school English. You know, a concept called information relevant to the topic?? Criminy.

No wonder newspapers are dying; they can’t find any decent writers.

~~

Gonna be a toasty one here. Gotta get my yard done. I have a meadow of foot-high weeds to take care of.

Be safe, do good work, and have a great weekend.