Coincidences being coincidences, three pretty substantial personalities in the American public life of my lifetime have died in close proximity. I don't know if there ever was anyone better at his or her particular job than Ed McMahon. If you ever saw The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson, you know what I mean. Farrah Fawcett was the poster girl who was famous for being famous, along with being the subject of a great Steve Martin joke: "I wrote a letter to Farrah Fawcett. She never wrote me back. And after all the time I spent holding her poster up with one hand!" (And before you accuse me of bad taste, may I remind you that she posed for, sold and got rich and famous off the poster, not me.)
And Michael Jackson.
My first memory of Michael and his brothers is on Ed Sullivan's stage, in the theater where David Letterman now holds court. The Jackson 5 were amazing. And, obviously, not least because of the little brother with the big voice. Michael was just a couple years older than me, and was the first person of my generation to become publicly accomplished. Maybe the Osmonds were out there, but Donny? Really? Not so much.
Michael was cool. He just got cooler and better through the years. At his peak, with the albums Off the Wall and Thriller in the early 1980's, Michael really was the king of pop, and not just as some dopey marketing slogan. Those records were awesome. Pure pop perfection, guided by Quincy Jones, whose importance to American music simply cannot be overstated. Michael was one of the forces behind We Are the World, raising buckets of money for Great Causes.
Then things got weird.
Everybody knows the details. You don't need me to restate them. Michael Jackson became the poster boy for the dangers of immense wealth, immense ego and the power to make sure there is no soul in sight who will tell you "No" about anything. Somewhere amidst the accusations, the surgeries, the Howard Hughes-type behavior, Michael lost everything that mattered. His music got stale and self-serving, his wealth apparently was squandered, his behavior grew ever-more bizarre.
Our culture of celebrity worship is sick. It's pathetic for every person who has actually wasted enough of their lives to know that Jon and Kate, much less the plus 8, exist. But it is even more costly and dangerous for those who become the objects of such worship. You tell people they are God for long enough, most of them will start to believe it. It rarely ends well. It just tends to end.
And it has, again.
Pardon me if I just choose to remember the little boy who could sing his tail off, or the young man who could make perfect music and dance like he didn't have a bone in his quite tall body. The rest of it makes me sick.
R.I.P. Michael. Maybe now, at long last, you are at peace.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Annual Bleeping Conference
It's two days away. I just can't wait (insert sarcastic tone and rolling of the eyes here).
We're now looking hard at two and a half days none of us will ever get back.
We will do several things. We will be led in worship by someone who has done Spectacular Things in other places. Things that most of us would be moved from our churches for doing back home, as a result of complaints from the natives to the same conference leaders who are bringing The Star in to show us how to do things right.
We will listen to arguments about money. Specifically, arguments from pastors and members from our largest, wealthiest churches who have every bell and whistle on their properties and staffs, telling the rest of us why they shouldn't have to pay the lion's share of the way, in spite of having the lion's share of everything.
We will listen to (largely) mindless debates on way too many constitutional amendments, conducted by (largely) misguided people who think they are doing the Will of God, who will have their talking points from whatever interest group they represent well-memorized for easier regurgitation. And both ends will try to scare the middle with the Secret Intents of everyone who disagrees with them. And at the end of all of it, we will find, to paraphrase The Bob, "I looked beneath the sofa, beneath the chair; looking for them Gays/Homophobes everywhere; I looked up my chimney hole, even looked deep inside my toilet bowl; they got away!" And we will be left with nothing again, as, to quote the late, great Billy Preston, "Nothing from nothing leaves nothing."
I, for one, will leave Annual Conference calculating again at what speed Mr. Wesley must be spinning in his grave. Because we haven't done much of anything in the last decade, at least, except take the temperature of the institution that has become the bloated, dying carcass of The United Methodist Church, and find it to be lukewarm. As in "spew you out of my mouth" lukewarm.
So all is lost? Not so fast.
I went to church this afternoon.
John Kilzer played at the Italian Festival in Marquette Park on this glorious Friday afternoon.
John is like many of us, a middle-aged guy, but young in ministry, with an old soul nurtured by the collision of music that enriches our native turf. He, like the rest of us, knows some parts of the world too well, but writes, plays and sings spectacularly of the hope and promise and joy that are supposed to be at the heart of this faith we profess and are supposed to share.
John reminded me that the faith isn't Annual Conference. Hell, the faith certainly isn't my short-sighted, terrified congregation. God's ability to change lives through the presence of the living Christ is the story.
And one of these days God may even get around to bringing church to Annual Conference.
Hey, they say stranger things have happened...
We're now looking hard at two and a half days none of us will ever get back.
We will do several things. We will be led in worship by someone who has done Spectacular Things in other places. Things that most of us would be moved from our churches for doing back home, as a result of complaints from the natives to the same conference leaders who are bringing The Star in to show us how to do things right.
We will listen to arguments about money. Specifically, arguments from pastors and members from our largest, wealthiest churches who have every bell and whistle on their properties and staffs, telling the rest of us why they shouldn't have to pay the lion's share of the way, in spite of having the lion's share of everything.
We will listen to (largely) mindless debates on way too many constitutional amendments, conducted by (largely) misguided people who think they are doing the Will of God, who will have their talking points from whatever interest group they represent well-memorized for easier regurgitation. And both ends will try to scare the middle with the Secret Intents of everyone who disagrees with them. And at the end of all of it, we will find, to paraphrase The Bob, "I looked beneath the sofa, beneath the chair; looking for them Gays/Homophobes everywhere; I looked up my chimney hole, even looked deep inside my toilet bowl; they got away!" And we will be left with nothing again, as, to quote the late, great Billy Preston, "Nothing from nothing leaves nothing."
I, for one, will leave Annual Conference calculating again at what speed Mr. Wesley must be spinning in his grave. Because we haven't done much of anything in the last decade, at least, except take the temperature of the institution that has become the bloated, dying carcass of The United Methodist Church, and find it to be lukewarm. As in "spew you out of my mouth" lukewarm.
So all is lost? Not so fast.
I went to church this afternoon.
John Kilzer played at the Italian Festival in Marquette Park on this glorious Friday afternoon.
John is like many of us, a middle-aged guy, but young in ministry, with an old soul nurtured by the collision of music that enriches our native turf. He, like the rest of us, knows some parts of the world too well, but writes, plays and sings spectacularly of the hope and promise and joy that are supposed to be at the heart of this faith we profess and are supposed to share.
John reminded me that the faith isn't Annual Conference. Hell, the faith certainly isn't my short-sighted, terrified congregation. God's ability to change lives through the presence of the living Christ is the story.
And one of these days God may even get around to bringing church to Annual Conference.
Hey, they say stranger things have happened...
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Melancholy, Fun and Weird
It's been an up and down couple of weeks. While I am (slightly) happier with my government today than I was prior to January 21, I'm not really thrilled with the Department of [doublespeak=Defense, honesty=War]. Two truly fine families have been reassigned from our local Navy base to far away locations. This makes the tote board read three families in my current assignment ripped from our congregation. Of the first departure, the wife and mother is the most able and knowledgeable lay person I have ever been privileged to have serve alongside me in any setting anywhere. Anne is awesome, and should be a church professional in some capacity, and she is far more than competent to be a church professional any number of capacities. The husband and father in family number three is one of a group of active duty Navy men who made a commitment to our Cub Scouts, and then did stupendous things. Like growing the pack in one year from 37 to 84 boys. Like standing up with those kids for some of the genuinely good values in the world. With his colleagues, Tom made a huge difference in this program, and that means in the lives of each of these kids. Family number two is comprised of one of the neatest 4 year olds on the face of planet earth, a mom/wife who is as creative and generous as anyone you've ever met, and a dad/husband who was the best partner I've had (so far) in a Lay Leader in 24 years under appointment. Joe, you know who you are, and I know you look at this from time to time, so...THANK YOU, AGAIN, FOR EVERYTHING!
And there's your melancholy.
For the fun...we baptized two and confirmed four young people last Sunday, and we will be baptizing two more and confirming five more this Sunday (don't ask--it's about vacation schedules, custody decrees and the like). In four years at the current stop, I've had the high privilege of baptizing and confirming significantly more people than in the other 20 years combined. Yeah, seven of those other years were spent pastoring in the retirement homes, but still! I just don't think that it gets any better for Christian minsters than being allowed to participate in the growing of the faith of such a group of young people. It is, after all, pretty much the point.
And the weird...this year about to start should be the last one here. By the time four years are up, there are always people who are after your rear end, and I've got two or three of those. When you combine what will be five years of chewing by the same sets of teeth, with the growing pains of a quickly-expanding community, with the frustrations of being unable to implement the painfully obvious and simple changes that would allow the church to grow into what the community needs it to be, I feel strongly that five years will be enough. For them, I believe, and certainly for me.
I remember the sports reporting that Pat Riley had lost the ear of the players on the Miami Heat before he went back to presidenting the club last year. I think I'm starting to understand what they were talking about.
A few years ago my father had a church in a community that was about 15-20 years ahead of where we are right now. He had a very tough three years there, perhaps the most difficult years of his working life. He buried a few saints that had to go for things to move along, and when they were gone, and his work had taken him to a new assignment, things did indeed smooth out and run well so that that church became what its town and our conference need it to be.
I expect something similar to take place in my assignment. It just feels a little weird that I probably won't get to share in it myself. I have laid and am laying some of the groundwork. Someone else may have to drive in the connecting spike, to use an image from the completion of the Transcontinental Railroad. How's that for obscure, Dennis Miller?
And there's your melancholy.
For the fun...we baptized two and confirmed four young people last Sunday, and we will be baptizing two more and confirming five more this Sunday (don't ask--it's about vacation schedules, custody decrees and the like). In four years at the current stop, I've had the high privilege of baptizing and confirming significantly more people than in the other 20 years combined. Yeah, seven of those other years were spent pastoring in the retirement homes, but still! I just don't think that it gets any better for Christian minsters than being allowed to participate in the growing of the faith of such a group of young people. It is, after all, pretty much the point.
And the weird...this year about to start should be the last one here. By the time four years are up, there are always people who are after your rear end, and I've got two or three of those. When you combine what will be five years of chewing by the same sets of teeth, with the growing pains of a quickly-expanding community, with the frustrations of being unable to implement the painfully obvious and simple changes that would allow the church to grow into what the community needs it to be, I feel strongly that five years will be enough. For them, I believe, and certainly for me.
I remember the sports reporting that Pat Riley had lost the ear of the players on the Miami Heat before he went back to presidenting the club last year. I think I'm starting to understand what they were talking about.
A few years ago my father had a church in a community that was about 15-20 years ahead of where we are right now. He had a very tough three years there, perhaps the most difficult years of his working life. He buried a few saints that had to go for things to move along, and when they were gone, and his work had taken him to a new assignment, things did indeed smooth out and run well so that that church became what its town and our conference need it to be.
I expect something similar to take place in my assignment. It just feels a little weird that I probably won't get to share in it myself. I have laid and am laying some of the groundwork. Someone else may have to drive in the connecting spike, to use an image from the completion of the Transcontinental Railroad. How's that for obscure, Dennis Miller?
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Thanks, Mom!
Yes, it's Wednesday night after. But that's pretty close for me.
One of the really fun things that goes with my getting used to being a grandfather is watching my parents become great-grandparents. Mom has taken to keeping Kaly just like she did with Sara and Emily a generation ago. Every time I see my granddaughter in my mother's arms, I am reminded of just how much Mom was my partner in raising my kids. On the occasions when something work-wise came up during all those afterschool afternoons (God Bless Paul Eubanks, a truly great man!), Mom was there. Every trip to the zoo or the Pink Palace, Mom was there. Vacations-especially the first couple of years when I was paying for the divorce and they paid for everything-couldn't have taken place without Mom every year and Dad most of them. We never could have made the Disneyworld trip with the girls being 9 and 6 without Nana going, too. It's just not simple being a single dad of two little girls in a public place without an adult woman. Mom made it work. Mom was always there.
She still is. Sara's working hard. Shannon and I have to work, too. Same with Emily, although she holds an amazing amount of time for her number 1 niece. Nana still fills all the gaps. But that's what she has spent her whole adult life doing, from the time she married while still a college student, to becoming a mom without a car or even a drivers' license while her husband was several hours away all week every week in graduate school, to being a mom to three kids all under the age of 4, to becoming an outside-the-home-working mom with that same husband and those same kids to take care of, to all I described above, and as much attention to her other four grandchildren from their births to the one she added when he was 12, she has always been there.
And I am grateful. Much more than I can say.
And we're all better people for her commitment to each of us.
Thanks, Mom! I love you!
One of the really fun things that goes with my getting used to being a grandfather is watching my parents become great-grandparents. Mom has taken to keeping Kaly just like she did with Sara and Emily a generation ago. Every time I see my granddaughter in my mother's arms, I am reminded of just how much Mom was my partner in raising my kids. On the occasions when something work-wise came up during all those afterschool afternoons (God Bless Paul Eubanks, a truly great man!), Mom was there. Every trip to the zoo or the Pink Palace, Mom was there. Vacations-especially the first couple of years when I was paying for the divorce and they paid for everything-couldn't have taken place without Mom every year and Dad most of them. We never could have made the Disneyworld trip with the girls being 9 and 6 without Nana going, too. It's just not simple being a single dad of two little girls in a public place without an adult woman. Mom made it work. Mom was always there.
She still is. Sara's working hard. Shannon and I have to work, too. Same with Emily, although she holds an amazing amount of time for her number 1 niece. Nana still fills all the gaps. But that's what she has spent her whole adult life doing, from the time she married while still a college student, to becoming a mom without a car or even a drivers' license while her husband was several hours away all week every week in graduate school, to being a mom to three kids all under the age of 4, to becoming an outside-the-home-working mom with that same husband and those same kids to take care of, to all I described above, and as much attention to her other four grandchildren from their births to the one she added when he was 12, she has always been there.
And I am grateful. Much more than I can say.
And we're all better people for her commitment to each of us.
Thanks, Mom! I love you!
Thursday, April 16, 2009
By Special Request...Here's Kaly!
Early on, my relationship with my granddaughter was based solely on shared hobbies:
As time has passed, she has obviously developed a fascination with great comedians:
She now loves the great books:
She helped with the Benediction on Easter:
She has even developed a strong sense of disgust at others' fashion sense (the problem is the hat; she hates anything on her head):
No, my dear, Granddaddy was not responsible for dressing you that day.As anyone can easily and clearly recognize, this is one extraordinarily advanced three-month-old we're talking about here.
And pretty much the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me, alongside her Mom, Aunt and Grandmother. Just don't ask me to rank anybody any further than this! The three bigger ones might get mad.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Household Changes
My daughter will now be a single mother. Her husband, the father of my granddaughter, has moved back to his father's house a couple hours away. His limitations, the source of my concern from the beginning of my daughter's relationship with him, led to the separation. In my opinion, he's just not ready to grow up. And I'm not sure it's really his fault. There is a good deal of evidence that there haven't been any grownups in his family in a couple of generations. When a kid grows up with an absent, alcoholic father and a drug addicted mother, neither of whom have ever worked regularly or finished high school, and the church was nowhere to be found in their lives, there just never was much hope.
On the good side, my granddaughter's parents were married. That makes a difference to me, and will, one day, to her, too. And at the time my daughter came home with her baby, she would never have come without the boy. And she needed to come home. So we made the effort, held our breath, and hoped and prayed for a different outcome, but here we are.
The update: our baby has passed 10 pounds. She is now 21 inches long. She smiles constantly, and laughs out loud often at all of us goofy people who make funny faces at her and speak to her in peculiar tones of voice. She especially thinks that her Aunt Em is the funniest human being on the face of the earth. My daughter is working full time, not something to be taken for granted in this economy. They are under our roof, with all of the necessities of life available to them.
There is only one problem: every now and then, the baby goes to visit with her birth grandmother, and when she's gone, none of us know what to do with ourselves. Kaly has become the center of the universe, and her schedule seems to regulate us more than it does her. Even the in-laws come searching when Shannon hasn't showed up for good night baby kisses by a certain hour. We all just sort of sit around forlorn until she is back home. She really is that much fun. And we are all-this whole crazy clan that comprises my family-thankful for the incredible blessing that is having Sara and Kaly home with us.
On the good side, my granddaughter's parents were married. That makes a difference to me, and will, one day, to her, too. And at the time my daughter came home with her baby, she would never have come without the boy. And she needed to come home. So we made the effort, held our breath, and hoped and prayed for a different outcome, but here we are.
The update: our baby has passed 10 pounds. She is now 21 inches long. She smiles constantly, and laughs out loud often at all of us goofy people who make funny faces at her and speak to her in peculiar tones of voice. She especially thinks that her Aunt Em is the funniest human being on the face of the earth. My daughter is working full time, not something to be taken for granted in this economy. They are under our roof, with all of the necessities of life available to them.
There is only one problem: every now and then, the baby goes to visit with her birth grandmother, and when she's gone, none of us know what to do with ourselves. Kaly has become the center of the universe, and her schedule seems to regulate us more than it does her. Even the in-laws come searching when Shannon hasn't showed up for good night baby kisses by a certain hour. We all just sort of sit around forlorn until she is back home. She really is that much fun. And we are all-this whole crazy clan that comprises my family-thankful for the incredible blessing that is having Sara and Kaly home with us.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
One of Those Calls
When you do what I do, and it's 8:00 on Sunday night, and you're at a gathering with your entire family, and your phone rings, it is never a good thing.
It certainly wasn't last Sunday night.
There had been an accident. One of my parishoners was being air-lifted to The Med. Her whole family is in our church, very fine, pillar of the congregation-type people. We all gathered at the hospital. The doctor came in, and as gently as he could, he told her family and friends that she had been in full arrest when she arrived, and even though they tried for a half hour, they never got any response.
An old man from a distant state had made a mistake. He pulled out onto the wrong side of the divided highway that runs through our community. It was a head-on crash at highway speed. The two drivers were killed. Two passengers, the man's wife and my member's son, were spared with scrapes and bruises.
Alicia was 39. Her husband suffers from Multiple Sclerosis. Their children are 12 and 7. Her dad has been in and out of the hospital with heart problems as long as I've known them.
Do I even need to say that it isn't supposed to go like this? Parents should never have to bury their children. Pre-teens aren't supposed to have do deal with this kind of situation. A young husband isn't supposed to have to deal with his illness and his children's future without his partner.
But here we are.
Our Baptist-dominated religious culture wants to say that it's just God's plan. He needed another angel, or it was just her time. My tradition doesn't buy that. We don't see God killing a young woman and an old man to fill seats in the choir. We often hear that we must accept it, and not question and surely not be angry with God. Have you read the Bible? Ever hear of the Exodus? You know, the whole "we'd have been better off to stay slaves in Egypt than be brought out here to die of hunger!" Or, "thirst!" And yet, God was with them and provided what they needed.
I'm not very happy with The Boss right now. But I'm confident that God is big enough to love me through this, and all of Alicia's family that feels about like I do, only much, much worse.
We have a funeral tomorrow afternoon. I'm still struggling for what to say to this family about what's happened to them.
We'll all do our best. And somehow, even if none of us can see how right now, God will be at work, tomorrow and in the days to come, to bring something good out of this awful, awful situation.
It certainly wasn't last Sunday night.
There had been an accident. One of my parishoners was being air-lifted to The Med. Her whole family is in our church, very fine, pillar of the congregation-type people. We all gathered at the hospital. The doctor came in, and as gently as he could, he told her family and friends that she had been in full arrest when she arrived, and even though they tried for a half hour, they never got any response.
An old man from a distant state had made a mistake. He pulled out onto the wrong side of the divided highway that runs through our community. It was a head-on crash at highway speed. The two drivers were killed. Two passengers, the man's wife and my member's son, were spared with scrapes and bruises.
Alicia was 39. Her husband suffers from Multiple Sclerosis. Their children are 12 and 7. Her dad has been in and out of the hospital with heart problems as long as I've known them.
Do I even need to say that it isn't supposed to go like this? Parents should never have to bury their children. Pre-teens aren't supposed to have do deal with this kind of situation. A young husband isn't supposed to have to deal with his illness and his children's future without his partner.
But here we are.
Our Baptist-dominated religious culture wants to say that it's just God's plan. He needed another angel, or it was just her time. My tradition doesn't buy that. We don't see God killing a young woman and an old man to fill seats in the choir. We often hear that we must accept it, and not question and surely not be angry with God. Have you read the Bible? Ever hear of the Exodus? You know, the whole "we'd have been better off to stay slaves in Egypt than be brought out here to die of hunger!" Or, "thirst!" And yet, God was with them and provided what they needed.
I'm not very happy with The Boss right now. But I'm confident that God is big enough to love me through this, and all of Alicia's family that feels about like I do, only much, much worse.
We have a funeral tomorrow afternoon. I'm still struggling for what to say to this family about what's happened to them.
We'll all do our best. And somehow, even if none of us can see how right now, God will be at work, tomorrow and in the days to come, to bring something good out of this awful, awful situation.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Insomnia's Little Playground
Will Shortz, if that is his real name, is the Crossword Editor for The Old Grey Lady, and puzzlemaster for Liane Hansen's Weekend Edition on Sunday mornings. (Note: my wife would include that my evaluation of the prospects of any given Sunday rest entirely on whether or not Ms. Hansen is at her appointed microphone or away on some specious member station visit with people who don't need her nearly as much as do we who are lurching toward functionality at an unholy hour that was surely not chosen by the God who loves us for the gathering of his people-I fault Paul, and we'd obviously have better attendance if we started after the NFL games were through rather than just as they're starting, but I digress from my digression-we need Liane to guide us smoothly to our alert states, somewhere between the shower and the car. Enough with the member station visits, already!)
Mr. Shortz is also the party responsible, if not for the introduction, then certainly for the popularization of the Japanese number puzzle, Sudoku, in the good ol' US of A. And therein lies my gratitude.
What would a committed insomniac do in this 21st Century without Sudoku? One shudders to consider. Just knowing that those little grids of nine innings-I mean blocks-are there, with their three outs-I mean rows-of mini-grids, where everything is ordered, logical, timeless...just like baseball........oh, pardon my reverie.
I have an enormous appreciation for the Japanese people. They love our national game even more than we do. (No, not the NFL-I didn't say our idolatrous national religion!). They love Bill Murray as proved in Lost in Translation. And they have given occupation to the sleepless everywhere, via Sudoku!
And don't tell anyone, but on a couple of recent nights, a puzzle from a level of skill marked "Insane" actually put me out! God bless you, Puzzle-sans!
Mr. Shortz is also the party responsible, if not for the introduction, then certainly for the popularization of the Japanese number puzzle, Sudoku, in the good ol' US of A. And therein lies my gratitude.
What would a committed insomniac do in this 21st Century without Sudoku? One shudders to consider. Just knowing that those little grids of nine innings-I mean blocks-are there, with their three outs-I mean rows-of mini-grids, where everything is ordered, logical, timeless...just like baseball........oh, pardon my reverie.
I have an enormous appreciation for the Japanese people. They love our national game even more than we do. (No, not the NFL-I didn't say our idolatrous national religion!). They love Bill Murray as proved in Lost in Translation. And they have given occupation to the sleepless everywhere, via Sudoku!
And don't tell anyone, but on a couple of recent nights, a puzzle from a level of skill marked "Insane" actually put me out! God bless you, Puzzle-sans!
Thursday, February 19, 2009
A Professional Perplex
The year is off to a remarkable start, unlike any other I've had in 24 years under appointment. At the seventh Sunday of the year we have six new members. And those six new members have brought 5 children with them. And we have four more adults and 5 children with them lined up for the next couple of weeks. And this year's confirmation class is looking like it will be 17 strong. That's looking hard at 27 new members (17 professions of faith) and 10 for the prep roll by Pentecost (May 31). And our giving in the new year is way, way ahead of last year. Way ahead.
Obviously, anyone could leap to the perfectly logical conclusion that the fabulous preaching, worship leading and teaching that is being done by the pastor explains everything. Sounds right to me. But that's been going on for 3 1/2 years here. Seriously, what gives? The Economy? Most of these newcomers are not as susceptible to the whims of this recession as are a good many others. Fear? If so, they are putting up one hell of a good front.
A more mature colleague (thanks, Dad!) advised to stop trying to explain it and just enjoy it. Maybe the best advice I've received in a long time. But I'm a "why" guy.
They aren't abandoning some other congregation that's in trouble: they are three Southern Baptists, a UM who's a Navy man fresh from Guam, two Lutherans, another UM getting out of the city for our bedroom community, a third UM-a retiree from Iowa, and two long-time in and outs who now want to be officially in. They aren't one age group or economic level. They just all want to be part of our church.
I can't figure it out, but it is, indeed, fun!
Obviously, anyone could leap to the perfectly logical conclusion that the fabulous preaching, worship leading and teaching that is being done by the pastor explains everything. Sounds right to me. But that's been going on for 3 1/2 years here. Seriously, what gives? The Economy? Most of these newcomers are not as susceptible to the whims of this recession as are a good many others. Fear? If so, they are putting up one hell of a good front.
A more mature colleague (thanks, Dad!) advised to stop trying to explain it and just enjoy it. Maybe the best advice I've received in a long time. But I'm a "why" guy.
They aren't abandoning some other congregation that's in trouble: they are three Southern Baptists, a UM who's a Navy man fresh from Guam, two Lutherans, another UM getting out of the city for our bedroom community, a third UM-a retiree from Iowa, and two long-time in and outs who now want to be officially in. They aren't one age group or economic level. They just all want to be part of our church.
I can't figure it out, but it is, indeed, fun!
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Discrimination is Real, But Not Here
Elgin Baylor has filed suit against the NBA and the Los Angeles Clippers, alleging racial and age discrimination.
As both Clippers fans on planet Earth know, Baylor was, for 22 years, the General Manager of the Clips. Donald Sterling, renowned filthy rich tightwad owner of said NBA franchise, acted as something of a pioneer, naming an African-American as GM of a big 4 Major League Sports franchise in 1986. Evidence suggests that Sterling might have felt that Baylor, briefly an NBA head coach with no executive experience, would be less expensive than other, more established basketball execs. Whatever Sterling's motivation, there weren't many blacks serving at that level of the NBA in the mid-1980's.
1986-7 Clippers: 12-70, sixth place
1987-8 Clippers: 17-65, sixth place
1988-9 Clippers: 21-61, seventh place
1989-0 Clippers: 30-52, sixth place
1990-1 Clippers: 31-51, sixth place
Baylor's first five years on the job indicated modest improvement. All the way up to twenty games under .500! Still, Sterling kept him on.
1991-2 Clippers: 45-37, fifth place; lost in the first round of the playoffs
1992-3 Clippers: 41-41, fourth place; lost in the first round of the playoffs
1993-4 Clippers: 27-55, seventh place
1994-5 Clippers: 17-65, seventh place
1995-6 Clippers: 29-53, seventh place
Years six through 10 of the Baylor regime actually saw two, very brief, playoff appearances, but unhappy with that taste of incredible success, Elgin quickly oversaw the Clips return to form. Still, with the two first-round playoff failures, this period marks the most successful part of Baylor's oversight. Need it be pointed out that even with two postseason trips, this time still saw less than two full seasons of victories, and more than three full seasons of defeats?
1996-7 Clippers: 36-46, fifth place
1997-8 Clippers: 17-65, seventh place
1998-9 Clippers: 9-41, seventh place
1999-0 Clippers: 15-67, seventh place
2000-1 Clippers: 31-51, sixth place
108 wins, 270 losses in this spectacular term. The only bright spot: 32 games were not played during the 1998-1999 season, due to a lockout.
2001-2 Clippers: 39-43, fifth place
2002-3 Clippers: 27-55, seventh place
2003-4 Clippers: 28-54, seventh place
2004-5 Clippers: 37-45, third place
2005-6 Clippers: 47-35, second place; lost in playoffs' Western Conference semi-finals (more accurately known as the second round)
Baylor celebrated his 20th season as Clips' GM with his third playoff appearance. This, in the NBA, where every team with breathing bodies (Grizzlies, anyone?) is allowed into the playoffs every year!
2006-7 Clippers: 40-42, fourth place
2007-8 Clippers: 23-59, fifth place
The last two seasons of Baylor modeled his entire career as an executive: one season just below mediocre, the other utterly atrocious.
The only lawsuit that should be filed here is one on behalf of whoever it is that buys tickets to Clippers' games, questioning the mental competence of Mr. Sterling. Elgin Baylor's record of accomplishment in 22 years as the General Manager of the Los Angeles Clippers was 619-1153. Mr. Baylor claims to have been underpaid for his tenure with the Clippers. If he made a dollar, he was overpaid. His suit alleges racism and ageism led to his firing. His lawyers must have never seen an NBA record book.
Elgin Baylor departed from the Clippers on October 8, 2008. It should have happened twenty years earlier.
As both Clippers fans on planet Earth know, Baylor was, for 22 years, the General Manager of the Clips. Donald Sterling, renowned filthy rich tightwad owner of said NBA franchise, acted as something of a pioneer, naming an African-American as GM of a big 4 Major League Sports franchise in 1986. Evidence suggests that Sterling might have felt that Baylor, briefly an NBA head coach with no executive experience, would be less expensive than other, more established basketball execs. Whatever Sterling's motivation, there weren't many blacks serving at that level of the NBA in the mid-1980's.
1986-7 Clippers: 12-70, sixth place
1987-8 Clippers: 17-65, sixth place
1988-9 Clippers: 21-61, seventh place
1989-0 Clippers: 30-52, sixth place
1990-1 Clippers: 31-51, sixth place
Baylor's first five years on the job indicated modest improvement. All the way up to twenty games under .500! Still, Sterling kept him on.
1991-2 Clippers: 45-37, fifth place; lost in the first round of the playoffs
1992-3 Clippers: 41-41, fourth place; lost in the first round of the playoffs
1993-4 Clippers: 27-55, seventh place
1994-5 Clippers: 17-65, seventh place
1995-6 Clippers: 29-53, seventh place
Years six through 10 of the Baylor regime actually saw two, very brief, playoff appearances, but unhappy with that taste of incredible success, Elgin quickly oversaw the Clips return to form. Still, with the two first-round playoff failures, this period marks the most successful part of Baylor's oversight. Need it be pointed out that even with two postseason trips, this time still saw less than two full seasons of victories, and more than three full seasons of defeats?
1996-7 Clippers: 36-46, fifth place
1997-8 Clippers: 17-65, seventh place
1998-9 Clippers: 9-41, seventh place
1999-0 Clippers: 15-67, seventh place
2000-1 Clippers: 31-51, sixth place
108 wins, 270 losses in this spectacular term. The only bright spot: 32 games were not played during the 1998-1999 season, due to a lockout.
2001-2 Clippers: 39-43, fifth place
2002-3 Clippers: 27-55, seventh place
2003-4 Clippers: 28-54, seventh place
2004-5 Clippers: 37-45, third place
2005-6 Clippers: 47-35, second place; lost in playoffs' Western Conference semi-finals (more accurately known as the second round)
Baylor celebrated his 20th season as Clips' GM with his third playoff appearance. This, in the NBA, where every team with breathing bodies (Grizzlies, anyone?) is allowed into the playoffs every year!
2006-7 Clippers: 40-42, fourth place
2007-8 Clippers: 23-59, fifth place
The last two seasons of Baylor modeled his entire career as an executive: one season just below mediocre, the other utterly atrocious.
The only lawsuit that should be filed here is one on behalf of whoever it is that buys tickets to Clippers' games, questioning the mental competence of Mr. Sterling. Elgin Baylor's record of accomplishment in 22 years as the General Manager of the Los Angeles Clippers was 619-1153. Mr. Baylor claims to have been underpaid for his tenure with the Clippers. If he made a dollar, he was overpaid. His suit alleges racism and ageism led to his firing. His lawyers must have never seen an NBA record book.
Elgin Baylor departed from the Clippers on October 8, 2008. It should have happened twenty years earlier.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Well Now; Where to Begin?
I thought about just stopping when my long-standing prayers were answered at noon on January 20.
Naaaaaaaaaaaah!
Truth be told, life got hectic about then. Or a little before.
Did I mention that I have a new granddaughter? I thought I might have.
But then, said granddaughter's mom called to ask if they could come home. All three of them.
Did I mention that we weren't moving in the traditional line on this expanding family thing?
I didn't see that I could have my granddaughter and her unmarried parents living as though they were married under my roof. I shared that with my daughter and her significant other.
They understood.
They agreed.
They shared that they wanted very much to get married. And not, they said, simply because they needed a better place to be with their baby.
My daughter's mother told her she couldn't come home to her house. Said she'd be better off to stay in Lexington. Where they were about to be evicted from their Section 8 trailer. Oh, and by the way, she said they shouldn't get married, either.
Fortunately, none of us pay much attention to what their mother says.
So we planned a wedding in about five days. My wife, my mother and my younger daughter made Sara's day as special as was humanly possible. A friend of two dear friends produced as fabulous a wedding cake as I've ever seen, for an absurdly modest fee. Diana, you're the best; I'll be in your debt for the rest of my life. My partner in leading worship played the piano. Debbie, there's an awful lot I couldn't do without you! And Shannon, Nana and Emily took it from there.
The only problem with Sara's wedding is that Emily saw what we can put together in five days. Her wedding is three years off. She expects planning and execution in accordance with the extra time, God help us!
Then, it was only a matter of whether Sara's grandfathers would make it through conducting the ceremony, and whether I would get the words out in response to that satanic question, "Who gives his little girl to some guy, for him to take care of her instead of you, Dad?"
Oh, you guys who only have sons are such cowards.
I got the words out, somewhat strangled, but audible.
And my first baby became a Mrs. Only 25 days after becoming a Mom. Hey, we got it all done!
They moved in on Sunday night.
The current makeup of our humble abode: Kaly, 4 weeks yesterday; Emily, 20 years next week; Bryan (Mr. Sara), 21 in March; Sara, 22; Me, 48; Shannon, 50; Louise (Shannon's Mom), 85; Bill (Mr. Louise), 86.
I read that that goof in California who had the litter of 8 when she already had 6 more kids wants corporate sponsorships, a book deal, and to sell her movie rights. Whatever. I just want to know when our reality show will start filming. It is by far the most interesting household I've ever been a part of. You wouldn't believe.
Or maybe you would.
All I know is that my older daughter and her little family now have enough to eat, plenty of heat and as much safety as any of us can reasonably expect. And every morning and every night for as long as this lasts (which won't be nearly long enough), I get to hold/feed/change/play with my granddaughter.
And I'd take twice as many people in my house to get that little fringe benefit.
I spent most of January crying and begging The Boss to do something about this situation. I was sure that I'd never get to see Kaly, or Sara...sure I had lost them forever.
Thanks, Boss! For this and so much more, over so very long a time. I feel like I owe you, but I've read the manual. So I'll just offer you the same thanks as over the last 22-plus years: I'll be the best Dad I can, with your help and guidance. Only now, I'll throw in being the best Granddaddy possible, too.
Naaaaaaaaaaaah!
Truth be told, life got hectic about then. Or a little before.
Did I mention that I have a new granddaughter? I thought I might have.
But then, said granddaughter's mom called to ask if they could come home. All three of them.
Did I mention that we weren't moving in the traditional line on this expanding family thing?
I didn't see that I could have my granddaughter and her unmarried parents living as though they were married under my roof. I shared that with my daughter and her significant other.
They understood.
They agreed.
They shared that they wanted very much to get married. And not, they said, simply because they needed a better place to be with their baby.
My daughter's mother told her she couldn't come home to her house. Said she'd be better off to stay in Lexington. Where they were about to be evicted from their Section 8 trailer. Oh, and by the way, she said they shouldn't get married, either.
Fortunately, none of us pay much attention to what their mother says.
So we planned a wedding in about five days. My wife, my mother and my younger daughter made Sara's day as special as was humanly possible. A friend of two dear friends produced as fabulous a wedding cake as I've ever seen, for an absurdly modest fee. Diana, you're the best; I'll be in your debt for the rest of my life. My partner in leading worship played the piano. Debbie, there's an awful lot I couldn't do without you! And Shannon, Nana and Emily took it from there.
The only problem with Sara's wedding is that Emily saw what we can put together in five days. Her wedding is three years off. She expects planning and execution in accordance with the extra time, God help us!
Then, it was only a matter of whether Sara's grandfathers would make it through conducting the ceremony, and whether I would get the words out in response to that satanic question, "Who gives his little girl to some guy, for him to take care of her instead of you, Dad?"
Oh, you guys who only have sons are such cowards.
I got the words out, somewhat strangled, but audible.
And my first baby became a Mrs. Only 25 days after becoming a Mom. Hey, we got it all done!
They moved in on Sunday night.
The current makeup of our humble abode: Kaly, 4 weeks yesterday; Emily, 20 years next week; Bryan (Mr. Sara), 21 in March; Sara, 22; Me, 48; Shannon, 50; Louise (Shannon's Mom), 85; Bill (Mr. Louise), 86.
I read that that goof in California who had the litter of 8 when she already had 6 more kids wants corporate sponsorships, a book deal, and to sell her movie rights. Whatever. I just want to know when our reality show will start filming. It is by far the most interesting household I've ever been a part of. You wouldn't believe.
Or maybe you would.
All I know is that my older daughter and her little family now have enough to eat, plenty of heat and as much safety as any of us can reasonably expect. And every morning and every night for as long as this lasts (which won't be nearly long enough), I get to hold/feed/change/play with my granddaughter.
And I'd take twice as many people in my house to get that little fringe benefit.
I spent most of January crying and begging The Boss to do something about this situation. I was sure that I'd never get to see Kaly, or Sara...sure I had lost them forever.
Thanks, Boss! For this and so much more, over so very long a time. I feel like I owe you, but I've read the manual. So I'll just offer you the same thanks as over the last 22-plus years: I'll be the best Dad I can, with your help and guidance. Only now, I'll throw in being the best Granddaddy possible, too.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Our Long National Nightmare is Over!
So long, Goober!
Adios, Dr. Strangelove!
Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, we're all, finally, after eight long years, free at last!
Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, we're all, finally, after eight long years, free at last!
12 Hours and Counting: The Final Bush Bash Forever!
Shortly, Barack Obama will stand on the dais at the United States Capitol and be sworn in as the 44th President of the United States.
A little while later, George W. Bush will make the one and only positive contribution to our country of his pathetic life: he will get the hell out of Dodge! Not since Richard Milhous Nixon left his slime trail out the back of the White House to the helipad has an American leader left in such disgrace. Almost 80% of the American people now recognize that the current occupier (in every sense of the term) of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue has been a complete and utter failure. To the other, just over 20%, I can only pose the question Frazier Crane put to Cliff at Cheers: "What color is the sky in your world?"
Goober has declared that whether or not we have agreed with his decisions, we must acknowledge that he has made them. Yessiree! The Dark Sith Lord Cheney has proclaimed one last time that if we just knew what he knows, it would all make sense to us. Guess we're still just too damned stupid to get it, huh Dick? Has an American official ever been more appropriately named?
My greatest consolation at this moment of momentous change: my new granddaughter will have no recollection of the embarassment of having those two men, one evil beyond comprehension, the other too stupid to know how bad he really is, as the leaders of our badly, badly damaged nation.
You may rest assured, however, that her grandfather will see to it that she knows the story of the election, inauguration and administration of a highly intelligent man of great integrity who carries the incredibly heavy burden of cleaning out the horribly fouled stall that those two horses' asses have left us.
May God forgive the United States of America for the last eight atrocious years.
And may God guide and protect President Barack Obama for the next eight years.
A little while later, George W. Bush will make the one and only positive contribution to our country of his pathetic life: he will get the hell out of Dodge! Not since Richard Milhous Nixon left his slime trail out the back of the White House to the helipad has an American leader left in such disgrace. Almost 80% of the American people now recognize that the current occupier (in every sense of the term) of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue has been a complete and utter failure. To the other, just over 20%, I can only pose the question Frazier Crane put to Cliff at Cheers: "What color is the sky in your world?"
Goober has declared that whether or not we have agreed with his decisions, we must acknowledge that he has made them. Yessiree! The Dark Sith Lord Cheney has proclaimed one last time that if we just knew what he knows, it would all make sense to us. Guess we're still just too damned stupid to get it, huh Dick? Has an American official ever been more appropriately named?
My greatest consolation at this moment of momentous change: my new granddaughter will have no recollection of the embarassment of having those two men, one evil beyond comprehension, the other too stupid to know how bad he really is, as the leaders of our badly, badly damaged nation.
You may rest assured, however, that her grandfather will see to it that she knows the story of the election, inauguration and administration of a highly intelligent man of great integrity who carries the incredibly heavy burden of cleaning out the horribly fouled stall that those two horses' asses have left us.
May God forgive the United States of America for the last eight atrocious years.
And may God guide and protect President Barack Obama for the next eight years.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Let the Buffoon Go Home Already! Final Bush Bashes, Pt. 2
There is no number of exit interviews that will make George II warm and fuzzy. His only service to the country has been to improve the collective recollection of Jimmy Carter. Carter, by the way, is the genuine Christian disciple that Bush has pretended to be.
There is no way that any final press conferences are going to mine some sort of hidden wisdom that will explain these last eight, dreadful years. Bush has no wisdom. He has proved that over, and over, and over, in every move The Decider has made.
The man is an inarticulate buffoon. He has done all that could be done to destroy every single thing that is good and valuable about this country. He is a murderer, worse than bin Laden. He is arrogant. He is totally unreflective. He is smug. He has ruined the name of this good country throughout the world. He has bankrupted the nation.
And he has done it all in the name of Jesus.
There is a special rung of hell for those who claim to know, but fail to embody anything resembling the Christian faith. George W. Bush will occupy that special place.
It seems at this point that the transition has gone on forever. Barack Obama has a horrific job in front of him.
The good news is that he is not George Bush.
That means, by absolute and total default, that he will be an improvement.
There is no way that any final press conferences are going to mine some sort of hidden wisdom that will explain these last eight, dreadful years. Bush has no wisdom. He has proved that over, and over, and over, in every move The Decider has made.
The man is an inarticulate buffoon. He has done all that could be done to destroy every single thing that is good and valuable about this country. He is a murderer, worse than bin Laden. He is arrogant. He is totally unreflective. He is smug. He has ruined the name of this good country throughout the world. He has bankrupted the nation.
And he has done it all in the name of Jesus.
There is a special rung of hell for those who claim to know, but fail to embody anything resembling the Christian faith. George W. Bush will occupy that special place.
It seems at this point that the transition has gone on forever. Barack Obama has a horrific job in front of him.
The good news is that he is not George Bush.
That means, by absolute and total default, that he will be an improvement.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
WOW! Or, Your Humble Blogger Becomes a Grandfather
This is Kaly.
This is Kaly with her mom.
This is Kaly with her mom and her grandfather.
This is Kaly with her grandmother.
This is Kaly with her great-grandmother.
This is Kaly with her great-grandfather.
This is Kaly with her grandfather again.
This is Kaly with her mom and her Auntie Em.
No kidding!
This is Kaly with her great-uncle.
This is Kaly with her great-aunt.
This is Kaly with her other great-aunt.
This is Kaly with her grandfather again.
Kaly likes her grandfather.
Kaly's grandfather likes having the blog. It lets him choose the pictures!
Kaly's family is glad she's here.
Finally!
ps. Kaly's grandfather knows how to use a computer. Sadly, the Blogger people don't. Sorry about the pathetic arbitrary spaces between photos and captions.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Final Bush Bashes: 34 Days Until the End of an Error
The administration found over $700 billion for the financial institutions. And were devious enough to tie any oversight to assets sold at auction. Which none of the financial institutions are doing. Result: free money! Free to be spent on "retreats" or corporate jets or bonuses to incompetents or any other damned thing striking the fancy of these bozos.
But now Detroit needs help.
Tennessee's junior Senator materialized long enough to propose that any money for the auto makers should include a requirement that the United Auto Workers' members should be forced to take wage cuts to the level of the car plants in the south. Was there ever a clearer statement of the constituency of the modern Republican party?
Citizens whose addresses are on Wall Street, whose bonuses range up to 8 figures (not even counting salaries and stock options), who are getting $700 Billion, are free to answer only to consciences that they apparently don't have. But actual American workers, people who sweat for a living and whose earnings are figured by the hour, have to accept a major hit to see $15 billion in assistance for their companies. That's less than four months of Iraq war money, compared to right at 13 1/2 years of Iraq war money for the financial boys. (I apologize for the math error previously posted. I errantly figured the time at $1 billion per day, when the correct figure is $1 billion per week spent in Iraq. I should never do math in public.) Which also points out that much of this financial/economic crisis/credit crunch has its roots in that godawful war. But I digress.
The Bushies are taking one last run at rewarding the Pioneers, and one last slap at people who have to work. They want to use the "Right to Work" states as the standard. What a fabulous bit of doublespeak that one is! "Right to Work" laws have nothing to do with anyone working. They have only to do with protecting employers from lawsuits when they dismiss people for whatever excuse strikes the Boss' fancy. "Right to Work" laws are political payoffs from people who took sums of money (in campaign contributions) that would make the Illinois Governor blush, directly to the people who made those payoffs. Quid pro quo? You bet your ass!
George W. Bush believes that the United Auto Workers' leadership should sell out their membership, and tie them to the wages of the south's working poor. Hey, they might pull it off. These are the same people who have convinced us rebels that those nasty unions would be an awful thing to get involved with, way down here in Dixie. Yeah, I can see the reasoning. Those terrible unions might get some folks some better wages, overtime pay for overtime worked, better health care, better pensions, safer working conditions...I can see why we'd want to keep them unions out of here!
I saw Phil Silvers on an old What's My Line rerun the other night. They were talking about his old show Sgt. Bilko. We're now watching the last stand of the Commander-in-Chief-Bilker. And we're all the bilkees.
And he didn't even buy us dinner first.
But now Detroit needs help.
Tennessee's junior Senator materialized long enough to propose that any money for the auto makers should include a requirement that the United Auto Workers' members should be forced to take wage cuts to the level of the car plants in the south. Was there ever a clearer statement of the constituency of the modern Republican party?
Citizens whose addresses are on Wall Street, whose bonuses range up to 8 figures (not even counting salaries and stock options), who are getting $700 Billion, are free to answer only to consciences that they apparently don't have. But actual American workers, people who sweat for a living and whose earnings are figured by the hour, have to accept a major hit to see $15 billion in assistance for their companies. That's less than four months of Iraq war money, compared to right at 13 1/2 years of Iraq war money for the financial boys. (I apologize for the math error previously posted. I errantly figured the time at $1 billion per day, when the correct figure is $1 billion per week spent in Iraq. I should never do math in public.) Which also points out that much of this financial/economic crisis/credit crunch has its roots in that godawful war. But I digress.
The Bushies are taking one last run at rewarding the Pioneers, and one last slap at people who have to work. They want to use the "Right to Work" states as the standard. What a fabulous bit of doublespeak that one is! "Right to Work" laws have nothing to do with anyone working. They have only to do with protecting employers from lawsuits when they dismiss people for whatever excuse strikes the Boss' fancy. "Right to Work" laws are political payoffs from people who took sums of money (in campaign contributions) that would make the Illinois Governor blush, directly to the people who made those payoffs. Quid pro quo? You bet your ass!
George W. Bush believes that the United Auto Workers' leadership should sell out their membership, and tie them to the wages of the south's working poor. Hey, they might pull it off. These are the same people who have convinced us rebels that those nasty unions would be an awful thing to get involved with, way down here in Dixie. Yeah, I can see the reasoning. Those terrible unions might get some folks some better wages, overtime pay for overtime worked, better health care, better pensions, safer working conditions...I can see why we'd want to keep them unions out of here!
I saw Phil Silvers on an old What's My Line rerun the other night. They were talking about his old show Sgt. Bilko. We're now watching the last stand of the Commander-in-Chief-Bilker. And we're all the bilkees.
And he didn't even buy us dinner first.
Sensible Sox
Boston Red Sox owner John Henry distributed an email tonight, notifying members of the Boston media that the Sox' pursuit of Mark Teixeira has ended. The message made it plain that when agent Scott Boras, the son of Satan, told Red Sox ownership and management that he had in hand multiple better offers than the 8 years at $184 million that Mr. Henry had put on the table, the Red Sox solons walked.
Bravo!
Hurrah!
Three Cheers!
It looks to me like Mr. Henry brought a whole pile of big old Iraqi-type shoes to throw at the head of Scott Boras, the son of Satan. And I couldn't be prouder!
The claim by Boras, the son of Satan, indicates that someone/s are proposing more years, or more than $23 million per season for the switch-hitting first baseman, late of the Angels. Go ahead, big boy: take it. God bless. And don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out!
Either Boras, the son of Satan, is lying again (which is my bet, as his lips were surely moving), or other Major League teams have lost their minds.
The Sox know how risky an eight year deal is. Look up Ramirez, Manny. The Sox know how risky those kinds of dollars are. Look up Drew, J.D. They found their line, stuck to it, and I now have more respect for Theo Epstein, John Henry, Tom Werner and, yes, even Larry Lucchino, than I have ever had before.
We told Scott Boras, the son of Satan, to stick it.
All of baseball needs to tell Scott Boras, the son of Satan, to stick it, permanently.
He, the son of Satan, is feeling his oats after watching Greg Genske get Sabathia's contract, and Darek Braunecker get AJ Burnett's, from the Steinbrenner boys, and figured the Red Sox would be easy prey to manipulate in the ever more expensive game of keeping up with the pinstripes. Not so much. Not this time.
No one except the Yankees can afford to be wrong at those years for those dollars. Even the Red Sox, Mets, Dodgers and Angels would be crippled for years by a contract of that value that didn't produce for the length of the deal.
Scotty, the son of Satan, thought he could play us. If he was bluffing, and calls back, I would reduce the offer by one year and $40 million. And if he doesn't immediately accept, I'd cut it again in 15 minutes.
It is high time that baseball makes it clear to this megalomaniac that he doesn't own the game, he is not bigger than the game, and he will not run the game.
And if, indeed, the Yankees have offered 10 years at $300 million, I hope they sign Tex, and then give Manny an identical deal, and, heck, give Derek Lowe 10 years while you're at it. And then, as your team continues to age and pay people who are broken down for not playing, we'll keep winning World Series with players we draft and develop.
Sorry, Tex. You'd have enjoyed getting a ring next year.
And I'm perfectly delighted to go to war with Mike Lowell and Kevin Youkilis.
Bravo!
Hurrah!
Three Cheers!
It looks to me like Mr. Henry brought a whole pile of big old Iraqi-type shoes to throw at the head of Scott Boras, the son of Satan. And I couldn't be prouder!
The claim by Boras, the son of Satan, indicates that someone/s are proposing more years, or more than $23 million per season for the switch-hitting first baseman, late of the Angels. Go ahead, big boy: take it. God bless. And don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out!
Either Boras, the son of Satan, is lying again (which is my bet, as his lips were surely moving), or other Major League teams have lost their minds.
The Sox know how risky an eight year deal is. Look up Ramirez, Manny. The Sox know how risky those kinds of dollars are. Look up Drew, J.D. They found their line, stuck to it, and I now have more respect for Theo Epstein, John Henry, Tom Werner and, yes, even Larry Lucchino, than I have ever had before.
We told Scott Boras, the son of Satan, to stick it.
All of baseball needs to tell Scott Boras, the son of Satan, to stick it, permanently.
He, the son of Satan, is feeling his oats after watching Greg Genske get Sabathia's contract, and Darek Braunecker get AJ Burnett's, from the Steinbrenner boys, and figured the Red Sox would be easy prey to manipulate in the ever more expensive game of keeping up with the pinstripes. Not so much. Not this time.
No one except the Yankees can afford to be wrong at those years for those dollars. Even the Red Sox, Mets, Dodgers and Angels would be crippled for years by a contract of that value that didn't produce for the length of the deal.
Scotty, the son of Satan, thought he could play us. If he was bluffing, and calls back, I would reduce the offer by one year and $40 million. And if he doesn't immediately accept, I'd cut it again in 15 minutes.
It is high time that baseball makes it clear to this megalomaniac that he doesn't own the game, he is not bigger than the game, and he will not run the game.
And if, indeed, the Yankees have offered 10 years at $300 million, I hope they sign Tex, and then give Manny an identical deal, and, heck, give Derek Lowe 10 years while you're at it. And then, as your team continues to age and pay people who are broken down for not playing, we'll keep winning World Series with players we draft and develop.
Sorry, Tex. You'd have enjoyed getting a ring next year.
And I'm perfectly delighted to go to war with Mike Lowell and Kevin Youkilis.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Thanks, Yankees!
The Bronx Money Machine has saved the next few years, five specifically, for the Atlanta Braves. Save the "It's not about the money" crap for another day, please: after the Braves offered AJ Burnett $80 million for 5 years, the Yankees bought him for a mere $2.5 million more. Not, mind you, $2.5 million more per season. $2.5 million more over 5 seasons.
Anybody want to try to make the case that $500,000 at that level covers the difference in the cost, and quality, of living between NYC and Hotlanta?
Didn't think so.
But this isn't a loss for the Braves. It is a chance to spend their money reasonably and responsibly on players who can, again, reasonably be expected to perform for the length of the deal. Five years of Mr. Burnett is six DL trips, minimum. And he's aging.
Five years for Burnett makes sense only for the Yankees, for they are the only team in Major League Baseball who can erase that expensive a mistake and never miss a beat.
Count your blessings, Braves' GM Frank Wren! The Steinbrenner boys saved your hide.
Anybody want to try to make the case that $500,000 at that level covers the difference in the cost, and quality, of living between NYC and Hotlanta?
Didn't think so.
But this isn't a loss for the Braves. It is a chance to spend their money reasonably and responsibly on players who can, again, reasonably be expected to perform for the length of the deal. Five years of Mr. Burnett is six DL trips, minimum. And he's aging.
Five years for Burnett makes sense only for the Yankees, for they are the only team in Major League Baseball who can erase that expensive a mistake and never miss a beat.
Count your blessings, Braves' GM Frank Wren! The Steinbrenner boys saved your hide.
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