Some random thoughts as we head into the new year:
There is a proportionate relationship of the increase in my age and my dislike of snow.
2010 has been the least healthy year of my life.
I finished my college courses, and now am the first member of my family to earn a college degree.
Just when I was starting to appreciate some of President Obama's accomplishments, the GOP kicked historic butt in the November Elections. Now nothing will get done, unless it benefits the pharmaceuticals.
Every man needs a good woman in his life. That doesn't necessarily mean he has to marry her...
Creation or evolution doesn't matter. But recognizing the fact we have one mouth and two ears means that however we got them, we are designed to listen twice as much as we talk.
My reading list is getting longer, but my reading time is getting shorter.
Being a misanthrope is easy, but not a lot of fun.
With all the mis-information flying around in the air, it's a wonder there aren't more mid-air collusions...
Why do we celebrate Columbus Day, when in four trips across the Atlantic he never set foot in North America?
Have you ever noticed how many sleep-aids list restlessness as a possible side-effect?
I had to take a written exam for an addition to my license. The woman asked me what language I wanted the test in. I said the same one as the street signs are written in...she thought I was being a wise-guy. I said it must make road test real easy...just take them to a sign that says "Bridge Out"...if they pass the sign they fail the test...among other things.
I don't know when, or how, but at some point watching pro sports just doesn't matter to me anymore. I think it was when I heard a reporter say "He might have to settle for 16 million a year"...
I used to love Kool-Aid when I was a kid, alcohol from 16-26, soft drinks until 40. Now I find nothing better than a good cup of tea. What the hell is happening to me?
It used to be the biggest nuisance with a telephone was a number that had a "9" in it....now it's when you have a slow song download because you're trying to open an attachment in your e-mail while tracking your flight...
Here's hoping your 2011 is better than 2010. Good health and happiness to all my readers.
Today is December 25th.It is a remarkable day in religious history. Why? Because it is the day a person was born who:
Was a male.
Lived in ancient times.
Had a god for a father.
Had a human virgin for a mother.
Had their birth announced by a heavenly display.
Had their birth announced by celestial music.
Had an attempt on their life by a tyrant while they were still an infant
Met with a violent death.
Rose again from the dead.
I am speaking of course of Jesus Christ. And Hercules. And Mithra. And Hermes. And Prometheus. And Perseus. And Osiris. And Bacchus. And Horus. All of these historical figures match the above criteria.
Others who were also purported to have "virgin births" include Buddha, Romulus, Remus, Attis, Dionysus, Quirrnus, Indra, Zoroaster, Krishna, Fohi, Codom, Quetzalcoatl, and the Greek god Adonis who was born of the virgin Myrrha, many centuries before the birth of Jesus. He was born "at Bethlehem, in the same sacred cave that Christians later claimed as the birthplace of Jesus."(1)
In addition, virgin births were claimed for many Egyptian pharaohs, Greek emperors, and for Alexander the Great of Greece. Why are so many Earthly inhabitants said to have been born to virgins? To put it simply, it gives that person a status that is above normal, making them special. It was a great way to convince people to follow a normal human being. In today's language, it helped draw followers to a cult.
I have a friend who says that Osirus, and Horus, etc. are all synonyms for Satan. If that logic is true, and the tradition of their births are the same as Jesus', then isn't it logical to reason that Jesus is also another synonym for Satan? Or maybe the truth is that NONE of these characters are synonymous with Satan, since Satan is a Christian creation. It makes one wonder, doesn't it?
It certainly gives one reason to investigate a little further...to keep asking questions. For the only way to truly learn about anything is to ask questions, and keep asking until the answers make sense.
Take care my friends.
References 1-B.B. Walker, "The Woman's Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets," Harper & Row, (1983), Page 10.
My full-time job requires me to drive groups of people in a limousine on joyous occasions. One thing I have noticed is that adults, when free of their children, feel it necessary to talk incessantly about those same offspring they are seeking relief from. A recurring theme among adults is the lack of respect for authority, and the sense of entitlement the younger generation has. Like most things I observe in life, I have a rather simple explanation for this phenomenon...Santa Claus.
I think that Santa Claus, or at least the concept of him, is the reason our children feel like the world revolves around their very existence. We were taught our whole lives that Santa only rewards good behavior, and neglects the bad children. Yet, when Junior has been suspended from school three times, is on probation for lighting fires in school, is on a first name basis with the truant officer, and is not allowed to possess a pocket knife by order of the court, he will no doubt find the newest video game system under the tree because, hey, it's Christmas. Where is the accountability?
I propose that parents keep a log of all the misdeeds their children commit during the year. Then, when presented with their child's list of desired gifts, assign a point value for each gift requested. Do the same with the misdeed list. Deduct the appropriate amount of points, and see if Junior even deserves a stick of gum when your done.
My kids used to have to do chores just to bring the balance up high enough to get Christmas dinner. Try it. It works.
Have a joyful, if undeservedly generous, holiday season my friends.
Unless you have lived in a remote village in Tibet, been in a coma, or like "Dancing with the Stars" et.al., you know the name Bernie Madoff. He was convicted of running the largest Ponzi Scheme not sponsored by a government ever. He was turned in by his two sons, who worked for him, but claim they had no involvement. Now, one of Bernie's sons, two years after Bernie's arrest, was found dead, an apparent suicide.
The whole Madoff story is a spectacular example of pyrrhic justice. Bernie began his scheme many years ago. Those early investors received regular dividend payments as they hoped they would. Everything was going fine until the two sons turned Bernie in. Once the government shut down the operation, all of Bernie's investors lost their money. Ironically, they were better off being scammed by Bernie than being protected by the government. Of course, at some point, the scheme would have to collapse, as all Ponzi schemes do, but for now all was well and good.
Another story in the news this week centered on the "justice" of the government, as they went after Carl and Ruth Shapiro, early investors with Bernie Madoff. The Shapiros first invested in 1961, and the government estimates that they earned $1 BILLION dollars with Bernie's company. In a strange perversion of justice, the government sued the Shapiros for the $1 Billion they had collected as dividends from their investments. In other words, the government sued a victim of the crime to repay other victims of the same crime. Oh, you don't think the Shapiros were victims? This article will show otherwise. What makes this even worse is that the Shapiros are HUGE philanthropists in the Boston area. You cannot find a hospital, museum, or other humanitarian building or organization that doesn't count the Shapiros among its benefactors. Upon the arrest of Mr. Madoff, the Shapiros reluctantly notified the community that no new philanthropic efforts could be made. It is a massive blow to the community, and there are many people whose lives will have less quality because of the losses incurred by the shutdown of Madoff's operation.
Bernie Madoff committed a crime. That's indisputable. The abrupt shutdown of that operation cost many people money. Many others lost the philanthropic efforts of the Shapiros. And Mark Madoff, one of the people who turned in his own father, has lost his life. Is the acquisition of all that money really worth the human costs? The Shapiros used their gains for the benefit of others...Bernie Madoff was just plain greedy. But I do have to wonder about something...was it really necessary to for all these people to lose everything?
I feel that something could have been done differently, I'm just not sure what. I have ideas, but thinking through the execution of them points out numerous flaws. And the more I think about all those people whose lives have been detrimentally affected, the worse I feel. Maybe that's why Mark Madoff committed suicide...just imagine the emotional strain he has lived with for two years, and all because he tried to do something right. And that, in itself, is a whole new level of tragic.
I started PetePedia over a year ago as a way to encourage people to research things for themselves. In the beginning, I would often take an article, or a comment, and show the opposite viewpoint, usually with references, solely to inspire people to look at all the information, rather than relying on a single source. An informed decision is the best decision.
Somewhere along the line, PetePedia morphed into a mish-mash of opinion/observation/ feelings kind of blog. To put it simply, I lost the focus of the original intent of my blog. So I feel it necessary to start anew, with a new look, a new perspective, and a new format to the blog.
Problem is, I still haven't decided where I want to go from here with the blog. I have the new look, and I hope you like it. Editorially, I have not yet figured out exactly what I want to do though.
I could write strictly opinion pieces. I would express my opinion on certain topics, and then show the path that led me to those opinions. I would hope that format would encourage discourse, where others would comment with other references and facts that might raise my awareness, and that would be good. I may even learn some things that could change my opinions. Isn't that the ultimate goal of seeking knowledge?
I thought about a blog that asked questions. For instance, pick a news story, or a hot topic, and ask the questions that I don't hear being asked. Or maybe just asking questions that get my readers to think about things a little differently.
I could just try to be irreverent, and write snarky little pieces of sarcasm that people might find entertaining. Some would say this is a strong point of mine. Or maybe if I just focused on writing tongue-in-cheek style, seemingly taking one view while actually pointing out its absurdity.
The fact is, I don't know right now. Maybe PetePedia 2.0 will be one of those things, or none of those things. Most likely, it will be somewhere in the middle of those things. So, I have a great deal of contemplation ahead of me, but when I figure it out, I hope you like the result. In the meantime....
Well, Thanksgiving Day 2010 is here. Out of curiosity, I looked at my blog from last Thanksgiving Day. It was quite interesting to see how my thoughts and realities have existed for the last last year. So, here is an update.
I wrote about a painful ailment that had bothered me for the end of last year. It turns out, I had a very large kidney stone, the size of my thumb, which had to be surgically removed. That issue was resolved successfully.
I wrote at length about a neighbor of mine who was very ill. I had thought he would not make it much longer. Well, here it is a year later, and my neighbor is doing okay. Not spectacular, mind you, but okay. I am glad. And this year he is home from the medical facility he was in last year, so I plan on hearing Alice's Restaurant again (read the blog).
At the bottom of the blog, I put my list of things to be thankful for this year. I have to admit, I was not anticipating such positive thoughts this year. I had the kidney surgery in March, and just when I thought things were going great, I had a heart attack in June, followed by a surgery to install two stents in my heart. I actually returned to the wrestling ring 6 weeks later, as my alter ego, The Manager Steak Daddy. I was feeling great.
However, things have gotten much worse in the last month. I am frustrated, aggravated, medicated, and more complicated. But when I look at last years Thanks list, I see that most of it, if not all, holds true this year also. So this year, I will give Thanks one more time.
I do notice on thing though. As each year passes, I reach a deeper understanding of what giving Thanks is all about. As each year gets harder, or more complicated, or stressful, I appreciate the strength and courage and sheer determination it takes to get up everyday and do it all over again. I am learning to enjoy the simpler things a little more, and worrying about things I can't control a little less. I guess I am mellowing a bit with age.
I thought it would be fun to reprint last year's list, and maybe even comment on it (in parentheses). Here it is:
"I am thankful that I have the ability to smile, no matter how bad things may seem.(Still good)
I am thankful that I have two jobs that give me the opportunity to help those less fortunate than myself. Seeing their lives keeps me humble.( I am down to one job, but it is still humbling)
I am thankful that my ex and I still care about each other, and still get along.(Still true)
I am thankful that I found Facebook, for it has reunited me with the people from the best part of my life.(Also true)
I am thankful I found one very special person, who is a constant inspiration to me, and who motivates me to try to be a better human being.(To be truthful, they found me. And I will be forever grateful for that.)
But mostly, I am thankful that, despite my current discomfort, I know I will get better in a while, with the proper treatment."
Ah, that last one. This year, I cannot honestly say that. I can hope it, but I cannot say it with any definitive certainty. But then I read the last sentence, and I am glad I wrote this a year ago. It is a very good thought. Even I have my moments, I guess. Here it is:
"Life is just too short, and too precious, to dwell on the negative."
The last few days have been a whirlwind of confusion for me. Periodically, I lose my focus on what is important in the present and think too much about the past. This has been one of those periods.
The cliche says those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it. And it is the mistakes of my past I wish to avoid in the future, so I keep those memories alive. My mistake has been that instead of merely not forgetting the past, I have been dwelling on it, and that is not healthy.
I am thankful for my friends and family at times like this. They act as a ball of sunshine in the darkness of my self-imposed gloom. It seems almost like an alarm goes out when I am in a funk, and my phone comes alive with random "How are you doing" calls from people I haven't talked to in a while. I also get e-mails from some good friends who have been down this road with me before, and they remind me how to get out of the funk. Rebalance and start again...words of advice from a friend who probably displays more patience with me than I deserve. And it is true...that is exactly what I needed to hear.
The past is the past, and nothing in it can be changed. The mistakes of the past should be avoided, viewed as painful lessons. Pain is a very effective teacher. Anyone who has ever played with fire will tell you that. But when we think about the past, we should dwell on the positive memories while acknowledging the lessons learned. I had forgotten to do that.
I am not saying that I have had an epiphany and that all my ills are suddenly cured. But I have regained my focus on the present priorities in my life. The funk has broken, much quicker than usual, because of the love and caring of the circle of people in my life. Yes, they have once again provided the sunlight to guide me from the darkness. It makes me realize that even with the mistakes I have made, I must have done some things right, otherwise these people would not put up with me. If Karma is to be believed, I must have done some good somewhere at some time.
And that makes me feel good about myself, and gives me the encouragement to move forward. And, going forward, I will be a little more conscious about how my actions affect others, so the next time I lose my way, maybe my circle of friends will be even larger. And when a friend of mine goes through a spell, I hope that it is my words of encouragement that help them as they have helped me, and that I provide them the sunlight they need. After all is said and done, all we really have in this life is each other, and we need to share the caring amongst ourselves, or caring shall become a lost art. Imagine how bright the world could be if we all strive to be the sunshine in someone's life...
As my last blog stated, I have been experiencing many emotions lately thinking about my past, present, and future. As usually happens, I turn to music to seek solace. Lo and behold, on comes this song. It is one of those songs that expresses my thoughts perfectly, so much so that I wish I had written this song.
Among the emotions I am experiencing is regret. I regret rejecting the love of a very special person, and that mistake still torments me. The lyrics of this song express the things I should have said, instead of the ones I used.
And if, by chance, that special lady finds this blog and reads it, I hope she knows how sorry I am for being such a jerk to her.
"I don't want to miss a thing" Written by Diane Warren Recorded by Aerosmith
"I could stay awake just to hear you breathing Watch you smile while you are sleeping While you're far away dreaming I could spend my life in this sweet surrender I could stay lost in this moment forever Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure
Don't want to close my eyes I don't want to fall asleep Cause I'd miss you baby And I don't want to miss a thing Cause even when I dream of you The sweetest dream will never do I'd still miss you baby And I don't want to miss a thing
Lying close to you feeling your heart beating And I'm wondering what you're dreaming Wondering if it's me you're seeing Then I kiss your eyes And thank God we're together I just want to stay with you in this moment forever Forever and ever
Don't want to close my eyes I don't want to fall asleep Cause I'd miss you baby And I don't want to miss a thing Cause even when I dream of you The sweetest dream will never do I'd still miss you baby And I don't want to miss a thing
I don't want to miss one smile I don't want to miss one kiss I just want to be with you Right here with you, just like this I just want to hold you close Feel your heart so close to mine And just stay here in this moment For all the rest of time
Don't want to close my eyes I don't want to fall asleep Cause I'd miss you baby And I don't want to miss a thing Cause even when I dream of you The sweetest dream will never do I'd still miss you baby And I don't want to miss a thing"
I regret the things I missed with her because of my stupidity. Don't make the same mistake friends. A lifetime is too long to suffer the indignity.
Tonight, I am creating an emotional stew, a conglomeration of ingredients thrown into a steaming a cauldron of mixed emotions. A phone call tonight has my cauldron overflowing.
The contents of the phone call were rather non-descript. A little chit-chat about mutual friends and current events. But a simple throwaway remark from my friend threw me into a state of meditation regarding my past, and led me to a brutally honest self-assessment of my many failures in my personal life. As I contemplate the litany of bad decisions my life has been, I realize there is one common denominator throughout the whole string of misdeeds and poor critical thinking episodes I have experienced- My Mother.
Don't get me wrong. I loved my mother very much while she was still alive, and I miss her terribly sometimes. But as I look back at my life, I realize that it was her decisions regarding my life and my upbringing that contributed to the mess I am today. My friend who called me referred to another one of our mutual friends from "back in the day" as a former lover. No big deal, I thought, although I was shocked. You see, we were all part of a religious group with very strict standards. Through my conversations with my friend, it has become clear to me that I was the only teen in the congregation who abided by the rules. This revelation, to be frank about it, pisses me off. I missed out on the fun, the sexual hijinks, the altered state of mind from illicit substances, and all because my mom taught me this was how it was supposed to be.
I now realize that I missed out on what should have been the best years of my life, and for what? Because of the religion, I had no fun. Because of the religion, I was ridiculed. Because of the religion, I lived a life of frustration and humiliation. And most horrifying of all, because of the religion, I shunned the one true love I've had in my life, only to live with that regret ever since.
I left that religion when I was old enough, but the damage was done. I cannot reclaim my youth, and the fun I missed out on. I cannot wipe away the emotional and mental scars the resulting life events have etched so painfully into my memory. I can only look back, and get angry.
I'll wake up tomorrow, go to work, and do the same monotonous adult things I've done since I moved out of my mom's house. I'll go to dinner with one lady or another, maybe have the occasional night of libations, and whatever simple pleasures life at my age may afford me.
But I will never be able to have the youth I wanted. My mom took those years away from me, and as much as I loved her, I cannot forgive her for that.
I guess I can add a pinch of shame to that cauldron now...
I was driving in my car this morning listening to news radio. As a seemingly endless list of experts, analysts, and pundits all expressed their thoughts and opinions about the events going on in the world, I started thinking back to what the news sounded like when I was younger. I then started thinking about the events themselves, and how much things have changed in my lifetime. Here are some of my observations.
Wars- I grew up listening to Walter Cronkite telling me each night the score of the Vietnam War. Each night I would hear " Our troops reported ___ confirmed kills, while we suffered ___ casualties". To me, an elementary school child, Vietnam wasn't a war, it was almost like a sporting event: we killed more than they did so we won today. That is, until my cousin Steve came home from his first tour in 'Nam.
It was that moment that humanized the war for me. And I knew then I never wanted to experience war first-hand. That war was ostensibly to stop the spread of Communism. As it turns out, Communism has pretty much stopped itself, for it depends on honest leaders in government to work, and there is no such animal. Our wars today are merely economic issues. There are no ideological battles, nor any military threat to our borders. World War II was the last of the American Pride wars, where the whole country rallied together to defeat a common enemy. That nationalistic pride no longer exists.
Sports- Growing up, we watched sports for the enjoyment of it. It was always better when your home team won, but we liked observing the beauty of the games themselves, played by men who simply loved the game. Today's athlete is a much different animal, driven by pure greed. I stopped watching pro sports the day I heard the following sports report..."He might have to settle for 16 million a year". Settle? I'd work a month and a half and retire. The greed in sports ruined the enjoyment for me.
Economy- I grew up, and still live live, in Attleboro, Mass. As a child, Attleboro was a mill town. Jewelry factories were everywhere, and Texas Instruments was the largest employer in the city. Downtown Attleboro was full of store, restaurants, and bars, thriving from the workers stopping during lunch and after work to patronize the local businesses. As more manufacturing jobs went overseas, the shops started closing or moving from Attleboro. A ride through downtown Attleboro reveals no clues to its productive history. Many storefronts are empty. Former department stores are now occupied by smaller businesses like tattoo parlors and nail salons. All but two of the local eateries are distant memories. And the number of medicated people wandering the streets is matched by few communities, even much larger cities.
As I reflect on these things, it occurs to me that change is inevitable. It happens naturally as we grow older, and it happens artificially as politics dictate the conditions in which we exist. Not all change is good, as manifest in downtown Attleboro. Today, the POTUS is in S. Korea meeting with the leaders of the top twenty economies in the world. And for the first time ever, our country is not the undisputed leader in the world. Our status as a nation has slipped. And that is a change none of us could ever have imagined just a decade or two ago.
It makes you wonder what changes we will see in the next ten or twenty years. Most importantly, we must ask ourselves- will we like the changes we see?
It's been almost a month since my last blog. I have been so busy with life that I just haven't had time to focus on one subject long enough to write. So I think I'll just hit a bunch of different topics quickly, if you don't mind.
The elections are around the corner. If you are not happy with what is going on, then use this opportunity to vote out ALL incumbents, regardless of party. You cannot have change with the same cast of characters.
The Republicans and Democrats have proven their ineptitude, so I suggest voting third party if you have a candidate to choose. If not, a moderate member of either party is more likely to work "across the aisle", and we need a Congress that works, not fights.
Just when you think you have a clue about women, they throw you a forkball.
Go Rangers!
My Fantasy Football team is doing well, although I expect a butt-kicking this week. Fingers crossed!
Only nine weeks until I graduate from Colorado Technical University. I will be the first member of my family with a college degree. Pretty cool feeling.
I have been spending a great deal of time in Salem, Mass. I could live there....
Summer is over.
The two things that infuriate me are stupidity and hypocrisy. So much for discussing politics and religion.
Aren't conspiracy theorists a hoot?
I went through a brief period of thinking I should become a monk. I am not going to though, because I just love women too much....and I don't like the hairstyle options either.
I need to get some rest. The next time I have something important to write about, I'll let you know. Until then, take care and Blessed Be.
Back in June, I was told I had suffered a heart attack. I had two stents put in my heart, and was given a rather strict diet and exercise plan to follow. I was sent to a wellness program to do cardio exercise. All was going well for a while. While some days I didn't want to do the cardio work, it was an appointment I had to keep. A commitment if you will. That is, until my insurance said they would no longer pay for the program.
Oh yeah, I promised my therapists that I would stick to my diet and do exercise at home. And, when it came time to do my exercises, well, it seemed like there was always something more important to do. Laundry needed doing, or I had to go to the store, or my gardens needed harvesting on City of Wonder (a Facebook game). Yeah, always something more important for me to do.
As far as my diet went, well, I stuck to faithfully for the first few weeks. The doctors all said I could "cheat" once in a while, as long as I didn't overdo it. One doc said I could cheat once a week safely. But what started happening was my weeks were getting shorter. So, on a Monday I would say to myself, "It's okay to cheat as long as I don't for a week." But Friday would come around, and I rationalize that Monday was 4 days ago, and that's like a week. I think you're starting to get my drift...
So the next thing I know, one day I start having a not so good feeling in my chest. Not a pain, but just not normal. After a while, I start having a little trouble catching my breath. Uh-oh. This is how the heart attack started. I debated for a bit about whether or not I should go to the hospital. But my insurance requires a $200 co-pay to walk in the door, so I decided on laying down. A couple of hours later, I had legitimate pain in my chest, and difficulty breathing. I remembered that the doc had giving me a prescription for Nitroglycerin pills. With some hesitation, I took one. Miraculously, my symptoms improved within 5 minutes. I went back to bed.
When I awoke for work the next morning, I was quite fatigued, and still not 100%, but I tried to get through my day. I didn't make it. I ended up going home early and went straight to bed. An hour later, I felt exactly the same as the day I had the heart attack. So I took another Nitro. It's been 24 hours, and I feel okay now. Granted I haven't done anything strenuous, but I feel okay. But that last 48 hours was pretty scary.
So, this slow learner has finally grasped yet another obvious lesson:Listen to your doctor. While I am a guy, and most guys don't pay much attention to the doctor (or maps, bosses or wives), there is a reason they are doctors and we are not. It is because they have spent a great deal of time learning about how the body works, and what helps and what hurts it. It is simple to disregard the advice of someone we only see occasionally, but such ignorance can be detrimental to one's health. Hell, it could kill you.
As a result of this little episode, I am back on my diet and will start my exercise regimen tomorrow with a hike through some of the historical sites around Lexington and Concord. It was there the first Americans died fighting for their right to freedom.
I'd hate to think I died for the right to have a Big Mac. Kind of puts it in perspective, doesn't it?
A Facebook friend, who happens to be a Tea Party member, posted a video on his page featuring a British fellow telling Americans why we shouldn't allow a Mosque at Ground Zero. Strike One. Anyone paying attention knows there is no Mosque being built at Ground Zero. A cultural center is proposed a few blocks away, that, among many other things, has a "Prayer Room" incorporated into it. Calling the building a Mosque is the same as calling a hospital a church because it has a chapel in it.
I watched the video to see what this kind-looking fellow had to say for himself. If you have dramamine, now might be a good time to take some, and then watch this video.
Okay then. Let us examine the accuracy of some of the claims this hate-monger spews.
Not even 25 seconds in we hear that they are building the "Islamic Center and Mosque a few yards from Ground Zero". A few usually symbolizes a small amount. Two hundred is not a few, and that's how many yards there are between the Center and Ground Zero.
40 seconds in, we hear 3000 "innocent people" lost their lives. Just keep that word innocent in mind for later recall.
He also says that the attack on the World Trade Center was a religious attack. This is impossible. You see, the worse thing a Muslim can do is take the life of another Muslim. Yet, many of the "innocent" 3,000 were in fact Muslims. The attackers were not on a religious Jihad as some would propose, but rather, this was a retaliation against the POLITICS of America, and it's treatment of nations abroad. The World Trade Center wasn't targeted because it is a religious Holy site, it was the symbol of western decadence to those who despise America's arrogance.
Our friend now rambles a bit, but there is nothing substantive until around two and a half minutes when he declares that any religion who inspires such violence isn't a religion at all. Wow. Is that true? ANY religion who supports VIOLENCE is NOT a religion at all? Think of how many people have died throughout history at the hands of Christian soldiers. I remember the lesson where a Spanish brigade slaughtered a couple hundred men who refused to "Convert to Christianity or die". By the man in the video's definition, Christianity is NOT a religion. Yet it is Christian Fundamentalists who are spreading and clinging to this man's message. Can you spell H-Y-P-O-C-R-I-S-Y?
3:05 or so he compares Islam to Nazi-ism. Yet his point-by-point similarities almost all coincide with the practices of...wait for it.... Christianity! So now our British friend has further condemned the Christian religion without naming it, just simply implying it.
4:08 we are informed that the name of the building is to be called Cordoba House. This is wrong. Initially, that was the working title, but it was changed months ago when some people objected on the grounds of potential misrepresentation. The project planners agreed and changed the name. So our British friend is either woefully out of touch,or just lying to incite more hatred.
What is clear to see is an anti-Islam movement taking place. It is a movement being promoted by religious fundamentalists and the various Tea Parties (there are more than one). That is ironic.
The Tea Party was founded on promoting the principles of our Constitution. Yet, they are seeking to deny Muslims the rights the Constitution grants them.
We are being deluged in hypocrisy from these organized hate-mongers. They hide behind the Constitution and The Holy Bible as their weapons, yet violate the rules of both if it is not in line with their agendas.
Need more proof? The website who sponsored this YouTube video has a petition to stop the building (an anti-Constitutional stance). Here is the text of the petition:
A petition from Act for America:
"We Stand With the Victims of 9/11, We Oppose the Mosque at "Ground Zero," and We Urge You to Join Us in Opposition
To Mayor Michael Bloomberg and the Elected Officials of New York:
We the undersigned join with millions of Americans who are opposed to the founding of a mosque at the very site where Islamist jihadists destroyed the World Trade Center and took the lives of nearly 3,000 people.
We are opposed to the grotesque symbolism represented by the building of this mosque at "ground zero." We are especially appalled that those pushing for this mosque have designated its grand opening date for September 11, 2011 – the ten year anniversary of the worst terrorist attack in U.S. history.
We are deeply disturbed by the insensitivity to the families of the victims of the 9/11 jihadist attack exhibited by Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf and his supporters. We find it grossly hypocritical that Islamists and their allies repeatedly lecture Americans about the need to be "sensitive" to Muslims while Imam Rauf and his allies practice the height of intolerance and insensitivity through the blatant act of building a mosque at "ground zero."
We are offended by the views Imam Rauf has expressed about 9/11, such as his conspiratorial theory that Muslims did not perpetrate the 9/11 attack and that America's policies were partly to blame for the attack. Such views are a slap in the face of the victims and families of 9/11.
We find it repulsive that Imam Rauf and his followers and supporters would seek to build a mosque near ground zero promoting the same Sharia ideology that the 9/11 hijackers used as the justification for their act of unconscionable murder.
Therefore, in deference to the families of the 9/11 victims and their memory, we call upon the elected officials of New York to oppose the building of this mosque near ground zero and for them to urge Feisal Abdul Rauf and his followers to find another location for it."
At the end of the petition, we find this disclaimer: "Because of the importance of providing a highly credible petition, this petition form asks for certain contact information to help ensure that no one signs the petition twice."
You see the disclaimer? They seek to provide a "...highly credible petition". Yet the first sentence is inaccurate:"We the undersigned join with millions of Americans who are opposed to the founding of a mosque at the very site (italics and bold added) where Islamist jihadists destroyed the World Trade Center and took the lives of nearly 3,000 people."
Again, it is a cultural center, not a mosque, and it is two hundred yards from the site, not "...at the very site". Therefore, their goal of credibility is shot down in the first sentence.
I really despise hypocrisy. And I am seeing way too much of it in this case. Why don't these people just say the following, and be truthful:
"I don't like Muslims because they don't believe the same things I do".
There, is that so hard? That way, you can just wallow in your prejudicial feelings without having to be hypocritical too. Now don't you feel better?
Several weeks ago, I wrote on this very blog about the positive effect Facebook has had on my life. The context of that blog was the most important part of my assertion. You see, I was hospitalized recovering from my first heart attack and the subsequent surgery to install two stents in my heart. I can honestly say that it was the support and best wishes from some of my Facebook friends that pulled me through. I've even commented on other blogs about aspects of Facebook that bring me untold joy in my somewhat uneventful (by my standards) life.
So why did I deactivate my Facebook account?
I think the ball may have gotten rolling when Betty White hosted Saturday Night Live. Stay with me....
She thanked Facebook for the campaign that led to her being selected as a host. She made the comment that, once she found out what Facebook was, it seemed like "...a waste of time". I started thinking about the amount of time I spent on Facebook, and the negative aspects of not using that same amount of time for something useful. I have a full-time job, am currently a full-time college student, and since my episode have been spending hours every week in cardiac rehab therapy, not to mention the number of doctor's visits. It began to dawn on me that Facebook was taking up too much time that I could be using for my college studies, for one thing. I looked at my friends list. This is another subject I blogged about, very recently in fact. I hadn't been in contact with most of these people for thirty years!
I knew it was time when I started noticing I was having emotional reactions to comments on some of my friend's statuses. That is when I decided I had to do something about this problem. So I deactivated my Facebook account. It has been 24 hours now. So far, I have found myself resisting the urge to log back in. I am now developing an understanding of people with addiction issues.
There is only one thing that really bothers me about not being on Facebook. What's that, you ask?
Alas, I no,longer get the vicarious thrill of receiving that e-mail "You have been Poked by _______ on Facebook."
Oh well. Maybe someone can text or e-mail me a "Poke". That will ease my Facebook withdrawal. Or at least I hope it does.
I was channel surfing my car radio the other day, feeling in a rather melancholy mood. There are those days when I reflect back on mistakes I have made in my life, and this was one of those times.
I came across a song with a gentle acoustic guitar sound and stopped the surfing to listen. The lyrics of the song resonated with me, and soon I felt a tear rolling down my cheek.
The song is called "The House that Built me" by Miranda Lambert. It tells the story of a woman who visits her childhood home. Because I couldn't define a single residence that had that much meaning to me, I couldn't understand why I was overcome at the sentiment of the lyric "I thought if I could touch this place or feel it/ this brokenness inside me might start healing/out here it's like I'm someone else/ I thought that maybe I could find myself".
Then an epiphany. You see, it dawned on me that "home" isn't always a geographical location. In this instance, for me, home is in the presence of a very special woman in my life from whom I have been separated far too long. Although we parted company some time ago, she, to this day, holds a very special place in my heart, and I feel at home whenever I think of her.
I listened to the song again thinking of the new context I had assigned the song. Now, the tears flowed freely.
I don't know if I will ever have the chance to go "home" again.
But if I do, I will be making a most meaningful, heartfelt and sweet memory.
It's Father's Day, 2010. My Facebook is full of friends wishing us all a happy day, my phone conversations end with friends telling me to have a happy day and the whole world seems to be celebrating the patriarch of their families.
My dad passed away 33 years ago, when I was a teenager. I had never lived with the man, as he left the house while my mother was in the hospital with me. I never even met the man until I was 5 or 6 years old. I only saw him a few times in my life, the last as he was in a hospital bed losing his battle with Cancer. When my Memere (Grandmother for those non-French)called me to tell me he passed, I thanked her for the call and asked if she was alright. She said she was, and she would call with the arrangements later.
Then it happened. For no conscious reason, after I hung up the phone, I let out a single, primal scream. No tears, just a scream. To this day, I can only speculate as to the cause.
I served as a Pall Bearer for my dad. It wasn't until I watched the casket being lowered into the ground that a tear trickled down my cheek. I think that this was the moment I realized that, whatever this man had been in his life, and regardless of the fact that he was not involved in my life, it was he who gave me that life. For that fact alone, I felt sorrow. Did I mention he passed away the weekend of Father's day? It forever changed my view of the holiday.
I grew older and had two sons of my own. My wife and I divorced when the boys were the same age I was when my dad passed away. I sometimes think it's uncanny the synchronicity life can hand you. This morning, I got a call from my oldest wishing me a Happy Father's day. Haven't heard from my youngest yet, and, quite frankly, I don't expect to. Apparently, my fatherly behavior wasn't up to his standards. I guess I couldn't help that if it's true, because I never had a good fatherly role model to guide me. I kind of had to make it up as I went along.
Father's Day, 2010. In the grand scheme of things, it's just another day on the calender. But it is a day to remember those who gave us life.
Happy Father's Day Dad. I'm thinking about you today.
On June 3rd, 2010, a new chapter in the story of my life unfolded. I can't say that I never expected it to happen, but I never thought I would be dealing with it before I turned 50. Because on June 3rd, I had chest pain, shortness of breath, and pain shooting down my arm. I went to the emergency room at my local hospital, and, after a cardiac catheterization, I was told I had an artery in my heart that was 95% blocked, and I needed to have a stent implanted. I was transferred to Boston Medical Center, one of the top cardiac care hospitals going.
There was little or no warning. I was doing some housework (that'll teach me) when the shortness of breath started. It was a muggy day, so I attributed that to a "bad air day". But when the chest pain hit, I felt something was wrong. I sat down, and it went away. Almost as soon as I resumed my activity it returned, now with the arm pain. I ended up in the hospital for five days. In addition to all the medical stuff, something else very interesting happened to me. An epiphany of sorts. I learned that there are actually people out there who care about me. I never imagined that was possible.
I've mentioned many times on this blog that I am on Facebook. Through this network, I have gotten reacquainted with many people from my past. But while I was in the hospital, I had my smart phone with me, and had access to Facebook with it. I posted that I was hospitalized. The wishes started flowing in. While some were the token "Get well soon" type, some were paragraphs being written by people I would never have expected. Daily, I was getting several comments encouraging me, wishing me well, and offering support and assistance to me. I was overwhelmed.
Normally, a hospital stay is endless hours of hoping someone will visit. But my Facebook friends did something for me I never imagined a social network site could do.
It made me feel loved.
That, my friends, is a feeling I have little experience with. But, for the first time in a very long time, I felt as though, if something bad happened, I would be missed. When that dawned on me, I was overcome with emotion. My Facebook friends reached out their virtual arms to me, and enveloped me in one, big, cyber hug.
The 2 stents they put in my heart are meant to heal the physical pump in my body.
My friends on Facebook helped heal a wounded, broken heart.
There used to be a television commercial where a woman said a friend told her about a shampoo, and she liked it, so she told two friends, and they told two friends, and etc.. Soon, the screen was full of women all telling two friends. I am hoping that this blog has the same effect.
A woman I went to high school with recently got on Facebook, and we contacted each other. She told me about her daughter, Caitlyn, who isn't quite two yet, and has a disease known as XP. Basically, this darling little child cannot be outside exposed to UV rays, as she is extremely reactive to them. I cannot imagine the amount of care raising a child with this condition would take.
Also living in the same house, is an elderly relative with Parkinson's Disease. He also requires special equipment, and much attention. The house this family lives in is much too small, and ill-equipped for the challenges that they face, yet they struggle daily to take care of their loved ones.
The woman, when she is not at home taking care of her family members, is a Nurse Practitioner in a facility where she cares for elderly patients. The size of this woman's heart and her spirit of giving knows no bounds.
There is currently a campaign on Facebook to nominate this family for Extreme Home Makeover, in hopes that the show will pick them to receive a home that suits the needs they have. In my opinion, this is exactly the kind of family the show was designed for.
So I am asking all the readers of this blog to click on the link, and nominate the McCabe family. Feel free to copy and paste the link in your social network status.
I've told two friends. I hope they tell two friends, and so on, and so on.
It never ceases to amaze how someone or something that has little or no effect on your life one day, can sometimes have a tremendous effect on another day. Yesterday was one of those days for me.
First, the back story. I went to a high school with 3,500 students. Pretty big. There were five buildings, some multi-leveled. So it is not hard to believe that you might go to school with someone there and never know they existed. Being a teen-aged boy, I tried to be aware of as many teen-aged girls as I could be. I say aware, because, in reality, I was generally too shy to approach any of them. But I was aware of them.
Thirty years later, one of those girls sent me a friend request on Facebook. She included a note that said, "I don't know if you know who I am, but I was always aware of you". Wow! My thoughts exactly. You see, I was aware of her back then too. She was quite attractive, and had a smile that hinted at an air of mystery. Believe me, I was aware. So I accepted the friend request. And I haven't regretted it for a moment.
My new friend commented on some of my Facebook postings and links, and it became quite evident she was intelligent and had a cool sense of humor. Those were two things I never knew about her in school. She had posted on her Facebook about being sick, but I never inquired during the occasional chats we had online. One day though, she posted a note on her Facebook page. The effect on me was astounding.
She wrote about returning home from a treatment she needed. As she wrote about about the trip in to the hospital, her husband's sense of humor, the personality of her doctor, and the feelings she had when the doctor gave her test results, I read along along, smiling at one sentence, and biting my lip on others. Then she relayed a story about a young couple with children she had encountered in a restaurant on the way home. The interaction between her and this couple was simply breathtakingly refreshing. But it's what she wrote afterward that hit me like a frying pan to the face, and literally welled my eyes with tears.
She wrote about how this experience with the young couple cheered her up. She wrote how this young couple had validated her faith. She wrote about being inspired to live her life, however long or short it may be, to the max. And I wept.
I am not often touched emotionally by things. It's probably my biggest flaw as a human being. But reading her words made me realize that I have wasted a good portion of my life. But no longer. I have no reason not to experience my life to the max, instead of watching flow by me like a lazy river. I have no excuses to look at things and see the inherent beauty in them. I have no cause to just be an apathetic jerk, as I have been in the past. This young couple inspired her, and now she has inspired me. I hope that this blog will help me to pay it forward, and inspire someone out there as well.
In school, I was aware of a cute teen-aged girl. Yesterday, I became aware of a beautiful, inspirational woman.
I just got back from my annual excursion to the SSAAC Flea Market in Mansfield, Massachusetts. The SSAAC is the South Shore Antique Auto Club, one of the largest clubs in New England, if not the country. They have held this event for longer than I have been alive, and that's a while.
I started attending this show with my older brother. He is "in to" cars, and would buy and sell at the meets each year. I spent a good portion of my childhood, teens and so on following him to this event. We would camp out for the weekend, as it is a three day event. Grills would be cooking burgers, hot dogs, sausages, chicken and whatever else we could get a hold of. Beverages flowed from ice-filled coolers. Friends would gather, and fellow vendors, some who we hadn't seen since the previous year, would catch up on the goings on in our lives.
As the years went by, things changed. As I got older, got married, and had a family to support, I couldn't spend as much time at the meet, going home each night to be with my family. As my brother got older, and developed some health issues, he was bringing less and less merchandise each year. This year, we collectively had very little for sale, but still went because it is our tradition. This was, and still is, the one weekend my brother and I put aside to bond with each other, and we both relish this weekend each year.
Again, we saw many old friends that we hadn't seen since last year. There was a great deal of catching up to do for many people. Heck, personally, since last years meet, I have started going to college, had a major surgery, released my debut single on iTunes, and am making a return to the wrestling ring as a manager. Others had even more important events, like marriages, births, and such. Inevitably though, I noticed a thread of conversation that was seemingly in nearly every conversation. It was a comment that, in one variation or another, echoed the same sentiment- I miss Wally.
Walter Rich, or Wally as we called him, was the guy you went to high school with who was "in to" cars, has a smile that lit up a room, and a bit of a mischievous streak in him that was funny, not malicious. He had a heart of gold, and would do you any favor if he could possibly find the time. He was well known at this flea market, because he understood things about cars that few people did, and folks always sought out his advice, and help on their personal projects. In the seven years since he passed, I have not heard one unkind word uttered in the same breath as his name. Everyone who met him, liked him. He was "that guy".
February 21, 2003, Wally, and a couple hundred other people went to a night club in Rhode Island called "The Station".They featured local bands a lot, and a couple times a month would bring in an act from the last couple of decades that still had some recognition. This particular night, the band was Great White. For those of you not familiar with the story, a fire broke out in the club that night, injuring 98 people, and killing 100 people, including my friend Wally.
Facebook has a memorial page dedicated to the victims of the fire, both living and deceased. It can be seen here. Take a moment, look at the pages, the comments and the pictures. Whether you personally knew one of the victims or not, it is a sobering experience.
Stewart O'Nan wrote a book on the subject. this quote is from that book: "To be lost and forgotten-to be abandoned-is a shared and terrible fear, just as our fondest hope,as we grow older,is that we might leave some part of us behind in the hearts of those we love and in that way live on. We may not be able to change what has been but we certainly change what is. Help us to give the only gift within our power, a gift we wish desperately for our loved ones, a gift we all want... TO BE REMEMBERED."
Like many of the readers of this blog, I am on Facebook. Many of my blogs are inspired by my friends Facebook links and statuses. I saw this one link to a YouTube video and thought I'd take a look. Lately, I've been feeling a little down, and sometimes these links lead me to places that cheer me up. This link was different. It made me feel ashamed of myself.
2010 has not been the of years for me. I started the year struggling with a medical issue that required surgery. Once that was cleared up, a different issue reared up to interfere with my life. My job hasn't been going as well as usual, and there are a couple of issues in my personal life that aren't exactly spectacular. So, feeling a bit of self-pity, I clicked on this link to this video. As I watched it, I felt the tears well up in my eyes. After listening to the message this brave man gave, I felt ashamed that I have ever complained about anything in my life. Please watch this video.
The man in the video is named Nick Vujicic. Born without arms and legs, his life has been nothing but hardships and troubles. At the age of eight, he contemplated suicide. Eight. Think about how hopeless, lonely, out of place an eight year old child would have to feel to even think about ending it all. And yet, this man rose from the depths of his despair to live a very meaningful life, providing inspiration for others.
A little while ago, I wrote a blog about the man I want to be. Well, I hope that someday I can have the positive attitude on life that Nick does.
If everyone on Earth shared his attitude, the world would be a much better place to be.
My last blog was written before I went in for PCNL surgery ten days ago. I'm glad to report that all is well, and I'm feeling better each day. But I have a confession to make. I had seriously contemplated signing a Do Not Resuscitate order before surgery. I'm glad I didn't.
The procedure involved two separate surgeries.In the time between the first and second surgery, there was an apparent struggle to keep my Oxygen level high enough. The second surgery was delayed for three hours while the staff pumped Oxygen into me. Had I signed the order, who knows what could've happened.
A couple of women friends had voiced their objections to my signing the order. I listened to their arguments, but it wasn't until I heard this song on the radio that I decided not to sign it. The song is by country singer Chris Young, and it's called "The man I want to be". Please read these lyrics. They are spectacular, and fit my situation better than if I had written the song myself. To watch the video, click the title.
"God, I'm down here on my knees Cause it's the last place left to fall Beggin' for another chance If there's any chance at all That you might still be listenin' Lovin' and forgivin' guys like me I've spent my whole life gettin' it all wrong And I sure could use your help cause from now on
I wanna be a good man A do like I should' man I wanna be the kind of man the mirror likes to see I wanna be a strong man And admit that I was wrong, man God I'm asking you to come change me into the man I wanna be
If there's anyway for her and me to make another start Could you see what you could do To put some love back in her heart Cuz' it going to take a miracle After all I've done to really make her see
That I wanna be a stay man I wanna be a brave man I wanna be the kind of man that she sees in her dreams God, I wanna be your man And I wanna be her man God, I only hope she still believes In the man I wanna be
Well, I know this late at night that talk is cheap But Lord, don't give up on me
I wanna be a givin' man I wanna really start livin' man God, I'm asking you to come change me into the man I wanna be"
PetePedia will be taking a break for a bit. Monday, March 8, I will be going in for surgery to remove a rather large Kidney Stone. It has been the source of much pain for the last 5 months, and I can't wait to have this demon exorcised from my body.
I looked on YouTube for a video showing the procedure, so I'd know what to expect. If you would like to see, watch this 3 minute video. It shows the highlights of the procedure. It is not explicit or gory, if you are concerned.
They say that without complications, I should be home in 2-3 days. Once my mind is clear from pain-killers, I will resume PetePedia.
Thanks for reading my blog. I enjoy researching these topics, and sharing what I find with you.
