Quick, move to Denver

Back in the day (last century) when it became fashionable to promote some form of agenda in Washington, a group of experts would trot out some data and present it at a congressional hearing. The thrust was ... "by the year 2000 ...."

The thinking was, in the 1980s, that "the year 2000" was far enough in the future that speculation on life would be connected to "an estimated 5 million Americans will suffer from ...."

Once a week, "by the year 2000, we'll have (a.) no trees (b.) no fresh water or (c.) lots more people with an illness, poverty or too many kids."

Sadly for these experts, they all died without having to prove anything and, worse, 2000 came and went.

Now what's the "landmark" date for "by the year .... 2010?"

Been there, done that. Usually these milestone dates that Congress gets to ponder are in mathematical integers or 10, 15 or 25.

Now, we just skip over it and go straight to 2100. Wow, really?


Old Mo ... fire away!

Back in my days as a sportswriter, I heard it all, ranging from the "we overcame a lot of adversity" to all the other inclusive aspects of team play, hard work and selfless dedication.

Not much has changed since the 1960s and with the addition of the know-it-alls in the ESPN studio, it's actually gotten worse. Pulling up to hoist a J or raking the glass or deviating in the paint ... all new ways of saying the same old thing. It just sounds "street smart" to have a little hip-hop in your tone.

I will watch another NCAA tournament this year with the standard references to dancing, mismatched seedings and overplaying the perimeter. The usual film clip will show 3-point shot after 3-point shot, followed by the coast-to-coast slam dunk, where the guy hangs on the rim.

Then we will cut away to the painted faces of the Duke cheerleaders, who will squeal and wave ... and the band will play the old "dun dun dun dun da da, doot doot doot -- go Big Blue!"

I am …

Phamlie Photos

I was going through a box of old pictures not long ago -- we are talking VERY old pictures (like the one on my profile) -- and one of the astonishing aspects of it was clear.

I don't know for sure who took the pictures.

There are lots of them of my brother and me from back when life was in black and white. There are few photos in the mix of my father or my mother or any of the people who were important to us when we were toddlers.

I mean ... almost NONE ...

I recall a recent event when somebody tried to take a picture of some children and their mother. "No," she said flat-out. "I don't want to be in the picture."

Ya know, I bet my mother said the same thing. And guess what? After all this time, she got her wish.

I wish I had a photo of my mother and father from that time.

So, let this be the lesson, Mom and Dad. Sometimes the picture isn't about YOU.

It's about somebody ELSE who might care about you. Let them take the picture. It doesn't hurt.…

What's the Reason for the Wheezin'?

I'm still slightly ill at ease at the abundant number of Christians who are getting bent completely out of shape because somebody has the audacity to say "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry CHRIST-mas."

Why is anybody upset because we don't feel the compelling need to say Merry Christmas? Like, get over it. It's not a sin to discuss the pagan holidays without reference to the Big X being missing.

Man, talk about a pissed-off bunch of Christians ... like, lighten up. If somebody wishes you "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas," just tell them to get fucked ... in the true spirit of the Jesus season.

Happy goddamned New Year. Now let's all get drunk and be somebody.

In time for Christmas


A story that you might believe,
This happens every Christmas eve
It’s when the winner gets to drive the sleigh.
After all the daylight’s gone
Just before there’s any dawn
These two meet up without the need to play.
No cause for fear or false alarm
For down the road from Tucker’s Farm
One of them is going to have his say.
It seems this most amazing duel
That happens every frosty Yule
Is quite bizarre in nearly every way.
The story that my father told
Long ago, ‘cause now I’m old
Was, “Santa doesn’t always drive the sleigh.”
One night, I wandered to the farm
Hoping that I’d face no harm
And what I saw, I must explain today.
To the left, old Santa stood
As though he were a block of wood
His face a somber shade of pewter gray.
Not far away, up near the oak
Adjacent to a gleaming cloak
Frosty mulled this moment, said “OK.”
Santa hunkered by the fence
As now the battle would commence
And I could tell that this was hardly play.
The man in red would move about
And I coul…

Fall, colors and Halloween

I take time to check the local reports around the country for their version of the fall colors. I guess I have too much time on my hands. Usually, it's the same story, depending ... not enough rain will make the colors dull ... too much heat will delay things.

If your perspective is to look up at the trees, you might wonder how long it's going to take you to rake them - if they ever decide to fall.

Which they will.

I have an oak tree out back that is losing its leaves and I've learned to be patient. Leave them in place. By November, a big wind will come along and ... whoosh! Leaves are down the block.

Fall is a nice time of year if it doesn't rain.

A story worth repeating

Evidence that other-world creatures have indeed come to Earth has been deciphered. At first, it made no sense. Naturally, the creatures speak and write in a different language. But the small bits of paper came together nicely for the students at Brainard College, N.D.

Apparently, on one cold December night in 2002, the ship landed quietly in a bean field not far from where its inhabitants believed was a source of civilization. The lights in the distance were bright. Machines were moving about rather freely. The place was a 24-hour convenience mart.

As it turned out, the bits and pieces of paper that were picked up by a group of Scouts who were cleaning the North Dakota roadside were unique enough that they caught the eye of their faculty adviser. He turned the scraps over to the Humanities Department at Brainard.

Eight years of work have paid off. Here's what the scraps said.

"We came to Earth in search of intelligent life and, finding none, we returned to our ship. Our commander…