Grammy Controversy: Rev. Jesse Jackson Enters Fray Over Cut Categories

Since Jackson has absolutely nothing to do with the music industry (or any industry or anything for that matter) I can only surmise that it has been too long since he got any press and decided this may work.  Jackson DEMANDED a meeting with CEO Neil Portnow to discuss his demands or threatened boycott or to “occupy” the grammys.  Portnow acquiesced to Jackson’s blackmail as have so many others in the past. 

Ordinarily I would be rather irritated about some executive cow-towing to Rev. Jackson, but since this is the entertainment industry I am enjoying this.  I do so love to see the left eat their own!  None of the articles that I read disclosed what Jesse wants from the Recording Industry, so it could range from getting a beer distributorship for his sons, to better seats at the awards show, to an invitation to meet Shakira, or perhaps he is trying to ensure that Taylor Swift doesn’t beat out Beyonce again.

There has been no word on the demands of Rev. Al Sharpton.  Perhaps he is waiting to see how low they bow to Jackson.

I liked this so I dug out an old pedometer to try to track how much I walked each day.  That soon became frustrating as that model only tracked mileage and seemed to count bumpy rides in the tally prompting me to upgrade to the Omron model above.  While looking for the pedometer I also stumbled upon (actually pushed into it by Amazon’s “others who bought this have also purchased” which in BRILLIANT marketing) the book 10,000 Steps A Day reviewed earlier this month.  What started as a curiosity about how many steps I take has become sort of an obsession with the whole step movement (pun intended). 

In a normal day my averages number of steps hovers around 2,500.  With a little extra walking I can get it up to 5,000 pretty easily.  10,000 steps is a lot!  Yesterday was the first time since I got the pedometer that I achieved that plateau.  I have to give a big assist to my grand-dog for inducing me to take her for a long walk in the morning and then to the local park’s dog enclosure in the afternoon.  I did 10,518 that day while she probably did five times that amount thought she took a rather long nap in the evening.

The “good” ache in my muscles tell me two things; walking is going to be very very good for me, and I’ll have to build up to the 10,000 steps a day.  I consider this to be the beginning of a journey and hope to post about it periodically.  I don’t consider this a New Years resolution since I really started before that, but I did coincidentally start my journal on January 1, 2012.  If only my furry grand-dog lived closer she’d be a great coach!

It seemed (and it was) a very long dam and several time I thought about heading back because doing this one probably meant getting back late and not getting my paperwork done.  But as I got further I knew that I had to push through and get-er-done.  I use that purposely as I was quite far away from any city or town or houses for that matter.  My trip was punctuated by a four mile descent down a steep, winding road that lead to no one’s door.  I turned into the dirt road that would take me to the dam and as often happens with some of these remote facilities the “road” got progressively worse. 

The puddles turned into big puddles ending in a very large one as the dam came into view.  Both the dam and the puddle were much bigger than I expected.  The “road” curved past the puddle and the road was so narrow that I felt that I had to push through to the other side.  In hindsight that was bad.  I had four-wheel drive and I had a big truck so I thought it better to go forward.  The puddle was not so bad, but as I rounded the curve the “road” went up a steep slope for the entire height of the dam (it is listed as 76 feet).  I engaged the 4×4 and gunned it up the slope.  I was doing okay; only sliding a little as I crept up toward the top until about ten feet from the peak.  By the way I realized as I climbed the hill that I had no idea what I would find at the top.  Not my brightest moment.

Fate, however, delayed my finding out about that as I began to find out that 4×4 works better if you actually have good off-road tires.  I had good general purpose tires and they decided that they could do no more and started to spin as I was sliding backwards.  As I jammed on the brakes I noticed that they really weren’t stopping me right off the bat, but seemed to dig in after what seemed like 100 feet, but was probably 20.  I just sighed now as I sighed after successfully stopping my truck on a very steep slope. 

As they say I had nowhere to go but down so I started to SLOWLY back down the slope and was doing fine.  Fine until that puddle.  I am used to using my side mirrors to navigate when I back up and proceeded through the curve puddle system until I noticed that my ability to steer was no longer an option.  That puddle seemed to have turned into a sucking fissure and I slid off of the road.  I’d like to say there was a ditch that I slid into, but it was more like an embankment leading to a somewhat large stream.  As I tried to work my way free I seemed to keep sliding towards that abyss.  I know that it was not an abyss, but it sure felt like one to me. 

It was time to take a visual assessment of my situation from outside the cab.  I didn’t like what I saw and what I saw was the big hole that I was in.  I thought that I might be able to make a ramp out of rocks that were strewn about so I set about placing them under and in front of my tires.  The rock ramp seemed like it could work and probably would have except the puddle was probably a puddle for a long long time and the mud was very very deep and slippy (slippery for those of you outside of the greater Pittsburgh area) and the rocks either harmlessly slid away or were just pushed into the mud when I tried to go forward.

Here I was in the middle of nowhere with no cell phone service and a truck stuck.  I don’t know if I mentioned that no one really knew my itinerary so no one really knew where I was.  I decided to hike to the top of the dam to see if anyone would be able to hear me then.  As I stalked back and forth looking for an area that would give me just one damned bar I started to think of a contingency plan (pretty much walking until I found another human).  I kind of got one shimmer of a bar and placed a call to my boss…no answer, but I left a message about where I was and what my situation was.  I tried other numbers, texts, and even emails, but had no ideas whether they went through so I carefully walked back down to the bottom, took some photographs, grabbed my stuff and started to walk. 

I did pass a house (probably more of a hunting camp house) on my drive in and tried knocking at the door.  I wonder sometimes about people who live below one of these large dams and in such a remote area.  No one answered so I continued walking.  As I approached the road (it was paved) I noticed a white roof far off to my left and thankfully in the opposite direction from the four mile hill climb.  I had seen a white truck go by on the road before I got to the house, but no other life forms were visible as I walked.  I passed a sign for the next county which is rather known for its remoteness and my confidence waned.  As I got closer to the building there were actually two, but they both seemed empty.

They were!  But I did hear a faint noise further up the road like some equipment being used.  I continued and searched ahead for some movement and was treated to the sight of some bright green hardhats ahead.  I made my way over to the men and walked up to them as they seemed to be discussing their project.  It felt a little like a stranger walking into a neighborhood bar when they all just stopped talking and turned toward me.  I explained my dilemma and asked if any of them had a phone that worked.  They chuckled knowing that cell phones didn’t work down where we were.  The crew leader said that he often had to drive to the top of the hill (my four mile hill) to get any reception, but before I could ask him to take me he decided that they would get me out. 

He certainly had the equipment and said they were just waiting for some concrete to set up so they had some time to help me.  I know that this may seem dramatic, but a great weight was lifted from me.  It was Friday and getting on close to 4:00.  Homey (that’s his nickname) started giving directions to his crew and we drove over to where my truck was stuck.  I warned him about the “road” so he stopped, turned around, and backed in.  An impressive display of driving as he explained that they did this all of the time.  Soon after the rest of his crew showed up (another truck and a wheeled loader).  There were whistles and a joke about me getting a Ford stuck in the mud, but they quickly got to work first digging around my hitch to hook me up to the loader. 

Here were complete strangers kneeling in the mud and digging around trying to get me unstuck.  They finally got the truck hooked up and got the loader in place carefully not getting themselves down into the puddle.  The operator lifted my truck out of the hole and started to shift it toward the “road”, but as he started to set it down it just slid back so he was going to move it further, but was concerned about knocking some trees with his bucket.  He was able to maneuver enough to set the truck down on more solid ground and the trees were barely nicked.  Homey offered to back my truck out as the loader pulled and I was grateful for that extra bit of help.  My off-road confidence was a bit shaken.

Homey was the first to leave then his loader.  The second truck waited to help me turn around and make sure that I got out.  As I pulled past them they had pulled off too far and gotten stuck though they were not on the stream side.  I drove after Homey and told him about the other truck and he laughed and got back in his truck.  He told me to take off and that he’d take care of it.  I felt weird leaving, but there was nothing that I could add to the situation and was probably just getting in the way.  I shook their hands, took down their names, thanked them again and headed home. 

Perhaps as Homey said that this kind of stuff was all in a days work for them, but they really came to my aid and for that I am grateful.  So it all worked out okay and I only got home a few hours late, but exhausted.  My wife and I skipped our planned anniversary dinner (it was earlier in the week, but we were going to celebrate it that night) in favor of my long, hot shower and a fairly early bed time.  The bad news is that I never got the damn dam inspected and I have to go back next week.  You can bet that I’ll be parking far away and walking in.

I walked Colorado Street twice a day every day to/from school for eight years. This was the site of many snowball fights and an occasional monkey ball fight.

One of the few perks of my job is that I can work extra hours each week and select a day off each pay period.  This works well as I can pack more into the longer days especially when I have to travel outside the immediate area of my office where the travel time can eat up a good portion of the day.  Today was my “flex” day and I needed to run an errand that would take me near where I grew up.  As I was driving around, not through, downtown Pittsburgh I remembered that there was a detour that would not allow me to take the direct route to the North Side.  I made my own detour before the official detour and it took me through what some call Old Allegheny part of the Burgh as I looked for this old bridge that would take me to the BIG POST OFFICE.  This is the general mail sorting facility and when I need something to get there fast I mail it from there.

The Grotto then...

The neighborhoods are an eclectic mix of brand new homes, very run down homes, and old homes that are being restored.  I found my bridge, mailed my stuff and decided to stop to check on my Mom’s house since I was close.  Her house is less than a mile from the post office, but I again was disappointed because the road to her road was closed…another detour.  I drove about a block and remembered this back, one way road that would take me home.  I had forgotten that the one way was not my way.  We used to risk the narrow road when I was younger, but the right way (actually left) took me near my old grade school. 

The Grotto now...

Saint Gabs. never looked so bad.  It had ceased being St. Gabriel the Archangel School decades ago, but as I pulled into the parking lot I couldn’t help but remember the raucous times we young Catholic kids had on that blacktop.  Broken bones, skinned knees, broken glasses, and torn clothing never stopped us.  For us a game of Release was a contact sport.  The grotto where a statue of The Virgin Mary stood is now a garbage pit, the lot is mocked with potholes, the school’s windows are broken, the doors chained, and weeds are winning the battle for domination. 

The front steps once witness to scores of young children on their journey through the sacraments now languish in disrepair.  I find it interesting how fast a building goes down hill when no one uses it.  It is almost as if the inanimate structure draws life from its inhabitants.  St. Gabs’ building had no life today.  It would have been interesting to have a look inside the old place, but I am not fond of creepy critters and there is that whole trespassing thing.  Good thing Sister Mary David cannot see this.

I still wanted to pop in my Mom’s house so I headed there.  I am almost always amazed at how the neighborhood changes between visits.  It seems like each time I drive through the neighborhood another house has been torn down.  I let myself in the house and took a look around.  My father used to have this large cabbage cutter and I wanted to find it so that I could make sauerkraut.  My search took me into Grampy’s basement.  My parent’s house was attached to my Mother’s father’s house and my Dad had poked a hallway between them when Grampy got older.  My search eventually led me to his basement.  The light switch produced no light so I proceeded down in the gray light that came in from a front window.  I pulled on a light switch to get some additional light and moved into the back part of the basement where there is this old footed bathtub that I think is so cool. 

As I was looking around something passed in between me and the light; a slight flicker that gave me a chill.  A chill very much like the chill I just got writing about it.  I felt very uncomfortable in the house.  I wouldn’t say that I was scared, I just felt that I needed to get on my way.  My neice lives up the street and I had texted her that I’d be at Bub’s  house in case she wasn’t working and saw someone down there.  I told her about my experience in the house and she joked that it was Pap playing jokes.  Pap died nearly seven years ago.  She said that her boyfriend also feels weird in the house.  Who can say, but I felt something there in the house that I grew up in.

American Holly

I headed home and thought I’d stop at the Byzantine Seminary Press to see if they had gotten their new hand-carved santa ornaments from the “Old Country” for the store.  As I drove between two large cemeteries I thought about my father and whether I should stop and see him.  I wanted to get home so I decided to put it off and kept going.  I know…I should feel guilty.  I got less than a mile and ran into another detour.  The entire road was closed.  I turned into a side street that I remembered ran parallel to the street I wanted to use.  It had probably been thirty years since I had been on that street.  My nostalgia was short lived as I ran into a series of more detours that led me back to the original detour.  I had to take a different way home.

The weird thing isthat the new route took me past the cemetery where my Dad is buried.  This was too strong a sign for me to ignore so I drove up to his plot.  This may sound odd, but this cemetery is a peaceful place.  There is certainly sadness when you remember a family member, see a freshly dug spot, or a brand new headstone.  One thing, however, that I can appreciate about these old resting places is the variety of trees…and really big ones.  There are the oaks and maples and sycamores, but there is also this cool cucumber tree (the leaves are huge) and near where my father lies is a beautiful American Holly.  I unsuccessfully tried to start a tree from this holly last year, but I am determined to do it this year (my  attempt at a cucumber tree had the same sad result). 

As I pulled up to Pap I noticed that he had two visitors.  One took off as I got closer, but the other kept a wary eye on me as it fed.  As an avid gardener I am not sure that Pap would have appreciated the deer nearby, but at least it wasn’t a groundhog.  They were the bane of his gardens.

After my visit I headed home to work on my brick oven.  I am building one on wheels and if it works I am sure that I’ll post and brag about it.  Though the weather was quite dreary today and my road was full of detours it was a very, very good day.

I am skeptical of the statistics used as my recent, forced foray in to the environmental job market gave me a different outlook. I found that while there were a great number of openings for environmental engineers the job criteria was either hard to meet (i.e. VERY specific job experiences required) or companies were looking for candidates with less than five years of experience. In other words employers were not seeking someone as seasoned as me. I have no evidence that companies are looking to stay away from older candidates, but a resume is a great screening tool if they are. Perhaps I was shooting too low?

I have to admit that my search criteria were limited as I had no desire to relocate especially overseas which a good number of opportunities required. I also was wary of companies where I was sure that a decent salary came with expectations of 60, 70, or 80 hours work weeks. Been there, done that and found that the “reward” was sleepless nights, stressful days, and a tense home life. Those jobs are never boring, but when you look at the hourly compensation I was not doing all that well. I was pleased at the salary range and my show the range to my boss since my salary lists toward the lower end of the spectrum. I’m sure I can count on a good raise.

With a daughter a senior in high school and not sure what she wants to do I found the headline tempting. The then hot jobs vary greatly in requirements and could take up to six years to get a degree pushing the limits on projected growth projections. I question whether the health-related professions listed will ultimately be lucrative enough to pay back the massive loans required to achieve the college degree (assuming Mom and Dad aren’t footing the bill) or whether a career as a “social media manager” has any longevity. At some point all of these social media flashes fizzle. What ever happened to My Space?

The authors “filtered” their review to “represent a range of industries and educational requirements. I would really be interested in unfiltered views perhaps ranked in different ways like demand, salary, growth projection, etc.

I have to admit to some disappointment, not surprise, that blogging was not a career in demand or that pays well (if at all). I would be nice if this labor of love turned into a labor of love and some income. If everyone who reads this will tell 20,000 of their closest friends I may be able to attract some tasteful advertising.

While growing in utero we have a warm, moist, dark, comfortable environment for most of our stay. It gets rather crowded the last month or so before we are pushed out and move into our brief stint in the bassinet. That doesn’t last long as our folks need their sleep too so after a few weeks we are introduced to our crib. Unless a little brother or sister comes early we enjoy our crib for a couple of years before the “big bed.” This is way bigger than the crib so it often has rails so junior doesn’t roll off of the bed too often. The big bed is a big stage for the parents too as princess can easily escape. If there is a big family and few rooms the big bed is even bigger, but you have to share it with a sibling…never a fun thing as I recall from my childhood especially if you are the younger of the two.

Getting your own bed is a big deal whether it’s going straight from the crib or being set free from your brother into your own space. I consider sharing a twin bed akin to having your own single mattress. Many of us spend the next twenty years in this single bed status; even going to college doesn’t free us though the mattresses are much worse.

The next stage is another big leap in life’s journey as you move from the single to the double or full sized bed. I have to admit to being confused between the nomenclature of the sizes here, but the size differential is significant. You have room to stretch out or share it with someone. When you are young you probably are more interested in sharing than having room. Some folks skip this step and move on to the bigger sizes, but they really miss something. Sharing a double bed with someone you love is something special.

Unfortunately the novelty wears off hence the Queen mattress. My wife and I got our first queen mattress years ago. I never had experienced that much space before and came to love it. It also was nice as it had enough room for visits from our children (some wanted and some not). Saturday mornings were nice as they would often wake up and all end up in bed with us.

A few years ago (around 18 years of marriage) we needed a new mattress and my wife suggested a King Sized Bed (notice the capital letters). That seemed extreme to me. Why did we need such a big bed?  Were we now Rob and Laura Petrie?  The Queen was fine for me. As we shopped for the king bed (notice that I lost) we went to a local manufacturer that makes and sells their own models; If you have the spare time you could watch yours be built. Delivery day was a week later and the folks were good about taking the old mattress, box spring, and frame (they had a program to sanitize the old stuff to provide for needy families) before bringing in the KING. I hadn’t paid much attention, but was relieved to see that the box springs were in two pieces making them more moveable. Not so much with the mattress. I was impressed with how the guys managed the big mattress (they had it more or less folded in half) up the steps to our second floor bedroom. I should have noted how big that mattress was and how much fun I’d be having for the next decades flipping that thing around.

We of course needed all new bed sheets, etc. (as we did with each previous stage) and were forced to move some of our other furniture to accommodate the larger bed. Though it’s only marginally bigger than the queen it seems huge and it was love at first night. The early marriage desire to be next to each other is replaced by the love of space, glorious space. I can be lying half awake and not feel my wife get in and out of bed. The love of space is reinforced any time we have to sleep on a smaller mattress when we travel. If we are lucky we’ll spend many nights on this cloud of comfort before the next stage.

This stage often starts the end years where we may be forced to move back to a smaller mattress to keep on one floor or even a hospital-type bed. This sized mattress is less about status and more about need. Perhaps if you are lucky to have your spouse still at your side you’ll have that double mattress in your retirement patio home and enjoy the closeness for many years.

I really don’t want to delve too deeply into our final resting place. I still feel young enough not to be too concerned, but since I have some family members who are already gone or who are getting  much older. Life’s journey seems to somewhat parallel our sleeping arrangements for better or worse, in sickness and in health…to death do us part.

As we prepared for the trip to the Burgh, we found out that the Batman movie was filming at Heinz Field all day so parking was going to be tricky.  We also found out that they were going to be finishing shooting right around when the Pirate game started.  Actually our trip in was fairly uneventful.  I parked across the river (“only” $20.00) and we had a nice walk to PNC Park, met up with my son, and went to our seats.  I no sooner sat down than two idiots behing me started screaming.  They were obviously drunk and stupid (neiter appeared to be fat).  The game had not even started, yet they were, in my opinion a little over the top, but they paid.  Unfortunately for me we were in a general admission area that was full so there was no place to go.  I felt rather trapped, it was hot, it was humid, I really don’t like crowds, and I had two drunks behind me.  The makings of a great evening, right?

I didn’t feel like I could say anything to the drunk bros, but it didn’t take long for them to cross the line and drop some F-Bombs.  There were younger kids around and my daughters were there too.  Someone said something to the dolt about swearing, but he brushed it off with “they’ve probably heard it before.”  That’s when I turned around and suggested that I didn’t want to hear it again and I certainly did not want to have it said in front of my daughters.  I firmly asked for their cooperation.  They were more subdued after that.  I think it was more that their drunk was wearing off than my admonition. 

I wish that I could say that the game got better, but…

• It was late in the game the Pirates were down by 12 and the pitcher was taking his time as if it was close game.
• A Pirate pitcher gave up a Grand Slam w/two out by guy w/ 0.105 batting avg.
• Even the drunks stopped yelling
• Now up to 8 losses in row
• Did I mention that it was really hot and humid?

The game dragged on and I wondered why the MLB doesn’t have a 10 run rule.  There was no way that the Pirates were coming back and at some point everybody really just wanted to see Train and the fireworks.  The Pirate organization has become masterful and filling the stadium with gimmicks.  This game was sold out primarily because of Train and the fireworks.  Unlike the baseball players, Train was very entertaining and the fireworks were spectacular.  We love our fireworks in Pittsburgh.  I think that we have a fantastic skyline in the Burgh to act as a backdrop.  The set fireworks off of barges in the river, there were fireworks from one of the bridges, they had some set up on the field, and they even had some really cool ones set off from the top of the skyscrapers.  That show was enough to mostly drown out the exceedingly poor play of the Pirates baseball team.

You can read the orignial post here.

“Let the Fourth of July always be a reminder that here in this land, for the first time, it was decided that man is born with certain God-given rights; that government is only a convenience created and managed by the people, with no powers of its own except those voluntarily granted to it by the people. We sometimes forget that great truth, and we never should. Happy Fourth of July.”

                                   — Ronald Reagan

 “The truth is that neither then nor at any former time, since I had attained my maturity in Age, Reading and reflection had I imbibed any general Prejudice against Kings, or in favour of them. It appeared to me then as it has done ever since, that there is a State of Society in which a Republican Government is the best, and in America the only one…”

                                    — John Adams

“The flames kindled on the Fourth of July 1776, have spread over too much of the globe to be extinguished by the feeble engines of despotism; on the contrary, they will consume these engines and all who work them.”

                                   — Thomas Jefferson

“This new world hath been the asylum for the persecuted lovers of civil and religious liberty from every part of Europe. Hither have they fled, not from the tender embraces of the mother, but from the cruelty of the monster; and it is so far true of England, that the same tyranny which drove the first emigrants from home, pursues their descendants still.”

                                  — Thomas Paine

 ”Taxes are not levied for the benefit of the taxed.”

                                  — Robert A. Heinlein

“The only security men can have for their political liberty, consists in keeping their money in their own pockets …”

                                 — Lysander Spooner

“The American Republic will endure, until politicians realize they can bribe the people with their own money.”

     — Alexis de Tocqueville 

“The struggle for freedom … is not the struggle of the many against the few, but of minorities — sometimes of a minority of but one man — against the majority.”

                                — Ludwig von Mises

“Let us have faith that right makes might, and in that faith let us to the end dare to do our duty as we understand it.”

                                — Abraham Lincoln

“Man will ultimately be governed by God or by tyrants.”

                                — Benjamin Franklin

“The Constitution requires that Congress treat similarly situated persons similarly, not that it engages in gestures of superficial equality.”

                               — William H. Rehnquist

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with inherent and inalienable rights; that among these, are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness; that to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed;”

                              — Thomas Jefferson

“Society in every state is a blessing, but government even in its best state is but a necessary evil; in its worst state an intolerable one; for when we suffer, or are exposed to the same miseries by a government, which we might expect in a country without government, our calamity is heightened by reflecting that we furnish the means by which we suffer.”

                              – Thomas Paine

“It is not my intention to do away with government. It is, rather, to make it work — work with us, not over us; to stand by our side, not ride on our back.  Government can and must provide opportunity, not smother it; foster productivity, not stifle it. It is no coincidence that our present troubles parallel and are proportionate to the intervention and intrusion in our lives that result from unnecessary and excessive growth of government. … We shall reflect the compassion that is so much a part of your makeup. How can we love our country and not love our countrymen, and loving them, not reach out a hand when they fall, heal them when they are sick, and provide opportunities to make them self-sufficient so they will be equal in fact and not just in theory? … We are a nation under God, and I believe God intended for us to be free. It would be fitting and good, I think, if on each Inauguration Day in future years it should be declared a day of prayer.”

                            — Ronald Reagan

Many of these quotes were from daily emails from Liberty Quotes.  This is a great way to get a dose of the thoughts of some great thinkers.

The ceremony was full of pomp and circumstance befitting the achievements of the now former students. Professors in robes, loud trumpets blared, and around 250 graduated in their blue cap and gowns. Speeches were made and diplomas (really just place holders until the real ones are mailed this week) were handed out. The university is a Catholic school and I would say fairly conservative for a college these days and this was the graduation from only the business school which, in general, is even a little more conservative.

The choice to deliver the commencement speech was a woman CEO from a local, large, non-profit organization. She began her speech with a somewhat brief history of her climb to her current pinnacle. It was somewhat interesting though perhaps too much about her. This is where it started to get bizarre for me. As a businesswoman she started discussing the disparity between what men make and what women make in the business world. She joked that during her time in the workforce that the gap had closed, but only by a few percentage points. She told the young women that perhaps by the time they were her age they would make as much as their male counterparts.

These very inspiring words for the new graduates who were both female and male were followed by a litany of liberal talking points that left me with my head shaking in disbelief. She discussed/mentioned global warming, childhood obesity, global population, the increase in diabetes in the United States, the poor state of the American health care system, unethical businessmen, UFOs, 9/11, and whether the CIA killed JFK. Okay the last few were exaggerated, but she chose some bizarre topics for a commencement speech. She did end on a somewhat more typical and expected topic, but overall she probably contributed to a few calls to the mental crisis center.

The day was “saved” by the words of the school’s dean as he offered encouraging words and a little humor to his graduating class. I was thankful, but wondered if it was just me. My daughter sat next to me and I caught her watching my reaction to some of the talking points. She doesn’t read FramingTheDialogue, but she hears enough around the house to get my point of view. I think that she thought I would just get up and leave. I felt the notion, but I have gotten used to folks politicizing events inappropriately. When the ceremony was over I casually mentioned the speech to my son and he had a similar reaction to mine. I also ran into an old high school and college classmate of mine as we were taking pictures who had the same reaction.

Perhaps the best lesson for the students was how this business “leader” chose to dwell in the past and politics rather than strictly focus on encouraging the anxious students on their path into the real world. I don’t know anything about her (other than the details that she shared), but she didn’t strike me as a leader that I’d follow and perhaps a poor choice for a commencement address.

By the way we celebrated at Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse and consumed large quantities of tender grilled beef. The food was great and the irony was lost on me until now that we supported the beef industry and their methane gas-producing cows…though the cow we ate will pass gas no more.

I was reading the paper one day and saw an advertisement for retread tires as a low cost alternative to brand new tires.  With retreads you kind of know what you are getting, a used tire with a face-lift.  The dealer was near one of my stops so I dropped in one afternoon to check them out.  I was very surprised at the number of models that they have:

1. The McCain:  It’s been used many times, is strong on defensive driving, but veres left far too often.
2. The Romney:  It is a very shiney model, low road noise, has pulled left a number of times.  The dealer explained that I may get stuck with the Romney as it was its turn to run.
3. The Huckabee:  Doesn’t look as pretty as the Romney and many reviewers are cautious about its true identity.  Seems like a McCain light.
4. The Donald:  A very brash model with striking tread, though it is very obvious that it is a retread.  This model grabs the road to take you on a trip you’ll love, but one has to question whether the retread is all show and will not far well in the long run.  May be a little thin skinned.
5. The Paul:  I liked a lot about this model though some find it a flaky retread.  It has been around for a while and never really gained strong popularity except for a small group of enthusiasts.  Rumor is that it won’t leave the driveway.
6. The Bush:  The second of the second generation of the Bush retread.  Though promising it is not ready for production.
7. The Palin:  Like the Paul this model has a very strong, yet small following, but also has a very strong yet small group of critics.  This model is not really ready for the main wheels yet, but the treat of a Palin on the horizon may keep the production of the other models in check.
8. The Bachman:  My favorite model that I looked at though it may not have enough tread just yet.  The top tires get all of the billing.
9. The Pawlenty:  Bachman lite.
10. The Chrisite:  This is a concept model.  I would be very excited about this model.  Brash like the trump, strong like the Bachman, yet had plenty of tread to handle the job.  This model is not yet available.

Perhaps I’ll wait until next year to make my decision.  Other models may be available.  I heard that the Cain, West, or Jindal models may be available then.