Are You Not Entertained?

The Chosen One seems to have encountered a few... let's call them impediments... on his journey toward destiny. It seems the woman he married (that's her just there to the right) has proven insufficient to meet the needs of his Chosenhood and he found it necessary to sate himself elsewhere. Many elsewheres, as it turns out.

Like the vast majority of people out there, this story had little interest for me until just this morning when, on the ride into work, I caught a few things being said about Chosen One that defied credulity. These were not statements regarding resently revealed trists, rather, they are statements made many years ago when he broke onto the sports scene like a tiger attacking an antelope. What follows are statements that were captured in either interviews or other recorded events over the years. I think they paint a rather vivid picture of the standard that the Chosen One was expected to uphold.

Interviewer: "Do you see yourself as a leader, a Gandhi or a Nelson Mandela?"
Tiger Woods (21 years old): "I will have more impact than Gandhi or Nelson Mandela because I will have a larger forum than both of them."

Tiger Woods: "I know I can handle all this, no matter how big it gets."

Earl Woods (Tiger's father): "Tiger is going to be the bridge between the East and West. He plays a sport that is international. There is no limit to what he can achieve because he has the guidance."

Earl Woods: "Tiger will do more than any other man in history to change the course of humanity,"
Sports Illustrated: "Mr. Woods? Do you mean more than Joe Louis and Jackie Robinson, more than Muhammad Ali and Arthur Ashe?
Early Woods: "More than any of them because he's more charismatic, more educated, more prepared for this than anyone."
Sports Illustrated: "Anyone, Mr. Woods? Your son will have more impact than Nelson Mandela, more than Gandhi, more than Buddha?"
Early Woods: "Yes, because he has a larger forum than any of them. Because he's playing a sport that's international. Because he's qualified through his ethnicity to accomplish miracles. He's the bridge between the East and the West. There is no limit because he has the guidance. I don't know yet exactly what form this will take. But he is the Chosen One. He'll have the power to impact nations. Not people. Nations. The world is just getting a taste of his power."

Earl Woods (during a speech at a dinner): "Please forgive me, but sometimes I get very emotional when I talk about my son. My heart fills with so much joy when I realise that this young man is going to help so many people. He will transcend golf and bring to the world a humanitarianism which has never been known before. The world will be a better place to live, by virtue of his existence and his presence. I acknowledge only a small part in that, in that I know I was personally selected by God to nurture this young man and bring him to the point where can make his contribution to humanity. This is my treasure. Please accept it and use it wisely. Thank you."

Tiger Woods: “I think it's an honor to be a role model to one person or maybe more than that. If you are given a chance to be a role model, I think you should always take it because you can influence a person's life in a positive light, and that's what I want to do. That's what it's all about.”

Tiger Woods: "My main focus is on my game."

Gleno: "Yes, but which game?"

Tiger Woods: "If you can't laugh at yourself, then who can you laugh at?"

Gleno: "Well, we can laugh at you, apparently."

Just what is it that drives celebrities to do self-destructive things? Why is that those people who have it all (I did mention that the woman in that picture is his wife, right?) seem to exhibit an irrational desire to risk it all? Is it boredom? Is it the lust for adventure? Is it a feeling of invulnerability? At what point do you begin to believe all the absurd, obsequious, kowtowing drivel that people tell you?

It seems apparent that Tiger began to believe it at a very young age indeed. Clearly, his father raised him to think he was indeed the Christ-Child. Did that contribute to Tiger's actions? Did he really think himself invulnerable or did he just want us to think he was?

And most importantly of all, do we, should we care?

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Keep Your Laws Off of My Body... Unless...

Here's a good one. I just found this out a short time ago. In 1984, Al Gore helped rush the National Organ Transplant Act of 1984 into law. That law makes it illegal for anyone to offer one of their organs, most notably, one of their kidneys to another person in return for any kind of payment.

OK, so here is a law established by the Federal Government that is designed to tell you what you can do with your own literal physical body. The law, proponents state, helps to "protect" poor people from "exploitation." Apparently, according to this mindset, if you make under a certain number of dollars per year, you are categorized as too stupid to make decisions for your own well-being and thus, the government needs to do this for you.

What's absolutely unfathomably absurd about this law is that it was sponsored by Al Gore, one of the leading political pro-abortionists of the last 20 years, a man who has actively worked to protect a woman's choice of whether or not to kill a living person in their wombs.

Kill your unborn kid? Hey, it's your choice and the government shouldn't have any say.
Sell your kidney? Hey, you can't do that. It's unethical.

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Oh WoW

Pirates of the Caribbean

I've been woefully slow in getting this posted, but every time I sat down to attempt an entry, I'd be distracted by dangling string or shiny objects. This time, I'm forcing myself to write.

From November 16th to the 23rd, Janet, Benjamin and I, accompanied by Janet's father and aunt, took a Caribbean cruise. It was a much needed vacation and we had a very good time.

We booked on Norwegian Cruise Lines for this, our third cruise. I was very much looking forward to it based on the experiences I'd had on the previous two cruises. However, this time, I have to say that the experience was somewhat tarnished and my expectations of enjoyment were left a bit disappointed.

The best part of the cruise, as I had anticipated, was the snorkeling and watching Ben on the ship and at the beach. A few months ago, when I turned to Janet and suddenly declared I wanted to go on a cruise, it was the desire to once again go snorkeling that prompted the decision. Having Ben with us on this vacation made it all the more fun. Certainly, he made it much more challenging -- meals in particular are always more interesting with a baby -- but we were blessed to have the full support of Auntie Patsy. She was our hero when it came to helping with Benjamin.

In the interest of keeping this post of reasonable size, I'll recount one brief story that will no doubt be one of my favorite memories for all time. We were in the most upscale restaurant on the ship enjoying delicious steaks when Ben began to get rowdy. He was sitting to my left in a wheeled high chair. We had a series of distractions: babyfood, his bottle, toys, keys, etc. that we hoped would keep him occupied through dinner. Eventually, the novelty of each one wore off and he returned to throwing things off his high chair and being noisy. Having many times seen kids making far too much noise and parents do far too little to reign them in, I am rather sensitive to how much noise Ben makes in public. I felt like he was approaching that point where one of us would have to leave the restaurant with him. Not something I was particularly looking foward to.

The maitre d' came over to inquire if we were satifisied with our meals and service and if there was anything he could do for us. I said, "This guy next to me is making an awful lot of noise. Can you throw him out?" He called over one of the waitresses and instructed her to "take Monsieur for a ride." At that, she wheeled Benjamin away from the table and across the restaurant. Ben's face immediately lit up. Ben and the waitress then visited every table in the restaurant where he was able to make liberal use of his favorite word: "Hi!"

He made the rounds like a politician running for office. He spent a fair amount of time at each table, with the couples and families at each exclaiming how cute he was (he really was), and chatting away with him in his own little language. He never outstayed his welcome and he quickly moved on to visit the next table and to chat up the guests seated there. Some twenty minutes later, he returned to our table, very happy indeed, and just in time for a little ice cream for dessert.

In general, the weather was great, the many beaches, the shopping, the tours, were all fantastic, but there was one thing that, I personally felt, left a taint on the entire experience. In the two previous cruises we've taken, I felt like we were treated like royalty. That was what I anticipated on this cruise as well. However, instead of this being the case, I felt like we were being "nicked and dimed" by the cruise line.

Unlike the previous trips, Norwegian suddenly had all sorts of extra charges that I hadn't anticipated. During our first trip, all the food was phenomenal and it was all included. On the second trip, there were two restaurants that were considered "extra special" and they cost $10 per person to get in. This time, however, fully three-quarters of all the restaurants had a "cover charge" (some as high as $25 per person!) and the quality of the food in the standard restaurants was far inferior.

There are a number of other examples that really left me cold, but I'll not bore you with them here. Suffice to say, I won't be back on a cruise ship again, at least certainly not on Norwegian Cruise Lines. My complaints, when voiced to the front desk were dismissed entirely with a wave of, "That's the company's new policy." At an economic time when I'd expect to get more bang for my buck, not less, I found people banging on me constantly demanding more of my bucks.

I think I'm going to return to backpacking and hiking as my preferred vacation mode. At least that way I'm in charge of where I go and who I give my money to.

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When Clams Attack

A few weeks ago, Math Guy and I were chatting online when he pointed me toward a YouTube video of a group of tourists standing in waist deep water, surrounded by sharks. (This was a very apropos topic given my approaching Caribbean Cruise, for which I am scheduled to depart this very Saturday.) Given that the video exhibited (1) people and (2) sharks in a fairly confined aquatic space and notwithstanding the fact that (3) the video had been posted in the first place, it was no great shock to me when, at length, one of those toothy marine predators latched onto the leg of one of the tourists. (Why the tourist was surprised by this, I cannot say.)

Math Guy and I began to elucidate on the rather foolish nature of this endeavor and to postulate alternative places one could stand while minimizing the risk of a shark attack such as the one depicted in the video. I casually mentioned that one such place with an inherently low chance of shark attack was my kitchen. Math Guy found this amusing and the conversation continued. It is quite true, in point of fact, that in the fifty plus years my house has been standing, there has not been one reported (okay, well, substantiated) shark attack.

It then occured to me, however, that during that same time, there have been at least two reports of attacks by clams. As many kitchens (and beaches for that matter) are not the scene of clam attacks, I thought it might perhaps be useful to you the reader to retell the tales of those events here.

The most recent attack was prior to my taking ownership of Upham Manor. My late grandmother, "Nana", was shucking clams in the kitchen preparing supper for her and Papa. Seafood has always been a staple of my family, so this scene has been repeated many times. However, on this occasion, all at once, one particularly ornery specimen latched onto her finger and held there fast, refusing to be removed. Nana fought valiantly against the cantakerous quahog but to no avail. She prodded it with a knife. She ran it under cold water. Then hot water. She even stood with her hand in the freezer for several minutes trying to cause the clam to loosen its grip.

In the end, much to her embarrassment and chagrin, she tip-toed into the parlor and quietly informed my Papa of her predicament. This was in many ways worse than the pain she endured from the clam because Papa had earlier admonished her, "You no toucha the clams until I come in and-a helpa you a-clean them," or words to that effect. He made himself comfortable in his chair and proceeded to watch Perry Mason until such time came to help make supper.

But now, seeing the stubborn mollusk upon his wife's finger, he grew very upset. Through a stream of Italian castigation, he led Nana into the kitchen. Using his pocket knife first to crack open the shell and then cut at the muscle, he managed to dislodge the clam and free his wife from shackles of the cockle.


A few years prior to this event, there was another incident of an attack by -- or, this time, rather -- with clams. This is one of those stories you hear all of your life as you grow up, but you just can't quite decide whether you want to allow yourself to believe it -- largely because it's your father doing the telling. However, since my mother recently corroborated it, it has been entered into the history of Upham Manor as fact. (I shall recount here my father's version of the tale, as it carries with it more action, drama, and impending litigation.)

It happened that on a certain day, some forty-odd years ago, my father arrived at Upham Manor with two precious parcels upon his person: Firstly, a diamond engagement ring he wished to bestow upon my mother; and secondly (and of only slightly less importance) a large bag of steamers he purposed to impart to Nana as a gift.

He entered the kitchen of Upham Manor where he found my mother and her young nephew. He gave the boy the bag of clams and said, "Here, take these into the parlor and give them to your Nana. She will be very excited to have them." The lad, my cousin, promptly ambled off with the bag of steamers as directed. My father, being then left alone with my mother, went to bended knee and romantically requested my mother's hand in marriage. Delighted, she accepted the proposal, and the two held fast in the fond embrace of a kiss.

It was at this point Nana entered the kitchen, bag of clams in hand. Seeing her youngest daughter daring to kiss this man in her own kitchen, she drew the bag of clams back and brought them down heavily upon the head of my father. My father, being rendered incapacitated for a moment, fell to the floor, a large knot welling on his head.

My mother, however, still with the glee of a young lass who has accepted a proposal of marriage, cried out to my grandmother, "Ma! Look! He asked me to marry him!" Nana, then seeing clearly the diamond upon my mother's finger, was over come with joy at this event. She hugged my mother and celebrated with her through tears of joy. My father also in tears, albeit not of joy, remained prostrate upon the floor as my mother and grandmother, in Italian tradition, poured cordials and toasted the occasion.

As I grew up, any time Nana had gotten the better of my Dad, I can remember him telling Nana that the court case was going to come up one of these days and that one day he'd have his revenge. (The wheels of justice move very, very slow.)

And thus is the telling of the history of Upham Manor. If you should ever visit , you might find, sitting on the windowsill in the kitchen a small bottle of liquid labelled "Clam Repellent".

One can never be too careful.


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Tales from the Chat Logs

Math Guy: For reasons that I will not go into, I was reviewing the CDC's advice on what to do in the event of a radiation emergency. I was shocked to find that you were never told to get a crowbar so that you will be ready for the zombies that always result from such an accident. That's quite an oversight.

Math Guy: Also, when you beat a zombie in the head with a crowbar, why does it always sound like you are punching a pillow?

Math Guy: Just a thought to start your day

Gleno: Zombies. Expect them.

Math Guy: Don't waste ammo on them. Crowbars are always your best bet

Gleno: Correct, because -

Gleno: when have you ever seen just one zombie??

Math Guy: Pairs...always in pairs

Math Guy: They are dead, but social

Gleno: Gregarious ghouls.

Math Guy: They are not much with conversation, but they always bring great nachos

Gleno: You can always count on a zombie to be the designated driver.

Math Guy: They are loyal. They will follow you anywhere. However, they are NOT good swim buddies.

Gleno: Zombies will listen quietly to your opinion.

Math Guy: They do not judge. You're right there

Gleno: Zombies do not have a short temper. When was the last time you saw a zombie get upset?

Math Guy: They are not a drain on society either. No healthcare needs. They neither eat or drink (except blood). They never speeak out of turn.

Gleno: You know that's a very good point. I've never been interrupted by a zombie.

Math Guy: Granted, all they do is shuffle around and moan, but how is that different from an 80 year old Chinese man?

Gleno: They are different in that zombies, as they shuffle around, do not have their hands clasped behind their back.

Math Guy: You have a real gift for observation

Gleno: Zombies also tend toward not wearing hats.

Math Guy: Zombies never seem to even imply that they may be enjoying themselves while shuffling

Gleno: Zombies never take the last piece of pie.

Math Guy: They may eat the dog, but the pie is left on the table right where you left it

Gleno: [nods sagely]

Math Guy: I have never seen a zombie that likes the Yankees

Math Guy: Or the Canadiens

Math Guy: Or the Cowboys

Gleno: I really like that about zombies.

Math Guy: Or the Lakers

Gleno: That's major points in my book.

Math Guy: The pie thing is important to me

Math Guy: I like pie

Gleno: Oh, totally.

Gleno: How can you not like pie?

Math Guy: [shrugs]

Math Guy: A zombie enver tries to steal your girl (for romantic reasons)

Gleno: You can trust a zombie with money.

Gleno: "Dude, this is my last fiver. Please hold onto this for me? Don't spend it."

Math Guy: A zombie will hold your kite all day.

Gleno: Crowbars. Definitely the way to go.

One World Scam

Watch this recent video and read this brief article from the Wall Street Journal.