Griping about the workplace is as American as apple pie. It is also a proven means of maintaining one's sanity in Cubicle World, behind the counter at the shop, and especially in the military. One of the best bits in the movie M*A*S*H is the sergeant's consistent response to Hawkeye's and Trapper's hi-jinks - "G-d Army! G-d, G-d Army!" I echoed that for three years.
Apparently, griping is not allowed in the Central Bucks School District. A high school English teacher there described her students as "disengaged, lazy whiners" in a private blog. Alas, nothing is private in the Blogosphere. The School Board got wind of her comments and suspended her. A School Board member commented, "We should pay more attention to the accomplishments of this high-achieving District and less to the immature rants of an inexperienced young woman who has spent less than eight semesters in the classroom."
Parents, send your kids to Central Bucks schools. It must be Pennsylvania's version of "Lake Wobegone where the women are strong, the men are beautiful and all the children are above average". And there are no disengaged, lazy, whiny teenagers! Nothing but high-achievers here, thank you very much.
My guess, though, is that there may be just a few disengaged, lazy, whiny students in that District. If the School Board had a recorder in the Teachers' Lounge, they would have enough evidence to suspend the entire faculty on charges of Felonius Griping.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
A Killer Recruiting Pitch
A college Admissions Director's lot is not a happy one especially at this time of year. Acceptance letters are out and the heat is on to corral "the best freshman class ever". But what closing argument can an AD make to that all-star student whose parents are rich enough to donate a new Quadrangle (making the original one an Octagonal. Take that, Harvard!)?
The standard recruiting arguments have been done to death. "Every one of our pre-meds last year was accepted into Medical School (granted it was a Medical School in Honduras)." "None of our alumni who became a Fortune 500 CEO is currently in jail." "Our entire campus is on Wi-Fi now that we pirated coverage from the Starbucks down the street."
The sharper Admissions Directors will take a clue from today's news. Prince William and Kate Middleton made an appearance yesterday at their alma mater, St Andrew's University in Scotland. St Andrews' administrators noted that 10% of the undergraduate student relationships there result in marriage. Now, there is a killer recruiting argument. "We may be in a location where it rains or snows 90% of the academic year. Your child will be isolated on campus with zero social life outside our walls. But, due to this, your child will graduate with that sought-after MRS along with her AB! And maybe to a prince which is a lot better than to a wizard or a witch like at our rival Hogwarts."
That argument would close the deal for me. Any old college can offer gourmet dining options, a better-equipped gym than LA Fitness, or dorm suites more luxurious than the Ritz, but a shot at conjugal bliss with a prince (or a babe like Kate Middleton) would have me writing out tuition checks to your school.
The standard recruiting arguments have been done to death. "Every one of our pre-meds last year was accepted into Medical School (granted it was a Medical School in Honduras)." "None of our alumni who became a Fortune 500 CEO is currently in jail." "Our entire campus is on Wi-Fi now that we pirated coverage from the Starbucks down the street."
The sharper Admissions Directors will take a clue from today's news. Prince William and Kate Middleton made an appearance yesterday at their alma mater, St Andrew's University in Scotland. St Andrews' administrators noted that 10% of the undergraduate student relationships there result in marriage. Now, there is a killer recruiting argument. "We may be in a location where it rains or snows 90% of the academic year. Your child will be isolated on campus with zero social life outside our walls. But, due to this, your child will graduate with that sought-after MRS along with her AB! And maybe to a prince which is a lot better than to a wizard or a witch like at our rival Hogwarts."
That argument would close the deal for me. Any old college can offer gourmet dining options, a better-equipped gym than LA Fitness, or dorm suites more luxurious than the Ritz, but a shot at conjugal bliss with a prince (or a babe like Kate Middleton) would have me writing out tuition checks to your school.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Justin to the Rescue
PBS and NPR face a dilemma. With funding cuts from the Feds (Thanks, Tea Party!), public TV and radio need even more on-air fund raisers. For those, they need more and better "premiums" to inspire donations "from viewers (and listeners) like you." Tote bags, umbrellas, and CD sets have been done to death. What is a starving public information provider to do?
Look to Justin Bieber, that's what! Justin announced this week that he is getting a haircut and that those precious clippings "would be auctioned off for charity." Here's your chance, PBS. Get a few locks of that fabulous Bieber mane and let the creative juices flow.
"For a $1,000 platinum sponsorship, you get the complete CD set of Big Bird's Greatest Hits, Washington Week In Review broadcast from your living room, and our undying gratitude. But wait, there's more! For a $10,000 super platinum sponsorship, you get all that plus a lock of Justin Bieber's hair with the original dandruff still attached. Your little Tiffany will be the envy of the 5th grade when she brings "a little piece of Justin" in for Show and Tell. And you'll be supporting public broadcasting."
After PBS and NPR go off the governmental dole and are rolling in cash due to Justin's generosity, it's just a matter of time until other worthy entities get into the act. "Blood supplies are critically low in this Holiday season. The American Red Cross requests donors immediately. The first 100 through our doors tomorrow get a lock of Justin Bieber's hair." The line at Red Cross headquarters would resemble that at Wal-Mart on Black Friday.
Let's not think small. The root cause of PBS's problem is the Federal government's deficit. What if the Feds claim eminent domain, seize Justin Bieber's head, and shave its hair? Is there $1.3 trillion worth of Justin there? With the Federal budget balanced, PBS, NPR, and the Red Cross will get their funding and we will avoid on-air fund raisers. It's a win-win.
The only potential problem is that Justin is Canadian, but we deserve some recompense after putting up with Celine Dion for all these years.
Look to Justin Bieber, that's what! Justin announced this week that he is getting a haircut and that those precious clippings "would be auctioned off for charity." Here's your chance, PBS. Get a few locks of that fabulous Bieber mane and let the creative juices flow.
"For a $1,000 platinum sponsorship, you get the complete CD set of Big Bird's Greatest Hits, Washington Week In Review broadcast from your living room, and our undying gratitude. But wait, there's more! For a $10,000 super platinum sponsorship, you get all that plus a lock of Justin Bieber's hair with the original dandruff still attached. Your little Tiffany will be the envy of the 5th grade when she brings "a little piece of Justin" in for Show and Tell. And you'll be supporting public broadcasting."
After PBS and NPR go off the governmental dole and are rolling in cash due to Justin's generosity, it's just a matter of time until other worthy entities get into the act. "Blood supplies are critically low in this Holiday season. The American Red Cross requests donors immediately. The first 100 through our doors tomorrow get a lock of Justin Bieber's hair." The line at Red Cross headquarters would resemble that at Wal-Mart on Black Friday.
Let's not think small. The root cause of PBS's problem is the Federal government's deficit. What if the Feds claim eminent domain, seize Justin Bieber's head, and shave its hair? Is there $1.3 trillion worth of Justin there? With the Federal budget balanced, PBS, NPR, and the Red Cross will get their funding and we will avoid on-air fund raisers. It's a win-win.
The only potential problem is that Justin is Canadian, but we deserve some recompense after putting up with Celine Dion for all these years.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
A Lost Opportunity
Forbes published a list of the ten best-paid women in entertainment in 2010. Heading the list is, of course, Oprah at a cool $315 million and that is before the launch of the Oprah Network. After all, $315 million isn't worth what it used to be. Gas prices are rising. Oprah must continue to strive to become "her very best self." I see her hauling in at least $500 million in 2011.
Beyonce is No. 2 on the list at $87 million which is no surprise. No. 3 is a shocker though. Britney Spears earned $64 million with "the fifth highest-grossing tour in the world and endorsement deals." Britney did everything she possibly could to scuttle her career and scare away sponsors a couple of years ago. Shaving her head, rehab, a 72 hour marriage, followed by a somewhat longer one to Kevin Federline that resulted in two kids in rapid succession would put Mother Teresa on a Celebrity Blacklist. Yet, the Britster overcame all that. Lindsay Lohan, there is hope! Butt of late night monologues one year, hauling in $64 million the next, it can happen.
The list continues with Lady Gaga, Madonna, and the usual suspects until we reach No. 9. At the $45 million mark, we have Taylor Swift tied with, of all people, Judge Judy. Now, Taylor Swift's popularity and earnings are understandable. Country music fans love her. Teen age girls whose hearts have been broken by the best-looking Jonas Brother identify with her. Those of us whose bodies weigh more than our hair envy her.
Despite all that, Judge Judy made as much as Taylor Swift last year. $45 million will buy a ton of lace collars for those robes. I'm not sure what a Supreme Court Justice makes in salary, but it is far short of $45 million. Plus, that whole Senate nomination approval thing is demeaning. One photo of you playing softball and you are labeled a lesbian.
As much as Lindsay Lohan takes hope from reading this list, Sonia Sotomayor looks at it as a lost opportunity. Sonia, you could be on syndicated TV every weekday making acerbic comments in a spunky New York accent and hauling in the big bucks.
Beyonce is No. 2 on the list at $87 million which is no surprise. No. 3 is a shocker though. Britney Spears earned $64 million with "the fifth highest-grossing tour in the world and endorsement deals." Britney did everything she possibly could to scuttle her career and scare away sponsors a couple of years ago. Shaving her head, rehab, a 72 hour marriage, followed by a somewhat longer one to Kevin Federline that resulted in two kids in rapid succession would put Mother Teresa on a Celebrity Blacklist. Yet, the Britster overcame all that. Lindsay Lohan, there is hope! Butt of late night monologues one year, hauling in $64 million the next, it can happen.
The list continues with Lady Gaga, Madonna, and the usual suspects until we reach No. 9. At the $45 million mark, we have Taylor Swift tied with, of all people, Judge Judy. Now, Taylor Swift's popularity and earnings are understandable. Country music fans love her. Teen age girls whose hearts have been broken by the best-looking Jonas Brother identify with her. Those of us whose bodies weigh more than our hair envy her.
Despite all that, Judge Judy made as much as Taylor Swift last year. $45 million will buy a ton of lace collars for those robes. I'm not sure what a Supreme Court Justice makes in salary, but it is far short of $45 million. Plus, that whole Senate nomination approval thing is demeaning. One photo of you playing softball and you are labeled a lesbian.
As much as Lindsay Lohan takes hope from reading this list, Sonia Sotomayor looks at it as a lost opportunity. Sonia, you could be on syndicated TV every weekday making acerbic comments in a spunky New York accent and hauling in the big bucks.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
The Phantom Sinus Condition
Punxsatawny Phil may have gotten it wrong this year. Three weeks after his prediction of an early spring, the dog and I continue to suffer frozen extremities during our morning walk. But do we complain? No! And it all goes back to Aunt Gladys and her Phantom Sinus Condition.
Aunt Gladys and my mother both worked at the Scranton Dry Goods Co from 1936 to 1946. "The Dry" was about 1.5 miles from the family homestead. That was a hefty hike in the winter especially wearing a skirt, and women all wore skirts to work in those days. The family didn't have a car. This was the Great Depression and WWII after all. There was bus service at $0.10 per ride. That doesn't sound like much today, but back then my mother only made about $12 per week and paying $1 of it for transit was out of the question. Remarkably, both Aunt Gladys and my mother gave their weekly pay to my grandmother who then doled out an allowance to them for their personal expenses. They were in their twenties at the time and living at home what with all the men off fighting the war. Imagine a 28 year old today giving her paycheck to her mom and living on an allowance.
Aunt Gladys decided she just couldn't brave those chilly winds and cold temperatures any more. She developed a "sinus condition" and had to take the bus to work. My mother always claimed that it was a phantom condition, but it fooled my grandmother. So my mother walked 1.5 miles every day in the chilling wind and snow while Aunt Gladys rode by in comfort, handkerchief to her nose.
Fast forward to 1963. It was about 1.5 miles from the family homestead to Central High School. The School District did not offer bus service, but students could get reduced bus fares (about $1.25 per week as I recall). This seemed like a good deal to me. "Mom, it's getting cold out. Can I have bus fare for the week?"
"I walked to "The Dry" in a skirt for ten years. The least you can do is walk to high school for two years. Who do you think you are? Aunt Gladys?"
Fats forward to 2011. The dog says to me (telepathically of course), "Dad, I'm freezing on these morning walks. Can't we just go on the treadmill or go to the Mall?"
"Who do you think you are? Aunt Gladys?", I reply (telepathically, of course). I don't think he understands though. Now, if he develops a sinus condition...
Aunt Gladys and my mother both worked at the Scranton Dry Goods Co from 1936 to 1946. "The Dry" was about 1.5 miles from the family homestead. That was a hefty hike in the winter especially wearing a skirt, and women all wore skirts to work in those days. The family didn't have a car. This was the Great Depression and WWII after all. There was bus service at $0.10 per ride. That doesn't sound like much today, but back then my mother only made about $12 per week and paying $1 of it for transit was out of the question. Remarkably, both Aunt Gladys and my mother gave their weekly pay to my grandmother who then doled out an allowance to them for their personal expenses. They were in their twenties at the time and living at home what with all the men off fighting the war. Imagine a 28 year old today giving her paycheck to her mom and living on an allowance.
Aunt Gladys decided she just couldn't brave those chilly winds and cold temperatures any more. She developed a "sinus condition" and had to take the bus to work. My mother always claimed that it was a phantom condition, but it fooled my grandmother. So my mother walked 1.5 miles every day in the chilling wind and snow while Aunt Gladys rode by in comfort, handkerchief to her nose.
Fast forward to 1963. It was about 1.5 miles from the family homestead to Central High School. The School District did not offer bus service, but students could get reduced bus fares (about $1.25 per week as I recall). This seemed like a good deal to me. "Mom, it's getting cold out. Can I have bus fare for the week?"
"I walked to "The Dry" in a skirt for ten years. The least you can do is walk to high school for two years. Who do you think you are? Aunt Gladys?"
Fats forward to 2011. The dog says to me (telepathically of course), "Dad, I'm freezing on these morning walks. Can't we just go on the treadmill or go to the Mall?"
"Who do you think you are? Aunt Gladys?", I reply (telepathically, of course). I don't think he understands though. Now, if he develops a sinus condition...
Monday, February 21, 2011
Prime Shootin' Age
Yesterday's newspaper included a photo captioned, "Members of the Sons of Confederate Veterans fire their rifles Saturday following a re-enactment of the 1861 swearing-in ceremony of Confederate President Jefferson Davis on the steps of the Alabama State Capitol."
I'll accept any old excuse to join up with a group and propel a blank bullet into the air with black gunpowder over a crowd of bystanders. What could go wrong? Oh, some bozo could actually load a live round into his rifle? Or some other clown could pack damp powder and have it ignite late right in his face? Can't happen, Bubba! These are the Sons of Confederate Veterans! The Civil War (or as we call it down here The War Between the States) has only been over for 145 years or so. Let's figure that these boys are the sons of your younger actual Confederate veterans. If their Daddys lived 70 years after the War and had these boys at age 90 or so, the lads firing off these muskets are only 75. That's prime shootin' age.
As much fun as it is to dress up, fire a gun, and play Confederate soldier, celebrating the 150th anniversary of the beginning of a war that killed thousands is inappropriate. Remembering those who didn't come home with Memorial Day (or Confederate Veteran's Day in the South) is much better. And the Sons of Confederate Veterans Honor Guard can fire their guns in the air after they play "Taps".
I'll accept any old excuse to join up with a group and propel a blank bullet into the air with black gunpowder over a crowd of bystanders. What could go wrong? Oh, some bozo could actually load a live round into his rifle? Or some other clown could pack damp powder and have it ignite late right in his face? Can't happen, Bubba! These are the Sons of Confederate Veterans! The Civil War (or as we call it down here The War Between the States) has only been over for 145 years or so. Let's figure that these boys are the sons of your younger actual Confederate veterans. If their Daddys lived 70 years after the War and had these boys at age 90 or so, the lads firing off these muskets are only 75. That's prime shootin' age.
As much fun as it is to dress up, fire a gun, and play Confederate soldier, celebrating the 150th anniversary of the beginning of a war that killed thousands is inappropriate. Remembering those who didn't come home with Memorial Day (or Confederate Veteran's Day in the South) is much better. And the Sons of Confederate Veterans Honor Guard can fire their guns in the air after they play "Taps".
Friday, February 18, 2011
The Cap'n Crunch Diet
Sure signs of Spring include budding trees, potholes in the roads, the reappearance of all those dog droppings hidden in the snow since January, and inane stories from baseball camps in Florida. Those writers enjoying 70 degree temperatures in the Sunshine State have to justify their existence.
The big news from the Yankees training camp this week was the remarkably svelte appearance of star pitcher C.C. Sabathia. C.C. weighed in at well over 300 lbs last year, but is beginning 2011 at least thirty pounds lighter. In the finest tradition of investigative journalism, Yankee beat writers questioned him on his weight loss method. C.C. replied, "I gave up Cap'n Crunch cereal."
Take that, South Beach and Dr Atkins! The key to dropping one tenth of your body weight is foregoing the Cap'n.
It is possible that C.C. was pulling the writers' collective leg. When you earn more than $20 million per year, you can get away with a lot. He may also be following the comedic lead of pro footballer Marshawn Lynch. When Marshawn was asked how he dropped about 40 lbs last off-season, he replied, "I gave up tequila."
Whether C.C. still hits the tequila and whether Marshawn remains a fan of Cap'n Crunch is unknown. If that is the case, should either athlete give up both Jose Curvo and the Cap'n, they might shrink away to nothingness.
The big news from the Yankees training camp this week was the remarkably svelte appearance of star pitcher C.C. Sabathia. C.C. weighed in at well over 300 lbs last year, but is beginning 2011 at least thirty pounds lighter. In the finest tradition of investigative journalism, Yankee beat writers questioned him on his weight loss method. C.C. replied, "I gave up Cap'n Crunch cereal."
Take that, South Beach and Dr Atkins! The key to dropping one tenth of your body weight is foregoing the Cap'n.
It is possible that C.C. was pulling the writers' collective leg. When you earn more than $20 million per year, you can get away with a lot. He may also be following the comedic lead of pro footballer Marshawn Lynch. When Marshawn was asked how he dropped about 40 lbs last off-season, he replied, "I gave up tequila."
Whether C.C. still hits the tequila and whether Marshawn remains a fan of Cap'n Crunch is unknown. If that is the case, should either athlete give up both Jose Curvo and the Cap'n, they might shrink away to nothingness.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Contemplating Clutter
Roadside clutter is revealed now that the snows are melting. Natural things like tree branches and man-made things like gloves and fast food wrappings show up on my daily drives. Sometimes I see things that might have a fascinating story behind them.
A pet carrier sat alongside Bushkill Drive yesterday. It probably just fell empty from a pasing car, but what if? Imagine Fido or Fluffy feeling safe inside as the pet owner motored on down the road. The car hit a pothole (Now there's an unusual occurence!) and the pet carrier flips onto the roadside. The gate opens and Fido or Fluffy is alone in a cold, unfamiliar world.
Call me sentimental, but the sight of that abandoned pet carrier made me sad.
Years ago, a famous TV commercial showed a teary-eyed Native American surveying a litter-spoiled landscape. That commercial would have been more effective had the producers tossed in an abandoned pet carrier.
A pet carrier sat alongside Bushkill Drive yesterday. It probably just fell empty from a pasing car, but what if? Imagine Fido or Fluffy feeling safe inside as the pet owner motored on down the road. The car hit a pothole (Now there's an unusual occurence!) and the pet carrier flips onto the roadside. The gate opens and Fido or Fluffy is alone in a cold, unfamiliar world.
Call me sentimental, but the sight of that abandoned pet carrier made me sad.
Years ago, a famous TV commercial showed a teary-eyed Native American surveying a litter-spoiled landscape. That commercial would have been more effective had the producers tossed in an abandoned pet carrier.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
The Petunia Effect
The headline read, "Home Depot Hiring for Spring Rush". Each Home Depot expects to hire an additional 25 to 30 employees to handle "Spring Black Friday". The article noted, "A year ago, two-for-one petunias and other price cuts drew more customers."
Once more, the legendary Petunia Effect comes into play. Obama missed the boat by concentrating on "shovel-ready" infrastructure improvements with his economic stimulus package. Tax cuts for the wealthy? Trickle-down economics? Both are failures. Clearly, the path to full employment is lined with two-for-one petunias.
Like all marketing breakthroughs ("A bald guy with a gold earring is going to convince housewives to buy our cleaning product? Come on now!"), the Petunia Effect took courage to implement. Imagine the scene at Home Depot headquarters last year at this time:
"Spring Rush 2010 may be the worst ever for Home Depot. After buying food, people have no money to buy stainless steel grills to cook it on. What can we do?"
"Let's offer two-for-one petunias! Nothing says Spring like a flower with a funny name. People will flock to our stores. While they are there, they will want to buy garden gnomes and birdbaths to accent their petunia patch. We will clean up!"
And so it happened.
Once more, the legendary Petunia Effect comes into play. Obama missed the boat by concentrating on "shovel-ready" infrastructure improvements with his economic stimulus package. Tax cuts for the wealthy? Trickle-down economics? Both are failures. Clearly, the path to full employment is lined with two-for-one petunias.
Like all marketing breakthroughs ("A bald guy with a gold earring is going to convince housewives to buy our cleaning product? Come on now!"), the Petunia Effect took courage to implement. Imagine the scene at Home Depot headquarters last year at this time:
"Spring Rush 2010 may be the worst ever for Home Depot. After buying food, people have no money to buy stainless steel grills to cook it on. What can we do?"
"Let's offer two-for-one petunias! Nothing says Spring like a flower with a funny name. People will flock to our stores. While they are there, they will want to buy garden gnomes and birdbaths to accent their petunia patch. We will clean up!"
And so it happened.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Hygiene Class Dropout
The Scranton School District required one period per week of Hygiene instruction from 7th through 12th grade. We were hoping for Sex Education (fat chance of that in the early 60s!). Instead we got "the bone structure of the inner ear" (hammer, anvil, and stirrup), the Food Pyramid (Did you eat your dark green leafy vegetable today?), and cool filmstrips that showed how a sneeze distributes droplets of mucus over an entire classroom (which, of course inspired fake, gross-out sneezes by the juvenile delinquents among us).
There is only so much you can learn about bones, food, and the perils of sneezing over six years. In the spirit of the times, the Hygiene curriculum also covered "How to Survive a Nuclear Attack". An article in the "50 Years Ago Today" portion of yesterday's newspaper brought this back to mind. On Valentine's Day, 1961, the Northampton County Civil Defense Director issued a dire warning. "A worldwide Communist conspiracy is challenging our way of life...We are going to have to fight sooner or later because we are hemmed in. If a hydrogen bomb falls... We must protect survivors of an attack from radioactive fallout."
Ironically, it was just about February, 1961 that my 8th grade Hygiene class was learning how to do precisely that. They didn't tell us that no matter how careful we were in slicing open packages of bread or opening cans of food and water, the air we were breathing had about 100,000 radioactive dust particles per lungful. Hello, radiation sickness. All that food stored in the Civil Defense shelters or the dark green leafy vegetables we could eat wouldn't help.
A couple of weeks ago, the new Nuclear Arms Limitation Treaty went before the Senate for ratification. Some senators voted against limiting nuclear warheads because they felt that we couldn't trust the Russians to comply. Evidently, these are the guys who trusted in their 9th grade Hygiene class training. "If we're careful, we can survive a nuclear attack." I was one of those guys still doing the fake sneeze and missed out on the finer points of fallout survival. I'd like to see all H-bombs deactivated. I'm worried enough about that guy in the room who just did a real sneeze.
There is only so much you can learn about bones, food, and the perils of sneezing over six years. In the spirit of the times, the Hygiene curriculum also covered "How to Survive a Nuclear Attack". An article in the "50 Years Ago Today" portion of yesterday's newspaper brought this back to mind. On Valentine's Day, 1961, the Northampton County Civil Defense Director issued a dire warning. "A worldwide Communist conspiracy is challenging our way of life...We are going to have to fight sooner or later because we are hemmed in. If a hydrogen bomb falls... We must protect survivors of an attack from radioactive fallout."
Ironically, it was just about February, 1961 that my 8th grade Hygiene class was learning how to do precisely that. They didn't tell us that no matter how careful we were in slicing open packages of bread or opening cans of food and water, the air we were breathing had about 100,000 radioactive dust particles per lungful. Hello, radiation sickness. All that food stored in the Civil Defense shelters or the dark green leafy vegetables we could eat wouldn't help.
A couple of weeks ago, the new Nuclear Arms Limitation Treaty went before the Senate for ratification. Some senators voted against limiting nuclear warheads because they felt that we couldn't trust the Russians to comply. Evidently, these are the guys who trusted in their 9th grade Hygiene class training. "If we're careful, we can survive a nuclear attack." I was one of those guys still doing the fake sneeze and missed out on the finer points of fallout survival. I'd like to see all H-bombs deactivated. I'm worried enough about that guy in the room who just did a real sneeze.
Monday, February 14, 2011
What Is Love?
Appropriately for Valentine's Day, the question is raised, "What is love?"
Will Ferrell and Chris Kattan would bob their heads to a disco beat and respond "Don't hurt me. Don't hurt me. Oh-ooh" ("A Night at the Roxbury"! Now there's a Valentine's Day movie for you.)
St Paul would respond, ""Love is patient. Love is kind. Love is not envious, or boastful, or arrogant, or rude." (I Corinthians 13, circa 40 AD recited at every wedding since.)
Robert Burns would wax poetic, "My love is like a red, red rose. That's newly sprung in June." (Roses are a lot cheaper in June than in February. Those thrifty Scots!)
Georges Bizet has the final (and enigmatic) definition. In the "Habanera", Bizet has Carmen sing, "L'amour est un oiseau." The Valentine's Weekend performance of "Carmen" at the Allentown Symphony last Saturday included projected supertitles for those of us whose French language skills are lacking. This supertitle read, "Love is a Bohemian child." (Perhaps this is the source of those single panel "Love Is" cartoons that were omnipresent back in the 80s. Those semi-nude and somewhat disturbing nymph-like kids were, in fact, Bohemian children and couldn't afford clothing)"
The "Habanera" continues, "Love is a Bohemian child. That no one can tame. And you can call him though it is. Quite in vain." Bohemian parents have wrestled with this dilemma for years! You can call for little Franz and Hans until your lungs bleed, but they won't come back for dinner until they're good and ready.
But how would a 19th century Spanish gypsy temptress know of the recalcitrance of Bohemian children? Why would Carmen use this as a symbol of love anyway? Is the Allentown Symphony pulling the audience's collective leg and mis-translating Bizet's lyrics? Is the Allentown Symphony secretly anti-Bohemian?
The Internet to the rescue! Wikipedia states that the Habanera's first line reads, "Love is a rebellious bird." That's not exactly a patient, kind, red, red rose, but it's certainly better than a Bohemian child as a symbol for Valentine's Day.
It's not until the third verse that Carmen sings, "L'amour est enfant de Boheme" translated by Wikipedia as "Love is a gypsy child." Aha! The Allentown Symphony is not anti-Bohemian, just pro-literal translation. Bizet has a bit more of the Valentine's spirit than we thought. Surely, a colorful dancing gypsy child is a more appropriate symbol of love than a Bohemian kid who doesn't want to come home for dinner.
I'll stick to St Paul's and Robert Burns' definitions of love anyway.
Will Ferrell and Chris Kattan would bob their heads to a disco beat and respond "Don't hurt me. Don't hurt me. Oh-ooh" ("A Night at the Roxbury"! Now there's a Valentine's Day movie for you.)
St Paul would respond, ""Love is patient. Love is kind. Love is not envious, or boastful, or arrogant, or rude." (I Corinthians 13, circa 40 AD recited at every wedding since.)
Robert Burns would wax poetic, "My love is like a red, red rose. That's newly sprung in June." (Roses are a lot cheaper in June than in February. Those thrifty Scots!)
Georges Bizet has the final (and enigmatic) definition. In the "Habanera", Bizet has Carmen sing, "L'amour est un oiseau." The Valentine's Weekend performance of "Carmen" at the Allentown Symphony last Saturday included projected supertitles for those of us whose French language skills are lacking. This supertitle read, "Love is a Bohemian child." (Perhaps this is the source of those single panel "Love Is" cartoons that were omnipresent back in the 80s. Those semi-nude and somewhat disturbing nymph-like kids were, in fact, Bohemian children and couldn't afford clothing)"
The "Habanera" continues, "Love is a Bohemian child. That no one can tame. And you can call him though it is. Quite in vain." Bohemian parents have wrestled with this dilemma for years! You can call for little Franz and Hans until your lungs bleed, but they won't come back for dinner until they're good and ready.
But how would a 19th century Spanish gypsy temptress know of the recalcitrance of Bohemian children? Why would Carmen use this as a symbol of love anyway? Is the Allentown Symphony pulling the audience's collective leg and mis-translating Bizet's lyrics? Is the Allentown Symphony secretly anti-Bohemian?
The Internet to the rescue! Wikipedia states that the Habanera's first line reads, "Love is a rebellious bird." That's not exactly a patient, kind, red, red rose, but it's certainly better than a Bohemian child as a symbol for Valentine's Day.
It's not until the third verse that Carmen sings, "L'amour est enfant de Boheme" translated by Wikipedia as "Love is a gypsy child." Aha! The Allentown Symphony is not anti-Bohemian, just pro-literal translation. Bizet has a bit more of the Valentine's spirit than we thought. Surely, a colorful dancing gypsy child is a more appropriate symbol of love than a Bohemian kid who doesn't want to come home for dinner.
I'll stick to St Paul's and Robert Burns' definitions of love anyway.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Waffle Power
Protests by the people often involve throwing things. Colonial protesters tossed cases of tea into Boston harbor. Czechs threw rocks against Soviet tanks in 1968. The current protests in Egypt have been mostly free of hurled objects, but that may change.
If the Egyptian protesters want to up the ante, they need merely look to Canada, the Paragon of Peaceful Protest. Joe Robb, a 31 year old from Oakville, Ontario was so fed up with the lackadaisical play of the Toronto Maple Leafs earlier this season that he tossed waffles on the ice during a game. Joe was escorted from the stands. When interviewed, Joe stated, "I threw the waffles tp protest the organization as a whole. Forty four years without a Stanley Cup? That's a joke."
"How many waffles did you throw, Joe? Two or three?"
"Eight'" he replied. "I threw the whole box"
"Why waffles?"
"Drop the 'W' and you've got 'awful'", Joe responded.
Cases of tea, rocks, and even Molotov Cocktails are passe'. Protesters should heed this example from The Great White North. Toss waffles. Nobody gets hurt (unless they are really stale), and you make your point. Why didn't Gandhi and M.L. King think of this?
Those clever Canadians. No wonder they never needed a Revolution or a Civil War. They know how to protest. Waffle Power!
If the Egyptian protesters want to up the ante, they need merely look to Canada, the Paragon of Peaceful Protest. Joe Robb, a 31 year old from Oakville, Ontario was so fed up with the lackadaisical play of the Toronto Maple Leafs earlier this season that he tossed waffles on the ice during a game. Joe was escorted from the stands. When interviewed, Joe stated, "I threw the waffles tp protest the organization as a whole. Forty four years without a Stanley Cup? That's a joke."
"How many waffles did you throw, Joe? Two or three?"
"Eight'" he replied. "I threw the whole box"
"Why waffles?"
"Drop the 'W' and you've got 'awful'", Joe responded.
Cases of tea, rocks, and even Molotov Cocktails are passe'. Protesters should heed this example from The Great White North. Toss waffles. Nobody gets hurt (unless they are really stale), and you make your point. Why didn't Gandhi and M.L. King think of this?
Those clever Canadians. No wonder they never needed a Revolution or a Civil War. They know how to protest. Waffle Power!
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Greed is Good
"Greed is good." - Gordon Gekko (or possibly the Geico Gecko)
"The invisible hand of a laissez-faire marketplace works to the benefit of all" - Adam Smith
"Regulation costs jobs" - Our Tea Party friends
Surely we can rely on the Captains of Industry to do what is right without looking over their shoulder. Or maybe not. Sports Radio reported yesterday that nearly one hundred season ticket holders are suing Dallas Cowboys owner Jerry Jones for selling them sub-standard Super Bowl seats. The seats were folding chairs placed in an aisleway, had an obstructed view, and, by the way, cost $1,200. Way to wring every last penny from hosting the Super Bowl, Jerry! That's laissez-faire capitalism at its finest!
Jerry might reply, "The free, unregulated market is also based on 'Let the buyer beware'. I didn't make those fine folks buy those seats (and I've got to pay for my $1.2 billion stadium somehow.)"
True enough, Jerry. The owner gets to squeeze what he can from his enterprise. Still, I remember my father telling me what it was like when he first started working in the coal mines (at age 14, by the way). The miners had to buy their own equipment and dynamite from the owners at the price that they set and got paid per ton of coal mined what the owners decided they should have. Remarkably, the prices were just enough to keep the miners afloat and the owners incredibly wealthy.
Maybe greed isn't all that good.
"The invisible hand of a laissez-faire marketplace works to the benefit of all" - Adam Smith
"Regulation costs jobs" - Our Tea Party friends
Surely we can rely on the Captains of Industry to do what is right without looking over their shoulder. Or maybe not. Sports Radio reported yesterday that nearly one hundred season ticket holders are suing Dallas Cowboys owner Jerry Jones for selling them sub-standard Super Bowl seats. The seats were folding chairs placed in an aisleway, had an obstructed view, and, by the way, cost $1,200. Way to wring every last penny from hosting the Super Bowl, Jerry! That's laissez-faire capitalism at its finest!
Jerry might reply, "The free, unregulated market is also based on 'Let the buyer beware'. I didn't make those fine folks buy those seats (and I've got to pay for my $1.2 billion stadium somehow.)"
True enough, Jerry. The owner gets to squeeze what he can from his enterprise. Still, I remember my father telling me what it was like when he first started working in the coal mines (at age 14, by the way). The miners had to buy their own equipment and dynamite from the owners at the price that they set and got paid per ton of coal mined what the owners decided they should have. Remarkably, the prices were just enough to keep the miners afloat and the owners incredibly wealthy.
Maybe greed isn't all that good.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Driver's Manual Addendum
The Pennsylvania Driver's Manual includes all those items necessary for fledgling motorists to pass the dreaded "written test" and eventually obtain a license. Alas, I've forgotten how close I can park to a fire hydrant, what the speed limit is on unposted streets, and how soon before turning I need to signal. Still, there's one thing that every young driver should know and it doesn't even appear in the Manual. Do not make an obscene hand gesture toward another vehicle if its driver is a professional football player in a bad mood.
Two weeks ago, a 38 year old man was driving his Honda Civic ( a manly machine if ever there was one) in suburban Washington, DC. He felt that a pick-up truck with dark-tinted windows was tailgating him. He made "an obscene hand gesture" toward the pick-up and immediately regretted that action at the next stop light. The pick-up's driver emerged and nearly blotted out the sun. It was Albert Haynesworth, a 350 lb defensive lineman for the Washington Redskins. Mr Haynesworth is accustomed to tossing around 300 lb offensive lineman like rag dolls. It was no problem for him to remove the driver from his Honda. In fact, it would have been no problem for Albert to lift the Civic and shake the driver out like getting the last fry from a McDonald's packet. Albert then allegedly assaulted the Honda driver who ended up with a broken nose.
Knowing all that stuff in the Driver's Manual will keep novice drivers from getting a traffic ticket and that's a good thing. Knowing not to give the finger to someone who weighs twice as much as you do will keep novice drivers from getting a broken nose and that's even better. PENNDOT should add that information to the next edition of its Driver's Manual.
Two weeks ago, a 38 year old man was driving his Honda Civic ( a manly machine if ever there was one) in suburban Washington, DC. He felt that a pick-up truck with dark-tinted windows was tailgating him. He made "an obscene hand gesture" toward the pick-up and immediately regretted that action at the next stop light. The pick-up's driver emerged and nearly blotted out the sun. It was Albert Haynesworth, a 350 lb defensive lineman for the Washington Redskins. Mr Haynesworth is accustomed to tossing around 300 lb offensive lineman like rag dolls. It was no problem for him to remove the driver from his Honda. In fact, it would have been no problem for Albert to lift the Civic and shake the driver out like getting the last fry from a McDonald's packet. Albert then allegedly assaulted the Honda driver who ended up with a broken nose.
Knowing all that stuff in the Driver's Manual will keep novice drivers from getting a traffic ticket and that's a good thing. Knowing not to give the finger to someone who weighs twice as much as you do will keep novice drivers from getting a broken nose and that's even better. PENNDOT should add that information to the next edition of its Driver's Manual.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Revenge of the Road Kill
Boys will be boys, especially in groups. An old adage says that the intelligence of a group is equal to the lowest IQ of any member divided by the number in the group. Based on some of the foolish things that my teams and fraternity did involving homemade napalm, condiment mixtures, and various bodily discharges, the old adage is correct. We never did sink to the level of involving road kill in our antics though.
The wrestling team from Carrington, ND High School was on the bus headed to Regional Championships (North Dakota has more than one region?) when the boys discovered what they believed to be a dead raccoon alongside the road at a rest stop. They stowed it in the storage area of the bus. While a lone teen would probably ignore road kill (unless he was really hungry), a group would decide, "Cool, let's gross some people out with this."
Alas, the raccoon wasn't dead and raced through the bus nipping at team members. Ever conscious of transmittable diseases, officials disqualified the Carrington team from the tournament. "Oh, the blood that is now smeared on my opponent came from a bite from a raccoon that we thought was dead and bit me. Let's keep on wrestling." Probably a bad idea.
Sadly, the Carrington boys lost out on the chance for their fourth consecutive Regional Championship. Perhaps, they can get a taxidermist to mount the raccoon that caused all this fuss and place him in the empty spot in their trophy case. This would be a lesson to future grapplers and further proof of the folly of mob mentality.
The wrestling team from Carrington, ND High School was on the bus headed to Regional Championships (North Dakota has more than one region?) when the boys discovered what they believed to be a dead raccoon alongside the road at a rest stop. They stowed it in the storage area of the bus. While a lone teen would probably ignore road kill (unless he was really hungry), a group would decide, "Cool, let's gross some people out with this."
Alas, the raccoon wasn't dead and raced through the bus nipping at team members. Ever conscious of transmittable diseases, officials disqualified the Carrington team from the tournament. "Oh, the blood that is now smeared on my opponent came from a bite from a raccoon that we thought was dead and bit me. Let's keep on wrestling." Probably a bad idea.
Sadly, the Carrington boys lost out on the chance for their fourth consecutive Regional Championship. Perhaps, they can get a taxidermist to mount the raccoon that caused all this fuss and place him in the empty spot in their trophy case. This would be a lesson to future grapplers and further proof of the folly of mob mentality.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Super Bowl Blues
Another Super Bowl has come and gone. In the build-up to The Big Game, three items caught my attention:
1. Tickets had a face value ranging from $900 to $1,200. "I know we are still paying off our credit card bills from Christmas and that we are a month behind on our electric and heating bills, Alice. But as a loyal Packers / Steelers fan, I just have to go to the game. I'll bring back a Cheesehead / Terrible Towel for you."
2. For those who couldn't get tickets inside the stadium, the NFL generously sold $200 standing room tickets outside the venue with a view of an outdoor Jumbotron and "performances" by the Cowboys' cheerleaders. "I know I could stay home and watch The Big Game in warmth and comfort, Alice. But the Packers / Steelers need my support in person. I know they can hear me cheering from the line to the Porta-Potty in the stadium parking lot."
3. About 1,250 fans with tickets were displaced when stadium officials deemed their seats "unsafe". Their assigned seats were over empty spaces that were structurally unstable. 850 were granted somewhere else to sit, but 400 were turned away with a refund of triple the $900 ticket price. "I had a helluva time at the Super Bowl! I got to see it in the TV section of a nearby Wal-Mart after they wouldn't let me into my unsafe seats. But the $2,700 they gave me paid for lots of souvenirs at the Wal-Mart and at half the price they wanted in the stadium. Of course, I'm out a few bucks for airfare and lodging, but it was worth it."
The Collective Bargaining Agreement between the NFL players and owners expires next month. There is a possibility that a lockout / strike will delay the start of the 2011 NFL season. Both the players (average salary $2 million per year) and the owners (average $500 million per year per team for TV contracts only) claim that they are looking out for the fans. If they truly are working in the best interests of the fans, the best thing they can do is give them a year's relief from $1,200 Super Bowl tickets, $200 for standing room, and "Sorry about that $900 seat that you can't sit in."
1. Tickets had a face value ranging from $900 to $1,200. "I know we are still paying off our credit card bills from Christmas and that we are a month behind on our electric and heating bills, Alice. But as a loyal Packers / Steelers fan, I just have to go to the game. I'll bring back a Cheesehead / Terrible Towel for you."
2. For those who couldn't get tickets inside the stadium, the NFL generously sold $200 standing room tickets outside the venue with a view of an outdoor Jumbotron and "performances" by the Cowboys' cheerleaders. "I know I could stay home and watch The Big Game in warmth and comfort, Alice. But the Packers / Steelers need my support in person. I know they can hear me cheering from the line to the Porta-Potty in the stadium parking lot."
3. About 1,250 fans with tickets were displaced when stadium officials deemed their seats "unsafe". Their assigned seats were over empty spaces that were structurally unstable. 850 were granted somewhere else to sit, but 400 were turned away with a refund of triple the $900 ticket price. "I had a helluva time at the Super Bowl! I got to see it in the TV section of a nearby Wal-Mart after they wouldn't let me into my unsafe seats. But the $2,700 they gave me paid for lots of souvenirs at the Wal-Mart and at half the price they wanted in the stadium. Of course, I'm out a few bucks for airfare and lodging, but it was worth it."
The Collective Bargaining Agreement between the NFL players and owners expires next month. There is a possibility that a lockout / strike will delay the start of the 2011 NFL season. Both the players (average salary $2 million per year) and the owners (average $500 million per year per team for TV contracts only) claim that they are looking out for the fans. If they truly are working in the best interests of the fans, the best thing they can do is give them a year's relief from $1,200 Super Bowl tickets, $200 for standing room, and "Sorry about that $900 seat that you can't sit in."
Friday, February 4, 2011
Walk Like an Egyptian
Until this week, the only time I thought of Egypt was when listening to the Bangles' catchy hit from 30 years ago.
Now I realize that it would not be very easy to walk like an Egyptian. Apparently, Egypt's Gross National Product is roughly equal to that of the state of Alabama and it is spread out over 80 million people. Alabama has about 5 million residents, so the average Egyptian is one-eighteenth as wealthy as the average Alabamian. Living on one-eighteenth of the income of one of the poorer United States would be a challenge.
On the other hand, Egypt does have all that tourist money. "See the pyramids along the Nile!" "Swim with the friendly dolphins in the tropical Red Sea!" Except the Egyptian Army actually owns the tourist hotels. But that's OK. It means less taxes. And, oh by the way, about half of Egypt's military expenses are courtesy of Uncle Sam. Low taxes, high military expenditures, it sounds like a Tea Party Paradise.
As Congress and the President outpromise each other in cutting "discretionary domestic spending" for things like financial regulation and food / drug inspection, I wonder if the deficit might be better reduced by cutting military support that props up dictatorships and corruption in places like Egypt. But what do I know.
Now I realize that it would not be very easy to walk like an Egyptian. Apparently, Egypt's Gross National Product is roughly equal to that of the state of Alabama and it is spread out over 80 million people. Alabama has about 5 million residents, so the average Egyptian is one-eighteenth as wealthy as the average Alabamian. Living on one-eighteenth of the income of one of the poorer United States would be a challenge.
On the other hand, Egypt does have all that tourist money. "See the pyramids along the Nile!" "Swim with the friendly dolphins in the tropical Red Sea!" Except the Egyptian Army actually owns the tourist hotels. But that's OK. It means less taxes. And, oh by the way, about half of Egypt's military expenses are courtesy of Uncle Sam. Low taxes, high military expenditures, it sounds like a Tea Party Paradise.
As Congress and the President outpromise each other in cutting "discretionary domestic spending" for things like financial regulation and food / drug inspection, I wonder if the deficit might be better reduced by cutting military support that props up dictatorships and corruption in places like Egypt. But what do I know.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Under Pressure
I have no preference in the upcoming Super Bowl. Neither the Steelers nor the Packers are among my favorite teams. But I do have an enormous rooting interest in the game itself. Papa John's, the official pizza of the NFL and Super Bowl XLV announced that it is offering a free large pizza TO EVERYONE IN AMERICA if the game goes into overtime.
There are about 310 million people in this great country of ours and each and every one of them, from sea to shining sea, gets a free pizza if the Steelers and Packers are tied when the clock winds down to triple zeroes. In the words of Yaacov Smirnov, "Is this a great country or what?"
Consider the pressure as a Steelers / Packers kicker lines up a potential game-tying field goal as time expires. Twenty years ago, poor Scott Norwood of the Buffalo Bills was in that very situation, missed the kick, and the Giants won the Super Bowl. Scott's house was subsequently vandalized and he never played football again. He reportedly is living in Canada today.
Thoughts of the Steelers / Packers kicker as the clock runs down:
1. "Did I pay my homeowner's insurance? If I miss this, good-bye house. Hello, insurance claim."
2. "I'm sure Scott Norwood is very happy living in that cave in the Yukon. If I miss this, I'll be joining him."
3. "Papa John is on the hook for 310 million people x $10 = $3.1 billion. And I think I'm under pressure?"
If the kicker has Thought #3, that field goal will sail through the uprights, we will have the first overtime Super Bowl, and Papa John will be joining Scott Norwood in that cave in the Yukon.
There are about 310 million people in this great country of ours and each and every one of them, from sea to shining sea, gets a free pizza if the Steelers and Packers are tied when the clock winds down to triple zeroes. In the words of Yaacov Smirnov, "Is this a great country or what?"
Consider the pressure as a Steelers / Packers kicker lines up a potential game-tying field goal as time expires. Twenty years ago, poor Scott Norwood of the Buffalo Bills was in that very situation, missed the kick, and the Giants won the Super Bowl. Scott's house was subsequently vandalized and he never played football again. He reportedly is living in Canada today.
Thoughts of the Steelers / Packers kicker as the clock runs down:
1. "Did I pay my homeowner's insurance? If I miss this, good-bye house. Hello, insurance claim."
2. "I'm sure Scott Norwood is very happy living in that cave in the Yukon. If I miss this, I'll be joining him."
3. "Papa John is on the hook for 310 million people x $10 = $3.1 billion. And I think I'm under pressure?"
If the kicker has Thought #3, that field goal will sail through the uprights, we will have the first overtime Super Bowl, and Papa John will be joining Scott Norwood in that cave in the Yukon.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
The Curse of the Gnome
This is the Golden Age of Philadelphia Phillies Fandom. With four consecutive Divisional Championships, one precious World Series win, and another World Series appearance, the recent past has been good. The future promises to be even better with a dominant pitching staff and key position players still in their prime for 2011.
Only one thing can halt the Phillies March to Glory - a jinx. The Red Sox suffered for 86 years after trading Babe Ruth. The Cubs have gone without a pennant for more than 100 years after refusing a fan's lucky pet goat entrance to their last World Series game. Now the Phillies are tempting a similar fate with, of all things, a garden gnome.
As a fundraiser, the Reading Phillies are auctioning off a 4 foot high concrete garden gnome modeled after Ryan Howard in his old Reading Phils uniform. The baseball gods will not look kindly on the arrogance of placing the graven image of one of the greatest Phillies of all time in a Berks County back yard where it will be subject to the weather and deposits from passing birds and dogs. Bobbleheads are bad enough, but this is sacrilege!
Eventually, the baseball gods forgave the Red Sox for trading away Babe Ruth. After all, the Sox owner used the money he got from the Yankees to back "No, No Nanette", the Broadway show that brought the song "Tea for Two" to the world. When more people were familiar "Tea for Two" than with Babe Ruth, they lifted the curse. The baseball gods continue to hold their grudge against those obstinate Cubs who still won't allow goats into Wrigley Field (though some of Wrigley's Bleacher Bums are probably more sanitary than the animals).
I fear that the Phillies will wander in the nether regions of the National League until that abominable Ryan Howard Gnome erodes into dust. Beware the Curse of the Gnome!
Only one thing can halt the Phillies March to Glory - a jinx. The Red Sox suffered for 86 years after trading Babe Ruth. The Cubs have gone without a pennant for more than 100 years after refusing a fan's lucky pet goat entrance to their last World Series game. Now the Phillies are tempting a similar fate with, of all things, a garden gnome.
As a fundraiser, the Reading Phillies are auctioning off a 4 foot high concrete garden gnome modeled after Ryan Howard in his old Reading Phils uniform. The baseball gods will not look kindly on the arrogance of placing the graven image of one of the greatest Phillies of all time in a Berks County back yard where it will be subject to the weather and deposits from passing birds and dogs. Bobbleheads are bad enough, but this is sacrilege!
Eventually, the baseball gods forgave the Red Sox for trading away Babe Ruth. After all, the Sox owner used the money he got from the Yankees to back "No, No Nanette", the Broadway show that brought the song "Tea for Two" to the world. When more people were familiar "Tea for Two" than with Babe Ruth, they lifted the curse. The baseball gods continue to hold their grudge against those obstinate Cubs who still won't allow goats into Wrigley Field (though some of Wrigley's Bleacher Bums are probably more sanitary than the animals).
I fear that the Phillies will wander in the nether regions of the National League until that abominable Ryan Howard Gnome erodes into dust. Beware the Curse of the Gnome!
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