Grab It While You Can

With all these sexual harassment allegations popping up all over the place, it’s a wonder we can live normal lives these days.

Every day there’s a new one.

The truth is if every industry, especially the media and government, were to come clean, there wouldn’t be anyone left to make movies or run the country.

We’re all a bunch of scoundrels. It’s in our DNA.

Sexual harassment is as old as the bible itself. Just read Genesis where it all began.

What floors me is how women expect to gain respect dressing the way they do with cleavages to their belly buttons, skirts wrapped around their waists and backsides like plastic wrap leaving nothing to the imagination, and stilettos like walking stilts.

If fashion returned to modesty, if women wore clothing that was attractive and decent, then men might behave themselves. Maybe. There’s no guarantee. For complete assurance of respectful behavior between the sexes everyone would require heart purification surgery.

Calvin says, “Dogs don’t have these issues. We are what we wear. We wear what we are. Simple.” beagle

The Un-American Baseball Scene

Everyone loves to win. Last night the Giants won the game with the Mets. Today in the office the mood was lighter, there were more smiles, and people were huddled in small groups discussing the plays.

Except me.

I rushed home last night to see the game on TV. Nada. None of the major networks was televising it. I was shocked.

I checked the Internet for live streaming. Nada. I had to download flash players and create accounts in order to see the game.

What once was the right of every American to see baseball on TV for free has been usurped by grubby hungry cable companies in order to make more money.

That’s just plain un-American.

It’s time for a revolt.

Let’s all go to our local sports bar and view the games there. That will teach these cable guys they can’t mess with the public like that.

The bars would love the business, and we’d enjoy watching with others who are mad with us. Besides, it’s more fun being together. After a few drinks, and lots of peanut shells on the floor, we can be as noisy as we want together.

Calvin says, “I’m mad with you. It’s like removing all the rabbits from a field. It leaves you bereft.” beagle

Super Hoopla

I went yesterday to see the Super Bowl hoopla at Moscone Center. The NFL had set up a huge staged exhibit that cost $35 a ticket.

Thousands poured inside.

I wasn’t among them. I’m not that kind of fan.

Prices have skyrocketed around this event to the point of shocking me.

For example, if you flew into San Francisco from Colorado or North Carolina on Saturday, stayed in an Airbnb for two nights, watched the game and left on Monday, it would cost you more than $7,000.

I suppose that’s nothing if you’re a millionaire, and I saw a lot of them yesterday.

It’s amazing what we’ll do for our favorite sport.

But the sight that was most extraordinary were the SWAT teams, the police presence, and the security agents roaming all over the area.

Frankly, I thought I was in another country.

This couldn’t be the United States.

Yep, it was.

The security surrounding the Super Bowl rivals the stuff that happens when our president rolls into town for a fundraiser.

At one level you feel protected, but on another, it’s pretty darn scary.

I grew up in countries where heavily armed police, army tanks, and soldiers marched in and took possession of an entire city.

That was when there was a dictator running the country.

So what I witnessed yesterday sent shivers down my spine.

Calvin says, “Were any beagles sniffing NFL footballs?

Hurry Up and Win!

I’m holding my breath for Sunday’s final match for World Cup supremacy.

The match between Argentina and Germany should be a nail-biter.

Okay, I know. That makes three posts on the subject of the World Cup.

I’m not obsessed.

Really I’m not.

“Yes you are. Tell the truth,” Calvin says.

“Okay, I am.”

Here’s why: Argentina, besides being my birth country, needs a shot in the arm of inspiration and positive world attention.

It’s a country which has a long history of government corruption and mistreatment of its people. And yet, it keeps getting up and forging ahead in spite of its misfortunes and financial reversals.

Argentinians are tenacious people with indomitable spirits. They’re strong, passionate, and intelligent.

And they’re very good at soccer.

Here’s their moment of world attention and I’m cheering them on for an extraordinary finish.

Won’t you join me?

Calvin says, “Not me. I can’t wait for it to be over. Then you’re all mine again.”

Don’t Have Me Cry for You, Argentina

Yesterday was a devastating day for the Brazilian World Soccer team.

The fans looked on in utter shock as they watched the Germans shoot goal after goal past their goalie. It felt like a nightmare making it the worst loss in Brazil’s history.

After the carnage, the final score was 7 to 1.

The Brazilians played hard and gave it their all, but they couldn’t get past the German talent.

Today is the semi-final match between Argentina and the Netherlands.

I’m holding my breath for Argentina.

It’s time we had a Latin American team win the World Cup.

And what better team than Argentina, one of the giants on the world soccer stage.

The last time they won was in 1986, so it’s time guys.

You’ll find me sipping matte in front of the TV screen yelling from the fist whistle to the last.

Gooooooooooooool Argentina!

Calvin says, “Do I hope for a walk at half-time, or am I going to have to console you by putting my wet nose into your face?”

Spitting Baseball

Well, the SF Giants won the World Series. It was quite exciting considering they didn’t look like they could run across a park in the play-offs, let alone win the championship.

Have you also noticed how much spitting goes on among baseball players? They spit on the field, while pitching, catching, batting, or just scratching themselves.

Coaches and players alike.

What happened to manners?

I looked that up. They used to chew tobacco. Since then baseball has gone green, so now it’s sunflower seeds and bubble gum. It’s more role-model friendly.

But that doesn’t explain why they spit. Perhaps it’s a hold-over from the tobacco days, and it’s now part of the baseball culture.

Catchers don’t figure in the spitting contest unless they’re adept at flinging it from the side of their masks.

Batters and pitchers are the stars. The cameras are aimed at them. It’s part of the performance.

What puts my stomach into a twist is watching a runner slide into home base with all that spit-soaked dirt.

Who gets those stains out? That’s what I want to know.

Calvin says, “Baseball is a get-down-and-dirty-game. I’d love to roll in dirt spit.”