A Terrible Thing to Say

I don’t know if this is a phenomena that’s affected every city in the country, but we were inundated with “Breaking News” and “Continuing Coverage” Wednesday night concerning the alleged attempted suicide of Terrell Owens. While it is nothing to joke about, I think that many fans in the Dallas- Fort Worth Metroplex may have heaved a huge sigh of relief had he been more successful. (to be continued) http://msn.foxsports.com/other/story/6011258
I actually posted the above paragraph when the news broke. I took it down for fairly obvious reasons. The thought was meant to be funny (maybe you had to be there) and a starting point for something else. If there is anything I should have learned over the years its that it is OK to joke yourself, but you shouldn't joke other people.
It wasn't meant to be about T.O.; it was meant to be about the media and us. Last winter we had snow flurries and the temperature dropped to 28 degrees. The networks saw fit to give us 3 hours of continuous coverage of this "Ice Storm". One of the reporters in the field actually demonstrated to the viewers how cold it was by throwing a coke can onto ice that had formed in a roadside ditch.
As the can rattled across the ice, the reporter announces "Frozen solid"!
Thanks for that report.
A few Sundays back there was a hijacked 18 Wheeler that toured through the area. There was 4 hours of continuous coverage on 4 Stations. It was a field day for the news, as people lined the bridges and overpasses to rubberneck the event.
If the Media is bad enough, what does it say about us?

Last year, as you were watching the weather reports which showed this perfectly-formed hurricane gaining strength in the Gulf, you probably felt great concern and anticipation. You watched as the storm became a Cat 5 with 175 mph sustained winds. And when you awoke in the morning and turned on the news, you learned that the storm had been downgraded to a Cat 4 and that the winds had slowed to 140 mph. You also learned that the storm track had veered towards the East slightly so it would not hit directly on New Orleans. Of course you felt great relief that the storm was loosing power, but did you really? Or was there a small sliver, maybe one tenth of one percent of your consciousness, which was disappointed that the perfect storm you had fantasized about may not occur?
Was not a deep and dark part of your psyche thrilled by the beauty of such a perfectly formed atmospheric phenomenon and the danger it posed? Be honest! As for me, well, if I thought of this question, I must have had those feelings myself.

We are all relieved that they found Elizabeth Smart while we wait for the next Jon Benet.
Go ahead and call me a vulture, call me any kind of name.
But nothin' seems to sell in this culture like disaster.
Am I to blame?

But lets go back to Terrell Owens now.
I hope he never thinks about killing himself.
I'd settle for a couple of broken legs.

FOR MY MOM

"Old Lady"http://eclectictales.blogspot.com/ has a way of reminiscing that always jogs me back to the days when you could still sit outside and see the Milky Way. I don't think there is a moment in my life that I cannot recall; all it takes is a word or an image or a smell. Some of the pathways are well worn yet they are lined with both long forgotten, and often visited rooms.

Dad had an old Brownie Camera, the kind that the top unfolds and the image is reflected to you through a thick piece of glass. I think this one was old even back then. I was allowed to play with it for a time. I was 5 years old. One dayat the store, Mom asked if I might want to take pictures with the camera and bought some film. She put the film in for me and set me on my way, out the door and into the field next door. I asked her what I should take pictures of and she told me flowers. When I came back I had the camera and a bouquet of flowers. She asked what the flowers were for and I told her they were for "in case the pictures don't come out". She just laughed and kissed my head.

In the second grade we were allowed to walk home from school for lunch. Its hard to believe they let us do that. I always walked with Donna Hartlieb. We would part at the corner and meet again to return to school. Every day my mother gave me a Baby Snickers Bar for the walk back. I would split it with Donna on the corner. One day I asked Mom if I might have two candy bars.She inquired as to why I would need two. I told her about Donna. I'll never forget the look on Mom's face. "Why, yes, you certainly may!". (to be continued)

It was 5;00 A.M. when Dad got to the Southlake Police Department to pick me up. Other parents had been called as well. We were all 15, and Born to be Wild. There were no charges, just a case of returning minors that were out too late, driving family cars without the benefit of Drivers licenses, to their proper guardians. I actually had had a key made for my Aunts car; she lived a few blocks from me.

After arriving home, Dad and I "went over a few things" and then we went to apologize to my Aunt and to the parents of the several young ladies that had been a part of this episode. When we returned from this thorny but very proper errand, Mom was waiting with a present for me. it was wrapped in paper with a bow and everything. I unwrapped it wondering what it could be.

It was a watch. As I slid it over my wrist Mom said to me:

"I want you to always know what time it is".

God, how I wish I still had that watch.

TOO HARD

Welcome to this one's poor post. I am not "Everyman" http://www.everyman-blog.blogspot.com/ anymore nor am I "Anonymous steve". As of this moment I am not sure if I am "Bullet Holes in the Mailbox" or "stevestories". I imagine I will find out soon enough. The possibility that someone is reading this suggests I have done something right.
I would like to thank those of you who suffered through my EMail Blogs and were kind enough to encourage me. I would also like to beg the Communal Pardon of the entire Blogsphere for some of the Idiot comments I have made on various blogs.
I started out just trying learn to use a Keyboard and have made great progress there.
The following is the first of my "stories " to try to write and I shall give it to you as I wrote it one year ago. I think it took me well over an hour.

"My job has required me to learn to use the Computer and develop some typing skills. This process has yielded some very interesting dreams, none better than the following-I HAD ONE OF MY PSYCHO DREAMS LAST NIGHT- I WAS HAVING DIFFICULTY W/ SHIP LOG, THE BOSS CAME IN AND OBSERVED MY METHOD OF OPERATION (M.O.) AND CONCLUDED THAT I NEEDED TO STRIKE THE KEYS HARDER…… "LIKE THIS" HE WOULD SAY, AND, BAM!!!, HIT THE KEYBOARD HARD. SO I WOULD TRY TO HIT IT HARDER BUT BEFORE TOO LONG I WOULD GET HUNG UP AGAIN AND BOSS WOULD COME IN AND …..BAM!!!... AND THE DATA WOULD DIS-TRUNCATE AND THE INFO WOULD ALL BE THERE. I WOULD BEGIN AGAIN TO ENTER DATA AND BEFORE LONG -YUP, BOSS WOULD COME BACK IN AND HIT THE KEYBORD AND TELL ME "YOU GOTTA HIT IT HARDER"!

SO YOU KNOW WHERE THIS IS HEADED…. I BEGAN TO HIT THE KEYBOARD REALLY HARD BUT IT WOULD NOT WORK FOR ME. FINALLY, I HIT IT REAL HARD AND WHOOPS! SOME THING THAT SOUNDS LIKE A CAR ALARM GOES OFF AND A "JACK IN THE BOX" POPPS OUT OF THE TOP OF THE MONITOR, bouncing up and down and to and fro, HOLDING A SIGN THAT READS............... "TOO HARD"! HILARIOUS! SPRINGS AND MECHANICAL PARTS AND CANDY WRAPPERS AND ALLSORTS OF JUNK FLY OUT OF A GAPING HOLE IN THE KEYBOARD . I GRABBED THE KEYBOARD, YANKED THE CORD OUT OF THE BACK OF THE COMPUTER, AND MARCHED INTO THE BOSSMANS OFFICE , THREW THE KEYBOARD ONTO HIS DESK AND SAID "YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE TO ORDER ME ANOTHER ONE OF THESE"!

I WOKE UP HOWLING HYSTERICALLY!!"