Sign of the Times

Me Knows Better Than to Say This… but I will. While walking through the airport parking garage in Shanghai, I noticed this sign on every level next to the escalator... even though the sign says elevator.

No one wants to lose an appendage on an escalator or even an elevator, but I especially don’t want to lose my “Booy”… whatever part of my anatomy that is.  I have my suspicions, but even I have some standards for this blog... as low as they might be... but they're still standards.

Jimmy The Subversive

Me Knows Better Than to Say This… but I will. I have to apologize to my two followers. I have been traveling through the People’s Republic of China and unable to update Jimmy's Blog. Apparently the Communist Government became aware of my recent popularity on this blog and blocked 6 Billion people from reading my musings. No wonder my readership has not reached the level I expected. It turns out that my writing could be considered subversive and all access was denied. I was just trying to be somewhat humorous... not take over a 60 year old communist regime.  I have enough trouble of my own to fix.  The photo shows all that I could receive on my laptop from the hotel.  "This Page Can Not Be Displayed."

Then as I was leaving the visa checkpoint in the airport, one sign was begging me to snap a photo… unfortunately there were signs posted everywhere saying no photos, area monitored, along with a host of security personnel. Jimmy may not be all that smart, but this time me thought better than to take a photo of the poster which had smiling security person pointing at the words, “Building a civilized society through civilized behavior.” Me boarded the plane quickly.

What Did That Sign Say?

Me Knows Better Than to Say This... but I will. While zooming down the highway in India (more on that later), this sign flashed by... However after the day, it seemed like a reasonable risk as it couldn't have been any worse than the prior bridge… the one without a sign... the one which still had remnants of deteriorated cement... the one with no railing.. the one with various sections reduced to one lane. Our driver assured no one had lost a car into the river… yet. Yes that one was safe. This new one… well at least we had a warning this time.

Airline Cuisine to Mumbai

Me Knows Better Than to Say This… but I will. Note to self: Next time check seat locations on planes before arriving at airport. This is a simple rule I will live by from now on. This goes with the corollary to this rule: No seats within 5 rows of the bathroom.... especially should Northwest/KLM serve vegetable burritos with curry spice to please the overwhelmingly Indian crowd flying into Mumbai. “Whoa!” is all I can say.

I also made an executive decision that there is a new job I don’t want any part of… cleaning bathrooms on an airline after a nine hour flight - as it looked like… well let’s just say I had to use my right shoe to keep clinging toilet paper from sticking to my left shoe and vice versa creating an interesting scene stepping out the bathroom door.

The odor emanating from the small and frequently used room was especially interesting. It alternated from an obnoxious sanitary sweetness, on one extreme, to a residue of post-processed burritos… Indian style. After a while, I was really hoping to smell the sanitary acidic odor all the time, however, it turned into a mild blend of each which wafted out every time the door was opened.

While the smell seemed to get de-sensitized to my olfactory glands after a few hours, the constant traffic and local greeting and conversation area next to my head did not. This sustained distraction allowed me the option to snooze in roughly 15 second intervals… but of course this was over 9 hours so it all added up to a good night’s rest… that is if you only need 24.5 minutes of sleep per night. Not only that, but each person had to bang the door, not once, but twice (once to get in… once to get out) and throw in the constant whoosh of high speed bodily fluids with an air suction unit tied directly into the wall behind my head. The wonders of modern sanitary systems never cease. I think the trains in Europe do it the right way… just let it drop from the sky.

And since it was a high traffic area (apparently this version of an Indian burrito did not seem to agree even with the Indians), each person that meandered over to my private abode had to brush my elbow or rock the back of the seat while they balanced standing outside the door. Nice.

I also observed a custom for which I was not prepared to experience. Just as I was falling off for one of my 15 seconds of sleep, the gentleman beside me decides to show his appreciation for the meal with a large and sustained belch. Since I was unable to muster a responding show of similar approval for the meal, I assumed that all bodily displays were appropriate and I lifted my right cheek… again only as a sign of deep and gastrointestinal respect for the meal… but thought twice before allowing the signal to become public as it may have produced an unexpected outcome… for me that is.

It was then that I determined that the close proximity to the bathroom does have one major advantage.

Tough Day At The Home Office

Me knows better than to say this... but I will. Golf is a tough occupation... luckily I still have a day job.

After my fifth trap in five holes, one of my playing partners commented, "The only person that has seen more bunkers than you is Eva Braun."

So I flipped him a modified Third Reich saluate with an extended long digit signaling that it only took me one swing to get out of each trap.

Phenomenal Growth of Followers

Me knows better than to say this... but I will. I know I might jinx this blog by commenting on the phenomenal growth of followers, but I am proud to announce that we have had an approximate 100% growth rate over the last week according to my Iowa math.

Now for those of you that are calculating in your head, the followers doubled, from one to two... which after several iterations of gazinatas (a reference of 'goes into' from the Hillbillies for those that haven't run across that question in Trivial Pursuit)... this math produces the 100% increase. Whoo hoo!

You see, my wife was commenting about the historically low number of followers on the site and I reminded her that she should just sign up as a show of support for her husband. Then came the comment that I found almost hard to take... yet it was exactly what I would have said having been the model of efficiency throughout my lifetime. She suggested, "Wouldn't it be easier if you just told me what you were going to write?"

Now how can anyone argue with that logic... that was my first thought. Then another thought popped in as I was thinking in my head... "It is so much easier to be cynical to you when I write rather than just saying things out loud." But that comment would not have come out with the love and empathy that any male would have intended... so I told her that I would show her how easy it was to sign up and become a follower of this blog. I didn't have the heart to mention to her that she could also just check the boxes at the bottom for easier comments... but then she would actually have to read to the bottom of the blog entry to see it.

As it turned out, she didn't have the time to join... or perhaps the willingness to go that far, but she did say that I could push the button and sign her up if it meant that much to me. Now that's the spirit for which I was looking. It actually was pretty easy and for those of you that haven't become followers... the other one in my family that is... just click the button on the left side of the screen (Follow with Google Friend Connect) and sign up with with either your Gmail, AIM, or other account name (there are quite a few options listed)... it's that easy.

Of course with an additional follower that would only drive me up with a measly 50% gain... again if I'm doing my Iowa math correctly.

Golf in the Bible Belt

Me knows better than to say this... but I will. I had an enjoyable time golfing in Oklahoma over Labor Day weekend. We were visiting some good friends (Rose and Roger) and Roger thought he would snag us a tee time at a pretty exclusive club. It was beautiful looking over the city from on top of the high ridge and the course was in very good shape for September. It is easy to think of Oklahoma as flat, dusty and uninviting, but at least the area around Tulsa has a lot to offer with the rolling hills and the lush surroundings.

The temperature was a slightly humid 81 degrees and the locals were complaining about the cool weather. Needless to say, I was feeling the affects and was sweating profusely. But the local host was very pleasant and since he publishes Christian books I figured I had to mind my p's and q's and f's and s's on the course. He also had his son stop and play a few holes with us for entertainment and it turned out very nice because later on during the round, his older son, Greg stopped by to play 7 or 8 holes after he had just finished playing 18... and before a big match with some old college buddies. Greg just happened to be on top of his game as he birdied three of the first 4 holes after joining us and he was driving the ball a mere 330 to 350 yards. He said he was "very happy" with his new driver which Ping had customized for his swing and returned to him that day... I'll say he was happy. He described so many theories about shaft flex, weighting, opening the face and boring the shaft at a different angle... that it had my head spinning with the science. I thought I understood a few concepts, but he was talking in a different language. Not only was he playing well, but earlier this summer he had posted 62... two times that is and then set the course record a few days before playing with us by shooting a 61. This was all before he got his new driver worked out. Wow.

Apparently he is trying to make it on tour and hoping to play on the Hooter's Tour regularly. Something we all aspire to I believe. Now imagine a guy playing this good and still can't break onto the PGA tour... "those guys are good" as the PGA slogan goes.

There was no way to keep up with him so I had to laugh at my poor excuse of a game and then it went to hell... sorry... have to remember who my playing partners are. I tried not to cuss at every shot that went astray, nor the 2 or 3 footers for boogie I kept missing... but it was fun to watch Greg play. So on a par 3 he plays an 8 iron up a hill against a slight breeze to a 167 yard hole and it drops just to the left of the cup... just a touch deep he commented... concerned about the direction from which he had to putt.

Since we had nothing in common as far as our games went, I had to ask him about the mental part of the preparation, since clearly I couldn't compete on the physical side. I queried, "So what goes through your mind as you setup for that type of shot." He replied, "Well, I'm thinking I'm in between clubs so I need to ease off a bit on this 8 iron." It didn't really answer my question, so I slowly shielded my 5 iron from his view and put it back into the bag while admosishing my latest foray into the bunker just short of the green... and I still couldn't curse at my swing even though apparently I eased up on my iron also.

On the next par 3, he misses long and left... but still only 5 yards from the pin which was situated at the extreme back left part of the green. He was just off the fringe. I still had to hit. Since it was an uphill 209 yard hole and I too was between clubs... I opted to ease off a bit on my club selection (which conviently I can't remember) and I proceeded to slide my shot way to the right, positioned nicely between a couple of traps. Then I dumped the next one into the closest trap with an astounding display of pitching prowess, then a couple more swings and two putts and I was out of there. Again since I couldn't say anything to relieve the pressure of my outstanding game, I resorted to a little humor. The only thing I could say was, "Well to quote Henny Youngman, the only two good balls I hit on this hole, happened when I stepped on the rake."

I guess humor is still acceptable in the Bible Belt.

A Day Of Infamy In Kindergarten

Me Knows Better Than to Say This... but I will. I thought it might be good to enlighten you about my childhood so you understand a little more about the title of this blog and how it shaped or warped my mind as some might claim. You see, I have been tainted since early childhood. I know the common phrase in vogue right now is that my parents screwed me up... but that is not the case at all. It was actually the education establishment... which was linked to the military industrial complex at the time. No - I just threw that in as a conspiracy theorist. No - the education establishment is linked to union labor and organized crime. Really.

It all stems back to one of my first "tests" in kindergarten. I still remember the question and since that time, I have held a general disregard for those that can't see both sides of the argument. Yeah... kinda deep for a 5 year old, but you'll understand in a moment.

Back in my day (wow that sounds old), but we learned to read from the ever-present Dick and Jane books. They had several levels from kindergarten to third grade... and then you graduated from school in Iowa. The part everyone remembers and can recite from memory (the early stages of fake reading), were "See Dick run. See Jane run. See Dick and Jane run." You get the picture... so to speak.

Then there was Sally, the one in the middle. She was my favorite and I had a crush on her... until that dreadful day. The day of the "test" (and it probably wasn't much of a test, but it seemed like the first in a series of ridiculous milestone moments of higher learning) and it offered a seemingly easy series of multiple choice answers. Since no one in kindergarten could read (that I was aware of) the teacher asked us to circle the correct answer which was presented in a picture format after she read the question to all of my esteemed colleagues.

The questions were all pretty straightforward - all five of them and I aced it... scholarship on the way... Stanford, Princeton, Yale, probably even MIT if I continued the trend. Hell, probably all four of them with multiple PhD's. Then the next day the answers were provided and there was a huge red check mark on Sally. I missed the question of my favorite character... that little heart breaker... the first of many might I add... mistakes and girlfriends.

The question was really straightforward with Sally standing facing away from the page and both her arms raised with 90 degree elbow bends pointing up. The student (meaning me) had to select from the pictures of what Sally's face should look like. The multiple choice answers were: Happy Face, Sad Face, or Surprised Face. It was all pretty simple on the surface.

Yes and the obvious answer was... Sad Face. Yes, yes, yes. Now I know that most of you would have selected the Surprised Face, but that was not correct answer based on my reasonable knowledge of human behavior and wealth of five years of experience growing up. And like you, the teacher and the author of this dumb book also selected Surprised Face as the correct answer to force upon unsuspecting and easily molded minds of mush. Now I know it doesn't seem like a big deal right now... but this stupid question has bugged me for many, many years. My shrink... aka my wife, tells me, "oh just get over it." But hell no. I'm not letting it go. I'm not letting this military industrial complex (right - not them this time)... I mean those union thugs... they can't get in my way... and in kindergarten I did just that. I stood up for what I believed. Well actually, I was really timid and just thought WTF... those idiots don't know how to write a test.

You see, the part no one knows is that during the morning of the test, I was confronted with exactly this same situation and hence my answer of a Sad Face makes all the sense in the world. And to remind everyone, it is just a matter of perspective... a perspective that the teacher and the author never saw. Well, as it happened that very morning, I must have done something really stupid and my dear mother had had enough. She threw her arms up in the air (just like Sally) and proceeded to scream at the top of her lungs, "OH SHIT JIMMY!" and then she turned around to face me and give me "the look" the one which is forever burned into the back of my eyeballs.

You see, as I commented above, there are two sides to every situation. I stand by my answer of a sad face. I would have selected "Angry Face" but "Sad Face" was a close as it came. That moment tainted my academic career and all hope of an Ivy League education was lost forever. You see there really is a conspiracy of organized crime keeping me from a solid education and dreams of a really good job. Sally, Sally, Sally... it was a tough way to start an education with you. It almost forced me to join the union and become a teacher with a life of crime taking money like that... but alas I wasn't good enough. I couldn't even answer that one stupid question... so I had to pursue another line of work to support my life style.

I think I'll write children's books in the future.