Officials at The All England Tennis & Croquet Club, home of the Wimbledon Tennis Championships, are coming under fire from PETA for the shooting of some pigeons. It seems that the pigeons are pretty numerous and have been a problem for some time. As a matter of fact, the club actually employs two hawks whose express purpose is to discourage pigeon patronage. I’m not sure how you “employ” a hawk. Do they pay taxes? Are they unionized? Ah, but I digress. It seems the hawks turned chicken and stopped putting up a defense against the pigeon menace. The pigeons began dive bombing players at Centre Court and dropping little “gifts” on patrons at the club restaurant. This, understandably, was deemed bad for business. So, marksmen were hired to plug a few of the offenders. These pigeon punishers took out a few, winged a few (pun fully intended), and told the rest to spread the word of what would happen to them if they showed their beaks in the vicinity again. Shortly, and predictably, thereafter, officials from PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) issued a statement condemning the action and notifying the police. So, it is quite the mess over there (pun fully intended, again).
Now, I’m not sure I agree with the shooting of these pigeons. It seems that pooping on tables might not warrant capital punishment. Maybe something along the lines of a fine from the health department and being forced to watch Disney’s “Chicken Little” for 24 straight hours would have been punishment enough for these foul fowls (Ok, that one was a little much even for me). However, I can sympathize with these Wimbledon officials as I have a similar problem. My front and back porches have been taken over by flocks of barn swallows.
This began several years ago when a pair of these swallows built a little nest under the eave of the front porch. They were cute, quiet, and just trying to raise a family in peace like the rest of us. So, I left them alone. Their babies hatched and they all flew away after a couple of months. No big deal. Well, it seems that barn swallows return to the same place year after year to nest. It also seems they decided to bring the extended family with them this year. The word must have spread to some of their friends as more swallows moved onto the eave under our back porch. I don’t care much for the back yard birds, as there are three of them sharing a nest. I can’t say I approve of such a living arrangement. Who knew swallows were swingers? Well, it didn’t take long before they made a complete mess of both porches. It is too bad there is no market for barn swallow “guano” as I could be rich.
Well, my little bride decided this was an unacceptable situation and told me I needed to get rid of them. Easier said than done, I’m afraid. I’ve taken a power hose to their muddy nests repeatedly. They just retreated, waited until I was finished, and began rebuilding. Being the intelligent guy that I am, I realized, after doing this daily for about two weeks, that this tactic wasn’t working. I suggested buying a couple of fake owls to place on the porch. I hoped this would scare the little rats with wings off. My little bride, however, wouldn’t have it. She felt it would make the front of the house ugly. She didn’t answer when I questioned her about what two feet of swallow poop would do for the décor (she did lovingly suggest it might be more comfortable for me to sleep on the couch that night). I suggested a couple of rubber snakes next. I could put them on the eaves of the porches and they would not be visible. Hopefully, the swallows would high tail it out of there once they saw the snakes. Who would have thought a couple of rubber snakes would be so hard to find? I looked everywhere with no luck. So, I’ve placed a couple of jump ropes up on the eaves of the porches hoping the little bird brains will think they are snakes. It seems to have worked on the swinging trio who were nesting on the back porch. The large group on the front porch, nicknamed the Waltons, don’t seem to be buying it, however. They have gathered on the far edge of the porch, away from the “double dutch snake”, and seem to be plotting what to do next. I’m not sure how this is going to turn out but I’m looking into “employing” some hawks next. Texas is a right to work state, after all, and I won’t have to deal with their union.
My best…
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Johnny Miller and the PC Police
Well folks, the PC Police have struck again. NBC golf analyst Johnny Miller is catching flak for his comments about Rocco Mediate during last weeks U.S. Open. If you recall, Rocco was battling some guy named Eldrick in what turned out to be a classic playoff for the Open title.
Before we get into that, you should know a bit about Johnny Miller. Before he was an announcer he was a pretty darned good golfer. Miller won 25 PGA Tour titles during his time as a player. These 25 titles include the 1973 U.S. Open and the 1976 British Open, two of the coveted major titles you hear so much about. He was called the “Desert Fox” because many of his titles came out West. It has been rumored that the image on the PGA Tour logo is Johnny Miller (Tour officials, it should be noted, deny this).
Once his career as a player came to a close he became the main golf analyst for NBC. Miller is one of the few analysts that add a bit of entertainment value to their analysis. There are some other colorful golf announcers, Gary McCord is probably the best known, who actually try to have fun while working the sport but Miller stands out for different reasons. Some others, again McCord would be the poster boy, use humor to liven up their call (McCord was famously banned from Augusta National Golf Club, home of the Masters Tournament, for saying, and I’m paraphrasing here, that the greens were so slick they looked like they had had a bikini wax.). Miller basically just tells it like it is. He has never been shy about calling out players for bad shots, poor choices, and/or flat out choking. I’ve always appreciated this aspect of Miller because he simply says what all we weekend warriors watching on TV are thinking.
So, this brings us back to last week’s U.S. Open. Rocco vs. Tiger. Everyman vs. Robogolfer. A guy who is built like your Dad vs. one of the fittest guys on the planet (certainly on the PGA Tour). Then something great happened. Rocco, the ultimate underdog, didn’t blink. He gave Tiger the fight of his life. During the playoff, Miller remarked, “Rocco looks like the guy who cleans Tiger’s pool” and later, “Guys named Rocco don’t get their name on the trophy.” Now, I was watching the telecast and didn’t think a thing in the world about it. It never crossed my mind that any offense would be taken. You see, I got it. Miller was not making an ethnic joke. He was just accentuating how amazing it was that this guy, who looks like your neighbor, was standing toe to toe with the great Tiger Woods. It was an everyman joke not an Italian joke. Predictably, however, some didn't see it that way and got upset. The National Association of Italian Americans issued a statement saying, “We are certain that NBC and Mr. Miller meant no harm and was simply having fun at the expense of Italian Americans. Nevertheless, this type of humor is problematic as it reinforces a demeaning and damaging stereotype about an entire ethnic group.” To this I simply say, GIVE ME A BREAK! Even Mediate himself was not bothered by Miller’s comments saying, “It doesn’t bother me at all.” If it doesn’t bother Rocco should it bother anybody else?
Folks, we have simply become a bunch of oversensitive pansies in this country. It is time to get a sense of humor and relax a bit. Johnny Miller issued an apology yesterday for his comments. I was disappointed he did so. He simply had nothing to apologize for, in my opinion. Had Miller said something along the lines of Rocco slipping a horse head in Tiger’s bag, missing a shot because of lasagna grease on his fingers, or that Tiger should be careful because Tony Soprano was caddying then I could see where an apology might be in order. Johnny Miller’s comments simply didn’t warrant such an overblown reaction.
By the way, my editor says I must issue an apology to “oversensitive pansies” stating that I meant no offense. I think not…
My best…
Before we get into that, you should know a bit about Johnny Miller. Before he was an announcer he was a pretty darned good golfer. Miller won 25 PGA Tour titles during his time as a player. These 25 titles include the 1973 U.S. Open and the 1976 British Open, two of the coveted major titles you hear so much about. He was called the “Desert Fox” because many of his titles came out West. It has been rumored that the image on the PGA Tour logo is Johnny Miller (Tour officials, it should be noted, deny this).
Once his career as a player came to a close he became the main golf analyst for NBC. Miller is one of the few analysts that add a bit of entertainment value to their analysis. There are some other colorful golf announcers, Gary McCord is probably the best known, who actually try to have fun while working the sport but Miller stands out for different reasons. Some others, again McCord would be the poster boy, use humor to liven up their call (McCord was famously banned from Augusta National Golf Club, home of the Masters Tournament, for saying, and I’m paraphrasing here, that the greens were so slick they looked like they had had a bikini wax.). Miller basically just tells it like it is. He has never been shy about calling out players for bad shots, poor choices, and/or flat out choking. I’ve always appreciated this aspect of Miller because he simply says what all we weekend warriors watching on TV are thinking.
So, this brings us back to last week’s U.S. Open. Rocco vs. Tiger. Everyman vs. Robogolfer. A guy who is built like your Dad vs. one of the fittest guys on the planet (certainly on the PGA Tour). Then something great happened. Rocco, the ultimate underdog, didn’t blink. He gave Tiger the fight of his life. During the playoff, Miller remarked, “Rocco looks like the guy who cleans Tiger’s pool” and later, “Guys named Rocco don’t get their name on the trophy.” Now, I was watching the telecast and didn’t think a thing in the world about it. It never crossed my mind that any offense would be taken. You see, I got it. Miller was not making an ethnic joke. He was just accentuating how amazing it was that this guy, who looks like your neighbor, was standing toe to toe with the great Tiger Woods. It was an everyman joke not an Italian joke. Predictably, however, some didn't see it that way and got upset. The National Association of Italian Americans issued a statement saying, “We are certain that NBC and Mr. Miller meant no harm and was simply having fun at the expense of Italian Americans. Nevertheless, this type of humor is problematic as it reinforces a demeaning and damaging stereotype about an entire ethnic group.” To this I simply say, GIVE ME A BREAK! Even Mediate himself was not bothered by Miller’s comments saying, “It doesn’t bother me at all.” If it doesn’t bother Rocco should it bother anybody else?
Folks, we have simply become a bunch of oversensitive pansies in this country. It is time to get a sense of humor and relax a bit. Johnny Miller issued an apology yesterday for his comments. I was disappointed he did so. He simply had nothing to apologize for, in my opinion. Had Miller said something along the lines of Rocco slipping a horse head in Tiger’s bag, missing a shot because of lasagna grease on his fingers, or that Tiger should be careful because Tony Soprano was caddying then I could see where an apology might be in order. Johnny Miller’s comments simply didn’t warrant such an overblown reaction.
By the way, my editor says I must issue an apology to “oversensitive pansies” stating that I meant no offense. I think not…
My best…
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Golf : The Devil's Game
As a teacher and coach I am currently enjoying the best time of the school year....summer. No offense is intended to any of my students or athletes but there is something very appealing about hanging around on the couch watching ESPN waiting for the mailman to deliver my paycheck. If only I could figure out a way for that to happen twelve months of the year (sigh).
Anyway, the summer really gives me the opportunity to do some of the things I love to do. One of those things is golf. First, let's define golf. Webster's defines golf as "the perfect combination of exercise and swearing". Actually, I saw that on a T-shirt but it is the definition I like the best.
Now that we've defined golf we can get to the heart of the matter. It is simply the cruelest game ever to spring forth from the mind of man. No matter who you are you can never master the game. Even Tiger Woods hits a shot from time to time that makes all of us weekend hackers smile and snicker under our breath. Did you happen to watch the U.S. Open this last week? I think Tiger actually took out a housewife with a wayward drive on the 18th hole on Sunday (she should have been paying closer attention). The difference between Tiger and myself, other than millions of dollars, is that he has the ability to hit a great recovery shot after a stinker. I, on the other hand, tend to follow a stinker with another stinker. That second stinker is usually followed by a shot off a tree, spectator, or squirrel. That wayward shot then usually careens into whatever body of water happens to be within a three mile radius. If there is water in the county I can manage to hit a golf ball into it.
The cruelest aspect of the game of golf is how it teases you. It seems so simple. Nobody tries to tackle you, the ball isn't being thrown at you at 90 miles per hour, and nobody is chasing you or yelling at you. The ball just lays there, sometimes even teed up perfectly, and taunts you because it knows you can't hit it straight. You can almost hear the dimpled little rascal giggling at address. "You want me to fly where? Ha! Fat chance!". The good part of this whole deal is that I get to see some very scenic parts of the course that good golfers never get to see. I've become quite the expert on the different kinds of small mammals, reptiles, brush, and trees that flourish just off the fairway. It is actually quite peaceful out there. The quiet is broken only by the soft weeping of those of us who can't find our way back to the short grass of the fairway.
Despite all of this I will continue to golf. I can't stop. Somewhere, deep inside, I think that if I just practice a bit more I might still be able to make the Senior Tour. My wife says that my new meds will help with these delusions. I hope not.
My best
Anyway, the summer really gives me the opportunity to do some of the things I love to do. One of those things is golf. First, let's define golf. Webster's defines golf as "the perfect combination of exercise and swearing". Actually, I saw that on a T-shirt but it is the definition I like the best.
Now that we've defined golf we can get to the heart of the matter. It is simply the cruelest game ever to spring forth from the mind of man. No matter who you are you can never master the game. Even Tiger Woods hits a shot from time to time that makes all of us weekend hackers smile and snicker under our breath. Did you happen to watch the U.S. Open this last week? I think Tiger actually took out a housewife with a wayward drive on the 18th hole on Sunday (she should have been paying closer attention). The difference between Tiger and myself, other than millions of dollars, is that he has the ability to hit a great recovery shot after a stinker. I, on the other hand, tend to follow a stinker with another stinker. That second stinker is usually followed by a shot off a tree, spectator, or squirrel. That wayward shot then usually careens into whatever body of water happens to be within a three mile radius. If there is water in the county I can manage to hit a golf ball into it.
The cruelest aspect of the game of golf is how it teases you. It seems so simple. Nobody tries to tackle you, the ball isn't being thrown at you at 90 miles per hour, and nobody is chasing you or yelling at you. The ball just lays there, sometimes even teed up perfectly, and taunts you because it knows you can't hit it straight. You can almost hear the dimpled little rascal giggling at address. "You want me to fly where? Ha! Fat chance!". The good part of this whole deal is that I get to see some very scenic parts of the course that good golfers never get to see. I've become quite the expert on the different kinds of small mammals, reptiles, brush, and trees that flourish just off the fairway. It is actually quite peaceful out there. The quiet is broken only by the soft weeping of those of us who can't find our way back to the short grass of the fairway.
Despite all of this I will continue to golf. I can't stop. Somewhere, deep inside, I think that if I just practice a bit more I might still be able to make the Senior Tour. My wife says that my new meds will help with these delusions. I hope not.
My best
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Introduction
Hello to any and all who might have found this page. I suppose introductions are in order. My name is Mike and I live in Texas. I am a secondary teacher and coach. I am married to a beautiful woman and have two of of the funniest and prettiest daughters on this earth.
I won't be discussing my family in any detail here. It is sad but the way the world is these days I just don't feel it is a good idea. Instead, I will be posting my, admittedly random, thoughts on anything and everything that crosses my mind. Pretty much everything will be fair game.
I will tell you now that I have some unusual interests that I will be musing about from time to time. I am a proud member of the Texas Bigfoot Research Conservancy and actively investigate bigfoot reports in the Texas, Louisiana, Arkansas, and Oklahoma region. While this is a bit unusual, you can rest assured that I'm not one of these nut jobs that run rampant on this topic all over the internet. I will blog about how I became interested in this subject at a later date. In the meantime, I would invite you to visit the TBRC website at www.texasbigfoot.org where you can learn a bit more about what the organization is all about.
That is about it for now. I don't know if anybody will ever find and/or read this blog or not. Regardless, I look forward to having a creative outlet.
My best...
I won't be discussing my family in any detail here. It is sad but the way the world is these days I just don't feel it is a good idea. Instead, I will be posting my, admittedly random, thoughts on anything and everything that crosses my mind. Pretty much everything will be fair game.
I will tell you now that I have some unusual interests that I will be musing about from time to time. I am a proud member of the Texas Bigfoot Research Conservancy and actively investigate bigfoot reports in the Texas, Louisiana, Arkansas, and Oklahoma region. While this is a bit unusual, you can rest assured that I'm not one of these nut jobs that run rampant on this topic all over the internet. I will blog about how I became interested in this subject at a later date. In the meantime, I would invite you to visit the TBRC website at www.texasbigfoot.org where you can learn a bit more about what the organization is all about.
That is about it for now. I don't know if anybody will ever find and/or read this blog or not. Regardless, I look forward to having a creative outlet.
My best...
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