First, I hope everyone enjoys a blessed Christmas today. This weekend, our neighbor across the street suffered an untimely death (she was only 60), so it was a sad reminder to me that tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone. Make each day count.
Second, in that vain, I will be taking the upcoming week off from my blog duties to enjoy some vacation time. I should be back at the helm on January 2. Let me know what’s on your mind while I’m off. I appreciate your comments.
And most importantly, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
I appreciate each and every one of you. See you in a week.
In NYC, you can find yourself riding in subway cars by yourself.
12/22/23
I didn’t get my driver’s license until I was 21, which shouldn’t surprise anyone who knows me. I’ve always been a late bloomer. Also, like a lot of young people living in NYC, having a driver’s license wasn’t a priority for me because I didn’t own a car. The NYC subway met all my transportation needs.
But it was a little scary at times riding the subway late at night. I know my mom worried when I went out. But dating took priority over safety. What can I say?
I guess I can say that I was never mugged on the subway, but that would be a lie. Muggings go on all the time in NYC. In fact, today is the anniversary of one of the most famous attempted NYC muggings. On this date in 1984, Bernhard Goetz shot four black youths who attempted to mug him on the I.R.T. line, which was my line. The four youths were seriously injured, but Goetz received a slap on the wrist and was dubbed the “Subway Vigilante,” which became a huge controversy at the time.
Goetz was one of those fed-up New Yorkers who’d been mugged one too many times. So, he applied for a license to carry a concealed weapon. When he was denied, he took matters into his own hands and acquired a gun illegally. And where do you think he went to acquire said weapon? Florida, of course.
The trial and subsequent retrials (and all the other civil lawsuits that followed) lasted for years. Goetz ultimately beat all attempted murder and assault charges (the youths claimed they had not intended to harm him but were just asking for money). Only the illegal weapons charge stuck, and Goetz served less than a year in jail.
Goetz even ran for mayor of NYC in 2001. Another mayoral candidate that year was Kenny Kramer, the inspiration for the Kramer character in the Seinfeld show. If that doesn’t tell you how wacky NYC is, I don’t know what does.
But NYC gave me so many stories. Now let me write them down before I forget them.
Alright, let’s get this straight: I have nothing against Taylor Swift. And I’m not mad at her because she’s a distraction to one of my favorite sports. But she’s a distraction to one of my favorite sports!
In case you’ve missed it, Taylor Swift has been dating Kansas City Chiefs tight end Travis Kelce for a few months now. How delightful, you might say. But what’s not delightful is all the coverage she’s been getting every time she shows up at a Kansas City Chiefs game.
Take this Sunday, for example. While the Chiefs were playing the Patriots, all eyes were glued on Taylor Swift. Thus far, she’s mostly attended games in Kansas city. This one, however, was a road game, so it’s not unreasonable to expect that the girlfriend of a popular opposing player would get razzed a little bit, right? The New England fans took it a bit further and roundly booed her when she appeared on the Jumbotron.
To her credit, Taylor shrugged it off, and reports say she even waved and blew a kiss to the fans. Sounds like she took it well.
“There’s a camera, like, a half-mile away, and you don’t know where it is, and you have no idea when the camera is putting you in the broadcast, so I don’t know if I’m being shown 17 times or once,” she said.
“I’m just there to support Travis,” she added. “I have no awareness of if I’m being shown too much and pissing off a few dads, Brads, and Chads.”
Hmm. What’s with the specific reference? I’m a dad, I know a Brad, and one of my favorite actors was named Chad.
But let’s put the blame where it belongs for Taylor Swift becoming such a distraction at games. The media has created a monster. She’s correct. She doesn’t know when the camera is on her. But it’s a safe bet that it’s on her all the time, which means she’s bound to be captured on video doing something the media can make a big deal out of, even when it’s a little thing like cursing.
That’s right. Taylor Swift allegedly was caught cursing on a play when he boyfriend was interfered with while trying to catch a ball. No penalty was called, and that’s when Taylor let the f-bomb fly. Or did she? The TV broadcasters debated the incident. They even joked that Taylor may have said, “oh, fudge!”
But they took it too far when they showed instant replays of Taylor’s mouth forming the words. Okay, people. Can we get back to the game? This Taylor Swift obsession has gone about as far as it can go.
“After careful examination, it is my professional opinion that Taylor Swift did not utter the expletive ‘f—‘ as has been alleged,” he said. “The lip patterns observed do not align with this specific word. The sequence appears to begin with ‘you,” followed by a sound resembling ‘f.’ However, upon closely observing her mouth movements, it seems she rolls her “r.”
He added that it appeared she was uttering one of three potential words – frug, fry or fruck.
“Given the context and her vocal expression, it is plausible that she might have altered her intended word mid-sentence, possibly upon realizing she was being observed. This could result in what appears to be an incomplete or nonsensical utterance.”
I’ve got some nonsensical words I’d like to utter right now. But for the sake of any youngsters in my audience, I’ll put a lid on them – just like I wish someone would put a lid on all this Taylor Swift coverage at football games.
I spent some time yesterday moving furniture. No, I didn’t take on a new side gig. Those duties, and others similar to it, were spelled out in the retirement package I accepted: “The undersigned hereby agrees to complete all tasks assigned to him in support of his wife’s business activities.”
No big deal. My wife’s a realtor. So, what do you need me to do, honey? Drive you to appointments, sharpen some pencils, put down a for sale sign? What was that? You want me to move furniture?
Okay, here’s the scoop. My wife closes deals. She is laser-focused when it comes to work. She has taken on any number of tasks to help sell a house. She will paint your house, cut your grass, organize a garage sale, and even make unwanted furniture disappear.
No, she’s not a magician, although she does have amazing tricks up her sleeve. What she’s good at is clearing houses. The phone becomes a blur in her hand when she’s asking people to help take items away.
Donna is the fixer. She makes problems go away. But when a closing is around the corner and you’re running out of time, even the fixer has to turn somewhere for help. That’s where I come in: the fixer’s assistant.
Yesterday was a typical day for the fixer’s assistant. After donating most of the items the seller of a particular house had left behind, we were down to the sofa. No one wanted it.
I measured it and determined that it would fit in the back of our SUV. From there we’d haul it to our home for disposal, in time for the closing to take place unhindered. Thankfully, the sofa wasn’t a sofa bed. It was relatively light and rolled on wheels. It fit like it was meant to travel in our car. Job well done.
My wife Donna is the best realtor. She doesn’t get the credit she deserves because no one knows all the hard work she does behind the scene (some of it is insane). But she’s not in it for the credit, and money isn’t what drives her either. What gets her out of bed is that feeling of satisfaction you get from completing a job.
She’s never failed to complete a mission yet. But what if one day that happens?
Me: Holy back-breaker, Batman. I can’t move that sofa! Looks like we’re cooked!
Her: Now, now, Robin. Always look on the bright side. As long as you can say you did your best, you can always hold your head up high. And if all else fails, we’ll just blame the Joker.
There was no way I was going to see a movie that was so obviously a romance story.
12/19/23
On this day in 1977, the movie Titanic was released. In previous posts I’ve talked about what a blockbuster the movie was, is, and has been (it’s always getting re-released) and what a genius James Cameron is, and blah blah blah. But back in 1977, I couldn’t have cared less about any of that. That was the year Star Wars came out. So, if Hollywood had any hope of catching my eye with a movie about a ship, that ship had better be a space ship.
The Titanic movie poster alone was enough to turn me off. How could they reduce the story of a supposedly unsinkable ship to a position subordinate to the image of a young couple embracing? Yuck. Get a room!
Of course, after a few years passed and I had matured a little (very little), the opportunity to see Titanic presented itself again. It’s on video, it’s back in the theaters, it’s on TV…. It’s everywhere. Still.
But by then the sequel to Star Wars had come out. Then the sequel to that movie came out. My plate was full. But eventually I saw the movie. (Fyi, did you know that Titanic had a sequel? Titanic 2 was released in 2010 and also features the story of a ship that collides with an iceberg.)
I don’t remember where I was when I saw Titanic. But I could see why the critics had made such a big deal about it. It was no Star Wars, but you have to start somewhere. I was proud of myself for resisting all the hype “lo those many years.”
Then I met and married Donna. One day we were flipping through the channels, you know, doing happy couple stuff, and I notice that Titanic is on.
“Hey, you wanna’ watch Titanic?” I said.
“Never have. Never will.”
“Hmm,” I said, fascinated beyond belief. “You mean to say you’ve never watched Titanic?”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
“Don’t care to. That’s why.”
I couldn’t believe that I had discovered a woman who suffered from the same disorder that had marked my life, Titanic Resistive Disorder. (I made that up, but feel free to use it.) And the evening I am talking about took place in the ’90s! Fast forward more than 30 years later, Donna has still never watched Titanic. Talk about a woman who sticks to her guns. Do I know how to pick ’em or what?
I caved in to the Hollywood machine in less than 20 years. In about four years the movie will be celebrating its 50th anniversary, and Donna still doesn’t know who Jack and Rose are!
Between Donna and Titanic, I think we know which of them has turned out to be the real unsinkable vessel.
Donna examines the row of stitches on Nicki’s belly.
12/18/23
Last week I reported on a savage dog attack in my neighborhood. The victim, Nicki (the dog shown above), was tossed about like a ragdoll by the much larger dog, which had jumped its fence to get to her. This dog had escaped its owners’ property several times in the past, and in my previous post (see “Dog Attack!“) I gave details of my own scary encounter with the dog late one night last year.
This weekend, Donna and I had a chance to speak with Nicki’s owner about the attack. She was still emotionally shaken by the incident in which she herself suffered injuries: a sprained right ankle and a laceration to her left leg. All of the injuries occurred while fighting to save her dog’s life.
The attack, which occurred in broad daylight while Nicki and her owner were in their own backyard, might’ve ended in Nicki’s death if the attacking dog’s owner hadn’t also jumped over the fence to intervene.
Nicki’s owner showed us where Nicki had been bitten. We were stunned by the number of stiches to the dog’s back and belly.
“They called me twice for the hospital,” Nicki’s owner said, “because they didn’t think she was going to make it. “The hospital bills are $18,000.
That’s a lot of dog biscuits. But Nicki’s owner is trying to recoup her losses. She’s already filed a complaint against her neighbor. She even brought Nicki to city hall, so officials could see how badly injured she was, which must’ve been the saddest show-and-tell on record.
Someone is supposedly investigating the incident. Meanwhile, Nicki’s owner also says that one of the owner’s of the house on the opposite side of Nicki’s house has come forward to say he witnessed the attack.
Donna and I are dog lovers, and we don’t want someone’s beloved pet put down. But until that attack dog is gone from our neighborhood, we don’t feel safe.
One of my favorite cartoons has a National Special Day named after him.
12/15/23
The third Friday in December celebrates National Underdog Day. Who would’ve thought such a thing existed, and how can I get a job making up holidays that no one cares about?
But the truth is that Americans do care about underdogs. In fact, I’m willing to go out on a limb and bet that anyone reading these words likes underdogs, which isn’t much of a risky bet. Do you know why? Because anyone who liked the opposite of underdogs (let’s just call them “overdogs”) would not be caught dead reading this blog. Any information the overdog supporter wants to know about the world, they make up in their heads, or they ask their subordinates to look it up.
I know. I make the overdog supporter sound pretty bad, right? Well, it’s not just me. Take a look at the nouns Webster’s uses to describe the opposite of an underdog. The majority of them are chilling. Have you ever seen such negative descriptions?
So, if I’m not an underdog supporter, I’m more than likely a killer, a murderer, or an assassin? No, thanks. I’d rather fly in my Underdog cape.
So, why else do we love the underdog? Well, according to science, one reason is because we can empathize with their struggles. Which means that when I watch Star Wars and watch Luke Skywalker battling Darth Vader, I’m really watching me battling my grade-school bully. Cheering for the underdog to overcome overwhelming obstacles gives us a sense of hope and faith in humanity.
We also love the underdog because they create an emotional connection. It feels good to see Cinderella come out on top after all that forced labor. If she can go from rags to riches, why can’t we? Hmm. I may have to do other post about delusional thinking, but for the time being let’s just keep our focus on the positives of supporting the underdog .
Of course, the obvious reason for rooting for the underdog is that it’s exciting. Rooting for the overdog all the time is boring. If the outcome of every event always went to the favorite, we wouldn’t have any suspense or surprises. Imagine reading a murder mystery and knowing from page one that the murderer could be no one else but the rich tycoon with the maniacal laugh.
So, let’s continue to support the underdog. Let’s keep supporting suspense and surprise. And, more importantly, let’s keep supporting this blog, whether you’re a fan of the Underdog cartoon or not. I’m not too proud to wear a cape.
I used to walk our dogs at night. All the dogs we’ve ever had have marked our cul-de-sac and our neighbors’ mailboxes. It’s a tradition. But lately I’ve been concerned for our dogs’ safety. With the increase in neighborhood development, there’s been an increase in bear sightings. And, although I’ve never seen an alligator in the lake across our street, prevailing wisdom says gators are probably lurking nearby. So, I’ve cut back on those nighttime walks, limiting our dogs mostly to the backyard.
But there’s another reason I’ve cut back on those walks. It happened last year. Until that night, I’d never really considered the peril we were in.
Then, during one of our nightly walks, Pete and Sophie turned their heads and alerted me to a presence. I stopped at the opening to the cul-de-sac and stared into the darkness. I heard the soft patting of feet, and then something appeared from the brush. A large dog eyed me hungrily. No, it wasn’t me he was interested in. It was my dogs.
I scooped them under my armpits and lectured myself.
“Don’t make eye contact with him. Don’t challenge him.”
I pivoted and started to walk back as calmly as I could, prepared to run if I had to. I might not make it back to the house, but our unlocked car was in the driveway. I was pretty sure I could reach the car before the dog attacked. If the dog attacked….
Then, I heard footsteps behind me.
I looked over my shoulder and saw him at my mailbox, cautiously sizing me up. The car and my front door were equidistant at that point. Better not to be trapped in the car, I decided. I didn’t have my cell phone. But even if I’d had it, I didn’t want to call Donna and ask her to rescue us.
I sprinted for the door, anticipating the bark and bite of a charging dog. But there was nothing. Once I was safely inside the house, I tried to locate the dog. But he had simply vanished.
The next day the strange dog was a huge topic of conversation on our block. Our next door neighbor said he belonged to the new people, renters from across the street. She had seen him on her property and had threatened its owners with police involvement if the dog got loose again.
We have a soft spot for dogs. If the dog wasn’t vicious, it would be a tragedy if the dog were put down. So, Donna and I decided to meet the owners and help mediate the situation.
The owners were as nice as could be and extremely contrite. Their dog, they explained, was just a talented escape artist. No matter how many fences they put up, he always found a way around them. Because the house backed up to the lake, the dog had even gone as far as swimming out into the water and them returning to land through someone else’s property. But they promised to start chaining the dog when they let it out in the backyard.
That was a year ago, and I haven’t seen the dog again. But the story recently took a tragic twist. Yesterday our next door neighbor reported that the dog had escaped its yard again. It savagely attacked the dog of one of our other neighbors. If not for the intervention of its owner, the miniature poodle could’ve been killed. In fact, the dog remains hospitalized, so its fate remains uncertain.
The incident was on my mind when I let our dogs out into the backyard this morning. Donna immediately scolded me.
“If that dog can jump its own fence, what makes you think it can’t jump ours?”
I couldn’t argue with her logic. I guess we’ll just have to be more careful until the situation is resolved. For the moment, we have no word on whether charges have been filed against the attack dog’s owners. Will it be put down? Will we have peace and quiet on our block again?
If you took one look at this photo and guessed that everyone was waiting to catch a train, you’re not even close.
12/13/23
This story works best if you’ve never cruised. But even if you have, I find that most cruisers have such a strong reaction to today’s topic that even they will want to hear what I have to say.
Muster.
How do I describe it to someone who’s never experienced it? Let me try. Before COVID, cruise ships used to require all passengers to assemble on the deck where the lifeboats are to receive safety instructions in the event of an emergency. What kind of emergency am I referring to?
Let’s cut to the chase. Santa isn’t real and ships sink. There’s no delicate way to put it. Therefore, cruise ships are legally required to tell their passengers everything they need to know to save themselves in case the unthinkable occurs. And that’s what muster is.
It’s a very serious process, and the ship will not sail until everyone has been given a safety presentation. Think they’re kidding? Don’t try them. Before COVID, not only did cruise ship personnel make you gather for a face-to-face instruction session, but they would hunt you down if you failed to show up for it. Not that we’ve ever done it, but let’s just say that certain members of our party HAVE attempted to skip muster by hiding out in their cabins.
Not a good idea. Like I said, the ship can’t sail until everyone has been shown where to find the lifeboats, how to put on their life jackets, and what all the whistle blowing means. Those who fail to show up for muster at the appointed time should expect to receive a knock on their cabin door.
So, what’s so bad about muster that people would want to avoid it? Doesn’t muster provide important, life-saving information? Clearly, you’ve never spend much time around cruisers.
Here’s how their thinking goes: Why spend time talking about something we’re never going to need to know? Just pull those anchors up, and let’s get this party started!
I can’t think of a single thing that I’ve heard more cruisers complain about than muster. It’s hot at the muster station. It’s crowded. The instruction goes on forever. And, wait, that’s right, you’re not allowed to leave until everyone has shown up for muster. That’s when angry mobs start grabbing torches and pitchforks to find those AWOL cruisers holding up the good time.
COVID put the cruise line industry on pause, and gave everyone time to rethink the process. Cruise ship personnel realized what a bad idea gathering in large numbers could be. So, they instituted a new system, a more modern way of communicating information, using people’s phones and in-room TVs to relay information. Videos replaced in-person instruction. You still had to make an appearance at the muster station, to show that you knew where it was, but people didn’t have to gather at the same time.
Sounds like the story of a problem that was fixed, right? Not quite. Fast forward to today. Some cruise lines have gone back to the original muster system, namely Norwegian Cruise Line and Disney Cruise Line.
Thankfully, two of our favorite cruise lines, Royal Caribbean and Carnival have stated that they have no intention of going back to the past. So, if you’ve got PTSD from those days of physically mustering, you might want to take that into consideration when you’re shopping for a cruise.
As for the rest of you, those who’ve never cruised, have no intention of cruising, and would never cruise even if someone held a gun to your head, I now return you to your regularly scheduled program.
A golf cart can cost as much as $18,000 for a top-of-the-line model, or $1,000 for a used one.
12/12/23
Why am I talking about golf carts today? Shouldn’t I be talking about something more people can relate to? Boy, you’re impatient. So, let me get to my point then.
Golf carts are sort of a status symbol in Florida. It shows the world that you’ve made the big time when you can drive to the mailbox slower than you can walk the same distance. My neighbor had one for a short time. She used to invite us for drives. But I just couldn’t see us hanging off the back of a golf cart with the wind whipping through our hair. The top speed of a golf cart is in the 20-mph range, so I don’t even know how much hair would actually have whipped around. (Golf carts that go over 20 mph must be registered with a Florida tag and have insurance coverage just like any other motor vehicle.)
The point is that golf carts are used in Florida for more than just getting around golf courses. You see them at garage sales, you see them in the parks, you see them in communities.
You even see them on the roads, even though Florida Statutes prohibit the operation of a golf cart on public roads or streets, with some exceptions for residential neighborhoods or crossing highways if it divides a subdivision, trailer park or golf course. Those “exceptions” are where people can get into trouble. Nowadays, everyone feels they’re exempt.
Thousands of people get hurt in golf cart accidents annually. Golf cart drivers can be given speeding tickets, and they can even be fined for driving while intoxicated. So, what’s my point?
On Saturday a golf cart driver near Tampa had a really bad day. He suffered a suspected medical condition while he was driving, he crashed into a tree, and then he somehow ended up in his community’s pond, where he drowned. Any one of those incidents would’ve qualified the victim for having a bad day. But all three? That is a colossal bad day.
The 74-year victim lived in a 55+ community that allows golf carts. My sister lives in a similar community, and whenever we visit her we often see golf carts gently rolling by. None of the golf carts’ occupants are ever wearing seatbelts. Instead, they get by with a smile and the confidence that the world is their domain.
Until it isn’t.
I report on stories like this because it represents a slice of Florida life. I’ve lived here for over 20 years, and I still can’t get used to how different it is from NYC. A New Yorker wouldn’t be able to fathom how a slow-moving vehicle like a golf cart could end up in a pond unless the driver was intoxicated or doing wheelies or being chased by a wild animal.
My condolences to the family of the golf car driver, who on Saturday became the very definition of having a really bad day. For me, it put things in perspective.
