10.7.2022 – even though ugly

even though ugly
belief gets created when
find way get job done

Football player sans peur et sans reproche Tom Brady got some attention on Wednesday by talking about, of all things for once, football.

NFL football.

A game he has played professionally for the current century-to-date.

Mr. Brady said, “I think there’s a lot of bad football from what I watch. I watch a lot of bad football. Poor quality of football. That’s what I see.“

Mr. Brady is about as close to a King Midas in sports that we may ever see.

Somehow, almost everything he touches turns to gold.

The day after Mr. Brady said, “I think there’s a lot of bad football from what I watch. I watch a lot of bad football. Poor quality of football. That’s what I see.”, the NFL proved Mr. Brady right by playing one of the worst games in NFL history.

YAHOO Sports reported that, “The Thursday night game between the Indianapolis Colts and Denver Broncos was awful. Irredeemably, comically, surreally awful. Four quarters and an overtime of self-inflicted gut punches.

The Colts and Broncos combined for 15 penalties, multiple injuries including a scary concussion, 12 punts, 10 sacks, six fumbles (none lost), four interceptions and zero touchdowns despite six (six!) red zone trips.”

How bad was it?

It was so bad that at one point, in this game between Denver and Indianapolis, the Referee announced, TIME OUT SAN DIEGO.

used without permission – gonna get sued

Announcer Al Michaels said, “Sometimes a game could be so bad, it’s almost good. You know what I mean?”

Commentator Kirk Herbstreit’s responded, “No.”

Winning Quarterback Matt Ryan (one of the two Super-Bowl Alumni quarterbacks in the game that failed to lead their team to a touchdown as all scoring was by field goals) tried to find some redeeming value to the game said, “… there’s belief that gets created, even though it’s ugly. There’s belief that gets created when you find a way to get the job done.“

I liked that.

There has to be a positive spin.

Right?

Dig down and find it.

As Frank Reich, the winning coach said at the end, “Isn’t it awesome that you can have a game like that and still win.“

Got to give Coach Reich a sticker on the helmet for scrapping the bottom of the pool and coming up with that one.

I go back to Mr. Brady (why does he always seem to be right?) and say I think there’s a lot of bad football from what I watch.

I watch a lot of bad football.

Poor quality of football.

That’s what I see.

10.6.2022 – no matter how thick

no matter how thick
or how thin you slice it, it
is still baloney

On August 23, 1936, a book review in the New York Times was headlined, “Carl Sandburg Writes in the True Accent of the People; His New Poem Displays and Develops the Popular Sayings That Americans Live By THE PEOPLE, YES.”

According to Wikipedia, The People, Yes is a book-length poem written by Carl Sandburg and published in 1936. The 300 page work is thoroughly interspersed with references to American culture, phrases, and stories (such as the legend of Paul Bunyan). Published at the height of the Great Depression, the work lauds the perseverance of the American people in notably plain-spoken language. It was written over an eight-year period. It is Sandburg’s last major book of poetry.

Written in 1936.

Containing the sayings that Americans live by.

One of those lines is “No matter how thick or how thin you slice it, it’s still baloney.”

Published almost 100 years ago.

In the words of that old Virginia Slims cigarette commercial, “We’ve come a long way, baby!”

I watch the news.

I read the papers.

I look at the magazines.

All I can think is, No matter how thick or how thin you slice it, it’s still baloney.

Who knew you could say such a fine line of words and be quoting Carl Sandburg.

I can go down to the beach and stand with my feet in the Atlantic Ocean waves and face Algeria across the water.

Looking out, the entire country is behind me.

Turning around and I face the entire country all the way to the Pacific Ocean.

I want scream, “WAKE UP CANTCHA!!! GEE WHIZ”

The next line in the poem is, “I would if I could and I could if I would but if I couldn’t how could I, could you?”

I guess I will just turn away and look out.

At least I can see the sun rise.

If I said the poem, The People, Yes, was a bit nonsensical, it would only serve to make it more fit for reading today.

10.5.2022 – heartsick with horror

heartsick with horror
to endure infinite
misunderstanding

Adapted from the short passage in the book, Look Homeward Angel by Thomas Wolfe (Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York, 1929) that reads:

Lying darkly in his crib, washed, powdered, and fed, he thought quietly of many things before he dropped off to sleep – the interminable sleep that obliterated time for him, and that gave him a sense of having missed forever a day of sparkling life. At these moments, he was heartsick with weary horror as he thought of the discomfort, weakness, dumbness, the infinite misunderstanding he would have to endure before he gained even physical freedom.

Heartsick with weary horror.

Discomfort.

Weakness.

Dumbness.

The infinite misunderstanding.

From the pen of Mr. Wolfe (and the editing of Maxwell Perkins), these are the musings of an infant child in a crib.

An infant with all of life to look forward, or at least, look ahead, to an entire life filed with discomfort, weakness, AND dumbness.

The infinite misunderstanding that would have to be endured.

Only to get worse with time.

Only to get worse with age.

As Big Bill put it:

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools. the way to dusty death. (Macbeth, Act 5 Scene 5)

Still can hear the line from the book, “Shoeless Joe” that says: “I wish I had your passion … However misdirected it may be, it is still a passion. If I had my life to live over again, I’d take more chances. I’d want more passion in my life. Less fear and more passion, more risk. Even if you fail, you’ve still taken a risk.“

But more drawn to the line from the movie, Field of Dreams that states: “The man’s done enough. Leave him alone.“

10.4.2022 – man against power

man against power
is struggle of memory
against forgetting

The quote this is based on is “the struggle of man against power is the struggle of memory against forgetting”, is from the book, The Book of Laughter and Forgetting, a novel, published in 1979 in France, by Czech writer Milan Kundera explores the basic human nature of how people tolerate the torture and suffering of which they have no control.

Milan Kundera is a Czech writer who went into exile in France in 1975, becoming a naturalized French citizen in 1981. Kundera’s Czechoslovak citizenship was revoked in 1979, then conferred again in 2019.

Kundera’s best-known work is The Unbearable Lightness of Being.

Mr. Kundera works towards the point that people tend to forget their past and we learn nothing from history.

I know of lots and lots of Politicians who bank on this.

As Idgie Threadgoode asked, “You a politician, or does lying just run in your family?”

10.3.2022 – what candles may be

What candles may be
held speed them all each slow dusk
drawing down of blinds

Adapted from Anthem for Doomed Youth by Wilfred Owen

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,—
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls’ brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

Wilfred Owen was born at Oswestry on 18th March 1893. He was educated at the Birkenhead Institute, and matriculated at London University in 1910. In 1913 he obtained a private tutorship near Bordeaux, where he remained until 1915. During this period he became acquainted with the eminent French poet, Laurent Tailhade, to whom he showed his early verses, and from whom he received considerable encouragement. In 1915, in spite of delicate health, he joined the Artists’ Rifles O.T.C., was gazetted to the Manchester Regiment, and served with their 2nd Battalion in France from December 1916 to June 1917, when he was invalided home. Fourteen months later he returned to the Western Front and served with the same Battalion, ultimately commanding a Company.

He was awarded the Military Cross for gallantry while taking part in some heavy fighting on 1st October. He was killed on 4th November 1918, while endeavouring to get his men across the Sambre Canal.

A month before his death he wrote to his mother: “My nerves are in perfect order. I came out again in order to help these boys; directly, by leading them as well as an officer can; indirectly, by watching their sufferings that I may speak of them as well as a pleader can.”

I am no youth by no less doomed.

No mockeries for them;

no prayers nor bells,

Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs.