OILING THOSE RUSTY SPRINGS

(Speed-Blog style: 5 Minutes to Conceive, 15 to Write, __ to Read)

 

Spring is here and my allergies are somewhat under control at the moment—even if my baseball fever is starting to rage.

 

 

After a mostly lethargic winter, I am back sharing the softball brownswards with mostly over-the-hill and mostly-Jewish weekend athletes who comprise the Jewish Athletic Group’s softball league. And yes, I take full credit for referring to us as the Oxymoron League.

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THE TRAGEDY AND TRAVESTY IN SANFORD, FLORIDA

Dear City of Sanford, Florida,

 

 

Please allow me a brief introduction.

 

I usually utilize this space to write about the lighter side of life or sports. Every now and then, I go on a rant about a somewhat serious issue, yet it’s often done with a satiric sense. But I am now trying to write a coherent message about life, death, public trust, civil rights and so much more. Indeed, it’s hard to think while almost visibly angry and difficult to type with clenched fingers.

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INVALUABLE ROYALTIES

Every now and then, I think about words and expressions that I either love or loathe. What can I say? I’m a word guy; one of my books is called Wordapodia, Volume One: An Encyclopedia of Real Fake Words. If this one sold more—and I knew that the next one would as well—I’d be working on Volume Two. More on that in a bit.

 

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THE WHOLE NINE AND SO MUCH MORE

 

When is having the whole nine not enough?

That’s an easy riddle: when you’re compiling a Top 10 list. Of course.

 

 

 

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GUESSED READER

The email message came from Miss Prisk, my son Benny’s pre-school teacher.

 

March is Read Across America month, and she is looking for parents to visit the classroom and read to her kids for 20 minutes or so.

 

 

Easy enough. Since my wife started working again, I drive Benny to school for a 1 pm start and pick him up at 3:30. Between trying to figure out where to park somewhat near the school, signing him in and the commute itself, it seems that I have about 43 minutes to get things done between drop off (1 pm) and pickup (3:30 pm). So, one day at 3 pm—leaving 13 minutes for errands—would not be too much of a hardship, right?

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ON WHITNEY, FAME AND MORTALITY

Whitney Houston.

Dead at age 48.

 

 

Did we need yet another reminder that life is short, unpredictable and sometimes cruel?

 

 

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SUPER REFLECTIONS

Man, I should be used to this feeling by now.

 

 

That Super Bowl Monday Morning Hangover is not a stranger to my existence.

 

The one from two mornings ago was not brought on by too much alcohol (I was home, and not drinking), too much food (well, maybe that played a small role) or too much Madonna. It did manifest itself with the tired, washed out feeling of watching another Super Bowl champion not named the Philadelphia Eagles.

 

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BUMPER CARS

 

The sounds were unmistakable and easily recognizable.

 

 

CRASH

SCRAPE

Not quite a CRUNCH.

 

Followed by my own FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

…dge.

 

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NOT IN OUR HOUSE

 

 

I much prefer to write about the lighter side of sports and life in general, but at my core, I’m a serious guy (albeit one with a hyperactive, world class sense of humor) who sometimes takes sports, reputations and how we treat one another quite seriously.

 

 

I love strong, fair competition, enjoy engaging in and watching tough, physical play on the fields, courts and rinks, yet absolutely detest—among other things—violence and inhumanity.

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POLITICAL FOOTBALL

 

The Republican primaries—most recently headlined by Rick Santorum’s surprising virtual dead heat finish with Mitt Romney in Iowa and Newt Gingrich’s apparent promise to throw the kitchen sink of epithets at Romney—have me thinking. Thinking about the nature of competition and what we really want from it.

 

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Hoping For Change

 

So, here we are, just ten months—give or take—away from the next Presidential election, and two days away from the start of 2012.

 

Yessir, it’s a leap year, which means a new (or same) President will be elected and another Summer Olympiad will be contested. I still get geared up for both of these events, if not quite as geeked up as I used to.

 

 

 

As an aside, should the two events be combined, or would that produce too much illegal brain doping? Discuss.

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THE 12 CRAPPIEST SONGS OF CHRISTMAS

Who am I to compile a list of the 12 crappiest popular Christmas songs I’ve ever heard?

 

 

Well, my last name’s Goldberg, I’m Jewish, and I celebrate Chanukah. Do we even have 12 Chanukah songs?

 

 

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THE REIGN OF CAIN

Thinking about Herman Cain, I can’t get the following tune out of my head. Maybe, I should call 9-9-9.

 

 

Cue the music: The brain of Cain turned out to be inane.

 

I think I’ve got it.

 

Wait, wasn’t that lyric, or something like it, from My Fair Lady? Speaking of which, how many fair ladies did Cain run around with, or harass?

 

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THINK, THINK, THINK

So, how do successful people think, and if I’m typing that question out loud, what does that say about me?

 

 

How do we, um, they do it?

 

Think, think, think.

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MY VISIONARY CAUTIONARY TALE

Yesterday, my last bastion of physical vanity was inalterably pulverized.

 

 

Sure, my hair’s been sparse for a couple decades, my physique comes and goes—mostly the latter—but I never wore eyeglasses before. That’s about to change real-soon.

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