Happy New Year, All of Us!

New Year's Eve is my favorite holiday. Sure, it's a great excuse to party – and I never frown on that. But I love New Year's Eve for reasons way beyond mere drunkenness.

First, it is the rare holiday everyone can celebrate, regardless of nationality or religion or ethnicity. Time, after all, marches on for us all.

Yes, I also love watching the ball drop and singing “Auld Lang Syne” and kissing strangers at midnight. But here is why I really love New Year's Eve: It is the one night of the year for Reflection and Hope. In my book, we don't spend enough time on either. That we set aside one moment to wallow in both is so freaking cool.

This past year certainly saw its share of Tragedy and Sorrow. We lost jobs and relationships, money and opportunities. Wars raged, world leaders stumbled, the economy sputtered.

In the last year, some of our Loved Ones died.

In so many ways, this was just another awful year.

But, you know, this past year wasn't all bad. Some of us did find new jobs and new relationships. Some of us did manage to scrape up another dime and create new opportunities. The world did not end – not even close.

In the last year, some of our Loved Ones were actually BORN!

In spite or because of everything, we survived another year!

Hooray for us!

I do not know what this New Year will bring. Probably, it will have its share of Triumphs and Tragedies, wars and opportunities, its deaths and its births, the Comedy and the Sorrow. Maybe, the next twelve months will turn out to be just another awful year.

Or, maybe not.

Because, tonight, man – oh, the Potential. Ah, the HOPE!

Happy New Year, All of Us!

Wars On Christmas? Really?

Tis the season for certain cable news networks and disingenuous politicians to hunker down and fight against all those many Wars On Christmas. Here are my three favorites:

Happy Holidays! = A War On Christmas?
People who say “Happy Holidays!” are merely trying to convey Tidings of Goodwill to as many people as possible during a season when there are a lot of holidays. Instead of getting all pissy because someone was nice to you outside of your narrowly-defined, tight-ass parameter, just be thankful nobody is saying what you probably really deserve to hear: “Fuck off, ass-wipe!”

X-mas = A War On Christmas?
Again with the paranoid, “persecuted” Christian! Cuz, it's just so gosh-darn hard nowadays to practice Christianity in this country! Try taking Communion in a dingy, rat-infested basement, hoping that none of your rag-tag band of congregants is really an undercover government agent who will send you and your family to a forced-labor camp. Otherwise, knock it off with your ridiculous and historically inaccurate rants about NOTHING! Here's a link: http://www.straightdope.com/columns/read/1627/why-is-christmas-abbreviated-xmas

Commercialism = A War On Christmas?
For eleven months of the year, Conservative Christians rant that anything less than pure, unregulated Capitalism is Satanic Socialism. But the day after Thanksgiving, shopping suddenly becomes a kick in Jesus's groin because “Commercialism takes the meaning out of Christmas?” If Capitalism is indeed the Christian Way, how can the Biggest Capitalist Event of the Year – which drives our entire economy and is done in His name – demean Christ? Isn't Decadence the best way to boost Capitalism? And isn't that why it is morally wrong to tax the Rich? I am fully aware that a Christian Capitalist need buy just one yacht to do God's Work. But how many Chia Pets does a poor fuck like me need to buy to get to Heaven? I'm no economist, or a theologian – perhaps a Conservative Christian can explain all this to me.

But, unlike certain cable news hosts, I choose not to be perpetually angry, especially at this time of the year. So, I say unto you, with all the Love and Peace and Tidings of Great Joy in my heart, “MERRY X-MAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!”

Taped Live Before A Studio Audience

All my life, I have suspected that I am trapped in a poorly-written sitcom. My mother is indeed a lovely lady. Lots of couples I know have had babies out of desperation and right before cancellation. My family even had a pair of identical cousins - although one of them simply vanished. Never again did we mention Chip.

To prove my point, I would like to share with you my Top Five Clichéd Sitcom Plots That Totally, Actually Happened To Me, Really:

5. "Mistaken For a Hooker"
First of all, the cop never let me explain the go-go boots. Only later did he acknowledge that they do subtly accentuate my thighs - but by that time his testimony was so not admissible in open court.

4. "My High School Reunion"
I thought I went there to impress my former classmates. Tragically, so did my date, Miss Jo Anne Worley.

3. "On the Jury"
Yes, I was the lone holdout - he had a nice smile. Then, within roughly twenty-two minutes, eleven of my fellow citizens literally beat the crap out of me. I'm thinking, “Where are the bailiffs?”

2. "The Forgotten Birthday"
Weeks later, everyone felt guilty. But Grandpa never noticed.

1. "Not Legally Married After All"
This one actually happened to my Great Uncle Fred and Great Aunt Ethel, for reasons that are still obscure. When the townsfolk found out, they followed local custom and stoned their bastard children.

First!

This week, a sports talk host at some bum-freak radio station in Indiana caught flak for suggesting that Michigan State coach Mark D'Antonio suffered his heart attack because he beat Notre Dame, which is apparently God's Team.

Whatever.

Also, GO SPARTANS!

This stupid-ass DJ isn't the first idiot of the airwaves. Lots of broadcasters have gotten in trouble for saying stupid, um, stuff: Don Imus, Steve Lyons, Jimmy The Greek, Howard Cosell, etc., etc. – and that's just in sports.

Whenever media folk get in trouble for saying something that tweaks or freaks people out and then leads to reprimand or termination, somebody always defends them by saying, “Hey, it's a free country!”

Thankfully, that's so right. But, also, so what?

Before we go any further, let's confront The First Amendment to The Constitution of The United States of America:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances. http://www.usconstitution.net/const.html#Am1

For many of you, that may be the first time in your life that you have actually read The First Amendment. That's cool; I don't judge. But I do think you should take the time now to read it again. Like, right now!

I'll wait.

You know what that says? It says that I can jump up from my cubicle and shout, “My boss is a freaking idiot!” – and my government cannot arrest and imprison me. God bless America!

You know what it doesn't say? That my boss can't fire my crazy, insubordinate ass.

For the record, just in case my boss ever reads this, I do not think he is a freaking idiot. See, I am intelligent enough to know the consequences of my saying that he is – which is why I would never say such a thing near my cubicle or on this blog or on ESPN.

Please do not misunderstand me. I want to hear voices of provocation and dissent, and I want those voices to get the widest possible audience. And I definitely want those voices to use The First Amendment to its fullest extent under the law. But those voices have never come from The Corporate Media. And they never will.

Yeah, it sucks. Deal with it.

So, if a richly-paid broadcasting professional is too stupid or too arrogant to know how a workplace works, if a broadcasting professional is too stupid or too arrogant to understand how The Media – his profession! – works, if a broadcasting professional is too stupid or too arrogant to understand how Society works, and if a richly-paid broadcasting professional is too stupid or too arrogant to understand how The Marketplace works, then this stupid and arrogant asshole deserves to be fired simply for being so freaking stupid and arrogant!

But it ain't about The First Amendment.

You Really Oughta See Me In My Skinny Jeans

A few months ago, I bought my first pair of skinny jeans. At the time, I was a little above my ideal weight. It was winter, pizzas got delivered – I got fat. So, even though they fit, I did look slightly ridiculous in them. I forgot about the jeans.

Since then, I've slimmed down and tightened up and rediscovered the pants. In fact, I'm wearing them now. And I have to say: I love these jeans!

I am a child of the Eighties. Throughout that decade, like every cool high school and college kid, I wore skin-tight Levi's 501s. I even had a pair that were black and pin-striped. Yes, there was a slight learning curve with the buttons, but it was so worth it. Because, damn, I looked good! And they were comfortable.

The next two decades were hard on me, jeans-wise. I had two choices: baggy, floppy pants that belted at my thigh or high-waisted, industrial-strength grampa pants. If you weren't a gang-banger wannabe or a refrigerator repairman, there just were not any appropriate jeans choices for the average adult male. So, I wore a lot of Dockers.

Oh, and another thing: I have great thighs! Back in the Eighties, male thighs were everywhere. Jeans were tight. Shorts were really short. Quadriceps had an open forum to express themselves in sports, movies, music and your backyard barbecue. Then it stopped. Now, even male beachwear is baggy and hits below the knee. There has not been a public sighting of a straight male thigh since 1992.

So, as both a wearer and an admirer, I like that skinny jeans hug and define the thigh. And the hips. Even the calves. It's cool to wear again a pair of jeans that actually fit me, that aren't just a belted sack. Unlike my old 501s, they have a zipper. Like them, they're comfortable!

So, you really oughta see me in my skinny jeans – cuz, I look, um, fabulous!

Heavily Peppered Mayonnaise

You've seen the commercial. Two twenty-something douche-bags taunt an older latina woman with their cheap-ass Taco Bell Flat Bread Sandwiches and make fun of her limited language skills. Really. Taco Bell, of all corporations, is denigrating Mexicans.

But, here's the thing that really sticks in my craw (and I know full well where my craw is – do you?):

I've tried it – and Taco Bell's Flat Bread Sandwich absolutely sucks! I mean, big-time sucks. Those two ass-wipes are heralding a sandwich that features dried-out chicken smothered in heavily peppered mayonnaise - MAYONNAISE. And they're bullying this poor Sandwich Lady?

Good thing we live in a post-racial society.

Why, How Dare You, Sir, Be Poor!

One of my Facebook friends recently “liked” something called “if you can afford alcohol and cigerattes (sic) then you don't need Foodstamps (sic).” I thought I would chime in with my Lefty-Liberal perspective.

First of all, nobody is buying alcohol and cigarettes with food stamps or trading their food stamps for cash. In fact, now, in the age of ID-dependent debit cards, food stamps literally do not exist anymore. So there's that.

But I really think it is deeply wrong for any of us to judge (well, let's face it, punish) poor addicts more harshly than we (well, let's face it) “treat” rich addicts – especially when we are making no effort whatsoever to help poor addicts, except to shame and jail them, of course. And putting them in jail, even for a short time, only reinforces their poverty – because nobody wants to hire an ex-con. Who, by the way, still has an addiction.

I used to live in Hollywood, then one of the nastiest neighborhoods in the country. I was surrounded by gang bangers, hookers, drug dealers and their customers, homeless people, crazies and tourists – a lot of Desperate People. I met them all and got to know many. But here is the one thing that completely redefined my Lefty-Liberalism:

I always felt safer at the beginning of the month than I did at the end of the month.

Ya know why? Because all the Desperate People got their government checks at the beginning of the month. They all had money for all of their Desperate Needs: food, shelter, drugs, alcohol, cigarettes. By the end of the month, though, the money was gone but the Desperate Needs remained. Go figure: down-and-out addicts aren't good money managers.

Allow me to talk about someone very near and dear to me. My, how far he has come in the last few years! Most of that is to his credit, but by no means all of it. He had a mother that was physically, mentally and economically able to get on an airplane and force him into rehab. He had health insurance that paid for that rehab. He had a sister and a mother that could afford to house him and feed him afterwards while he adjusted to sobriety and looked for a job.

A poor addict has none of that. If my loved one and his family had been poor, he would probably now be dead or in prison. At the very least, he'd still be drinking, using and smoking – and on government assistance. I would be so thankful that he is still alive that I would not quibble about my tax dollars.

The thing with an addiction is that nobody, rich or poor, can “afford” it. So, why make those addicts with the very least pay the very most?

From my experience, it's not just morally wrong, it's expensive and wasteful and dangerous and stupid.