Ya know, folks, Tiger paid hookers for sex. Of course, some of the women took the money and went back to work -- until they could make more money by sharing their experience with the media. Doesn't change the fact that they were paid very, very well to have sex with Tiger: it was, and, perhaps, still is their job. They ALL knew he was married; they ALL accepted the cash; and they ALL can say whatever they want to excuse their part in the scandal, but they ALL own what they did for money, as well as what they are now doing for more money.
What Tiger did to his wife, to his mother, to his extended family and friends to whom he was obviously addressing his televised remarks, is what Tiger has to reconcile. Should his wife forgive, forget, and move back in? No: take the money and move on. Engaging in an extra-marital affair is not fatal to a marriage, but paying for literally dozens of women to have sex, especially while your wife is pregnant, is probably a deal-breaker.
NO ONE in the public and/or the media has the "right" to know what happened, with whom, or how often. That's a conversation Tiger has to have with himself, with his therapist, with his family/friends who matter to him. The rest of the world may ask when he's going to return to golf, but what happened behind closed doors needs to stay there. There is absolutely nothing to gain by exposing the salacious details to the press!!
Two endings thoughts: there, but for the Grace of God, go ... pretty much all of us, so Let he who is without sin be the first to cast the stone.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Picking Daisy
Daisy's mom got a new puppy and no longer wanted Daisy, so my friend adopted her about 4 days ago. The problem is that Daisy runs like the wind as soon as she spies an open door, and my friend lives on a busy street with an unfenced front yard. When he left the house, Daisy scooted out with him and took off running -- into the street.Yesterday, when B came to change out two more light fixtures, he asked me if I was still looking for a playmate for Mia, something we had talked about often over the course of several months. I said yes, but not seriously and/or actively, and B said he had a dog, a 16-month-old Jack Russell terrier, that he took in and could not keep. Did Mia and I want to meet Daisy and become her adoptive family?
Daisy came over today to meet us, spent a full hour exploring every inch of the house and yards, figured out how to use the doggy run for potty purposes, and even met the chi-wah-wah next door who bellies under his wooden fence to talk to Mia. The pack of really big dogs behind us are not taking Daisy's presence too well, but they growl and bark at everything, scratching at their wooden fence and banging into it repeatedly. Daisy isn't very big, but she has a big dog mentality: she stood her ground inside "her" new fence and barked right back at the pack.
We're going to see how this goes, but I expect that by the weekend, Mia and Daisy will have figured out how to make this work. They have growled at each other, but also nuzzled, played, and shared Mia's best toy, Boy. Daisy knows the doggie door and we'll see how she does during the night.
The best part so far is that Daisy likes all the pieces of dog food Mia won't eat, which means maybe I won't have to sweep up the discarded food and replace it with Mia's preferred pieces. It gets expensive, buying bags of food so Mia can pick and choose the specific pieces she'll eat, while tossing the rest of it onto the kitchen floor. And ... Daisy already knows how to sit pretty before she gets a treat.
Yeah, this can work
.
Whistlin' Dixie
I have always believed that God puts people on our paths when He needs them to be there and for His reason. I've met some remarkable people during my life, about some of whom I wondered what God was thinking, and others about whom I thanked God for thinking about me.
One of those people is Dixie, one of the most warm, welcoming, supportive, and loving people ever to be on my path. Last night, Dixie popped into my classroom, carrying a coffee shop bag from which emanated the smell of freshly-brewed coffee. You know how there are times when your brain says, "Man, wish I had a cup of coffee," but there is no way to step out and get one? That's when Dixie popped her head into the room.
Dixie celebrated both her 65th birthday and her 50th wedding anniversary last semester, accomplishments for which we all strive. Yes, she married her sweetheart when she was 15 years of age, has raised 5 children, and enjoys the high and lows of life by standing strongly in her faith. She radiates love and joy, but her life has not been easy: she simply chooses to put her time, effort, and energy into the joys life has to share with her, rather than worrying about what isn't there. Her peaches and cream complexion is creased with life lines, but her sparkly blue eyes shine with joy. I'm jealous of her glorious crown of grey-going-pure white hair, a feature that cinches her uncanny resemblance to the queen of the kitchen, Paula Deen.
When I met Dixie, I pointed out that absolutely no-duh resemblance to one of my favorite TV cooking hosts, and Dixie assured me that I could call her Paula and she'd answer, taking it as a compliment that I linked her to one of my favorite TV cooking shows. Dixie loved that we shared the cooking bond that not so many women share in these days of fast-food drive-through windows and dashboard dining. In our off-hours, we reminisced about cooking and family, recalling not just special meals, but the sights, the sounds, and the smells of holiday celebrations that centered in the kitchen. When I told her about my g'ma's Christmas fruitcake that my mom made every year, Paula said, "Send me the recipe and I'll make it for you!" We also both knew about "war cake," the eggless, milkless, butterless cakey bread that women made during the rationing program vital to conserving food resources during WW II. Yep, Dixie made the rich, dark, raisin and nut laden bread, too, not because we were fighting a war, but because she knew how to get a lot of mileage out of a restricted food budget.
Dixie brought the class treats at Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas--wonderful, steaming hot baked treats. Her recipe for a Thanksgiving pumpkin dish was so delicious that I shared it with all of my Friday Friends, who not just loved the dish, but shared it with their other friends. Dixie is like that: infectious and wonderful to share. As I've been wondering if it's time to step to the side so the younger generation can stand behind my podium, Dixie praises my joy in doing my job, assuring me that I'm not too old to relate to the students filling the seats this semester -- or next. It's challenging to know when it is time to walk away, but I don't feel finished with my career inside, especially when Dixie tells me that I can still teach and make a difference. I've signed on for another year.
I'm glad that God, by whatever name, is still putting people in my path, especially all the wonderful people like Dixie. Being Dixie, when I thanked her for bringing me coffee last night, she laughed that rich, robust laugh of hers. She reminded me that we all met after class last semester for coffee and an extra-large French fries, our class "office hours," and she misses that time together.
That's so Dixie, and so God putting another special person on my path.
One of those people is Dixie, one of the most warm, welcoming, supportive, and loving people ever to be on my path. Last night, Dixie popped into my classroom, carrying a coffee shop bag from which emanated the smell of freshly-brewed coffee. You know how there are times when your brain says, "Man, wish I had a cup of coffee," but there is no way to step out and get one? That's when Dixie popped her head into the room.
Dixie celebrated both her 65th birthday and her 50th wedding anniversary last semester, accomplishments for which we all strive. Yes, she married her sweetheart when she was 15 years of age, has raised 5 children, and enjoys the high and lows of life by standing strongly in her faith. She radiates love and joy, but her life has not been easy: she simply chooses to put her time, effort, and energy into the joys life has to share with her, rather than worrying about what isn't there. Her peaches and cream complexion is creased with life lines, but her sparkly blue eyes shine with joy. I'm jealous of her glorious crown of grey-going-pure white hair, a feature that cinches her uncanny resemblance to the queen of the kitchen, Paula Deen.
When I met Dixie, I pointed out that absolutely no-duh resemblance to one of my favorite TV cooking hosts, and Dixie assured me that I could call her Paula and she'd answer, taking it as a compliment that I linked her to one of my favorite TV cooking shows. Dixie loved that we shared the cooking bond that not so many women share in these days of fast-food drive-through windows and dashboard dining. In our off-hours, we reminisced about cooking and family, recalling not just special meals, but the sights, the sounds, and the smells of holiday celebrations that centered in the kitchen. When I told her about my g'ma's Christmas fruitcake that my mom made every year, Paula said, "Send me the recipe and I'll make it for you!" We also both knew about "war cake," the eggless, milkless, butterless cakey bread that women made during the rationing program vital to conserving food resources during WW II. Yep, Dixie made the rich, dark, raisin and nut laden bread, too, not because we were fighting a war, but because she knew how to get a lot of mileage out of a restricted food budget.
Dixie brought the class treats at Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas--wonderful, steaming hot baked treats. Her recipe for a Thanksgiving pumpkin dish was so delicious that I shared it with all of my Friday Friends, who not just loved the dish, but shared it with their other friends. Dixie is like that: infectious and wonderful to share. As I've been wondering if it's time to step to the side so the younger generation can stand behind my podium, Dixie praises my joy in doing my job, assuring me that I'm not too old to relate to the students filling the seats this semester -- or next. It's challenging to know when it is time to walk away, but I don't feel finished with my career inside, especially when Dixie tells me that I can still teach and make a difference. I've signed on for another year.
I'm glad that God, by whatever name, is still putting people in my path, especially all the wonderful people like Dixie. Being Dixie, when I thanked her for bringing me coffee last night, she laughed that rich, robust laugh of hers. She reminded me that we all met after class last semester for coffee and an extra-large French fries, our class "office hours," and she misses that time together.
That's so Dixie, and so God putting another special person on my path.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
It’s Just About Life, Darlin’
Last year, Mickey Rourke should have won the Oscar for his incredible performance in The Wrestler; this year, it should go to Jeff Bridges for his role in Crazy Heart. Mickey didn’t get it last year, and Jeff probably won’t get it this year, but if the Oscar means what the Oscar should mean, that will be a shame.
It’s easy to make big movies about little things, to fill the screen with computer-generated animation that adds a wow factor to a trite storyline, but it’s challenging to make a good little movie about big things, especially important things, such as the failure to live one’s life in a meaningful, productive manner.
Jeff Bridges is Bad Blake, a very old 57-year old country/western singer and songwriter whose life is nothing to talk about. He drinks too much, he smokes too much, and he’s turned to shit everything he’s ever touched in life, especially relationships. He doesn’t have friends; he has frustrated co-habitants of his failed life. He’s talented, no one will say otherwise, but what good is talent when it’s wasted, when it’s only used to buy the next bottle of booze or pack of smokes? When he says to Jane that with her in the room, he realizes how crummy a hotel room can be, he speaks volumes to all of us who find it difficult to accept the best in ourselves and do something important with the gifts that God has given us. Life is so much easier when we don’t demand much of ourselves or from others we run into during the course of a day.
In one of the run-down bars in a deteriorating small western town, Bad meets his second chance, a now-single woman struggling to turn her own life around and provide not just for herself, but for her 4-year-old son. Bad has women, God only knows how or why as he’s dirty, stinks, sweats profusely, and is always drunk, but this woman comes to interview him for an article for the local weekly. Bad tries to duck her questions the way he ducks his life, but she affects Bad in a way that he hasn’t been touched in far too long. This is not just a second chance, but, perhaps, his last chance.
Jeff Bridges could have played it safe, but he lets life hang out over his belt and etch his face. He’s tired, he’s sick, and he’s drinking himself to death, but he assures the string of pick-up bands that join him on all the anonymous stages in the west that he’s never missed a show. He may not make it from beginning to end, but he’s there – and Bridges gets all of it onto film. The secret to performance is to be real, not to act real, and Bridges is real. Some of the scenes are hard to watch, while other scenes are painful, but the performances throughout are authentic, not something that can be recreated with CGA technology.
Colin Farrell has an important role in the film, but you have to look to find his name in the credits. Both Farrell and Bridges actually sing the songs required for their roles, and they both sing well. Knowing that it’s not lip-synced adds to the depth of the performances of both actors. Maggie Gylennhaal sells herself as a world-weary single mother doing whatever it takes to make it through today, afraid to open her life to another man who will, in the end, disappoint her. She knows who Bad Blake is, but she accepts him into her life more because she worries that her son needs a man in his life than because she wants to risk having another man in her own life.
The story is sound, the casting is excellent, and the performances are why I go to the movies. When I think how the media raves about George Clooney being George Clooney while Up in the Air, I cringe to acknowledge that he will receive the acclaim for yet another predictable movie well-suited to his personality, while Jeff Bridges does the acting and deserves the award, but will probably applaud politely while another actor holds Oscar aloft. Sometimes, it’s like being back in high school, watching the popular people get the recognition for the hard work of the people they step on as they climb to the top of the social ladder.
Crazy Heart is not a Valentine’s Day feel-good movie, but it is an important film. The acting is excellent, the story engaging, and the ending appropriate, rather than affirming. It may not be in local theaters, but it will be on the video store shelves and Net Flix future lists soon. See it.
It’s easy to make big movies about little things, to fill the screen with computer-generated animation that adds a wow factor to a trite storyline, but it’s challenging to make a good little movie about big things, especially important things, such as the failure to live one’s life in a meaningful, productive manner.
Jeff Bridges is Bad Blake, a very old 57-year old country/western singer and songwriter whose life is nothing to talk about. He drinks too much, he smokes too much, and he’s turned to shit everything he’s ever touched in life, especially relationships. He doesn’t have friends; he has frustrated co-habitants of his failed life. He’s talented, no one will say otherwise, but what good is talent when it’s wasted, when it’s only used to buy the next bottle of booze or pack of smokes? When he says to Jane that with her in the room, he realizes how crummy a hotel room can be, he speaks volumes to all of us who find it difficult to accept the best in ourselves and do something important with the gifts that God has given us. Life is so much easier when we don’t demand much of ourselves or from others we run into during the course of a day.
In one of the run-down bars in a deteriorating small western town, Bad meets his second chance, a now-single woman struggling to turn her own life around and provide not just for herself, but for her 4-year-old son. Bad has women, God only knows how or why as he’s dirty, stinks, sweats profusely, and is always drunk, but this woman comes to interview him for an article for the local weekly. Bad tries to duck her questions the way he ducks his life, but she affects Bad in a way that he hasn’t been touched in far too long. This is not just a second chance, but, perhaps, his last chance.
Jeff Bridges could have played it safe, but he lets life hang out over his belt and etch his face. He’s tired, he’s sick, and he’s drinking himself to death, but he assures the string of pick-up bands that join him on all the anonymous stages in the west that he’s never missed a show. He may not make it from beginning to end, but he’s there – and Bridges gets all of it onto film. The secret to performance is to be real, not to act real, and Bridges is real. Some of the scenes are hard to watch, while other scenes are painful, but the performances throughout are authentic, not something that can be recreated with CGA technology.
Colin Farrell has an important role in the film, but you have to look to find his name in the credits. Both Farrell and Bridges actually sing the songs required for their roles, and they both sing well. Knowing that it’s not lip-synced adds to the depth of the performances of both actors. Maggie Gylennhaal sells herself as a world-weary single mother doing whatever it takes to make it through today, afraid to open her life to another man who will, in the end, disappoint her. She knows who Bad Blake is, but she accepts him into her life more because she worries that her son needs a man in his life than because she wants to risk having another man in her own life.
The story is sound, the casting is excellent, and the performances are why I go to the movies. When I think how the media raves about George Clooney being George Clooney while Up in the Air, I cringe to acknowledge that he will receive the acclaim for yet another predictable movie well-suited to his personality, while Jeff Bridges does the acting and deserves the award, but will probably applaud politely while another actor holds Oscar aloft. Sometimes, it’s like being back in high school, watching the popular people get the recognition for the hard work of the people they step on as they climb to the top of the social ladder.
Crazy Heart is not a Valentine’s Day feel-good movie, but it is an important film. The acting is excellent, the story engaging, and the ending appropriate, rather than affirming. It may not be in local theaters, but it will be on the video store shelves and Net Flix future lists soon. See it.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
The Players
It was like watching an episode of Survivor: The Bachelor! Talk about manufacturing a strategy to either pry info out of the bachelor or worm your way into contention for the top prize. The phony tears, the phony forced choice, the phony "I am falling in love with four women" excuse to keep his options open. Ali is one of the lucky ones if (1) the crisis is real (2) she's not the phony she seems to be (3) Jake actually gives a shit one way or the other and (4) those tears were not brought on by onion juice or a light layer of menthol under her eyes. She left the set in a limo to return to real reality, not a TV game show, and that's a real win!
Yes, it's true: when Ali had to leave the show or lose her job, she tried every feminine wile she possesses to get a commitment from Jake that made it worth chucking the job for the chance to wear the rock. Jake could not come out and say yes, I'm going to ask YOU to marry me, but he did admit that he would be "devastated" if she left the show, thus taking herself out of the running. Well, let's be honest, she's gone for now: she may simply be setting herself up for the big ah-ha moment when she quits her job and comes running back to Jake's waiting crotch, uh, arms. These shows are dying on the vine (rightly so) and have to generate drama to get through the whole "I'm looking for the woman of my dreams, the one woman who is right for me and with whom I will live happily ever after ... the cameras are off, the free dates are history, and the reality sets in that I WENT ON A FRIGGIN' TV REALITY SHOW TO PICK A WIFE!"
Reality shows are the phoniest TV of the decade. How boring in reality it would be to see "plain Janes" show up to win the hand of what is a total "catch" in today's marriage market. Instead, they are all pencil thin with HUGE BOOBS that are, if nothing else, certainly eye-catching for cameras that follow them into the hot tubs and revealing close-ups. I doubt that there is a natural hair color in the 2 dozen women who began the show! What makes one girl stand out from the others? Of course it's her inner beauty, her inner qualities, her personality: after all, Jake had all of a week to winnow the pack from 2 dozen to the top ten, so he really got to "know" the contestants, the real women inside the plastic bodies, right? We all know that Jake would have known all of them better if he had met the girls in a bar and spent 5 hours doing shots with them. That's when the barriers fall; that's when the booze loosens the tongue and reveals the "real woman" wearing the hootchy mama mini-dress and the "do me" spiked heels.
The couples, if that's what it's called when one guy takes four different women home to four different families to meet the mom, had the ultimate test: can Jake pass the probing into his motives by the parents and siblings and best friends? Well, yeah, that's a no-brainer: your daughter auditioned for the reality show and you know that if you don't like Jake, it's your loss because she's in it to win it and you best be doing YOUR part to see that happens. Even Tenley, who all too recently broke off an engagement, gets the parental thumbs-up, accompanied with the caveat to Jake: don't you hurt her, adding that she's already been hurt enough. She's getting over her heartbreak on a TV reality show???
The saddest part of the whole "meet the 'rents" episode (yes, I watched some of it) is that Jake read each family the same script: I am falling in love with your daughter. His delivery was sincere, but his motives? I'm thinking sex: he swapped enough oral fluids just in this one episode to think about preventive penicillin. The real test of falling in love is doing so without sex: that's when the inner person is revealed, the person with whom the spouse can make it through a hectic morning, or a death in the family, or the sudden loss of a job, or a devastating illness, or the birth of a disabled child. Sex is all too often right for right now, but a marriage needs the forever kind of sex, which is "love."
So, Jake needs help finding a potential wife ... why? Does he have a social disease from not practicing safe sex? Is he a closet sex addict? alcoholic? gambler? druggie? Has he repeatedly filed for bankruptcy because he has no clue how to handle finances? Is he unfaithful to the people with whom he enters into relationships? Have anger management issues? Judging the book by the cover, it appears that Jake would have an easy time of picking up any woman he wants, sharing sex with her, and walking away a very happy man. If he wanted a wife, chances are he'd already have one, so I'm thinking there is another agenda at work here, one that will not culminate in the happily-ever-after hyped by the show.
Maybe it's that he really doesn't want a wife because he's having too much fun picking daisies out of the vast field filled with flowers. On another reality show, Rock of Love, Bret Michaels went looking for a wife four, yes, four seasons ago -- and he's still looking! This is only Jake's second time looking for love in all the wrong places, so maybe he'll be back next season, still waiting for Ali to come to her senses and return to the set so he can ... . Wow, people really watch this crap.
PS: I filled in the backstory at cbs.com as watching part of this episode was just too much reality show for this pragmatist! However, I did decide that of the 4 potential mates still on the set, I'd pick Tenley because, in our short reality acquaintance, she seems the most "real" of the make-believe reality show contestants. For whatever it's worth.
Yes, it's true: when Ali had to leave the show or lose her job, she tried every feminine wile she possesses to get a commitment from Jake that made it worth chucking the job for the chance to wear the rock. Jake could not come out and say yes, I'm going to ask YOU to marry me, but he did admit that he would be "devastated" if she left the show, thus taking herself out of the running. Well, let's be honest, she's gone for now: she may simply be setting herself up for the big ah-ha moment when she quits her job and comes running back to Jake's waiting crotch, uh, arms. These shows are dying on the vine (rightly so) and have to generate drama to get through the whole "I'm looking for the woman of my dreams, the one woman who is right for me and with whom I will live happily ever after ... the cameras are off, the free dates are history, and the reality sets in that I WENT ON A FRIGGIN' TV REALITY SHOW TO PICK A WIFE!"
Reality shows are the phoniest TV of the decade. How boring in reality it would be to see "plain Janes" show up to win the hand of what is a total "catch" in today's marriage market. Instead, they are all pencil thin with HUGE BOOBS that are, if nothing else, certainly eye-catching for cameras that follow them into the hot tubs and revealing close-ups. I doubt that there is a natural hair color in the 2 dozen women who began the show! What makes one girl stand out from the others? Of course it's her inner beauty, her inner qualities, her personality: after all, Jake had all of a week to winnow the pack from 2 dozen to the top ten, so he really got to "know" the contestants, the real women inside the plastic bodies, right? We all know that Jake would have known all of them better if he had met the girls in a bar and spent 5 hours doing shots with them. That's when the barriers fall; that's when the booze loosens the tongue and reveals the "real woman" wearing the hootchy mama mini-dress and the "do me" spiked heels.
The couples, if that's what it's called when one guy takes four different women home to four different families to meet the mom, had the ultimate test: can Jake pass the probing into his motives by the parents and siblings and best friends? Well, yeah, that's a no-brainer: your daughter auditioned for the reality show and you know that if you don't like Jake, it's your loss because she's in it to win it and you best be doing YOUR part to see that happens. Even Tenley, who all too recently broke off an engagement, gets the parental thumbs-up, accompanied with the caveat to Jake: don't you hurt her, adding that she's already been hurt enough. She's getting over her heartbreak on a TV reality show???
The saddest part of the whole "meet the 'rents" episode (yes, I watched some of it) is that Jake read each family the same script: I am falling in love with your daughter. His delivery was sincere, but his motives? I'm thinking sex: he swapped enough oral fluids just in this one episode to think about preventive penicillin. The real test of falling in love is doing so without sex: that's when the inner person is revealed, the person with whom the spouse can make it through a hectic morning, or a death in the family, or the sudden loss of a job, or a devastating illness, or the birth of a disabled child. Sex is all too often right for right now, but a marriage needs the forever kind of sex, which is "love."
So, Jake needs help finding a potential wife ... why? Does he have a social disease from not practicing safe sex? Is he a closet sex addict? alcoholic? gambler? druggie? Has he repeatedly filed for bankruptcy because he has no clue how to handle finances? Is he unfaithful to the people with whom he enters into relationships? Have anger management issues? Judging the book by the cover, it appears that Jake would have an easy time of picking up any woman he wants, sharing sex with her, and walking away a very happy man. If he wanted a wife, chances are he'd already have one, so I'm thinking there is another agenda at work here, one that will not culminate in the happily-ever-after hyped by the show.
Maybe it's that he really doesn't want a wife because he's having too much fun picking daisies out of the vast field filled with flowers. On another reality show, Rock of Love, Bret Michaels went looking for a wife four, yes, four seasons ago -- and he's still looking! This is only Jake's second time looking for love in all the wrong places, so maybe he'll be back next season, still waiting for Ali to come to her senses and return to the set so he can ... . Wow, people really watch this crap.
PS: I filled in the backstory at cbs.com as watching part of this episode was just too much reality show for this pragmatist! However, I did decide that of the 4 potential mates still on the set, I'd pick Tenley because, in our short reality acquaintance, she seems the most "real" of the make-believe reality show contestants. For whatever it's worth.
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